It could either help him move on or give him something to go on to find another piece to the puzzle.
Blake Bennet might have been intriguing, but her time with him was obviously done. She had her own life to live while he had Missy’s death to put to rest.
Yet, when the next morning rolled around, Liam found the woman leaning against his truck in the parking lot of the gas station. It was all he could do to hide his surprise.
“I’ve thought about it,” Blake said in greeting with all the confidence in the world, “and I’m pretty sure I can help you. And I think you should let me.”
Chapter Five
“You think you can help me.”
The sheriff’s baritone sure was something, even repeating her own words right back to her. Blake pushed off the truck and nodded, resolute. She held up the second reason she had come to find the man before explaining.
“There’s also this,” she said. “Your shirt washed, dried, and ironed with care. You wouldn’t even know it’s been through the wringer.”
The button-up had gone directly into the washer when Blake had gotten home from the sheriff’s department. She had never been the best at remembering the laundry in a timely manner, but when it came to this particular denim shirt, she had been unusually attentive. It had, after all, helped cover her as much as its owner had. It only seemed right to be just as courteous.
The sheriff eyed the shirt with a raised brow. She thought he was going to refuse the gesture for a second, but then he grabbed it and held it against his side with the one arm and kept his coffee in his other. The man was a Ralph Lauren ad come to life as far as Blake was concerned.
“You didn’t have to do all that,” he said, tipping his chin a little to get a better angle on her gaze. “But thanks.”
Blake waved the comment off.
“I might have been a little chaotic recently, but I’m not without manners. Plus, if I hadn’t done it, Lola wouldn’t have let me hear the end of it. Lola being my mom. Aka the lady who will have my hide if I don’t have all my social p’s and q’s together.”
Sheriff Weaver snorted.
Blake paused in what she had intended to say next.
The sheriff looked right near caught.
His humored expression smoothed.
She wasn’t letting him go.
“What was that for?” she asked.
He didn’t hesitate.
“What was what for?”
Blake crossed her arms over her chest. She gave him a mock snort, then pointed to herself.
“You snorted at me just now. I want to know why.” She tilted her head to the side and feigned politeness. “Don’t tell me you’ve got something against people washing your clothes at home. What was I supposed to do? Dry-clean it?” Blake glanced down at the shirt that was pinned against him. “No offense, but it’s notthatnice of a shirt.”
This time there was no snort, but she could have sworn a smile was trying to tug up at the edges of his lips. It failed.
“You said you washed my shirt because of good manners. Then you said you only did it because of your mother. You only were nice because of the consequence of not being so. I just think it’s funny how you contradicted yourself so fast.”
Blake opened her mouth.
Then she shut it.
Her face was growing hot. Her words would come out boiling next if she didn’t calm down.
So she decided to acknowledge instead of defend herself.
“Hey, not all of us can be so domestic,” she said. “Just because I had a consequence that forced my hand doesn’t mean I also didn’t have good intentions. It’s like baking a cake for someone’s birthday. Normally most people don’t bake cakes at random for you, but if they miss giving you one on your birthday that’s kind of a bummer. I did it because those are the unwritten rules, but I also genuinely wanted to be helpful after everything that happened. So follow the same rules and say thank you and let’s move on.”
