I was still as mad as a wet hen, to quote Baker, when I arrived back at the airport in Oklahoma several hours later. Seated behind the wheel of my new used truck, I glanced back into theseats of the extended cab as I tore down back roads in the dark. Candy wrappers were blowing around in the back, my son’s handiwork. Thinking of Dahn, and how I could explain his other father’s behavior, fired up all the hateful hurt I had inside of me for my own deadbeat dad. Cashman Bastian had walked out on four sons, leaving us all feeling that we’d not been good enough. How could we be when he merrily went on to make a new family in some other part of the country and have new kids? And now my son, my sweet boy, was going to be subjected to the same abandonment issues that Baker, Linc, Ford, and I had suffered. I generally wasn’t a violent man, but right now, I was so irate that if Chris stepped out into the road, I would not swerve. I’d floor it. The engine revved as I pressed the gas pedal down harder.
The sudden WHOOP-WHOOP of a siren acted like a bucket of ice water over the head. I glanced at the speedometer and was shocked to see I was running at seventy-five. Easing back off the gas, the flash of red-and-blue lights in my rearview cooled my jets even more. Why the hell not? Not like much else could go wrong today…
2
Chapter Two
“Fuck,” I mumbled while easing off the two-lane leading into Bastian Grange. Great. Why not? A speeding ticket would be just the perfect way to end this miserably shitty day. I watched as the lone police vehicle rolled up behind me, roof lights rotating, and someone exited the old Jeep. My sight latched onto Ollie Ahoka as he placed his hat on his head and then began the slow walk to my car. I drank him in. The man filled out that dark brown uniform to perfection. He was a tall drink of water, built like the ex-footballer he was, and possessed of the most rugged jawline I had ever laid eyes on. The sight of handcuffs hanging from his belt made me itch to be frisked.
I smelled his woodsy cologne just before he bent down to rest his forearm on my open window. Dark eyes ran over me, seated behind the wheel, looking guilty as sin I was sure. I was shit at lying, always had been.
“Mr. Bastian.” Ollie’s voice was as deep as a canyon.
“Sheriff Ahoka,” I replied in my most polite dentist way. He smiled at me. Not a smug “Ha, I got you” smile but one that made my dick twitch. “Whoever did your crowns is quite good.”
Yep, that’s great. Let’s talk dentistry with the cop who just pulled you over. Maybe we can discuss gingivitis next. That’s always a party-pleasing topic.
“Why thank you, Mr. Bastian, but these are mine.”
“Oh, well, you have wonderfully strong enamel.”
Oh my God, Dodge, stop talking dental shit and just get your ticket, go home, and try to figure out how to tell your son his father is leaving the country, and him, behind.
“Yeah, it’s something I inherited. My dad and uncle both have all their teeth as did my grandfather when he passed at ninety-two.”
“Impressive.”
“We like to think so. So, do you know why I pulled you over? Other than the fact that I wanted to discuss oral health and tooth enamel genetics with a handsome man this evening?”
Now here was the moment I could either lie or tell the truth. If Dahn were here…well, if my son were here, I wouldn’t have been racing down the road like a maniac, so that point was moot. But it was moments like this that highlighted what kind of man I was.
“Yes, sir, I was doing seventy-five in a forty-five,” I replied, knowing that no one other than myself and Sheriff Sexy Pants would know I took the honest route.
“That you were. You also have a taillight out.” Oh shit. I didn’t know that. “Any particular reason you were traveling at such a high rate of speed coming into my town?” He seemed genuinely curious.
“Well, I had a really shitty day and was lost in thought while driving. I didnotrealize I had reached that speed until your sirens went off.” I opted out of telling him I was fantasizingabout running my ex-husband down. Even being an honest sort, it seemed wiser to sit on that little nugget. “I’m fully prepared to pay the fine and assume the burden of any points on my license. I was being reckless, and someone could have been hurt.”
“Good to hear. Is everything okay out at the ranch?” His query surprised me.
“Yeah, as far as I know, things are fine out there. This was a personal situation that had me so distracted. My ex is being a dick.”
“Ah. Gotcha. I’ve had my share of exes who were assholes. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to cite you for the taillight that’s out and give you a stern warning about speeding as you approach town. I want to see you and your vehicle at the sheriff’s office within five days about the taillight.”
“Oh, that’s generous of you.” I was not going to argue. “Thank you.”
“Next time, I will ticket you. Also, five days to get that fixed. Don’t make me come looking for you. I do know where you live.”
“I’ll be there with a new taillight. Thanks again, Sheriff.”
He studied me for a long moment. “Call me Ollie and be careful driving home. Distractions can kill a person.”
“Yes, thank you, Ollie. I’ll pay better attention.”
“Good. I’d like to see more of you.” With that, he straightened, patted my door, and moseyed back to his Jeep as my sight locked onto his ass. God damn. What a fine-looking man he was! I sat there, hands on the wheel, and waited for him to pull away. He flashed his lights. I crept away from the side of the road like a nun and slowly made my way through Bastian Grange as the streetlights were just flickering to life. After Ollie tailed me for a bit, he pulled into a reserved spot in front of the sheriff’s office. I never topped twenty until I was way outside the city limits, and even then, I stayed well below the speed limit. Good thing too asa whitetail doe with two spotted fawns bolted out in front of me about ten miles from the ranch.
It seemed to take forever for me to get home, but when I did, I was never so happy to see the old farmhouse. The lights were on inside as the sky overhead was filling with stars. I took a moment to watch the heavens, wondering what the hell I would say to Dahn. It would require some thoughtful insight. My son’s laughter floated through the screens. Smiling despite the rotten day, I made my way inside. They were all gathered in the kitchen.
“Dad! We’re making ice cream!” Dahn yelled even though I stood literally five feet away. His dark brown eyes were joyous. Bella was taking her turn on the old hand-crank ice cream maker. “We’re using goat milk and peaches! And salt on the ice, and everyone has to crank one hundred times. If you don’t crank, you don’t get ice cream, right, Uncle Baker?”
