I hadn’t expected Bitsy to take a swing at him, but my instincts kicked in, and I was ready to swing back even harder. It was unsettling. But he was my son’s father. And I would not let Vincent grow up in a town where people talked shit about his dad.
“Harpy in pearls,” Ruby said.
“Demon in cashmere.” Frankie handed me a paper bag and took over stroller duties. “Pan au Chocolat,” she explained as I peeked in the bag, practically drooling over the heavenly concoction. “You deserve it.”
Chapter 8
Jasper
One more hour, and I could head over to see Evie and Vincent. Thankfully today’s shift had been easy. Just one slip-and-fall and now, a brush fire. The reported fire was on Old Mill Road. It was a common occurrence this time of year. Smoke had been seen near the ridge, a possible lightning strike, or, more likely, some careless campers.
Martin pulled the engine up behind the police cruiser, and we swung into action, checking in with Nolan, who was running point on the scene. As I approached, Nolan’s face fell.
Instead of a blaze near the tree line, we found a hundred pounds of fur and attitude.
“Motherfucker,” Nolan grumbled.
“Grab an extinguisher,” I said to Martin, focus on Betsy Ross, who was sitting next to a smoldering campfire like she’d clocked in for a shift.
Smoke curled lazily from a trashcan lying on its side. She’d probably knocked it over, and its contents had caught the embers of the dying campfire.
“Dispatch, this is engine one,” I said. “We’ve located the source of smoke. No active fire. Just some embers and a misbehaving bear.”
The line crackled. “A bear?”
“Affirmative. Betsy herself, one eye and all. Appears to be in good health and halfway through a family-size bag of marshmallows.”
Nolan approached, looking older and wearier than ever. “She’s tagged. The university tracks her. She’s probably broadcasting to some grad student who thinks she’s foraging naturally.”
Betsy looked up with her single golden eye, marshmallow smeared across her muzzle like shaving cream, and gave Nolan what I could only interpret as a slow blink of disdain.
“Just give me a reason to shoot you,” he muttered. His dislike of the bear was legendary.
Amusement rolled through me. She loved fucking with him.
Slowly, Betsy got to her feet and waddled toward the woods. On her way, she picked up the top of the supposedly bear-proof trash can and flung it in our direction.
For a second, I thought Nolan might draw his service weapon and shoot it.
When Betsy was out of sight, Chris extinguished the flames and we cleaned up the trash.
“Fucking bear,” Nolan grumbled. “I should make a rug out of her.”
“That bear has a hundred thousand followers on Instagram,” I reminded him. “Her life’s worth more than yours.”
With a shake of his head, he headed back to his cruiser. “And don’t I know it.”
I climbedout of the car, then ducked back in, gathering the coffee and food and the box of diapers under my arm. Then,freshly showered, fed, and caffeinated, I headed for the front door. As I eased my way up the steps, I couldn’t help but smile up at the sky. I was enjoying the earlier sunrise and the long-awaited first rush of spring.
I’d worked two shifts in a row, so I’d been missing my little guy terribly. During my last visit, Evie had hustled me out after thirty minutes or so. While it was clear she didn’t want me here, Vincent shared my DNA, and I wasn’t going anywhere.
Slowly, I was wearing her down. She still kept me at arm’s length, but every time I came by, she treated me a little less like a visitor and more like Vincent’s dad.
Gabe had reminded me several times that I had rights. Every time I saw him, he’d mention filing paperwork. He was just waiting for my approval. But that seemed like overkill. I hated confrontation. And when she was this tired and overwhelmed, shoving a stack of legal papers in her face would be a dick move.
We were still adjusting to being parents to a newborn. Why introduce legal proceedings now? I’d learned over the last few weeks that Evie needed to feel in control. So I’d let her adjust and get comfortable in her new role as a mother. Then we’d work the situation out together.
As I knocked, coffee balanced precariously and box of diapers slipping from under my arm, Vincent fussed on the other side of the door.
