No, being a police officer in Bluebonnet Creek is what I’m supposed to do.
And if that means dealing with assholes like Steven Jenkins, so be it.
“Yes,Sheriff.”
Something dark flashes in his irises at the hint of mockery in my tone, which I’m unable to suppress. His eye twitches, and I can feel some of his festering irritation. There’s something so satisfying about pissing the old dude off, knowing there isn’t shit he can do or say because I didn’t do anything wrong, not really. And we both know it.
“Rivera!” Jenkins barks out.
The soft murmuring coming from outside his office dies down immediately. Jenkins is still glaring at me when steady footsteps echo against the hardwood floors, and from the corner of my eye, I see a tall figure appear in the doorway. The guy scans the room before he steps inside and comes to a stop next to me.
“Yes, Sheriff?”
There is a beat of tense silence before Jenkins shifts that frown to the other guy. “Williams here is our new rookie. He’s your responsibility. He fucks up, you’re both screwed. Do I make myself clear?”
The guy stands taller. “Yes, Sheriff.”
That twitch is back in Jenkins’s eye. “Good. Now get him the hell out of my sight. I’ve got work to do.”
With that, we’ve been dismissed.
“Sure thing, Sheriff.” Rivera tilts his head toward the door, so I follow him. When we get back to the main space, everyone’s eyes are on the door. They’re not even trying to hide the fact that they’ve been eavesdropping.
“And close that damn door!” Jenkins yells from his office. “Were you born in a barn?”
I inhale deeply and grind out, “No, Sheriff.”
Turning around, I offer him my fakest smile before I shut the door behind me. Only when I know he won’t hear me do I mutter under my breath, “Good riddance.”
I turn around and find my colleague watching me with a quirked brow. “Do I even want to know what you did this time around to piss him off?”
Fuck.
So much for Jenkins not hearing me, considering I blabbed my mouth in front of my new colleagues. I’m so fucking screwed.
“I—” I open my mouth, pulling a blank on how to explain it.
“As if he’s ever in a good mood,” a blonde woman interjects from one of the desks, rolling her eyes.
“That’s why I’m asking. He seems even more annoyed than usual, and that’s saying something,” Rivera comments, his attention returning to me.
There is no judgment in his eyes, so my shoulders relax, if only slightly. “What can I say? Apparently, I’m special.”
The quiet stretches as they just stare at me, but then Rivera cracks a smile, shaking his head. “Well, better you than me.” He extends his hand. “Nico Rivera.”
I slide my hand into his for a handshake. “Matthew Williams.”
“Oh, we know. I’m pretty sure everybody here knows who you are.” The guy chuckles and slaps me on the shoulder. “C’mon, let me introduce you around anyway.”
CHAPTER FIVE
JESSICA
People who think small towns are boring, apparently haven’t visited one before. There is nothing dull about living in Bluebonnet Creek. It’s a hive, constantly buzzing with activity. People are always out and about, and everybody knows everybody, so they make a point to stop by and chat before going on their way. Most of the time, it’s great. But sometimes the hive can get really, reallyloud.
Deciding I could use a fresh cup of coffee, I park my car by the curb and then slide out. Main Street is always the busiest place in town, and today is no different.
Mrs. Timothy is in front of her flower shop, talking to Mrs. Smith. Both of their attention going to me the moment I step out. They wave at me, and I return their greeting as I make my way across the street to the Reading Nook. I notice a few more groups of people gathered outside, huddled together and chatting animatedly. More animatedly than usual, and that’s saying something.
