Page 19 of Dove
He scoffs. "Ask your boy, Sheriff. He started it."
Shouts from the group of locals indicates otherwise, and I turn to one of the other kids.
"What happened?"
"We were just going into the bar, Bear, and these guys started shoving. Asking about who else was in there and what they were doing. Miller here said that it was none of his business but if he really wanted to know, the bar was open to the public, and this guy decided he'd been insulted."
Miller. That's the kid's name. Of course.
I look at the tourist, who's now sneering, and narrow my gaze on him. The man is puffy and saggy at the same time, which I didn't know was possible, his eyes bloodshot and the blood vessels on this nose breaking.
Definitely drinks too much beer.
Definitely a bully.
A quick glance around tells me he's not here with his family, either, given how many men are behind him. What the fuck is this, another gang of out-of-towners? After the motorcycle gangincident yesterday, my senses are on high alert, and I file this away in my memory to look at later.
Right now, I have to lay down some law.
"Out," I tell him simply. "I want you and your friends out of this parking lot. Head back to your campground or wherever you're staying, and leave these kids alone."
He looks at me like I just spat in his cheerios, or something worse, and then scowls. "You can't just tell me to leave."
The fuck I can't.
The moment he challenges me, every inch of laughter leaves my body and I become furious. People used to challenge me in the marines like this. they'd look at me and see a guy with dimples and laugh lines around his eyes, his mouth probably still in the midst of cracking some smartass joke, and think they could push me around.
Of course they were always wrong. And I made that very clear to every one of them.
I step up until I'm toe to toe with the man, my chest pushed out and my chin up. I know for damn sure that my sheriff's badge is glinting in the morning sunlight, and though I realize it might be petty, the sign of my authority gives me a thrill of pleasure.
"Pretty sure I just did, friend," I say, my voice dropping to a growl. "This is my town, and these kids live here. Not only that, but I'm the law in these parts, and that means that what I say goes. Now I say you get the fuck out of this parking lot and stop bothering these kids. What's more; if I see you making trouble again, I'll arrest you. And I guarantee you'll have more fun in town or at the campground than rotting in the tiny jail cell in the sheriff's office. Get out of her. Behave yourself. Leave the locals alone. Or I'll arrest you. Got it?"
He wants to fight with me. I can see that he's dying to do it. His eyes flit to the kids behind me and then to his friends,standing on his other side, and I tense, wondering if he's actually going to do something he'll regret.
God, I sort of hope he does. I'm bored as hell and want so badly to prove myself that I can almost taste it. The townspeople don't like that I've been made sheriff, but if I can take out a troublemaker and prove that I'm working for them...
Unfortunately, he backs down before that can happen and, with a mumbled curse, turns and walks the other way, his friends falling in around him as they walk toward their cars.
I watch him go, adrenaline still rushing through my veins, and wait until they're all in their cars and pulling out. Then I turn back to the kid who's been helping me.
Of course, I don't even have a guess as to his name.
"Thank you..." I say, pausing and lifting my brows to indicate that I don't remember his name.
"Simon," he supplies, sticking a hand out. "Simon Rose. My dad works with your brother."
"Of course he does," I say, realization flood back. "He's a carpenter, right? Does some of the most gorgeous pieces in town on his free time."
Simon grins like he's just won the lottery, and nods. "Sure is. And man is he proud of those pieces."
I grin back and drop my voice. "Gonna give my brother a run for his money, I bet. Put him out of business one of these days. Don't tell Gunner I said so, but I'm cheering for your dad."
This brings a shout of laughter amongst the boys, and I look around like I'm worried that Gunner or Gabe–my brother and nephew, who build furniture and artwork out of the wood they harvest in the forest–might hear us.
Simon claps a hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, they're not around. I'll tell my dad you said so, though. See you, Sheriff."
"Bear," I correct. "I've known you your whole life, kid. Call me by my name."
