Page 8 of A Hard Habit to Break

“One day, you’ll learn the best honey will have a man fighting to own the hive,” he groused, looking over Noah’s head to the door separating the office and the administrative space. Noah smelled the lingering effects of Cheyenne’s fruity perfume on his uniform shirt.

“Chief, you know the Cheyenne thing… I’m not doing anything to encourage her.”At least not anything else, Noah chided himself. But he guessed his boss knew what Noah’s conversations had led to where the lady was concerned.

“Noah, about the chair position request, there’s a—ah, development,” the captain said, twirling a ballpoint pen between his fingers before tossing it onto the coffee-stained desk calendar.

Eager to start his new gig, Noah shifted, pulling his phone from his rear pocket in a flourish. “What time’s the grand announcement? If I text now, the mayor and my family can be here in one shake of a lamb’s tail ’cause two is for losers,” he joked.

“Whoa, cowboy.” The captain ran a hand over his graying mustache. “Afraid it’s more complicated.”

“Why?” Noah stiffened. “What’s up, Captain?” HarveyNovak wasn’t a nervous man, but the way his gaze dipped to avoid Noah’s direct attention… What could’ve happened overnight? Noah was the best candidate at the station. No wife and kids. He pulled extra shifts. Studied for the fire safety exam and aced every question. He even rode on the holiday parade float, tossing Tootsie Rolls to kindergartners.

“First, let me say, it’s not a question of your capability to do good work. But it seems there’s some grumblings about a conflict of interest. There are enough townsfolk concerned with the mayor delaying the clinic vote already. Now there’s talk of him forming a political coalition to cut the clinic project out of the proposed grant money allocations.”

“It’s not Pete’s fault. There are plenty of documents that go along with environmental surveys and such. The process takes time.”

The chief sighed. “Especially when he keeps asking poor Bethany for duplicates of the triplicates she’s given him. He has plans for waterfront development for himself—that much is obvious. And… with him requesting you by name, there’s talk that you’re his political ace in the hole. This is a heads-up of protests against you leading the committee.”

“Protesting against me? This is Service, sir. We don’t protest. We picnic.”

Harvey inhaled. Noah swore in one breath, the man had sucked the oxygen out of the room. Blood roared in his ears. His throat constricted around a cactus bush, tightening his chest.

“Noah, everybody knows the mayor is your best friend. You’re a smart man. Your friendship with Pete Judelson draws a critical eye from the higher-ups. He’s been seen talking with the resort developers from Whynot, asking for a mayoral mansion, while our police chief operates out of his auto garage. People take issue with the two of you working together.”

“That’s nothing but rumors,” Noah shot back at theimplication of foul play by his lifelong friend. Petey had supported Noah on and off the field. Few appreciated Petey’s thirst for success. Noah did. Heck, he’d worked on Pete’s campaign, helping to rally enough votes to earn him the mayoral seat. Long live the tag team. “I’d point out that there is a designated space for official police matters.” Noah held his voice steadier than his emotions. As a lifelong resident of Service, he resented the very idea that he had anything but the town’s best interests in mind.

“Kinda hard to be tough on crime when a bunch of four-year-olds are singing ‘Baby Shark’ for story time on the other side of the wall.”

Kanaan, Service’s only paid law enforcement officer, was Noah’s first cousin. He had a two-room office, half of which was a holding cell between the library and the post office, down in the town mall.

“Mayor Judelson has a relationship with skirting this agenda over what’s best for the town. The battalion chief wants to make clear to you”—Harvey met his eyes—“if there’s the appearance of any impropriety, at any point in the process, you could get your walking papers.”

“Fired?” Noah shot to his feet; his muscles coiled too late for the strike. “I’ve poured my sweat into this firehouse since I was sixteen years old. I’m practically an institutional pillar.”

The captain stared at him, slack-jawed, unimpressed with Noah’s declaration. “You’re a… pillar. Noted,” he continued, but a hint of amusement entered his tone. “As I was saying, the pillars-that-be won’t tolerate a scandal that links back to this department. If you accept the position, make sure you focus on why you’re there. Advocate for the station and keep your nose clean. It will require strict adherence to the rules as defined by the grant and propriety.”

A knot formed in Noah’s gut. Rules and playbooks, heunderstood. But propriety wasn’t his leadership strength. He paced the length of the room. With his long legs, six steps later, he retraced his path. Understandably, the captain, knowing Noah’s behavior when stressed, kept quiet. A man respected a man’s time to think.

“What a kick to the gut,” Noah muttered. “There ain’t a Calvary man alive that’s been let go from a job. I ain’t aiming to be the first.” If his PawPaw were here, he’d roll through the engine bay with his green machine trailing behind him and talk some sense into leadership. Noah had built his whole life around earning that badge on Chief Novak’s chest. Now his ticket to the next level came with a threat warning.

“You and your brothers are good workers, but this position involves county politics. Better to know what you’re getting into so you can walk away. So, I’m asking”—Harvey raised both elbows, resting them on what was supposed to be Noah’s desk—“do you want to take this risk?”

“Yeah,” Noah immediately replied. He had a reputation to uphold. Besides, he never ran from a battle worth fighting. His guys needed that training center. The people of Service deserved a well-prepared emergency response system.

Harvey raised one bushy brow, the glint of silver hair a testament to the years he’d given to this community. Noah wanted the same thing: to give back to the folks who’d followed him his whole life, cheering him on.

“There’s no shame in taking a step back to reevaluate the situation, son.”

“Right,” Noah drawled. Shame, losing, walking into the Black Bear for a beer with his tail tucked between his legs. Not happening. Ever. “If you’re asking me to withdraw my name, it ain’t happening. I can win the people over. Get a new engine for the firehouse. Upgrades for the building. This town loves me.”

“This isn’t a high school football game.”

Stopping in his tracks, Noah looked down at the man who’d managed to secure the job and keep it for thirty-plus years. What would his PawPaw have done?

“What more is there that I can do?” He wasn’t being coy. It was a serious question that Noah couldn’t answer. Noah would never set out to hurt anybody, including the town he loved.

“My suggestion, show that your commitment to this department and the town supersedes a quid pro quo between friends.”

“Wait a minute,” Noah shot back, his temper flaring. “Questionin’ is one thin’, but accusin’ a man is another. I don’t cheat. And my friend would never put me in a position for others to assume so, Captain.” His Appalachian accent boiled over along with his blood. “I saved Pete Judelson’s life when we were stupid kids. The man has been nothing but loyal since that day. I didn’t let go of him then. And I won’t now. He’s had my back when it counted. He’ll do the same for this town. Folks criticize, but the man works hard—”