Page 7 of Now and Then
Easton looks at Hunter’s hand, and his eyebrow lifts. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the question: And you’re telling me you’re not Hunter’s Sutton?
“Well,” Easton says, “Dad wanted me to lead the remodel project at the police station.”
The words push through the tequila haze slowly . . . then all at once.
Easton Rhodes. As in Chief Rhodes.
Because of course I’m sitting here drunk and oversharing with the chief’s son. The same chief who just rejected my proposal based on, most likely, his son’s advice not to hire me. And the same chief who is Hunter’s boss.
As if this night could get any worse.
“Hey, Joe,” I call out. “I’m going to need that next round.”
2
Hunter
It’s Friday night, and I’m spending it with a woman. Not the woman I want, but I’m not sure she will ever let me love her like I wish I could.
Instead, I’m fulfilling my end of the bargain after losing a bet with our newest officer, Rachel. Turns out, she’s better at memorizing penal codes than I am, and now I owe her dinner.
As I pull into the parking lot at Big Joes, I’m lucky to find a spot up close.
When Rachel opens the bar door and gestures for me to go in first, I almost turn around, climb back in my truck, and call it a night. Then my eyes adjust to the bar’s low lighting, and I spot her sitting at the bar.
She isn’t alone.
Every instinct in me wants to go straight to her, but abandoning Rachel at the door would make me an ass.
There have been a hundred nights I’ve walked into this place with Sutton at my side, but never in the way I want it to be. I’ve imagined a hundred versions of us where I asked sooner, where she said yes, where staring at her across the bar didn’t feel like standing outside my own life looking in.
Sutton’s back is to the door, but based on the way she quickly ducks behind a menu, I know she’s seen me. Her hair is a little messy tonight, with a few loose curls hanging from her signature sleek bun. I bury my laughter as she scoots even lower in her barstool.
She’s never been able to hide from me.
“Ready to buy me half the menu?” Rachel says, sliding into a booth. The next time I try to bet against Rachel, someone needs to set me straight.
I take the bench opposite her, in perfect line of sight of Sutton. I pull my cowboy hat off and rub the side of my neck from the crick forming. Rachel tells me about some kind of trouble with the refiling project they’ve got her on at the station, but I’m only half listening. My gaze locks on Sutton.
She’s a fucking vision in her signature black pencil skirt and white blouse. The blazer she normally wears is haphazardly tossed over the barstool to her left. The guy on her right taps his glass against hers and they both sling back their drinks.
I’d bet my life her drink’s Don Julio Tequila. Sutton’s always been a tequila girl.
The man laughs. I’m dying to know who he is. She hasn’t dated in six years, so I can’t help being a little hurt that she’s conversing this easily with someone. I’m the one person in this world she tells everything to. Is there something she’s telling him that she wouldn’t tell me?
Rachel flips through a menu. “How are you doing with your promotion?”
“Oh.” I clear my throat and peel my gaze from Sutton. “It’s been a change of pace for sure, but so far, it’s going well.” I don’t bother filling her in on the details of how well it’s not going.
After twelve years at the department, I’ve recently been promoted to detective. That in itself is tough to accomplish, but in a town like Suncrest Valley, where vertical movement is hard to come by—it felt like winning the lottery.
Little did I know, I’d be thrown into the deep end of a high-profile narcotics case.
One that I haven’t been able to get a handle on.
One that makes me question if I was ever a good police officer to begin with.
When our waitress arrives at our table, Rachel rattles off a long order of several meals. This is going to hurt my wallet. I order a double-bacon cheeseburger and fries.
