Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 274(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
It got so tense that Felicity started talking about staying for a while just so I wouldn’t need to hire anyone. I knew she offered because she wanted to help me, but it made me feel like shit that my actions had put her into that position.
The vast majority of this town might not like Rita, but they expect their chief of police to be a good guy, as they should. I wanted to live in a small town for a lot of reasons, one of them being that everyone knows their neighbors. A byproduct of people knowing each other is gossip.
I’ve been staying away from Rita, because I don’t want the people I’m paid to protect to see me as a joke. Every time I’ve run into her, she’s taunted me, but I’ve kept my shit together, because I have no choice. I was frustrated with her and her bullshit, which mostly consisted of her constantly threatening to tell people we’re together before Ashley showed up in my life, but it’s even worse now, because I feel trapped by my bad decisions.
After I took Rita outside the bar and I was sure no one was around or listening, I told her to stay the fuck away from me. I know she won’t though. She hasn’t before, and the way she looked at and spoke to Ashley made it clear that whatever game she’s playing just became personal. I’ve stayed quiet and held back, because I’m responsible for my own shitty judgment, but if she goes after Ashley again, all bets are off.
I hope it doesn’t come to that, but I’m also realistic. Manipulators thrive on conflict and drama, and they can’t be reasoned with.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
____________________________________
ASHLEY
“WOULD YOU LIKE me to take the deposit to the bank later today?”
The town council approved a website update, so I’ve been working on refreshing the Charlotte’s Cove website for the last four days, so at the moment I’m trapped in design hell. Looking up from the computer and meeting Tyler’s eyes, I shake my head ruefully. “Thank you for offering, but no. I need to give my eyes and my brain a breather from web design, so I’m going to pick up some lunch. I’ll stop at the bank while I’m gone.”
“I told the council it was too much work to put on you,” he gripes.
“It’s not that. Any time I do computer work for too long, I need a break. I’m enjoying doing this though. I forget how much I love to design until I’ve got a project to dive into.”
“For real?” he asks, a hint of disbelief in his tone.
“I really am,” I answer, careful to keep my eyes trained to his shoulder.
It’s been three weeks since our night out at the bar, and things between Tyler and me aren’t what one would call comfortable. Even though the words we say are bland and boring, the tension between us has gotten thicker. He seems on edge, and I’m busy doing everything I can to ignore the attraction I feel toward him.
We see each other too much for me to have any success with that. I’d avoid him more if it were possible, but it isn’t. It’s easy to keep my distance from him at home, because whenever I see him out walking Boo, I go inside. At work, I have no choice but to interact with him daily.
“Just let me know if you feel that you’re overworked,” he grumbles.
“I’m not. I promise. Being busy is good.”
Heck, it’s better than good—it’s great. Busy also helps me avoid as much interaction with Tyler without making it too noticeable. Like right now, I’m thankful that the phone is ringing, because it means we can terminate this conversation without any weirdness. I smile as I pick up the handset to take the call. “Charlotte’s Cove Police Department. How can I help you?”
“Ew, even your voice sounds fat. Do you gargle in butter? Because your ass sure looks like you do.”
A string of curse words longer than Santa’s naughty list is right on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t utter even one of them, because Tyler is looking at me. Instead, I’m forced to remain calm. “One moment, please.”
After pressing the hold button, I hang the phone up, school my expression, and turn back to Tyler. “Rita is on line one for you.”
His jaw tics, and his expression turns stony. I can tell he’s frustrated as hell and he wants to say something, but I made my position about Rita Ramsey abundantly clear the night she showed up at the bar. Whatever the situation is with her is his problem. I don’t want to be anywhere near it.
I give him a calm smile as I reach into my drawer and pull the deposit bag out. Standing, I push in my rolling desk chair and then pick up my wristlet from the corner of my desk. “I’m going to head out. I’ll be back in about an hour.”