Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 100608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Ned can get over it,” I grumble.
“Doubtful. He said if you don’t do anything about it, he’s going to have Paul write a front-page piece about what a slacker you are.”
I wince at the thought of Dad reading that article. He’d be mortified. As much as I think this shit is a waste of time, I know I need to address it. If only the Rainbow Vigilante left clues.
“If we were a normal city, we could pull up the CCTV footage and find the culprit,” Brie says, mirroring my thoughts. “I wouldn’t worry about Ned’s and Paul’s threats, though. No one reads the newspaper anyway.”
All the old people do.
Including my father.
“I’ll walk over to Jarrett’s to see if he happened to see anything,” I start, but then pause as an idea comes to me. “Better yet, I’m headed to Granger’s.”
“Granger’s?” Her brows knit together in confusion. “Cato said that Jarrett said they’re bitches.”
“This town gossips too much,” I grumble. “Addison is a nice woman. It’d be great if this town could be a little more welcoming to them.”
Guilt flashes in her wide eyes. “Ugh. We’re just like them, aren’t we?”
Our parents.
“Unfortunately,” I mutter back. “Just give them a chance. Maybe have some of your girlfriends go visit or something.”
“On it, Jax. And I’ll tell Cato to tell Jarrett to stop being a gossipy girl, too.”
I give her a wave before leaving the building to face the dreary weather. The sun is absent today and snowflakes flitter around, threatening of something worse. Shoving my hands into my coat pockets, I hurry across the street to Granger’s. My mind keeps drifting to this morning’s argument with Dante.
His touch.
Fuck, how I wanted him to make me come.
The bastard was just toying with me, though.
I want to hate the guy with every fiber of my being, but something about him also stirs up something I thought I’d buried long ago. Burning lust for the opposite sex. When I lost Kian, I thought I mostly lost the desire for men. Cato and I had been a mistake. Kian was the love I let get away. But my blinding attraction for men?
That was a high school thing.
Since, it’s been a background thought. An ache. A memory I was trying to forget.
Now, it’s forefront on my mind.
His tongue. His hand. His dick.
It pisses me off because if I’m going to allow these feelings to come roaring back, it should be for Kian. I should be having these encounters and fantasies of him.
Not the smug New York bastard.
Smile, you’re on camera.
I open the door, relaxing at the sound of the bells, and strut into Addison’s shop. She grins when she sees me.
“Sheriff! How did the lady like the flower?” she asks, perking up.
“Absolutely loved it,” I say, smiling back. “My friend Brie, down at the station, said she might come down to check your shop out soon too.”
The relief in her eyes makes me feel like a million bucks. I may not like people like Dante Kincaid rolling into my town trying to run the show, but people like Addison Granger should feel welcome as any other Brigs Ferry Bay resident.
“What can I help you with today?”
“Actually, I was hoping I could take a look at your CCTV footage.” I gesture across the street to Comida’s. “There was some vandalism that took place last night.”
Her brows furrow. “Oh, how terrible. You’re more than welcome to take a look. Does Fernando need anything? We’d be glad to help.”
“I’ll pass on the message. For now, let’s see if we can’t catch a glimpse of this culprit.”
She opens her laptop at the register and then pulls up the CCTV app. Once she has it loaded, she squints as she accesses the recording. “Oh,” she squeaks. “Around three in the morning. Look.”
I walk around the counter to see what she’s referring to. Sure enough, around that time, a figure dressed in dark clothes and a hoodie, passes by her shop. The person is small in stature, like Addison or Kian, and wears a black backpack.
“Do you recognize him?” she asks, frowning at me. “Or her?”
“No,” I grunt. “And when the suspect crosses the street to do the vandalizing, the feed is too grainy to make anything else out.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
“This is good,” I assure her. “Can you print this for me? I’m going to have Paul run it in the BFB Daily Herald to see if it produces any leads.” I tip my head at her. “I’ll make sure to also have him write up what a help Granger’s was.”
“And that we’re running a twenty-percent off sale for anyone who might have any leads,” she says, a conspiratorial smile on her face.
Chuckling, I nod as I hand her one of my business cards. “That too. You can email me anything you learn. Good luck with business.”