It was a sad finale to a young man’s life, however misspent.
* * *
AFTER HELPING SARA with the cleanup and thanking her for the invitation to dinner, Brynne climbed into her roadster and started for home.
Halfway there, she flipped a U-turn and, with no clear objective in mind, headed for the sheriff’s office instead. While she was certainly curious—Eli and Melba had left the Worth place in such a hurry, and Dan wasn’t answering any questions related to whatever the three of them had found on Sara’s computer—Brynne was compelled by something deeper, something far more personal.
She needed to see Eli, allow her eyes and her heart and her intuition to tell her, in some small measure, how he was holding up under the pressure of this new incident, whatever it was.
Never mind that Eli Garrett’s well-being was essentially none of her business; she simply had to see him, if only from a distance.
Did that make her obsessive? A stalker-in-training?
The thought made her nervous.
Then it made her laugh.
Maybe she needed therapy.
When she pulled into the parking lot, Eli was there, just getting out of his SUV. Either Melba had already gone inside, or he had dropped her off along the way.
Brynne shifted into neutral and rolled down her driver’s side window.
Eli approached, bent to rest his forearms on the base of said window and smiled. He looked so weary, so beleaguered, that Brynne’s heart squeezed.
“I’m not here to ask questions,” she said.
He arched one eyebrow. “Good,” he replied gruffly, “because I’m not here to answer any.”
“Something bad happened?” Brynne asked softly.
He gave a hoarse, mirthless chuckle. “That was a question,” he pointed out. “But, yeah, something bad happened. I wouldn’t mind telling you about it, but I have to inform the next of kin first.” He sighed. “Obviously, I’m not looking forward to that.”
“Okay,” Brynne said. “Eli?”
“What?”
“You could come over to my place later, if you wanted to. You could bring Festus, too.”
Eli studied her solemnly for a long moment, and something flickered in his eyes. “That sounds good, Brynne. Really good.”
Brynne’s cheeks felt warm, despite the cold. She forced herself to hold Eli’s gaze, though sudden shyness made her want to look away.
“Just to hang out, I mean. Not necessarily to have sex.”
Eli actually laughed. “I’ll settle for the possibility,” he said. “Frankly, after the last two days, I’d settle for popcorn and a few hours of Netflix.”
Brynne was still kicking herself inwardly for mentioning sex. She felt like a foolish, virginal teenager laying the ground rules for her first date ever.
“Eli, I—”
He smiled, rested one index finger against her lips. Even that innocent touch stirred parts of Brynne that had never been awakened before. “I’ll be over later, if the invitation still stands. No strings attached. No expectations on my part. If I can be with you—just you—for a while, I’ll be grateful.”
Brynne marveled, gazing at this man. He either had the patience of your average saint, or he was playing it cool, planning to seduce her as soon as they were alone.
Unless, of course, she seduced him first.
She had never wanted a man—including Clay Nicholls—the way she wanted this one.
“Call or text when you’re off duty,” she said. “I’ll leave the back door open.”
“I have the purest of intentions,” Eli told her, looking serious, “but I have to ask—are you sure?”
“I thought we weren’t doing questions,” Brynne teased.
Eli straightened. Laughed again, albeit with an undercurrent of sad resignation. “You’ve got me there, Bailey. If I don’t show up in the next couple of hours, don’t wait up. This shitshow is still unfolding, and I’m not sure when I’ll get a break.”
Brynne nodded her understanding.
Eli leaned down again, caught her chin gently in one hand. “Consider yourself kissed,” he said, and then he turned and walked toward the office, giving a backward wave as he went.
“Brynne Bailey,” Brynne told herself, “you are an idiot.”
Then she turned the MG around and drove away.
At home, she greeted Waldo with an impromptu cuddle, to which he objected vociferously, and then gave him his daily ration of flaked tuna.
After that, she took a long, luxurious shower, dried herself off and put on fresh clothes: black jeans, a matching cowl-necked sweater and slip-on shoes. She dried her hair and pinned it up the way she had the night before, when she dressed for the New Year’s Eve bash.
Eli hadn’t said so, but she suspected he’d liked the look, since his eyes had widened, ever so slightly, just before they kissed.
She’d barely slept, reliving that kiss over and over again.
And, right or wrong, smart or stupid, she wanted a hundred more just like it.
Beyond that?
Time would tell.
* * *
“I’M GOING WITH YOU,” Melba told Eli, leaving no room for objections.
She was standing, looking very official in her uniform, in front of his desk, where he’d been filling out a preliminary report regarding Freddie Lansing’s unfortunate demise.
“I guess the red dress wouldn’t have been appropriate,” Eli remarked, with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. He clasped his hands behind his head and stretched, tired to the bone.
“Very funny,” Melba said.
“I wasn’t kidding. You look good in that dress, Summers.”
“If I didn’t know you’re batshit crazy about Brynne Bailey, I’d call you out for sexual harassment, Sheriff Garrett.”
Eli winced, shoved back his chair and stood. “It’s that obvious?”
Melba rolled her eyes. “Only to those of us with functional eyeballs.”
“Shit,” Eli said. “Do you think she noticed?”
“No,” Melba said, adjusting her service belt. “She was too busy being batshit crazy about you.”
Eli doubted that was true—he’d known Brynne for a long time—but a man could hope. “You’re a fine one to talk,” he pointed out. “Things are pretty hot between you and Dan, if you ask me.”