I think about Debbie, and the pain aches in my heart. With the weight of my uncle’s disappearance lifted, her loss and that fucking blackmail message have moved to the front burner in my mind.
I want to trust Hutch with these things. Going to the door, I study the group in the living room waiting to eat. Trip and Greg haven't arrived, which doesn’t bother me. Our host is quietly sorting his mail at the door.
His hair is damp from a shower, which triggers heat low in my belly, thinking of last night. He’s dressed in jeans and a black tee, and my eyes trace from his square jaw down his broad shoulders to his perfect ass.
He’s hot as fuck, but he’s so disapproving of everything about my life in New York. I can’t really blame him, but do I trust him? Uncle Hugh clearly does.
The oven timer dings, and I decide the next time we’re together alone, I’ll test him out with something simple. I’ll share my fears about Debbie, and if he doesn’t overreact, I’ll take a chance he can help me with the blackmail situation.
Taking out the small pot of frosting, I think about Oscar shadowing Hana like some ominous watchdog. He would definitely put an end to her problems, only, he might burn the whole city down in the process. Would that be so bad? My eyebrow arches as I lick the knife.
We take our usual seats at the table. Greg and Trip finally arrived, and they take seats on the other side of me at Hutch’s right. Scar is beside Hana, and Dirk texted he’s running late, not to wait, since Pepper has school.
Lurlene let me help arrange the pork chops on a platter, which we place in the center of the table. Crisp green beans are in a white bowl beside whipped mashed potatoes in another serving dish. The pink cupcakes are under glass, and they look pretty damn good if I say so myself.
We’re passing the food around, when Trip pops off with his usual arrogance. “I have to say, Blake, your namesake town is a bit of a snooze. I mean, if we were making a documentary, that would be one thing, but what does anyone do around here for fun?”
I glance at Hutch who’s loading his plate, jaw tense. “I haven’t had a chance to explore Hamiltown since we’ve been back. I’ve been… busy. But we have horses to ride, and I baked these cupcakes.”
“Quaint.” Trip inspects the pink confections and takes another sip of vodka. “So Hutch, you’re like the town detective? What’s that like?”
Hutch levels his green eyes on my friend, and a block of concrete presses on my throat. Why did I ever think having Trip and Greg here for dinner was a good idea? They’re arrogant pricks, and Hutch has zero tolerance for bullshit.
“It’s interesting.” He consumes a bite of meat, and Trip’s eyebrow arches.
“You’re kidding. Tell me, what’s the worst crime you’ve handled in Hamiltown?”
Hutch places his fork down and leans back in his chair. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the specifics of any cases, but we have our share of incidents. Mostly my job is about keeping the peace.”
“Which you are clearly a master at. I’ve never been in a place so peaceful. How about you, Grish? Are those crickets deafening or what?”
Hana shifts in her chair, exhaling an uneasy laugh. She’s been on edge since they arrived, and I’ve been tense, watching her for any sign of relapse. Scar’s presence is my only relief.
Greg glances from my sister to Trip, and his eyebrows quirk in response. “Nature’s white noise.”
“New party game.” Trip gestures at Greg and Hutch with his fork, leaning towards me. “Do a shot for every one-word answer they give.”
I choke on my bite of pork, convinced I’ll never make it through this meal when Dirk waltzes into the room.
“Sorry I’m late, but have I got news for… you…” His voice sputters out as Hutch stands, giving him the eye. The younger Winston smiles as he quickly takes a seat on the other side of Scar, across from Greg. “Hello, I didn’t know we had dinner guests.”
“They’re friends of Blake and Hana’s in town for a visit,” Hutch answers, returning to his seat.
“I don't think we’ve met.”
A quick round of introductions, and an awkward silence falls over the table. The only noise is the clicking of metal utensils against china, and I don’t know why Pepper isn’t talking Hana’s ear off–or at the very least, Hutch’s.
Her little eyes are droopy, and I guess she’s been practicing hard.
I’m pretty much done, so I turn to her. “Your first game is tomorrow night, right Pep?”
The little girl climbs onto her knees in her chair and lifts the lid off the cupcakes. “Yep, first game of the season. Uncle Hutch is going to throw the opening pitch.”
“I heard about that.” I smile at him, and he gives me a chin lift.
Pepper takes a cupcake for herself and one for my sister before sitting back in her chair. Their friendship is cute, but Hana is retreating into herself again.
“What position do you play?” I take a cupcake for myself.
“Shortstop.” She nods, getting pink frosting on her nose. “It’s like one of the best positions on the team.”
“I can’t wait to see you play. Maybe we can all go tomorrow.” I look from her to Hutch, who’s looking at his brother with a neutral expression. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”
His eyes flicker to mine, and I can tell he wasn’t listening.
Trip, however, heard it all. “Peewee softball? Sounds delightful. Where and when?” His sarcasm is apparent.
“It’s not Peewee. It’s Little League.” Pepper scowls at him fiercely, and Trip holds up both hands.
“Sorry, small-fry. I’m still learning the ropes.”
Greg places his napkin beside his plate and stands abruptly. “Thank you for dinner. If you don’t mind, it’s been a long day.”
“Of course,” I stand, doing the same. “I’ll ride back with you. Hana can bring the golf cart.”
Hutch follows us to the door, catching my hand when we reach the landing. “I still think it would be better for you to stay here.”
“Looks like you have your own personal watchdog, B.” Trip pauses outside the door.
“The thing about watch dogs is they bite.” Hutch’s dark brow lowers. “Don’t give me a reason.”
“Is that a threat?” Trip’s laugh is loose, and I know he’s buzzing.
“I don’t make threats.”
My friend shrugs, walking away to the car, and I look up at Hutch. “They’re harmless. You don’t have to worry about me.”
“I don’t worry.” He glances at the car, flexing his jaw, and I think he might. “Still, I’ll stop by to check on you later.”
“I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
“Lock all the doors. I have a key.”
I confess, his fierce expression is doing it for me. “Even better. I’ll wait up for you.”
12
Hutch
“You’re certain the ledger didn’t belong to Hugh?” We’re back at the office, and Dirk is filling us in on what he found.