David nodded, grim. “It’s Roy Axe.”
I frowned. I knew that name. “Grandpa’s friend?”
“I don’t know that friend is the right word, but yeah, he knows Grandpa.”
“He’s dead?” Brad couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the concept.
“He’s definitely dead,” David confirmed. “Call the police. Get Hunter out here right now.”
My heart skipped at the words, but Brad was already moving. “Wait ... Hunter? You can’t call him here.”
David shot me an impatient look. “He’s one of three police officers in this town. We have to call him.”
“Yeah, but ... I’m all greasy from working in the kitchen.” What a ridiculous thing to say, and yet I was bothered by the thought of Hunter seeing me after the hectic morning rush.
“I think the dead body takes precedence over your hair.”
Obviously he didn’t grasp the etiquette of seeing your ex for the first time in a decade. “I’m not ready.”
“Well, you’d better get ready. We need help and he’s our only option. Suck it up.” He clapped his hand against my shoulder hard enough to rock me to the side. “There’s a dead body outside. Your issues with Hunter aren’t important right now.”
That showed just how out of touch he really was with reality.
HUNTER RYAN LOOKED THE SAME.
Actually, he looked better than he had in high school, and that was saying something.
I watched his arrival from the area by the freezers, David and Brad with me, and felt my heart give a long, slow roll. Why did he have to look the same? It would’ve been easier if he’d let himself go. Instead, he’d filled out in all the right ways.
His shoulders were always broad, his waist narrow. His arms were powerful, just like in high school when he liked to brag about how much he could bench press when competing with David. They would play off each other, compete, and yet they were always friends. Apparently they still were, because David detached from our small cluster and went out to greet him.
“Hey, man.” David offered a smile that didn’t make it all the way to his eyes. “Sorry to call you out here, but, well ... .” He gestured toward the body.
“That’s why I’m here.” Hunter flashed the smile I remembered from high school and I had to tamp something down when the familiar dimple came out to play in his cheek. He was one of the few guys who could carry off a dimple and still look rugged. It was one of the things that forever etched his face into my dreams. “Tell me what happened.”
“I’m not sure.” David nervously cracked his knuckles and watched as Hunter crouched down to get a better look at the body. “I just got back from Mexico last night so I slept in this morning. I’m not even on shift until tomorrow. I stopped in to get my paycheck. That’s when Stormy started freaking out.”
Freaking out? I wasn’t even close to freaking out. David’s words bothered me. I managed — just barely — to keep my opinion to myself.
“Stormy?” Hunter jerked up his chin, surprise etching across his handsome features.
“Stormy.” David gestured toward me, causing Hunter to fix his attention on the small crowd that had gathered inside of the restaurant to watch the show through the open door. His breath hitched for a moment and then he steadied himself. There was no smile of welcome on his face. “Can you come out here, please?”
There was no doubt he was talking to me. Resigned, I dropped my head and shuffled through the door, doing my best to pretend I wasn’t bothered by the way our reintroduction was playing out. “Hi.” My voice was a breathy squeak I absolutely hated.
“Hello.” His response was cooler. “David says you found the body.”
I nodded, grim. “Brad sent me out for pickles,” I started.
“Pickles I never got,” Brad called out.
I shot him a dark look. “I think there are more important things to worry about besides your pickles.”
“Again, there are so many different ways that statement could be misconstrued,” David lamented.
Hunter shot him an amused look before turning his full attention back to me. “Go on.”
He acted as if we didn’t know one another, as if we hadn’t spent more than two years wrapped up in each other to the point of distraction. It was irritating, but also easier because it allowed me to focus on what needed to be done. Perhaps he knew that going in.
“There’s not much to tell,” I replied. “I walked out this way. I wasn’t really paying attention. My shoe landed in what I thought was water and I kind of slid until I hit the storage building. When I turned to see what I’d slipped on, I saw ... him.”
“Uh-huh.” Hunter glanced down at my sneakers. “I need those for evidence.”
I balked. “They’re brand new.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that I need them.” His inflection didn’t change, which agitated me. How could he be so calm when we were seeing each other for the first time in almost ten years — and standing over a body?
“Fine.” I fixed him with a dark look. “Would you like me to take them off now or can I go upstairs to get a different pair?”
“I need them now.” He reached in his pocket and came back with a plastic bag. “Just drop them in here.”
I was dumbfounded. “You can’t be serious. You want me to go barefoot around a dead body?”
“I want those shoes,” Hunter replied. “I need them before you contaminate any evidence even further than you already have.”
“And just how am I contaminating them?”
“By ruining whatever evidence you might’ve stepped in.” For the first time since arriving, Hunter raised his voice. “Don’t make me ask for them again.”
Was that a threat? It sure sounded like a threat.
Clearly uncomfortable, David cleared his throat to get my attention. “Just give him your shoes, Stormy. It’s no big deal. They’re Skechers. You can get a new pair for fifty bucks.”
I was ashamed to admit that I didn’t have the fifty bucks. That’s the reason I was living in the apartment above the restaurant. “Whatever.” I plopped down on the ground, making sure I was nowhere near the body, and started wrestling my shoes off. “This is ridiculous.”
“Thank you.” Hunter dropped the bag by my feet and went back to studying the body. “This is Roy Axe. He was friends with your grandfather.”
“More like frenemies,” David replied, causing me to narrow my eyes as I shoved one of my shoes into the plastic bag.
“I thought they golfed together,” I said, grimacing when I noticed the blood on the second shoe. That’s what had caused me to slide across the alley. The white bottom of the formerly pristine sneaker was stained a horrible rust color.
“They did ... back then,” David explained. “I don’t know that I would ever call them friends, but they were certainly friendlier back then than they were in recent years.”
Hunter’s forehead wrinkled. “What caused the falling out?”
I sensed trouble. “You can’t think Grandpa had anything to do with this,” I argued before David could answer.