“Don’t go there,” Shane ordered.
“Interesting name, don’t you think?” Max continued, leaning against the wall, fully enjoying Shane’s discomfort.
Shane continued to glare as he grabbed another beer. He didn’t want to think about Sage Sloan’s name or her rack . . . Or her fuckin’ lips. Even so, he still found himself asking, “Did she leave?”
“I doubt it.”
“Why’s that?” he asked, pissed at himself for hoping she hadn’t left.
“Maxine took a shine to her.”
“Christ,” Shane grumbled, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.
“Yeah.” Max grinned. “The poor woman doesn’t have a clue what she’s in for.”
***
“Bathroom’s down the hall, kitchen’s through the great room, and the hot tub is off the kitchen. You can bunk in here,” Maxine pointed out as she showed me around her three-bedroom cabin. “Okay, now that you have the lay of the land, I’ll whip you up something to eat.”
“You don’t have—”
“No bother, no bother at all,” Maxine interrupted. “Why don’t you jump in the hot tub while I’m cooking? It does wonders for what ails you, and while you’re soaking, I’ll call Chester and let him know you need to speak with him.”
“Maxine, I appreciate the room and all, but I don’t suspect I’ll be staying past tomorrow. There’s no need to involve the police.”
“And I say there is no place better than Trails End to lie low for a while. You know people here now, and we’ll watch your back.”
“Yes, but Sergeant—”
“Shane,” she corrected.
“Shane . . . He won’t want me to stick around. I stirred up raw emotions he was dealing with, and now I’ve made it worse. It would be best if—”
Maxine butted in and floored me with her response. “What if I said the only person who can help him is you?”
“How do you figure?” I asked.
“If he’s feeling guilty about your sister’s death, then who better to help him get past it than the one person who knows exactly how he feels?”
She was right on that account. That’s why support groups were so successful because those who participated didn’t feel alone. However, in Shane’s case, my presence was a deterrent.
“I’m not sure he’ll see it that way.”
“No, I don’t suppose he will. But that’s neither here nor there when it comes to what is best for him. You leave that to me. Just go soak your bones and don’t worry about a thing.”
“I honestly believe I should leave town,” I pushed again.
“And I honestly think you need to get in my hot tub and quit talkin’ about leavin’. Besides, at my age and with my medical condition, it might put me in the hospital if you leave. I’ll worry somethin’ fierce about you out there all alone.”
That caught me off guard. For one, she looked healthy to me. Secondly, no one else treated her as if she were fragile. If anything, they didn’t hold back one iota.
“If you’re sick, that’s all the more reason—”
“Arguing makes it worse . . .” She grinned.
She was totally lying now.
Why?
“All right, I’ll stay for now, but please don’t trouble yourself on my account. I’m not hungry. I’ll just retire and get out of your hair.”
“No! Just go soak in the hot tub like I said,” she replied exasperated.
“But I didn’t bring a suit.”
“Don’t need one. There’s no one around for miles,” she explained and then turned and headed down the hall.
I watched her retreat, then hauled my duffle and backpack into the bedroom and fell on the bed. I was exhausted. I’d spent two days traveling to Trails End because I kept backtracking to make sure no one was following me. The muscles in my neck were stiff from all the traveling and my nerves were frayed after my encounter with Shane. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I sent a quick text to my mother telling her I’d arrived safely in Anchorage. I hated lying, but it was better this way.
Lying down on the bed, I closed my eyes and thought about my encounter with Shane. I’d been in town all of an hour when I asked where I could find the Sergeant. And no matter whom I asked, I received the same response. “This time of day, Last Call.”
So I’d headed there on the off chance they were right and surprisingly found him in the parking lot as I pulled in. I’d sat in my Jeep a few minutes, watching him. He’d changed in the year since I’d seen him. His hair was longer and instead of a uniform, he wore faded jeans and a flannel shirt. He looked almost wild compared to the spit and shine officer I’d met. He seemed bigger than I remembered as if he’d spent the past year bulking up, and the woman in me stood up and took notice. So much so, my heart beat wildly at the thought of speaking to him and by the time I got the nerve to approach him, my mouth was dry.