Anna Stewart - The Bad Boy Of Butterfly Harbor

“More than,” Fletcher said.

“How’d you know I was out here anyway?” Luke didn’t have to look far for his answer. A shadowy figure shifted behind lace curtains in a nearby house. “Mrs. Ellison?”

“She called Myra Standing, who got Oscar to walk over to the station to tell us someone was out here making a ruckus with his chain saw. I think your name might have gotten thrown in there somewhere as a minor epithet.” Fletcher pulled off his glasses and tossed them through the open window of his squad car. “You gotta know coming back here was going to be like kicking up a hornet’s nest of gossip. You can’t blow your nose without someone announcing it in the paper.”

“The sheriff’s desk might not be mine till Monday, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t work that needs doing. But yeah.”

“Tongues are definitely wagging. Most people aren’t sure how to feel about you replacing Jake.”

“You one of those people?” Luke needed to know sooner than later what he’d be facing when it came to his own men.

“Haven’t decided yet,” Fletcher said. “You want some help loading up your truck?”

“How do you know I have a truck?”

All six foot three of Fletch straightened with the cockiness Luke remembered from their high school days. “It’s my job to know.”

Between the two of them it didn’t take long to get the wood taken care of and the branches curbside for the service that would be around in a few days’ time.

“What’s next on your agenda?” Fletcher asked as he slammed the truck bed closed and circled around to the cab. Cash woofed through the open window. “Hey, he looks pretty good for what Doc Collins said he’d been through. Hey, boy. Any idea yet as to who tied him up?”

The internet had nothing on Butterfly Harbor when it came to the information superhighway. After all his years away, he would have to readjust to the small-town rumor mill...and fast.

“No, but I’ll be looking. I saw some other downed trees on my drive over here. Thought I’d go check them out. That okay with you, Deputy?”

“Have at it.” Fletcher nodded. “Come by the station for lunch when you’re done.”

Luke shook his head. “Not my place. Not yet.” The last thing he wanted to do was shove out Jake any faster than he was already being pushed.

“You made it your place by taking care of business.” Fletch headed to his car, gestured to Mrs. Ellison, who had emerged from her front door to stand watching them from her porch, with her laser-beam eyes.

Luke gave a quick wave and hauled himself into the truck before she could ignore him. He looked at Cash. “Well, boy. Guess we’re in this for the long term, huh?”

“Woof.”

“My sentiments exactly. Now let’s see what else is out there waiting for us.”

* * *

“SIMON, STOP STRAGGLING and get a move on.” Holly hurried down Monarch Lane to Stories Unbound, Butterfly Harbor’s independent bookstore. Nose down, she checked her phone calendar. She had fewer than forty-five minutes before Twyla had to leave for a dentist appointment, so getting Simon loaded up with a new stack of books was her first priority.

The hours at the diner were beginning to close in on her, but she didn’t have anyone but herself to blame. “Heads up, Holly!”

“Mom!” Simon gripped the back of her jeans with his hand. “Watch out!”

The enormous piece of plywood crossing her path stopped and lowered as Luke’s surprised face popped up on the other side. “Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t see you.”

“Then, who—” Holly craned her neck forward and saw Harvey Mills, hardware store proprietor, rushing toward them, his stubby legs tested by the barrel of a belly he carried.

“Everything okay?” Harvey panted as he reached them. “I thought Luke would wait for some help before loading up his truck.”

“What’s going on?” Holly reached behind her to draw Simon against her side. The sheen of sweat covering Luke’s face and the way his hair fell over his startling blue eyes made her stomach flip. Nothing like a bout of activity to remind a woman of a strong, healthy man.

“Couple of blown-out windows thanks to the storm.” Luke hefted the plywood into his arms and hauled it the remaining feet to his truck. “Heard your dad was having problems getting repair help so I thought I’d pitch in. Hi, Simon.”

“Hi.” Holly felt Simon’s grip on her tighten.

“I’ll just...” Harvey gestured behind him, bulging eyes darting between Holly and Luke as if he expected one of them to combust at any minute. “I’ll send Chet out with the dolly and the last of the wood.” He scrambled off.

“Is this your dog?” Simon trailed after Luke and rose up on tiptoe to peer into the truck. Cash shifted seats and stuck his head out of the open driver’s-side window.

“Careful, Simon,” Holly warned. Given Simon’s penchant for hugging most animals, he’d have no qualms about throwing his arms around this one.

“I know, Mom.” She could all but see him rolling his eyes. “What’s his name?” He curled his fingers over the window edge.

“Cash,” Luke said with a grunt as he slid the plywood on top of the others in the truck bed. “Short for Cassius. After Cassius Clay.”

“The boxer?” Holly asked, and her heart twisted as Cash gave Simon’s hand a solid lick. Her son’s smile widened.

Luke nodded. “They’re both fighters. Seemed fitting. I see you weathered the rest of the storm okay.”

“Yeah.” She still had difficulty reconciling the Luke she knew years ago with the man who had returned. The edge was still there, along with the promise of danger, although it was tempered by maturity and control. “Well.” She cleared her throat. “We’re heading to the bookstore, so...”

“Actually, I’m glad you ran into me.” He grinned and made Holly’s heart stutter. “I saw a bunch of kids hanging out around the old community center last night. What can you tell me about them?”

“They’re bored,” Holly said, reluctantly impressed he cared. “Not much left for them to do around town, especially now that the arcade closed.”

“I saw a blond kid, birdlike hair.” Luke waved his hand above his head. “Gray hooded sweatshirt. Seemed like the ringleader.”

“That’s Kyle Winters,” Simon announced as he continued to pet Cash. “He’s always up to something.”

“Like what?” Luke asked.

“He’s mean. He picks on littler kids.” Simon’s face scrunched up. “Knocks them down, throws things at them. One time he even shoved Monty Tillings in his locker. I heard Mellie Sinclair say he smokes pot up in one of the beach caves. I tried to follow him up there one time, but it got too steep.”

“You did what?” Holly turned stern eyes on her son. “I thought we talked about this, Simon.”

“He’s a bad guy, Mom. Superheroes catch bad guys, right, Sheriff Saxon?”

“They do in comic books,” Luke said, obviously trying to walk the thin line between child logic and maternal discipline. “But you should be careful.”

“Kyle was suspended from school last year for threatening one of his teachers,” Holly added in the hopes of veering off the topic of her son’s leanings. “His home life isn’t ideal.” She pinned Luke with a look that she hoped conveyed what she really meant to say. Kyle Winters’s situation at home wasn’t dissimilar to the one Luke had experienced, but while Holly might sympathize, she couldn’t excuse the damage Luke had caused her father. “Kyle’s an instigator. I don’t think he’s a bad kid, just lost. All the more reason for you to stay away from him, young man.” She held out her hand. “Have a good day, Luke.”

“Thanks. You, too.”