Love & Moosechief, page 4
Chapter Four
Ryder
Ryder eased into his mom’s driveway, shoving away the guilt he felt for the way he ended breakfast with Kinley. Though he could tell with one eye closed that she was harboring some secret, he pushed too hard. It was only natural she pushed back. From the nonchalance of her comment, he doubted she’d heard what happened with Mercedes. Kinley had no way of knowing the way her words stung.
He dropped the tailgate, the familiar screech of his mom’s screen door piercing his ear. He’d forgotten the WD-40 again. But with another nine days—or more if that lawyer caused trouble—ahead of him, Ryder had time to take care of the many items on Tillie Grant’s list. Dropping by Mom’s gave him something to occupy his time since Denver’s solitary request wasn’t exactly a time suck. Mist the fern every day. Really? “Couldn’t even ask me to watch the dog,” he muttered.
Tessa, the oldest Whitmore sister, and her husband Liam had Sherlock and Sophie’s daughter Caroline for the week of the honeymoon. Denver’s words echoed in Ryder’s mind. “Don’t worry about it. You’re too busy for a dog.”
He battled the urge to text Murph and ask how things were going—to find out if the Johnson brothers were impeding on her son’s tee-ball schedule—and lost. Sunset Ridge saw little excitement on a Wednesday morning, but one could never be too complacent. He pulled his phone out and was halfway through composing a text when Mom appeared.
“Ryder, I didn’t know you were stopping by today.”
Until a few minutes ago, he hadn’t known either. His original plans were to grab a sandwich from Willamina’s Big Dipper, then head out to the marina. The halibut were biting more reliably now, and his freezer was empty. Deleting the text, Ryder dropped his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “Thought I’d finally get those deck steps fixed.” He gathered the two-by-fours he’d been hoarding for almost a month and carried them around back. Mom stayed on his heels.
“Why aren’t you working today?”
Dropping the boards near the bowing steps, he debated how much to confess. Though Mom was known to be a bit gossipy at times, she always kept the important things a secret. He could trust her to do that now, but he wasn’t certain he wanted to burden her with worry. It brought a little comfort to know he could always blame the mayor for the white lie if she found out on her own. “Took some time off,” he said, carefully choosing his words.
Mom placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head with exaggeration as she peered up at him through purple-rimmed glasses. “Who are you, and what have you done with my son? Outside of his brother’s wedding last weekend, I haven’t seen him out of a police uniform in months.”
“It was either use some days or lose them,” he added, still technically telling the truth. He went back to the truck for his drill, tape measure, and a box of screws. He hoped the circular saw was still in the garage from when they used it to make a parade float last summer.
When he made it back to the deck, Mom was already sliding the door closed. She handed him a bottle of flavored water before dropping into a floral cushioned chair pointed right at him. “Ryder, I love you. You know I do. But you wouldn’t even take the day off for your brother’s rehearsal dinner. What’s going on?”
The two were a lot alike, and sometimes it was downright inconvenient. “Nothing you need to worry about. I promise. Mayor insisted I use some of my vacation days. Recharge my batteries and all that.”
After an overpowering gulp of strawberry-lemonade water, Ryder went back for the circular saw before Mom could dissect his response. The overly sweet taste lingered on his tongue for several minutes. It didn’t matter how much he reminded anyone that he didn’t care for sugary drinks and treats, he got them anyway as though they were a special gift.
“Well, I’m glad the mayor twisted your arm,” Mom said, watching him work a crowbar at the bowing steps. She was a smart woman, great at puzzling any mystery together. Ryder suspected he got his best detective instincts from her. It wouldn’t be long before she figured it out.
“I’m surprised you’re home,” Ryder said after the first board popped free. He tossed it to the side and went for the next. “Don’t you have some committee to lead or organization to start?”
Mom leaned so far forward he expected her to tumble off her seat. Her purple-rimmed glasses slid clear to the end of her nose before she caught them. “Why Ryder Grant, I do believe you’re smiling.”
“Don’t get too used to it.”
“I should take a picture.”
Ryder turned his back as she pointed her cell phone at him. He regretted the day he showed her how to snap pictures with it. Never occurred to him it could be used as a weapon. “Put that thing away,” he grumbled.
After removing the warped boards, Ryder noticed the rotted supports. Fishing was definitely out of the question today.
Mom hovered from the deck. “I was afraid of that. Maybe you could teach me to use some of those power tools on one of your days off.” She grinned. The thrill in her eyes made Ryder uneasy.
He wiped away a bead of sweat with the back of his hand. “Not going to happen.”
“Oh, come on.” Mom leaned an elbow on the railing. “A little mother-son bonding never hurt anyone.”
“You with a circular saw?” Ryder shook his head. “I don’t need a heart attack, Mom.” She was as independent as they came, but Dad had always handled these types of projects. After he passed, the brothers split the honey-do list between them. But then Denver joined the service and Ryder stayed behind. He’d been on top of everything, too—until these past several months. Since the wedding that never happened.
“You thought about getting a dog?”
Ryder nearly dropped his water bottle, catching it inches before it spilled against the exposed step supports. “A dog?”
“Why not? They’re great companions.”
“You don’t have a dog.”
“I’m never home,” Mom argued.
“Me, either.”
“You could take the right dog with you. Wouldn’t the kids love that?”
Ryder shook his head, stopping while he was ahead. He supposed the push for a dog was better than her nagging him about getting back out there in the dating world again. Something he had no immediate, or distant, plans to do.
“Get me a list of what you want done,” Ryder deflected. He liked being alone, not being responsible for taking care of another’s every need. Being alone meant no one could hurt him. A dog could run off as easily as a woman. “I need to run down to Davies’ for some more two-by-fours.”
Ryder’s phone buzzed half a second before Mom was through the sliding-glass door. Thirsty enough not to care, he forced another swig of fruity water down before he checked the text.
Denver: I want proof of life. Did you mist Oscar today?
Ryder: Only you would name a houseplant.
Denver: You’re evading my question.
Ryder: At Mom’s. Headed to your place next.
Denver: Remember, mist not water.
Ryder rolled his eyes. Oddly, he missed his brother being in town. They were as different as oil and water—case in point, Denver owned some frilly fern that required daily misting. Still, he enjoyed riling Denver up about his mystery novels and quirky writing habits. Maybe he’d never be able to put it in words, but he was proud of Denver.
Denver: I want proof.
Denver: Please.
Ryder: Calm down, Romeo. I’ll get you a photo.
“There’re a few things on here,” Mom said as she slid the deck door closed. The narrow blue paper in her hand fluttered in the breeze. “You don’t have to get them all done today. How many days did you take off anyway?”
“About a week.” Ryder reached for the double-sided list, skimming it quickly. Kitchen cabinet latch, wood shed door lock, clean gutters, pressure wash garage. Most of the items Ryder could knock out before mid-afternoon if he got right to work. Fixing the retaining wall would require recruiting help.
“I feel like I should take your temperature,” Mom mumbled. “Oh, Geraldine called.”
He flipped the list over once more to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. “Yeah?”
“She heard that Kinley James took out the town sign with Fiona’s car like she was at a demo derby. Didn’t even know that girl was back in town.”
Ryder tensed at the rumor he wasn’t surprised to hear circulating. Since the mayor had stuck him on vacation, Ryder wasn’t sure he could keep Kinley from receiving a harsh punishment and hefty fine. “It was an accident,” he said.
“You sure about that?”
“Car hardly has a scratch on it.” Seemed he wasn’t the only one who remembered that graduation speech and Kinley’s true feelings about the town. “She swerved to miss Ed.”
“You believe that?” Mom’s eyebrow shot up.
“I believe Ed was involved, yes.” The other details of the accident eluded him. He might’ve extracted them out of Kinley this morning if he hadn’t stormed away from their table before she could confess. Still, Ryder’s gut told him the incident was not intentional, but convincing the town would be an undertaking.
“You and Kinley were friends once.” A hint of mischievousness lingered in that simple statement. Ryder wasn’t sure what Mom was up to, but he recognized the need to escape before he found out.
“I better get down to the hardware store. I need to catch Harold before he takes his lunch break.”
“I need another favor,” Mom called to him before he could round the house and disappear from her sight.
Ryder stopped and braced. “Yeah?”
“It’s my turn to make bars for the monthly fire department meeting. Mind dropping them off for me later? I have book club tonight.”
“Ha, I knew it. Always leading a club or something.” He flashed her a rare smile before he hurried off to his truck, list in hand. Strangely enough, Ryder had smiled more in the past two days than he had in the past two years. It felt . . . good. It felt like hope. A secret he’d best keep close to the vest. The last thing he needed was Mom, or anyone else, trying to set him up on a string of dates.
“Picked up a new hobby with all your time off, Chief?” Chase Monroe jabbed as Ryder carried a stack of treat-filled tubs toward the fire hall entrance. No surprise Mom baked enough bars to feed the entire town twice over.
“You wouldn’t eat ’em if I made ’em.” Ryder followed Chase inside, amused at how quickly word spread about his vacation.
“Over there on that table is fine,” Chase directed.
Ryder passed the couple dozen folding chairs already set in rows. It felt odd not to attend the meeting tonight, but Murph had sent him a warning text earlier. The mayor didn’t want Ryder anywhere near the crowded station tonight, in case the lawyer slipped in and tried to cause trouble.
“Anything good on the agenda tonight?” Ryder prodded.
Chase was the deputy fire chief, one of only two paid firefighting positions in Sunset Ridge. The rest were volunteers. For as much time as Chase spent at the fire hall, it only made sense he be on the payroll. “Planning a fire drill beginning of June if the fire risk stays low.”
So far, this had been a wet year. More rain than sunshine, keeping the risk for forest fires low and the onslaught of mosquitoes a little higher than people liked. Ryder followed Chase into the garage bay to a table filled with radios and a pack of batteries. “What are you burning?”
“That old shack off Jack Rabbit Creek Road. The one that sets back a ways from the highway with the caved-in roof.”
Ryder was surprised that Henry Davenport, the owner, was willing to part with the building. Though his derelict cabin lay a couple hundred yards outside of city limits, it was an eyesore for tourists. Ryder’d chased a squatter out of there last winter, and still the owner refused to do anything about the property. “What did you bribe Davenport with?”
“Apparently he’s a fan of crab.”
“Warren.” The owner of the local seafood restaurant, Warren’s Sea Shack, was a two-decade-long volunteer firefighter.
“Free weekly king crab dinner for a year.”
Ryder winced at the cost, but secretly he loved it. He’d been asked many times why he stayed in a small town. Why hadn’t he become an Alaska State Trooper, or moved to Anchorage where there was more action. But Ryder couldn’t imagine living anywhere but this charming, quirky town with its unending variety of characters.
Chase tossed batteries into a trash bin. “Heard Kinley James is back in town.”
The gossip, however, Ryder could do without. “She is.”
“You know, Mercedes never made sense to me.” Chase slid the battery cover back on a radio and set it in a box, reaching for the next. “I didn’t feel right saying that before now, but it’s been two years. She was never your type.”
Ryder tensed, forcing a swallow down his throat.
“Mercedes never really got you. But Kinley—”
“No.”
“No?”
“Don’t go there, man.” Ryder eyed his escape options, eager to leave though unsure where he’d go next. Denver’s houseplant was misted. All of Mom’s chores, outside of the collapsing retaining wall, were done. It was too late to fish. His stomach demanded dinner.
“I was just surprised you and Kinley were never a thing.”
If Ryder was being honest with himself, he wondered the same thing too from time to time. That first kiss was seared into his mind. It seemed foolish, to remember something he experienced so young as though it happened days ago and not years. A kiss that’d been filled with promise, but led to nothing. After her mom passed, Kinley pushed Ryder so far away he had no hope of returning. “She’s only in town for a few days.”
“So, you’ve seen her?”
“I ran into her, yes. She’s about to be an Army pilot. I bet after this, she doesn’t come back for another nine or ten years.”
“Too bad.”
Yeah, tell me about it. Itching to shift the conversation away from Kinley and any talk of matchmaking, Ryder asked, “You free any time this week? I need to redo a small retaining wall at Mom’s. Might need some help.” Ryder couldn’t argue that Chase had more skill when it came to landscaping than he did.
“Let me get back to you after the meeting.”
Ryder nodded.
“Help me with these boxes of radios?” Chase nodded at the cartons lined up on the table, picking up one and leaving the other for Ryder. “I don’t mean to be a pain in the neck about Kinley James, but I always thought there was something there. Maybe there still is. Don’t you think that’s worth investigating before she’s gone another decade?”
Chapter Five
Kinley
“You took out the town sign? Like, drove right into it?” Laurel Evans’ excitable voice burst through the phone like a loud siren, causing Kinley to pull it away from her ear and turn down the volume.
“It was an accident.” As her feet shuffled along the bay walk path, Kinley glanced down the street to the brick building on the corner, wondering if the mayor had decided on her punishment. The slight possibility that Ryder might have to arrest her sent uncomfortable shivers through her shoulders. No way could she hide that from her commanding officer.
“Accident, huh?”
“I thought you’d believe me. But I haven’t even told you the best part.”
“It gets better?” Laurel sounded positively giddy.
“Guess who the mayor is these days.”
“No!”
Kinley let out a heavy sigh. “Yep.”
“Maybe pick Daniels up a box of those blueberry scones from—what’s that bakery? Bobbie’s?”
“Bonita’s.” In Kinley’s younger years, she’d once used a batch of Bonita’s legendary blueberry scones to bolster the courage of her two best friends. A string of fireworks rapid-firing through the middle of a ribbon-cutting ceremony at the local park had been the result. Laurel hadn’t cared about the week-long community service after they were caught. Ava still blamed the coveted scone.
It was no wonder Lee Daniels didn’t care for Kinley, considering it was his family’s ribbon-cutting ceremony she’d disrupted. Scones were unlikely to shorten whatever punishment he deemed just for this infraction. Lee was a well-liked man, but he was firm.
“Why would anyone believe it was an accident? Kinley, I love you, girl. But let’s be honest. You hated that place and you made sure everyone knew it.”
Spotting a bench a few paces ahead, Kinley made a dash for it. Though she’d stopped at Ava’s shop immediately after leaving the lodge, afraid she’d lose her nerve if she didn’t, Ava had been out on a bank run. Kinley left the Buick parked at the top of the hill outside Forget Me Not Boutique and took a stroll the few blocks down a residential street toward the water.
When bothersome thoughts of Ryder’s abrupt departure from breakfast earlier wouldn’t leave her alone, she called Laurel. Sometimes the bay walk was the only place in town to get a strong signal.
“I’m trying to fix all that,” Kinley finally said to Laurel.
“I can think of better ways.” Laurel always did love a good, humorous jab. “Have you seen Ava yet?”
“No. She was running an errand. Want me to tell her hi?”
Laurel either sputtered a laugh or spit out a drink, Kinley wasn’t quite sure which. “Yeah, maybe don’t. You know she doesn’t want to hear from me ever again.”
In high school, the three of them were inseparable; ironclad in their mission to ditch Sunset Ridge given the first opportunity. Kinley missed that bond the most. She had friends in the Army, but it wasn’t the same.
“You still haven’t talked to her?” Kinley pried, though she had no right. Kinley and Ava hadn’t kept in touch the past few years either, though for entirely different reasons. The last time they had a phone conversation, Kinley had been days from heading overseas. Ava was moving back to Alaska. Instant messages on social media eventually dried up until there was nothing.
