the sting in her eyes as she drove away, only to concede defeat less than a mile later. She pulled to the side of the road instead of turning north onto Interstate 95, put the truck in park, and covered her face with her hands.
Well, crap. What was so all-fired great about being an adult, anyway, if it meant she could no longer run home crying to her parents when the world knocked her flat on her ass?
* * *
* * *
Gunnar slipped into the corner booth of the lively Bottoms Up Bar & Grill, tossed the fire chief’s badge on the table, and took a long guzzle of the beer he’d gotten at the bar because he’d been too impatient to flag down a waitress. He pulled out his phone and took it off silent with his free hand even as he continued to drink, then lowered the glass and read the text he’d gotten a little over an hour into the council meeting.
He took another guzzle of beer to hide his grin, figuring Miss MacBain should be arriving at the campground anytime now, and that in less than nine hours, he would finally be standing face-to-face with the mysterious missing woman. And while it was on his mind, he decided to head off what he knew would be queen-sized trouble if he didn’t report in soon. Fingers flying, he dashed off a text of his own, telling Jane that her BFF was back home and safe, apparently none the worse for wear. Hopefully she’d be all caught up in baby management and simply read the message without firing back a wave of questions. Fat chance, bonehead.
He slid his gaze to the badge and gave a snort. Instead of being a mere coworker like he’d planned, tomorrow morning he would be introducing himself to Katy as her new boss. All thanks to Chief Gilmore’s sudden resignation, which had forced the town councilmen to spend the last four days pouring over their roster of firemen, then most of tonight’s meeting arguing over which one of the two best candidates should fill the temporary position while they searched for a replacement.
That should teach him to be more careful what he put in his resume.
Duncan MacKeage had been the only councilman who’d remained calm throughout the three-hour meeting, and Gunnar didn’t know if he was flattered or concerned that the apparently influential man had gotten him named interim chief. Which should also teach him to pay better attention when three burly Scots—one of whom had been Duncan—made a point of coming to the station en masse to introduce themselves to the mostly male squad before their sweet, pretty, favorite cousin started her new job.
The reason for their visit couldn’t have been clearer, even though one of the Scots giving the unspoken warning had been Niall MacKeage, chief of the Bottomless Sea Police Force. And although Scot number three, Alec MacKeage, had affably introduced himself as a trail groomer at his family’s ski resort over in Pine Creek who lived in Spellbound Falls during the off-season, even the cockier firefighters had seen the deadly potential in those sharp green eyes and had all politely smiled and nodded when they’d shaken his hand.
Gunnar had known who the three men were, having researched Katy’s extended family at the onset of this little odyssey. He’d also crossed paths with Chief MacKeage at a couple of accident scenes, as well as having seen both Duncan and Alec in town, though he’d gone out of his way to avoid speaking to them. Katy’s resident watchdogs had, however, inadvertently been responsible for keeping him sane these last two weeks by their very lack of concern about where she was. Though he did wonder how the seemingly astute men were unaware their sweet, pretty, favorite cousin was lying through her teeth to her entire family.
Gunnar concealed his surprise by taking another sip of beer when he realized the police officer sliding into the booth across the table from him was familiar.
The uniform most definitely was not.
“Is there something about to go down here I should know about?” his uninvited—and sure as hell unexpected—visitor asked, eyeing Gunnar’s own uniform. “Or is business slow?”
“Apparently I’m not the only one affected by global economies tanking, Officer . . .”
The man extended a hand across the table. “Sheppard. Officer Jake Sheppard, Chief . . .”
“Gunnar Wolfe,” Gunnar said, fighting back a grin as he shook his hand. He picked up his beer again. “And