Can't Hurry Love (Sunshine Valley #1) - Melinda Curtis Page 0,8
dolls came fully equipped,” Lola said weakly.
“These are definitely cheap,” Avery said, suddenly a sex-toy expert. “He could have gotten them as a wedding gift and been waiting to give them to someone else.”
“Randy wasn’t the regifting type.” Trouble was, Lola didn’t know anymore what type of man she’d married. “I’ll take that drink now.”
Avery nodded. “I think you’ve earned it.”
Chapter Three
Drew’s next stop after putting out Lola’s fire was Gigi Nelson’s place.
The octogenarian called at least once a week to report something. This time it was a rabid rodent in her backyard. If Drew had to guess, the rodent was a raccoon, wasn’t rabid, and would most likely be gone by the time he arrived. Not that it mattered. Gigi would have coffee ready. She was lonely, and those in the sheriff’s office, Drew included, didn’t mind a quiet coffee break with fresh-from-the-oven cookies.
But today…
His past had risen up to bite him in the butt.
“You said we could move to Nashville.” Six years ago, Jane’s words had been wooden. “You said marriage wouldn’t change anything.”
“But something else has.” Drew held Becky closer but her precious, swaddled body couldn’t thaw the ice forming around his heart.
“You said you’d support my dreams.” Jane had stared at Drew as if he’d just stepped off the express elevator from Hades and she didn’t recognize the loathsome demon he’d become.
“That was before we got pregnant.” An accident. “Before Becky was born.” Before he’d become a dad and they’d become a family. “Between my shifts as a sheriff and your gigs on the road, we need a support group.” His mother. His sisters. Her parents. “We wouldn’t have that in Nashville. Think about Becky.” He angled her cherubic face in Jane’s direction. “We can’t move now.”
Jane had looked away.
And she had never looked back. She’d filed for divorce that morning, signed over custody of Becky by noon, and left for Nashville before sundown.
Drew flexed his fingers on the steering wheel. He needed mind-numbing action today so he wouldn’t think about Jane. A quick search online after her call had found a startling statistic: more often than not, absentee moms won the right to visitation and partial custody. What did that mean for Becky? Would she go to school half the year here and the other half in Nashville?
Not if Drew could help it.
A skateboarder flew off the curb in front of the cruiser, narrowly avoiding being run down.
Drew slammed on his brakes, shoved the car in park, and hopped out just as another skateboarder did the same thing. “Boys! Do you have a death wish?”
As one, the Bodine brothers, identical twins, stepped on the back ends of their boards and came to quick, noisy stops. The tall, lanky teens had shaggy brown hair that hung in their eyes and smiles that had charmed them into—and out of—trouble for most of their sixteen years.
“I had plenty of time to get across.” That had to be Steve. He was the more cynical twin.
Phillip slugged Steve’s shoulder. “Arrest him. He was going to skate in the town square.”
“Way to go, loser.” Steve slugged him back, but they were both grinning like idiots. “Now neither one of us can skate there.”
Because it was against a recently passed town ordinance.
Victor Yates drove his feedstore truck slowly around Drew’s cruiser, giving the Bodines a hard look before giving Drew one of equal intensity. He was on the Sunshine Town Council (had been for decades), had authored the skateboarding ordinance (among other fun-killing laws), and had the demeanor of a man with serious constipation issues (he cut no one a break). None of which endeared him to the town’s youth or Drew. Didn’t help that he was Jane’s father.
“Now what are we supposed to do?” Phillip rubbed his shoulder.
As one, they turned to Drew, waiting for him to make a suggestion.
Drew could think of lots of places they could skate—the old boat launch at Kismet Lake, the courtyard at the Methodist church, the loading platforms at the idle grain mill. None of which were legal either, but all of them tended to be deserted on Saturdays. Drew had been hoping the teens would outgrow their affection for skateboarding over the winter and go back to bull riding. No such luck. But the day was clear, and there was nothing going on in town to distract them. If they were going to skate, he’d rather they did it where no one would complain. “Try the grain mill.”