I’d hit the nail on the head. If anything, those pictures had sweetened the deal, upped the challenge. And then there was likely the fact that, because she’d had—past tense—a boyfriend, Phoebe wasn’t a girl who was going to demand anything of him after the deed was done.
You’re the best! The best!
That pinching again, humiliation cooling my blood several more degrees. Speaking of ice ages. I felt like a walking glacier.
I was cheated on with this . . . kid? This pretty-boy club employee, vacationing in my town for the summer? I’d seen him the day before when I’d been sitting at the refreshment bar talking to smoothie girl.
The kid opened his mouth to speak then closed it again. “Here for the summer, I assume?”
“Urrr . . .”
“Maybe it’s time to call it an early season,” I suggested.
His eyes narrowed minutely. “Yeah . . . sorry. I can’t do that.”
“What’s your last name, Easton?”
He hesitated, the wheels of his mind obviously turning. After a moment, having clearly worked out that I could find out his name easily enough if he wouldn’t give it to me, he answered, “Torres.”
“Torres,” I repeated. Why did that sound familiar?
“Yeah. It’s really Torres.”
For several moments we engaged in a stare-off. Finally, his gaze skittered away.
“This is Travis’s town,” Spencer interjected.
I shut my eyes briefly and huffed out a breath. Talk about melodramatic. “Listen, Mr. Torres, you might have just arrived, but I think we can both agree that you’ve burned the wrong bridge here in Pelion. I wouldn’t expect this to be an enjoyable summer if you stay.”
“You should leave before we run you out of town,” Spencer threatened.
“Spencer,” I said between clenched teeth, not glancing his way. Spencer had obviously watched far too many reruns of Gunsmoke in preparation for the job.
“What are you going to do?” Easton asked warily.
I chewed at my bottom lip thoughtfully, a slow smile unfolding. His gaze widened. “Nothing,” I drawled. His chin jerked minutely, eyebrows lifting. “Nothing until you least expect it,” I clarified, my smile growing. I stepped out of his path so he could pass by.
He moved to go around me and I stepped in his way, causing him to have to move around the other side. Immature, yet satisfying.
“You’re crazy, you know that?” he said, dipping around and glancing back repeatedly as he almost ran to the diner door, ducking inside.
As if he was safe there.
Those were my people. And unlike Phoebe, they were loyal.
Still, I’d bide my time.
Spencer followed as I walked toward our cruiser.
I pulled out of the lot, heading toward the station. “We could have him roughed up,” Spencer offered.
My brows came down and I gave him a glare. “We’re not going to rough anyone up, Spencer. Jesus.” I was many things, but a crooked cop wasn’t one of them.
He looked chastised. “Sorry, boss.”
I sighed. “This is a personal issue. I’ll know when the right opportunity comes along.” I glanced at him. “And listen, Spencer . . .”
The guy was staring at me so intently, as though I was about to impart the sagest advice he’d ever been given. I was surprised he hadn’t taken out a piece of paper to make notes. “Just . . . dial it down a notch, okay?”
His shoulders sagged and he nodded dejectedly. “I just want you to know I got your back, boss.”
I sighed. “I know that. I appreciate it.” He was a decent guy. He was even a good cop so far, though he hadn’t been on long. His main downfall was that his regular ass-kissing got on my nerves.
“She cheated on you,” Spencer said. “Phoebe cheated on you.” He looked personally outraged and, though it was overkill—an example of him not dialing it down—I still appreciated the concern on my behalf.
“And you walked in on it,” he said, letting out one long whistle. “Man. That sucks.” He dragged out the word, enunciating the u with a seemingly unending number of head bounces, until it was about fifty-seven syllables long and a headache had started at the base of my spine.
As if the word sucks needed to be so dramatically enunciated when discussing my cheating girlfriend. I had no doubt plenty of that had gone on before I walked in the room. I didn’t appreciate the sudden visual. “I’d want revenge too,” Spencer offered. “I mean, you walked right in on it!” he repeated.
God, why had I told him about it? Why?
Temporary emotional insanity, it had to have been.
“Yes, Spencer, I’m aware that I