Page 49 of Smoke and Roses

“Yeah. Completely.”

She sets the takeout on my table and comes and sits in my lap. She puts her arms around my neck and stays there till the food gets cold.

Chapter Sixteen

A chill creeps up my spine and it’s not from the weather.

A man is standing too close to me in the line at the post office. I shuffle forward with a stack of invoices in my hand, but he moves too.

Finally, he gruffly says, “You need to leave it alone.”

I turn around and look up at him, confused. He’s about forty, big and thick. The first thing that my mind truly registers is the gravel company jacket. Then the face calls up a memory.

This has to be Wade Kessler. Brett’s cousin.

“Excuse me?” I ask.

“You heard me.” He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to, he’s inches away. “You’re digging into my family. Sheriff’s been asking questions about Brett. You need to leave it alone, Lindsey. Brett’s dead. Let him stay dead.”

Heidi Stokes, behind the post office counter, has stopped stamping envelopes.

“I’m not digging into your family, Wade,” I say. I keep my voice steady. “I’m looking for my friend.”

“Your friend was a—” he starts.

“Wade.”

The voice comes from the door, it’s got a quiet authority to it that makes everyone pivot. I’d know that voice anywhere.

Travis is standing just inside the post office door in his station T-shirt and his work boots. He isn’t loud about it. No stomping. He stands there with his hands loose at his sides, looking at Wade Kessler.

Nobody breathes.

“Who the hell are you?” Wade demands.

“Travis Raines.”

My firefighter walks toward me. Taking his time until he stops beside me, not in front of me. Travis doesn’t touch me, but he’s there like a wall.

He says to Wade, “You were about to finish that sentence.”

“This ain’t your business.”

“She’s my business.” Travis’s voice doesn’t change at all. It’s the calmest thing I’ve ever heard. “Every inch of her. You want to talk to her about anything, you talk to her with some respect, or you don’t talk to her. That’s the rule.”

Oh. My. Lord.

“Or what?” Wade growls.

Travis doesn’t answer that. He looks at him, and keeps looking. There’s a scary kind of silent threat in his gaze that any animal would recognize.

Wade looks away first.

“Whatever,” Wade mutters. He drops his letters on the counter in front of Heidi and walks out without mailing them. The bell on the door jangles behind him.

Nobody in the post office moves for about five seconds.

Then Heidi Stokes says, “Well,” and fans herself with an envelope.