Page 85 of Indigo Ridge (The Edens 1)

I had collected my purse and walked out, keys in hand to lock my office door, when I nearly collided with Officer Smith coming down the hallway.

“Oh, sorry.”

“Watch it,” he muttered, giving me a wide berth.

This guy. “Officer Smith,” I called to his back as he walked by.

He huffed and turned, fisting his hands on his hips. He was in plain clothes, a pair of track pants and an athletic shirt. “What? I’m off shift. Just using the gym.”

I stared at him, his ruddy cheeks and sweaty hair. For the month that I’d been here, I’d been kind. I’d been polite and professional, hoping that in time I’d win everyone over, including Tom.

Call it wishful thinking, but I’d been making progress with the staff. They didn’t need to treat me like a friend, and it would be better if they didn’t, but they were beginning to realize that I was the boss.

And I wasn’t going anywhere.

As I looked at Tom Smith and the snarl on his lip, I realized I wasn’t going to earn his respect. His loyalty. He’d made up his mind and it wouldn’t change.

“Your report from Saturday is lacking. You’ll find my notes on your desk. I’ll expect to see the corrected version tomorrow.”

His nostrils flared. “Whatever.”

“Chief. The correct response is, Yes, Chief.”

Another nostril flare. Another snarl. Then he was gone.

I waited until I heard the door slam open and close. Then I blew out the breath I’d been holding. Tomorrow, I’d make sure I had a decent job description drafted for his position in case he quit. Or he pushed me far enough that I’d let him go.

Digging my phone from my purse, I sent Griffin a text.

My place.

As much as I wanted a quiet night at the ranch, I had a bottle of wine at home and it was calling my name.

Downtown Quincy was swarmed with tourists walking up and down Main as I drove home. There’d been a shoplifter this morning at the kitchen goods store. Two speeding tickets, one a local and one from out of state. Otherwise, life in my new small town seemed wonderfully simple.

Tonight, it felt like mine.

I’d heard from long-time cops in Bozeman that it was easy to get jaded toward the bad. That you searched for crimes around every corner. Maybe it would happen to me. Or maybe this little town, even with its faults, would keep the jagged edges away.

Quincy was home.

I turned onto my street, a lightness to my heart. It vanished when I spotted a familiar truck parked against the curb. And a familiar blond reporter standing on my sidewalk, talking to my ex.

“Shit,” I muttered, pulling into the driveway. “Both of them? I should have gone to the ranch.”

Skyler met me at the driver’s side, opening the door for me.

“What do you want?” I asked, brushing past him and heading for the house.

I ignored Emily Nelsen completely. Griff had mentioned she lived in this neighborhood. Judging by the leggings and tank top, she’d been out for a jog and must have spotted Skyler. She was probably looking for gossip to spread in her precious paper. Maybe that I was cheating on Griffin.

“Winnie.” Skyler’s hand touched my elbow as we took the porch stairs.

How ironic was it that just yesterday I’d told Griffin about Skyler? “What?”

“Let’s talk. Please.”

“About the house? Sell it. I don’t care. But I don’t want it.”