Second, Libby was violating her restraining order half the time, and he was enforcing it half the time, which made it more than just a bit of a conflict for him to walk around kissing her. Every cop knew not to fraternize with the people who break the laws they were charged to enforce.
There was nothing good that could possibly come from any desire for her, so Sam had studiously avoided her. Out of sight, out of mind, as the saying went. But the saying was not entirely accurate, Sam discovered, because he really couldn’t avoid her in his thoughts. She kept popping into his head with those sparkling eyes and a charming smile, usually jabbering nonsense. He would push her out of his mind. But she would pop up again. And again.
There was no explaining the laws of attraction, but there was something about that woman that had crept under his skin.
He was startled by the sudden appearance of Dani, with his coffee and a creamer. “Sorry that took so long, I had to brew a fresh pot. So, are you going to be at the Kendricks’ Sunday night?” she asked, sliding into a seat across from him.
Sam clearly didn’t answer quickly enough because Dani slapped her hand down on the table. “Sam Winters, you’d better say yes! You hide away up there in those mountains and you don’t come down. It’s not good for a person to be so alone.”
Sam chuckled and began to doctor his coffee. “What makes you think I’m so alone, Dani? For all you know, I’ve got a harem up there.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not as dumb as I look, Sam. And I’ll tell you this—if I don’t see you at the Kendricks’ Sunday, I am liable to drive up there and fetch you.” She suddenly smiled and stood up. “You want a cinnamon roll with that? I just made some fresh this morning.”
“You bet. Thank you,” Sam said. He wasn’t as dumb as he looked, either.
THIRTEEN
Dani’s warning notwithstanding, Sam did not want to attend the Kendricks’ dinner party. Sam wasn’t a big party guy anymore, obviously. In addition to being an alcoholic, it reminded him too painfully of his life with Terri. He was no good at small talk, and he was even less good at watching people drink. That part of his life never got any easier. And frankly, he preferred to watch the football game in his living room without a lot of chatter.
Dani was right. He was alone.
Still, Sam might have been able to say no to Dani. But he couldn’t say no to Leo. Not that he hadn’t tried, but Leo had talked him to death. Sam had to give in to the man or lose his mind.
But moreover, Sam wasn’t feeling himself. It alarmed him that in the last couple of days, he’d felt a creeping desire to drink unlike anything he’d felt in a very long time.
He knew himself well enough to know that the desire for booze was usually a good indicator of his stress level. Only Sam wasn’t stressed. Why would he be stressed? Work was good, everything was good.
Everything but this thing with Libby.
There’d be no avoiding her tonight, so Sam had to have a stern talk with himself. He resolved to treat her like he treated his sobriety. He would see her, think of her as an alcoholic beverage, and walk away. He would keep his hands in his pockets. Never touch drinks or women.
He dressed in a collared blue shirt he’d picked up recently at Tag’s Outfitters and jeans that were actually clean, and his cowboy boots. He combed his hair and tucked it behind his ears—reminding himself that he needed that haircut—and skipped the shave, leaving a shadow of a beard on his face. He fed his horses and headed into town.
The little green house on Elm Street where the Kendrick men had taken up residence was lit up, even though the sun was still hanging over the horizon. It was unusually warm for this time of year—old-timers would tell you that meant an early snow was coming—but on Elm Street, the only thing coming that night was light and music drifting out from open windows.
The house was set back from the street in a big square yard. A few months ago, a church group had built a ramp up to the front door for Leo. Since then, Luke had built a deck that wrapped around the house. Little pots of flowers graced the corners of the railings, and there were two lawn chairs around a small table on the corner of the deck, beneath the boughs of the old elm tree that draped over the house and lawn.
Luke had removed the old front door and installed a wider one so that they could get Leo in and out of the house easily. Luke had also added a third bedroom and bath. The house was still awfully small, but at least it was more suitable to house three grown men. And it still needed work—the kitchen in particular. But the place was starting to look like a home.