“Six months is a long time to go without dirty Scrabble fodder, if you know what I mean. Hell, almost a year actually, since you split last August.”
There were two ways this conversation was going to go. One, he’d nod and have to take a bunch of crap about his drought. Or, two, he’d confess there hadn’t been an eleven-month drought and subject himself to a lot of questions about who in Whitford’s very small dating pool he’d been swimming with. Questions he couldn’t—or wouldn’t, rather—answer.
He could practically feel Ryan’s stare boring a hole through him, as if the guy was trying to psychically remind him of their conversation at the picnic area. “Job keeps me busy.”
Mitch laughed. “You’re the chief of police in a town with crime statistics that don’t even make a slice of pie, never mind a whole pie chart. I should sign you up for one of those online dating services.”
“If you do that, I’ll arrest you for impersonating a police officer.”
Joe looked up from the cooler, where he was fishing through the beer cans to find a soda. “Is it technically impersonating a police officer if he’s pretending to be you personally rather than professionally?”
Drew held out his hands so Joe could toss him another beer while he was in the cooler, then he set it next to him. He’d probably need it soon. “Semantics are for juries. They can figure that out after he’s been cuffed, fingerprinted and had his name in the paper.”
A burst of squeals and shocked exclamations from the women drew their attention, and then they heard Rosie’s voice above the others. “Elizabeth Sarah Kowalski!”
“Whoa,” Evan said in a low voice. “How bad does a word have to be to get you middle-named during dirty Scrabble?”
Drew’s brain scrambled as guesses started running through his mind. Then he had to shift in his chair because he still had on his jeans instead of his baggy sleep pants and things were getting uncomfortable below the waist.
“Leave it to Liz,” Mitch said, shaking his head.
“Usually Aunt Mary stays in her camper while they play,” Kevin said. “Rose must have talked her into playing. Or being a spectator, at least.”
“Makes for a lot more words they won’t say out loud,” Evan said. “More points.”
Josh chuckled. “I’ve heard your wife’s good at dirty Scrabble.”
“Hey.” Joe shook his head. “His wife is our sister, so we don’t want to hear how many dirty words she knows.”
“Sisters and sex is off-limits,” Mitch agreed. “Nobody wants that.”
Sure Ryan would be staring at him again, Drew stared down at his beer and prayed for a subject change. Sports. Weather. Best bathroom cleaner for hard water stains. Literally anything else.
“Did you see what Mike did out on the trail today?” Ryan asked, and Drew let out a slow, relieved breath. “Out by the moose pond?”
“That wasn’t my fault,” Mike said.
“I saw him in my mirror for a second,” Josh said. “He looked sideways, but by the time I was going to stop and go back, he was behind me again.”
“I hit a rut the wrong way and it threw me. That’s all.”
“Took a detour through the woods,” Ryan added. “It was probably funnier if you heard him screaming the whole way.”
The chagrin on Mike’s face made them all laugh, and Drew relaxed as that story segued into another and then another after that. He even told one himself, about the ATV rider he’d busted for riding into Whitford in his underwear. The guy had gotten muddy and, rather than make a mess in the diner, he’d stripped down to his boxers and used a bungee cord to strap the ball of dirty clothes to his rack. Since he was drunk as well as almost naked, it had made perfect sense to him at the time. Less so when he’d sobered up and had to call his wife.
It was several hours before they let the fire burn down and called it a night. Drew tossed his empties into the bag with the others, then looked around to make sure there were no others. “Since I have to go by it anyway, I’ll dump these in the recycling barrel.”
“Hey.” Mitch draped his arm over Drew’s shoulders. “I’m glad you came. We don’t get to spend enough time together.”
“I’m having a good time.” Mostly. But he’d enjoyed tonight. It had been too long since he and Mitch had just kicked back and talked, other than the night Mallory had left and Drew went looking for a shoulder.
“You and I should go on a fishing trip soon. Tents, beer and fishing poles. Nothing else.”
“Since neither of us can fish worth a damn, maybe a package of hot dogs, too.”
Mitch laughed and slapped him on the back. “That’s a plan.”
It was a plan that would probably sound less appealing with fewer beers in them, but Drew agreed and started the long walk back to his tent. The campground was dark and quiet, since they’d outlasted the women, so he did his best to be quiet. Rather than dump the cans into the barrel, he set the bag next to it to add tomorrow, then walked around the bathhouse to take a leak, doing his best to stay in grass and avoid the gravel.