Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Margaret’s daughter is a good kid; she’s dating the son of one of my deputies and I’ve made sure he understands he’s to treat her with respect or he will have to deal with me.
Her hair, as always, has all eyes turning her way, looking more like it belongs on a fantasy unicorn than a young woman. Blazing stripes of purple, pink and green in a straight cut that hits just at her jawline, offsetting a sweet smile that I’ve grown to love.
“Well, hello, Lawman. You put down any bad guys today? Oppress the weak?”
She bites her tongue between her teeth she grins, and some might think she’s being antagonistic, but truth is she graduated from the local high school last year and is attending the same college I did, studying criminal law.
She’s wearing her signature black combat boots. Today they are paired with yellow leggings and a way-oversized vintage-looking gray ROTC sweatshirt.
Where the neckline of the sweatshirt hangs down, you can see the tops of the bright colors of the tattoos that cover most of her arms, back and torso.
“Not yet. Day’s still young though.” I raise my coffee mug to her as she steps over and bumps her hip into her mom.
“Morning, Mama Mia. How sizzles the grill?” Summer winks at me and Margaret shakes her head.
“It’s sizzling alright. You’re an hour late.”
Summer gives me a big smile and the silver stud in her tongue flashes in the fluorescent lights as she shrugs. “You know I believe time is fluid. Clocks are oppressive.”
I tilt my head. “You know attorneys charge by the minute? So, you might want to get on better terms with time or you might not get paid.”
She rolls her eyes. “I want to do pro bono work. Money doesn’t motivate me.”
“Money may not motivate you, but it keeps the lights on and your tuition paid.” Margaret pops her red lips at her daughter. “Now, go get into uniform and get to work.”
“Slave labor was outlawed in 1865, you know,” Summer snaps back, but it’s all in good fun.
She and Margaret are more like sisters. Margaret had her at seventeen, raised her as a single mom. Sort of a Gilmore Girl’s deal. Summer’s father was a carnival guy, passing through town taking advantage of young women as he went giving them fake names and a flashy smile.
If I could ever find him, I’d quietly make sure he couldn’t ever manage to…do that…to any other girls.
Margaret’s parents disowned her when they found out she was pregnant and from the little I know, they’ve never even met their pretty amazing and only granddaughter.
Margaret and Summer moved here about ten years ago from an adjoining county and Margaret started waitressing at The Over Easy the week they arrived.
When we found out she was pretty much alone in the world, my parents became pseudo-grandparents to Summer and I’ve done what I can to be a helpful sort-of-brother to Margaret, and adopted uncle to Summer.
Margaret worked hard from the day she started at the diner, and two years ago, bought the place from the former owner.
“If you’re comparing your life to the life of a slave, I’ve not done my job as a mother or human very well.” Margaret gives her a playful disapproving look and Summer twists her lips into a wry smile.
“Just joking,” she sing-songs as she spins on her heel and disappears into the back, her faint voice giving cheerful ‘hellos’ to Rodney the cook and Mike the dishwasher.
“So,” Margaret starts, and I hear that tone in her voice. “Janice Morgan’s daughter is in town.”
I restrain the groan that tightens my throat. “That’s nice. Hope she has a good visit.”
“Uh huh. I bet you do.”
“My food’s getting cold.” I take my fork and cut off a section of my egg and lay it on top of half a slice of toast, then gather it toward my mouth.
“You of all people should know time isn’t always promised. Maybe you should consider the idea that a woman, wife, girlfriend…kids,” she raises her eyebrows, “might be something good for you.”
I broke three ribs and had to have my spleen removed last year after a semi rammed into my cruiser during a high-speed chase on the interstate. Ever since, Margaret and my mother have been on me to find someone, settle down a bit and make some babies for them to spoil.
I chew and swallow my bite, following it up with a bite of the bacon, keeping my eyes forward and hoping my silence will put this topic to rest.
“Okay.” Margaret retreats. “I just don’t like you being alone. You’d make a great father.”
“Thanks.” I take a long breath as she reaches up to poke a pencil into her hair and rubs her lips together.
I’ve dated in the past, nothing serious but even so, when you were the sheriff’s son and then the sheriff, every move you make is under the microscope.