“Arrest them?” Sun snorted. “I’m going to send them a thank-you card. Or a fruit basket. Or a lifetime supply of anti-itch cream. That stuff comes in so handy.”
Auri’s jaw dropped.
“This solves all my problems.” She rubbed her hands together, not unlike a villain in a comic book. “Think about it. The rich kids won’t invite you to parties because they think you’re a narc. The druggies won’t invite you to parties because, again, they think you’re a narc. All my worries gone in one fell swoop.”
“Mother.”
“This is the best news I’ve had all day. High five?” She raised her palm and gave her daughter a once-over, only to realize the kid wasn’t falling for it.
Auri crossed her arms over her chest. “I know you.”
“Good thing, since you call me Mom. It would be awkward if—”
“I can handle this. It’s my problem.”
“I know.” Sun feigned offense. “But you know, if you happen to find out who started such a vicious rumor—”
“I wouldn’t tell you.”
“I’m appalled,” Sun said, appalled.
“Unlike my new rep, I am not, nor have I ever been, a narc.”
Sun knew that for a fact. Boy, did she know. “Fine. Just remember, if you do have to cut a bitch—”
“I know, I know.” Auri slid the strap of her backpack over her shoulder. “Don’t leave any DNA evidence at the crime scene.”
“Oh. Right. I was going to say don’t leave any witnesses alive, but that works, too.” She leaned over and gave the fruit-of-her-loom a hug despite their ever-growing audience. Cool thing was, Auri let her.
God, she loved that kid.
Having taken the scenic route through town, Sun pulled into her parking space at the station with a nostalgic smile on her face. She’d forgotten how beautiful Del Sol was, especially when blanketed with fresh snow. It was enchanting and mystical and serene.
Passersby would find the town tranquil. Spiritual, even. And it was. She’d give it that. But it was also quirky and charismatic and unpredictable. Just like the people who inhabited it. For the most part.
A large black font graced the side of the stucco building that read Del Sol County Sheriff’s Posse.
Her posse.
God, she’d always wanted a posse. Of course, she’d envisioned them all on horseback, racing over the rugged countryside in search of a man with a black hat and a handlebar mustache, but this would do.
For now.
Sadly, a sharp rap on her window startled her out of her prepubescent fantasy. She hadn’t even gotten to the good part where a Native American named Tarak saved her after the bad guy shot her in the shoulder, and they made sweet, sensuous love by a campfire—apparently, she healed really fast—before resuming the search the next day, capturing said bad guy, and taking him to be sentenced by the Hanging Judge, thus making the Great Plains great again. And bad-guy free.
C’est la vie.
She peered through the window, first at a police-issue flashlight angled against the glass, second at a blond-haired, blue-eyed, half-Latino in a starched black uniform and a gun at his hip. The refrigerator-sized intruder wore a grin that could weaken the knees of a sisterhood of nuns.
Quincy. Of course he’d be there to greet her.
She opened the door and jumped into the arms of her very best friend on planet Earth. Apart from Auri. And her hamster, Gentleman Jack, but he’d died decades ago. So, Quincy had moved up a notch.
She’d warned him at the promotion ceremony he had some mighty big shoes to fill. Or he would have if hamsters wore shoes. But Quincy took it all in stride, confident in his ability to run on a spinning wheel and crawl through plastic tunnels.
They were five. Their aspirations hadn’t been particularly lofty.
He lifted her off the ground with a chuckle, and she squealed, the sound very unsherifflike.
“Sunburn Freyr,” he said when he put her down and held her at arm’s length, “as I live and breathe.” He acted like he hadn’t seen her in decades when, in truth, they’d met for one meal or another every chance they’d gotten over the years, which wasn’t nearly as often as Sunshine would have liked. And they’d even brought in the New Year together. With a confiscated keg, apparently. But the enthusiasm was welcome.
Still, she settled a warning glare on him.
He cleared his throat and made a correction. “Vicram. Sorry, love. Still can’t get used to that.”
“I’ve been a Vicram for over fifteen years.”
“I’m set in my ways.”
“Well, I can’t get used to the He-Man you’ve become.” She squeezed his biceps. “How much do you eat?”
“Don’t you worry, gorgeous. It’s all muscle.” He flexed the guns for her appraisal.
Sun snorted. Flirting was a part of their shtick. They’d done it since they were kids, before they’d realized what it meant. But now they were in a professional relationship. Their playful banter would have to stop . . . eventually.
He gestured toward the building. “You ready for this?”
She studied the letters again, her stomach doing somersaults. “I don’t know, Quince. How’d they do it?”
“I can’t be sure, but I’d bet my last nickel they used a stencil.”
“You’re funny.”
“I like to think I am.”
“Spill,” she said, infusing her voice with a warning edge.
Quincy laughed and decided to study the snow. “Let’s just say your parents are very talented.”
Talented they may be, but Sun was genuinely worried about her mom and dad. “They got me elected, Quince. Without my knowledge.”
He winced and patted the air, urging her to keep it down.
She lowered her voice to a harsh whisper, which probably carried farther than her voice would have. “How is that even possible? There was a debate, for God’s sake!”
“You did great, by the way. I especially liked your ideas on how to eliminate drunk driving.”
Sun pinched the bridge of her nose, wondering how she managed to debate the previous sheriff when she’d had no clue she was even in the running. “Someday you’re going to have to tell me how they did it.”
The grin he wielded like a rapier served two purposes: to disarm and to charm.
And here Sun thought herself immune to the charisma of Quincy Cooper. Well, okay, she was immune, but she could see the appeal. The allure of the chick magnet—his words—he’d become.
In high school, Quincy had been popular enough. Very well liked. But he’d never been what one would call a ladies’ man. Now, the chunky—his description—former sugar addict looked less like a huggable marshmallow and more like a boulder. His waist had narrowed and his shoulders had widened and his smile had grown into something girls of all ages longed to gaze upon every chance they got.
What did the women at her mother’s book club call him? Ah yes. Stupid hot.
She’d certainly give him that. But deep down, she still saw that sweet kid who fought back tears after skinning his knees on the playground.
And now, after almost fifteen years, the Dynamic Duo—a.k.a. Quincy and Sunshine—was finally back together. Sun could hardly believe the roller coaster of events that had led her here.