She considered apologizing for her behavior and blaming it on the wine, but she wasn’t one for excuses. The alcohol hadn’t changed how she felt, only revealed it. He probably understood that as well as she did. Besides, if he thought she was a tramp, maybe he’d make her life easier by staying away from her and refusing to let Jake hang out with him.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She paused, but he didn’t take the opportunity to come to the point of his visit. Instead, silence fell.
“Can I speak with you for a few minutes?” he asked when she didn’t invite him in, as he’d obviously expected.
“Of course.”
His eyebrows slid up. “Do we have to do it right here?”
Mia would be less likely to overhear if they chatted on the porch. “Why not? It’s a beautiful day. I’ll join you.”
Stepping outside, she closed the door quietly behind her and crossed the wooden planks to one of the rocking chairs she’d picked up at an antique auction last summer. She loved these chairs. Their weathered look fit perfectly with the wide veranda and stark simplicity of her hundred-year-old house. Her hundred-year-old house.
But maybe not for long. If she had to go on the run, there’d be no way to make the payments. She wasn’t even sure she’d have the money to survive. She’d have to lean on Virgil, and how long could she expect him and Peyton to take care of her? It was possible they’d have to leave what they’d created, too.
“You’re not curious about why I’m here?” he asked, trailing after her.
She sat down and pulled her legs up to hide her chest. “Judging by the uniform, it looks official, so…I’m guessing you haven’t stopped by for a quickie.” She’d thought making light of her blunder would ease the awkwardness between them, but her joke didn’t draw the grin she’d been angling for—or any other indication that they could laugh about last night.
Instead, his gaze slid over her bare legs, making her regret the reference even more.
“Forget I said that,” she muttered. “It was my way of apologizing for putting you on the spot after you were kind enough to come to the rescue of my refrigerator. That’s all.”
“It was an apology?”
“That’s right.”
“Not a suggestion.”
She cleared her throat. It definitely wasn’t a suggestion. “I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.”
“How sorry are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m just wondering if you’re sorry enough to change your mind about letting me buy you dinner.”
Most men would be grinning while they threw out a line like that, but he wasn’t. Hugging her knees closer, she shook her head. “More like…embarrassed enough to avoid you in future.”
His eyebrows knotted in frustration. “You’re not giving us a chance.”
And he wasn’t used to that. She couldn’t name a single unattached woman, at least one anywhere close to his age, who wouldn’t drop everything to spend a couple of hours with him. All she heard was, “That poor Sheriff King. How he loved his wife.” While it was a compliment, it was almost always spoken with a certain wistfulness that said the speaker would like to be next in line.
Vivian wasn’t any different. She felt that same desire to have what Amber Rose King had enjoyed. But that wasn’t something she could have, not unless she somehow managed to free herself from the past. “Maybe I don’t have a choice.”
The interest that evoked made her regret saying it. “What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” She slapped the armrests of her chair for punctuation. “What brings you by today?”
He didn’t bother answering. “What are you afraid of?” he asked.
She ran a hand through her freshly cropped hair. A new habit. It still felt so foreign to her. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“I’ll help if you’ll let me, Vivian.”
“I know.” She smiled sadly. “There’s nothing you can do. Just…tell me why you’re here.”
His lips, normally so full and soft-looking, thinned. “When you were coming out of the bank today…”
Sitting taller, she steeled herself for what was coming. “Yes?”
“You were carrying something.”
“Chrissy Blabbermouth told you.”
“You thought she wouldn’t?”
“I knew she would. She uses any excuse to get your attention. But that doesn’t make her interference any less infuriating. What a busybody!”
He had a way of watching her as if he was waiting for an opportunity to peel back another layer. “Believe me, I’m not thrilled by her interest, but this time I’m glad she stuck her nose where it doesn’t belong.” He placed his hands on his hips. “Why don’t we talk about the gun.”
Too uncomfortable to remain in the same position, she released her legs. “It’s a method of self-defense, right? Surely I’m not the only one who has a gun around here.”
Judging by the unrelenting sternness of his mouth, he wasn’t going to let her dismiss it that easily. “Do you have a permit to carry a concealed weapon?”
She didn’t answer.
“Is that a no?”
Damn… “Everyone carries concealed around here whether they have a permit or not. Unless they’re waving it around in someone’s face or they’re making threats or they’re drunk…no one really cares. Or are you going to be a hard-ass?”
“Maybe.” He leaned against the railing. “Where’d you get it?”
“It was a gift from a relative.”
“You have relatives?”
He was teasing about the way she kept her life under wraps. She acknowledged it with a smirk. “One or two.”
“Where?”
“One’s in prison, if you must know.”
“Which prison?”
He was marking every detail she dropped. So why was she giving him another nugget of information? “That’s none of your business.”
“Are we talking about a father or a brother?”
She couldn’t resist. “Neither.”
“Then who?”
“An uncle, okay?” That was far enough removed…?.
“What’d he do?”
“Something that’s destroyed my life and the lives of almost everyone I love.”
“And that was…”
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin. “Never mind.”
“You can’t tell me that much and then retreat.”
Sure she could; she’d already gone too far. “It’s not something I’m willing to discuss.”
He was sifting through the possibilities. She could tell by his speculative expression. “That means you had two violent men in your life.”
“True.”
“How does your uncle connect with your ex? Did he shoot him?”
“No.”
“The two stories are unrelated?”
“Completely.” Except that she probably wouldn’t have married Tom if she hadn’t left home so early and been so desperate for a friend.
“Okay, so what were you doing with a gun at the bank?”
They were back to that. “What do you think?”
His scowl told her he didn’t understand why she had to be so contrary. “A straight answer might serve you better.”
The sun was hot today, but the trees around her house blocked its direct rays, and a gentle breeze, coming off the lake, cooled the air. Rarely did it go above eighty in Pineview. With all the wildflowers in bloom right now—the lupine, the Indian paintbrush, the kinnikin-nick ground cover—it was a beautiful time of year. She loved it here, especially in summer.