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He ran his thumb over the dimple in his chin. “Sometimes I think too long.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “You know that’s not an answer, don’t you?”
As he gripped his bottle in his hands and looked at me, I swear I could hear his heartbeat.
“Despite my father’s objections,” he said, “I followed in his footsteps and joined the force when I was twenty-four, so that’s five years ago.”
“Huh, I followed my dad, too, also despite his objections. But what else would I do?”
His incredible eyes seemed to devour me. “I already told you; I think you can do anything.”
“Does flattery always work for you?”
“Just stating a fact.” He swigged his beer and turned his gaze skyward again.
“Where were you before you moved to Rosebud?”
He clenched his jaw, and I sensed I’d tapped into a topic he didn’t want to delve into.
“Melbourne.”
“Huh. I’ve never been to Melbourne. Then again, I’ve never been anywhere. Were your parents pissed about you moving all the way up here?”
He swigged his beer again, and as I questioned if he was toying with the decision of whether or not to answer me, I found myself holding my breath.
Oh, jeez, maybe his parents aren’t around anymore.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to answer.”
“No, it’s just. . . it’s a bit complicated, but yeah, they’re fine with me transferring up here.”
I had a rotten feeling that was a lie, and all the good, nice things he did all afternoon were stolen with that thought. “Oh, that’s good then. Are you in touch with them often?”
“Yep.” He drank again, and the starlight twinkling in his beer bottle didn’t reach his eyes.
“Why did you transfer up this way?” I squeezed my bottle, hoping for truth in his response.
The weight of his following silence was staggering.
“Well, it’s clear that chatting isn’t your thing. I’m outta here.” I stood and snapped my chair closed.
“Indiana, it’s complicated.” He reached for my hand, but I yanked away before he touched me. Conflict riddled his expression.
“Yep. Don’t I know it.” I marched away, furious that I’d convinced myself that Kingsley was different.
He fucking wasn’t. He was just like all the other cops I’d met.
And the sooner he was out of my life, the better.
CHAPTER 7
Tyler
I woke with a jolt and tried to work out what roused me. The darkness inside the tiny cabin smothered me like a concrete blanket. I checked the time on my phone. 4:37 a.m. About an hour before my usual waking time.
Then again, I did go to bed at least two hours before I usually did.
After Indiana stormed away from me last night, and Old Smithy was already passed out to the world, I tried to get my computer working, but without signal, it was pointless. My phone kept dropping in and out, too. After waiting forty minutes for Indiana to reappear, I’d conceded that she was not returning topside and went to bed, too. I should have brought a book to read. With nothing else to do, I had no choice but to sleep.
