Page 23 of Beehives and Broken Heroes

“Listen, I’m not supposed to be talking to you about this—”

“Alana, you know—”

She cut him off before he could continue. “But as soon I heard Grant was released and the fires started, I talked to Colonel Braddock. He gave me the all-clear to let you know what was happening if you called, when and if we get anything worth telling, but this is classified, so—”

“Who am I going to tell?” Brandon huffed.

She said nothing.

“I didn’t mean to snap,” he said.

“I’ll let it go this once,” she said. “I know you take a lot of responsibility for what happened with Grant, but it wasn’t your fault that evidence went missing. If it hadn’t been for you and Andy, he wouldn’t have ended up in jail at all.”

Brandon didn’t want platitudes. It was his fault. It’d been on his watch that evidence had gone missing. It was his fault that Grant wasn’t serving a life sentence for what he’d done, and if someone else got hurt now, that’d be on Brandon too.

“Listen, Alana, I’ve got to get going. I appreciate you keeping me in the loop,” he said.

“If I didn’t, you’d find some way to get involved behind my back. I look at it as being proactive.”

“Whatever the reason, thank you,” he said.

Before he could say goodbye, she jumped in again. “So, are you dating anyone?” She was laughing at him.

He almost rolled his eyes, but then he thought of Allie—of her sunset hair and her deep blue gaze that always held him enthralled. “No.”

She sucked in a gasp. “You hesitated! You aresoseeing someone. Who is it? Does Andy know? How long has this been going on?”

“I’ve got to go, Alana,” he said. “Talk to you soon.” He hung up as she spewed another string of questions and headed into his room.

He couldn’t handle the third degree, not tonight. He was nervous as it was. He’d barely seen Allie in the last month and a half, and now he was going to her birthday party. He wasn’t sure what had taken her from avoiding him one moment to inviting him the next, but as they’d sat together in the pile of hay, and he’d shared his muffin and a very private story with her, he’d felt something shift between them.

It must have been a big shift, because he hated country swing dancing. Always had. In the last couple of years, before he’d made a hasty retreat to Harvest Ranch, Zoey had gotten really into it and went nearly every week. He’d started going as a buffer. His sister attracted attention like bug zappers attracted mosquitoes. More than once, he’d had to break up fights of guys vying for her attention. She at least had the good sense not to be flattered or drawn in by that nonsense, but when she’d come home one night with scratch marks on her arms and a swollen cheek, he’d taken it upon himself to always go with her.

She’d taken it upon herself to make him learn to dance. He hated it, but better that than standing on the sidelines watching her like a creeper all night. Dancing with her was easy to do when no one knew she was adopted and the two looked nothing alike. With nineteen years between them, and him always being called away on duty, they’d not been that close until he’d started going dancing with her. Even though dancing wasn’t his thing, it’d forged a brother/sister relationship he’d been proud of. If she knew he was going dancing tonight, she’d probably get a kick out of it.

He put on his socks and grabbed his black-and-gray flannel off his bedpost, then headed downstairs. He’d call her tomorrow, he resolved.

Chapter 8

“You don’t have to attend every argument to which you are invited.”

- Bill Crawford

Allie peeled into the parking lot atCotton Eye Mo’sin Charleston, sliding into a parking spot like a NASCAR driver, with Jo screaming in the seat beside her. As soon as she threw her Tacoma into park, she twisted in her seat to look at her sister. Jo was white-knuckling on the grab handle above her door.

“Are you ready to party hardy?” Allie made a little shimmy move.

“I can’t believe your truck didn’t tip over,” Jo said.

“Oh, come on. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve driven with me,” Allie said.

“The first time I’ve driven with you when in a hurry since we were kids,” Jo said.

Allie nodded. That was true. They’d both had separate cars since they were sixteen and rarely drove anywhere together. They very rarely worked the same shifts at the honey shop, and before they’d moved to town last October, they’d spent most of their free time at home. Allie flipped down her visor and looked in the mirror, checking her makeup.

Wedding dress hunting had taken their entire afternoon, because both sisters worried Jo wouldn’t have time to go again before the wedding. The end result was that they’d found her dress, had it measured for alterations, and gotten out of Charlottesville in time to make it to the club. Jo looked great, having done her hair and makeup today to better visualize how she’d look in her dress on her wedding day. She wore cute jeans with an adorable boatneck sweater in hunter green, as well as cream booties.

Allie had no such luck. She’d gone for comfort, knowing that they’d be spending hours shopping today. Her jeans were worn, not by style but by use. She had on a baggy T-shirt with an American flag on it—she’d knotted it in the back—and white tennis shoes. Her hair was up in a ponytail, and she was light on the makeup. It wasn’t anywhere near what she had planned for tonight, a cute, little red sundress with boots, but she’d own it like it’d never been owned before.

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