Page 4 of Need You
Josh pointed at a four-story office building that used to be a kitschy western motel. “My new physical therapist.”
“How’s the leg?” His brother’s limp had become less pronounced since Christmas, when he’d returned from Afghanistan.
An IED explosion had killed three and injured seven soldiers in his squad. Josh and another army ranger had managed to carry the survivors to safety. But his brother’s leg had been torn and mangled so badly that doctors had wanted to amputate. One of the surgeons had stitched together enough of Josh’s blood vessels to save the leg long enough to get him to Germany. There, they’d reconnected his bones with plates and rods and mended his wounds with muscle and skin from other parts of his body.
His little brother was a walking miracle of science, which none of them took for granted. Colt credited a lot of Josh’s recovery to Hannah. She’d kicked his ass when he’d first returned, angry at the world. They’d gotten married in June and Colt had never seen his brother happier.
“Good,” Josh answered. “The goal is to be rock climbing by next summer.” In the meantime, Josh was leading the inner-tube cave tours and had taken a few groups down the Glory River. “What’s going on in city hall?” he asked.
“I had a meeting with Pond. The guy’s a douche bag ... put me in a foul mood.”
“What happened?”
Colt did a quick scan of the street. There were big ears in Glory Junction. As if on cue, Rita Tucker, one of the town’s biggest busybodies and a member of the city council, waved from across the street. “We’ll talk later; I’ve got to get to the office.”
“You up for a beer tonight with the brothers?”
“I don’t know how late I’ll be.” Friday nights in Glory Junction could get busy and he’d been out late the night before.
“Text if you can make it. If not, no worries.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Colt bit back a yawn.
“I better get going.” Josh started to walk away, then called over his shoulder, “Hey, Colt, wash your shirt.”
At the police station, he found a spare uniform top in his coat closet, stripped the stained shirt, and shrugged into the fresh one.
Carrie Jo, his receptionist, barged in without knocking. “You want me to drop that off at the cleaners?”
Colt had been in the same graduating class with her in high school. Back then she’d been head cheerleader, homecoming queen, and whatever other crap the popular girls did. Instead of going to college, she’d married an investment banker. Last year, she’d caught him cheating on her and had left him. She had zero job skills but Colt hired her anyway. Best thing he ever did because as his gatekeeper, Carrie Jo had turned out to be adept at keeping the crazies away.
“Sure.” He sat down at his desk to check his messages. Unlike Pond’s desk, it was your standard city-issued L-shaped metal number. “While you’re there, if you wouldn’t mind picking up my clean uniforms I’d greatly appreciate it. And if you grab me one of those breakfast sandwiches at Tart Me Up I’ll love you forever. Get one for you too. You fly, I’ll buy.”
“No sandwiches for me, I’m back on Paleo.” She’d packed on fifty pounds since high school.
“Just exercise and you’ll be fine. You look great, Carrie Jo.”
“If I look so great why don’t you ever set me up with anyone?” She balled up his stained shirt and sank into his sofa, waiting for an answer.
“I would if I knew any single guys.”
“Uh . . . you have two single brothers. Both gorgeous. Both employed.”
“Uh-uh. Win nails anything in a skirt and TJ’s a workaholic. You deserve better.”
“What about you?” she challenged.
Wouldn’t Pond love that, Colt thought. Dating a subordinate. “One of us would have to quit. But yeah, I’m good with that.” He winked at her.
“You’re such a liar, but I love you anyway. I want to have a baby, Colt.”
He held up his hands. “Don’t look at me.”
“Denny wouldn’t have cheated on me if I’d still been a size four and I’d have a child by now.”
“That’s bullshit, Carrie Jo, and you know it. Denny was an insecure prick. His cheating had nothing to do with you. Why don’t you try online dating? I hear people have good luck with it.”
“Why don’t you?”
