Page 5 of More Than a Hero
Pete tried to focus on the mystery novel in his hands, but the words blurred together, his mind stubbornly refusing to stay on the case unfolding on the pages. Instead, it wandered down a different path—one lined with golden hair, warm brown eyes,and a smile that reached places inside him he hadn’t realized were lonely.
He wasn’t usually a man who stumbled over his words around a woman. But even his partner, Jeremy, had picked up on how he seemed to lose the ability to form a coherent sentence whenever Angie was around. Hell, the man never let him hear the end of it.
Jeremy had been pushing him to call her, and Pete wanted to. He’d sat more than once, phone in hand, thumb hovering over her number. But he never pressed the button.
A few weeks ago, he’d had a legitimate reason to call when he needed information for a case. And then, just as easily as breathing, she asked him to dinner.
His heart had slammed against his ribs, his stomach twisting in that unfamiliar way that only she seemed to cause. He wanted to say yes. But he had some commitments he wouldn’t miss. Instead of taking the chance and figuring it out, he’d hesitated, muttered something about checking his schedule, and left it at that.God, what an idiot.
He hadn’t been able to tell from her voice if she was disappointed, if she thought he was blowing her off, or if she was glad he’d prevaricated.
When he’d told Jeremy, his partner had nearly torn his head off, cursing him out and telling him to get off his ass, check his damn schedule, and call her back.
And now, every day that passed made it seem even more ridiculous to reach out. She’d probably moved on. But then, there was the way his entire body had come alive when he touched her. Just the simple brush of his fingers against hers when he helped her to her feet.
That wasn’t normal. That wasn’t just an attraction. It was something more. Something different. Something that made him feel both unsteady and completely anchored all at once.
Exhaling, Pete closed his book, setting it carefully on the coffee table. Queenie had hopped onto the couch, kneading his thigh with determined paws before curling up against him. His hand drifted absently over her soft fur, patting her rhythmically until her purring slowed into the steady rhythm of sleep.
His thoughts drifted back to the last time he’d actually been on a date. And not just a night with an out-of-town woman he’d met at a bar, something that ended in a hotel room and left him feeling empty by morning. That had been months ago. Maybe longer, considering one-night stands weren’t his thing. He didn’t judge those who enjoyed that type of release, but he didn’t like the hollow feeling of emptiness that followed.
The last time he’d tried to date was almost two years ago. She’d lived in Virginia Beach but wanted more commitment than he could give. He’d liked her well enough but hadn’t felt the pull he needed. They’d parted amicably, but he knew she’d been hurt. And that fact had hurt him in return.
His life now was work. Come home to an empty house, except for whatever foster animal the local shelter needed cared for. The kids he worked with.Rinse and repeat.
His sister had found love, something neither of them had ever truly understood growing up. Their parents hadn’t modeled anything other than what love was not. He witnessed love with many of his friends and knew it was real. Yet it always just seemed outside his reach.Maybe it’s not for me.
But then there was Angie. Even after he’d left her hanging, she’d greeted him at the pharmacy with warmth, without any frustration or irritation in her expression. Maybe she didn’t care. Perhaps she’d never really been that interested in the first place. Or maybe… maybe it wasn’t too late to ask her out.
His mind conjured an image of her—her hair catching the sunlight, her colorful clothes standing out against the dark uniforms he wore. His imaginings wandered to an old picture heonce saw of a young woman in the 1960s—she was blond with flowers in her braids, bell-bottom jeans, and a bright red shirt with a peace sign printed on the front. Her head was thrown back in laughter, and he could easily see Angie in that pose.
The thought barely had time to settle before his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and grinned. “Hello, Jalen.”
“Hey, Mr. Pete. Just checking to see if we were still on for tomorrow. Mom is starting to work an evening shift and wanted to know what my plans would be.”
“Yep, we’re still on. Between my vehicle and Mr. Richard’s van, we can get everyone home. Tell your mom that I’ll make sure you get in safely.”
“Thanks, Mr. Pete. See you.”
Disconnecting, Pete tossed his phone to the side and winced as it startled Queenie out of her slumber. “Sorry, ol’’ girl. But it’s time for bed anyway.” He scooped her up and placed her on the floor. Securing the house, he walked to his bedroom, grinning at Queenie, already curled on her fluffy pillow on the floor. He shucked the sweatpants, leaving the boxers.
Sliding into bed, he abandoned reading more in his book. With the covers pulled up, he lay on his back, trying to push the thought of Angie from his mind. He thought of the cases he and Jeremy were working on, the kids he would meet the next day, and even resorted to making a mental grocery list. But nothing worked. The beautiful smile of Angie Brown settled firmly in his mind and then, later, in his dreams.
3
Pete sat at his desk, facing his partner across the cluttered space of reports and half-empty coffee cups. The Eastern Shore Drug Task Force had its own section within the North Heron County Sheriff's Office. They were close to the large area where the local detectives had their desks. The setup allowed easy collaboration, especially since cases often bled into one another.
Right now, Pete was knee-deep in paperwork, his focus drifting as he slogged through the tedious report on the discovery of drugs taken from a routine traffic stop. The endless documentation was a necessary evil, but today, his mind refused to stay on task.
Across from him, Jeremy’s phone buzzed, and his partner grinned before answering. “Hey, Mom. Yeah, I got the birthday cake. I can't believe you ordered it from Bess's bakery. You know she’s the best in the area. She dropped it off at the station yesterday, and we destroyed it.”
Pete half listened as Jeremy continued chatting, his face relaxed, his voice filled with easy warmth as he talked to both his parents. He could practically hear his partner’s mom fussing over him, reminding him to eat, asking about work, probablyslipping in a not-so-subtle hint about wanting to visit to meet Jeremy’s new girlfriend, Cora, the local medical examiner.
Pete was happy for his friend. But he was also honest enough to admit to himself that there was a dull ache beneath his ribs, a flicker of envy curling through him like smoke.
Birthdays hadn’t been a thing in the Bolton household. No cakes. No presents. No halfhearted attempts at singing Happy Birthday. Just another day on the calendar, ignored or forgotten. Except for him and Sally. They had celebrated each other, scraping together what they could, even if it was just a piece of candy they’d saved or a promise of a wish on a shooting star. Until he was fourteen—then, everything had changed.
“You ready for lunch?”
