The Map Home (Collier’s Creek Christmas)

Chapter 2

TWO

Dakota

Current year, late November

“It’s going to be a busy fucking weekend, pardon my fucking French. And this is only the beginning.”

Dakota’s boss, Sheriff JD Morgan, narrowed his eyes and shot everyone in the incident room a serious glare.

“Like it or not, the entire county will be out and about starting Friday, and it will stay that way until after New Year’s. It’s a monthlong marathon of overindulging on alcohol, charging too much on credit cards, and spending too much time with relatives nobody likes. We all have to be on our toes. The holidays are difficult even for people who enjoy them—which is not me, in case you are curious. Everyone will be doing overtime, that’s just the way it is.”

There was nodding and a chorus of “yes, boss” and “we’ve got this” responses.

“The weather is what it is. Green, you’re going to be spending a lot of time on traffic patrol in town. During the tree lighting and craft fair Saturday, I want you on foot. Make sure to smile once in a while too, no scaring the kiddos.” Morgan winked and pointed at him.

Everyone laughed, including Dakota. “Right. Smile. Got it.” He gave one a try, aware his effort looked more like a grimace.

Morgan shook his head and then looked around again, making eye contact with everyone in the room.

“We’ll get through this first weekend, we always do. I’d like there to be no incidents but”—he gave a loud sigh—“we already know who will likely top the naughty list.”

Dakota paid attention while Morgan handed out the rest of the assignments. Collier’s Creek had just about nine thousand residents, but if they included the county, it was more like eighteen or twenty thousand, and the small Sheriff’s Office covered all of it. Five deputies were not enough, but Sheriff Morgan couldn’t squeeze any more money out of the state and local governments.

It was going to be a long fucking month. And Dakota hated the holidays.

The new dispatcher poked her head around the door frame, and everyone in the room turned to look at her. “Sorry to interrupt, Sheriff, but we have someone on the line wanting to report a missing person.”

A missing person. Dakota chewed the inside of his lip, tamping down the automatic anxiety he felt at those words.

“It’ll be a great time! The last fire of the year is always fun,” Tad was saying to him a few days later. Dakota didn’t reply. Tad proceeded to waggle his dark brown eyebrows up and down as if the action would tip the balance and convince Dakota to make the drive out to G-Bar Ranch on Friday night.

Spoiler Alert: It would not be the eyebrows that persuaded him.

Dakota hadn’t been born yesterday. What the last Gillespie bonfire of the year really promised was a guaranteed hangover. And Dakota could not afford to be hungover. As the newest deputy in Collier’s Creek, he had to prove he wasn’t a pity hire, that he wasn’t the guy the sheriff felt sorry for.

Sure, Sheriff Morgan assured him that the idea of being a pity hire was all in Dakota’s head. After all, he’d gone over and above in his criminal justice classes and during his on-the-job training. But Dakota still felt like the odd man out, like he needed to prove himself to the other deputies. Tad claimed it was his imagination, but Dakota couldn’t help the way he felt. Maybe after a few more months on the job, he’d be more comfortable. But also, maybe not.

The only secrets in Collier’s Creek were dirty ones—and even those were hard to keep—so just about everyone in and out of town knew Dakota had been abandoned by his mother as a teenager. He’d been left to survive on his own and it was only the kindness of the Gillespies and the willingness of the school administration to look the other way that had saved him.

Fast forward to late last winter when a stranger had come into Jake’s Tap and a dumbfounded Dakota had learned he had an older brother—one also abandoned by Ana Hamarsson-Green. Talk about mindfuckery. Dakota was still working to wrap his head around the idea of Niall Hamarsson, his brother, who was also in law enforcement.

Family. Weird.

“Well?” Tad demanded, pulling Dakota back to the present.

“‘It will be fun’ is not the selling point you think it is.” He pulled his fleece-lined gloves off and rubbed his hands together in an effort to warm them up. “It’s fucking cold out there,” he complained, hoping that Tad would take a hint and drop the subject.

After directing traffic in the snow and frigid air for several hours, Dakota found Jake’s Tap to be almost too warm inside. He tugged off the wool cap he’d had pulled down over his ears and tucked it in his coat pocket, knowing his unruly hair was now sticking up in all directions.

Watching him and probably fully aware that Dakota planned on being stubborn about the bonfire, Tad shot him his best “last puppy in the shop” look. A look that more often than not had ended up with Dakota getting into some kind of trouble as a teen—and hell, even now. It had been that way since Ana had accepted the job as cook for G-Bar. Lucky for Dakota, the Gillespies had always known who the instigator really was.

“It’s the end of November,” Tad pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s always cold this time of year. It will be warm around the fire pit.”

It wasn’t that Dakota didn’t want to enjoy himself; he liked a good time. But his idea of fun was hanging out with Tad playing video games and having a beer, not with the entire Gillespie clan and everyone else who would be there. After spending the day outside for work, he didn’t want to hang out in the cold and be fucking friendly.

And there would be others. Some of them Dakota counted as friends, some of them he could do without. There was something to be said for living on an island far away from most people like Niall did.

“I’m on traffic patrol the next two days,” he tried, knowing his protests were being ignored. “And foot patrol on Saturday because of the craft fair and tree lighting crap.”

Plus, there was the possible missing person.

Marcy Auchler. Thirty-one years old and hadn’t been seen by her landlord in almost a week. It had been a couple days since the report, and there’d still been no sign of her.

Not that Dakota-the-new-guy had anything to do with the case but he couldn’t help thinking about it. Sabrina Suarez insisted Marcy wouldn’t just leave without telling her first, and Marcy had also left her beloved cat, Pound Cake, behind. Ms. Suarez seemed sure that something terrible had befallen her renter. But… Marcy was an adult, so there wasn’t much the Sheriff’s Office could do, even if it seemed suspicious that she’d left her pet without at least care instructions.

Tad eyed him. “I know you’re off Friday night. I asked the dispatch person, Gloria.”

Of course Gloria had given out the information. Everyone at the station knew Dakota and Tad were friends and wouldn’t question Tad asking something like that. The new dispatcher for the Sheriff’s Office wouldn’t even think twice about it. And to be fair, Dakota’s schedule wasn’t protected information, not in tiny Collier’s Creek.

“Tad…” Dakota narrowed his gaze slightly.

Tad Gillespie stared silently and equally stubbornly back at him, not at all phased by Dakota’s glare. His expressive eyebrows lifted again as he waited for Dakota to come up with a decent excuse not to show up.

In retaliation, Dakota narrowed his eyes to a squint. He was not losing.

This time it was Tad who broke first.

“Dakota…” he said in a quiet, beseeching tone, so quiet that Dakota almost couldn’t hear him over the chatter of the crowd.

Tonight, Jake’s Taproom was full of folks who were avoiding their kitchens at home. Or they were avoiding helping out in their kitchens at home. Or they’d been sent away because they were underfoot and the person in charge of the kitchen was tired of them stealing bites. Possibly, like Dakota, they had nowhere else to go. Nowhere they didn’t feel like an interloper anyway.

Dakota had counted on Tad being too busy to talk to him, which was why he’d waited so long to respond to Tad’s summons. He’d hoped that he’d get away with a quick wave and an “I’ll try to show up on Friday” instead of being subjected to The Tad Stare. For crying out loud, even his recently discovered half brother had offered to fly him out to Piedras Island for the holiday weekend, and Dakota had declined. Even if he’d had the time off, it somehow felt wrong to leave town.

“Burger up,” one of the kitchen crew called out.

Tad wrinkled his nose, clearly not wanting to abandon his bonfire campaign. Dakota would be lying if he claimed he didn’t find the habit charming. Tad was a charming guy. And too good for him—Tad just didn’t seem to know it. It would be so easy just to kiss him, but Dakota couldn’t do that.

Dammit, the Last Puppy In The Shop expression was going to work, wasn’t it?

“Don’t go anywhere,” Tad said with a shake of his finger as he turned to grab the plated burger. “I’ll order a plate of curly fries for you.”

Dammit again , Dakota thought as his stomach rumbled. No one knew him better than Tad. Nodding vaguely, he unbuttoned his jacket and hitched his butt partway onto the closest barstool. As Tad walked away, Dakota noticed he had on an older pair of blue jeans that fit him like they’d been tailored. Not for the first time, Dakota enjoyed the view.

From his other side, a gravelly voice said, “Evening, Dakota. How’s the newest sheriff’s deputy?”

Glad for the distraction from Tad’s puppy-dog eyes and sexy butt, Dakota turned to find the owner of The Collier’s Creek Chronicle , the town’s only newspaper— The Chron, to those who lived in the area.

“Evening, Mr. Lewis. Doing well, how about you?”

Eyebrows with a life of their own drew together. “Don’t you go calling me Mr. Lewis. Makes me feel older than I already am. Curtis is just fine, thank you very much.”

“Curtis,” Dakota allowed, giving him a small smile. “How’s the news business doing?”

Dakota’d gotten to know Curtis Lewis when Tad had interned at The Chron while finishing up his degree in journalism And liked the older man. He was quite the character around town, not afraid to voice his opinions or to apologize if he was wrong.

Curtis shook his shaggy head of snow-white hair. “Busy as always, lots of irons in the fire, got some interesting stories starting to come together. Were you helping to sort out that mess on the highway earlier?”

Dakota and Ben, the dispatcher turned deputy, had spent a good two hours helping to untangle a four-car accident caused by clear ice and an unsanded area of road. One driver’s door had been stuck shut, and it had taken them a bit to get him out of the vehicle.

“I was there,” Dakota confirmed. “Luckily, the drivers were going below the speed limit, but they all still slid across that patch of ice like hockey pucks. Only their cars and egos were damaged.”

“That’s good news. Hey, Jacob,” Curtis called out to the other bartender on duty, “can I get a pint of that red ale?” He returned his attention to Dakota. “I know we’re used to our snow around here, but things are a bit much out there right now.”

Dakota agreed. He wished people would just stay inside until the county got the roads under control. But no, everyone thought they were the best driver and that everyone else was the problem.

Jacob set a full pint down in front of Curtis. “Can I get anything for you, Dakota?”

“Nah, I’ve got a double again tomorrow and through the weekend. No rest for the new guy and all that.”

“Gotcha,” Jacob said. “Happy holidays, right? I’m on call all weekend too. Fingers crossed the phone doesn’t ring.”

Jacob Gost was in his late twenties and had moved to Collier’s Creek a few years ago from an even smaller town in Oregon. Dakota didn’t know his story, but no doubt Tad did. He was also ridiculously attractive, which made Dakota automatically distrust him. Granted, he’d never done anything to deserve Dakota’s misgivings, but it paid to be cautious.

“You’re still doing the volunteer fire gig these days, right?” asked Dakota.

Jacob flashed a grin, practically blinding him. “Yep.”

Tad returned from delivering someone’s dinner, giving Jacob a friendly shoulder bump out of the way. “Go see what Harley, Kellen, and Radko want.”

Jacob rolled his eyes but wandered off in the direction of the Twisted Pine ranch hands.

“Well?” Tad demanded, frowning at Dakota.

Dakota pretended to misunderstand Tad’s question. “It’s an alright ’stache.”

For reasons Dakota wasn’t privy to, Tad had decided to grow a mustache. Dakota wasn’t a fan of the Very Hungry Caterpillar, as he’d privately named the growth. It was taking too much time to fill in and currently looked like something an underage kid would grow so he could try and buy beer or get the part of the pizza delivery guy in a porn clip.

“Give the kid a break. A good mustache takes time and patience,” Curtis interjected.

Curtis himself sported an impressive handlebar mustache and full beard, both just as white as the hair on his head. He’d heard that kids often mistook the newsman for Santa Claus.

Glancing up, Dakota saw that Tad was shooting a death glare at the older man, probably pissed off that he’d been called a kid. Tad was actually several months older than Dakota but had a baby face. Dakota suppressed his grin.

Tad opened his mouth, probably to try again to get Dakota to promise he’d come to the bonfire, but a loud whoop from the table of ranch hands interrupted him.

“God damn the McDonald brothers. And Jordan Ellis and Nick Levine too. Why did they have to choose tonight to get wasted?” Grumbling under his breath, Tad departed again, presumably to help Jacob the Sexy Firefighter with the rowdy group of guys.

Dakota twisted around to watch the yahoos in question. An empty pitcher, several pint glasses, and a half-dozen cocktail tumblers littered their table. The guys were laughing, Jordan and Harley the loudest of all. Nothing new there. Just as Tad arrived at the table, they all stood up and threw down various amounts of cash, likely equaling twice the amount of the bill. It couldn’t be said that they weren’t generous.

“Pool at Randy’s next,” Nick announced loudly. “I’ll pay for the first game. Loser has to sleep with Jordan.”

“I am not losing, Jordan is a bed hog,” Kellen declared even louder. “Whose place are we crashing at anyway?”

Dakota didn’t hear the answer as they were out the door before the reply came. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about those guys. Well, he would, because between all of them, they had about as much common sense as a garter snake, but it sounded like they wouldn’t be on the roads tonight. Small mercies and all that.

“How’s it going at the Sheriff’s Office? Morgan treating you okay?” Curtis asked, a newsman’s curiosity sparking in his blue eyes.

Dakota watched Tad and Jacob clean up the now deserted table. Jacob said something and Tad laughed in response. A zing of jealousy pinged through his chest, which he quickly stomped out.

Nope, nope, nope.

Rebuttoning his coat and ignoring his growling stomach, Dakota slipped his gloves back on before answering Curtis.

“It’s good,” he said honestly. “A learning curve for sure, but good. Sorry, I should get going. Stay safe out there.” He tapped one gloved finger against the countertop, gave the visibly annoyed Tad a wave, and departed.

He may have left the pub without saying he’d show up at the ranch on Friday, but he knew Tad wouldn’t leave it at that.

Puppy-Dog Eyes would come out full-force.