Read Online Forest of Shadows by Hunter Shea - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Hunter Shea
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source of noise in the dining room, interspersed with the clacking of dishes and spatulas scraping across the grill. The smell of bacon, pancakes and coffee was overwhelming and comforting.
His mischievous blue eyes sparkled and his smile caused the lines in his tanned face to grow deeper, making him look older yet stronger. His heavy gray mustache tilted up in a V.
The waitress, over thirty years his junior and pretty as they came, gave him a wink and said, “You didn’t leave me a tip the other day, so now you pay.”
The sheriff pushed back into his chair and held his hand to his heart, like she had wounded him deeply with her words.
“In fact,” she added, “you haven’t left me a tip in as long as I can remember. Unless you count that time I rang you up and you let me keep the twelve cents change you didn’t want rattling around your pocket.” She adjusted her dyed red hair under its cap, turned, and walked down the counter to refill another customer’s coffee.
Hubert, the owner and cook at Cheryl’s Diner, popped his head out of the opening between the kitchen and the dining room and shouted, “Would you leave the sheriff alone, Erica. You won’t be so quick to antagonize the man when you need his help some day.”
Erica rolled her round eyes and faced the sheriff.
“See what you did. Now I’m in trouble with the boss.” She walked over, scooped up the check, crumpled it and tossed it in the garbage. Bending over the counter to get closer, she whispered, “I think I’m going to give you a nickname.”
He leaned in conspiratorially and said, “And what name would that be?”
“Sheriff Short Arms, Long Pockets.” She locked him with her gaze and held it until the corners of her mouth began to tilt upward.
“Well then, I guess I better do something to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He could smell the faint aroma of her perfume, dulled from working the morning rush. Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out a five dollar bill and slid it across the counter to her. “That should square things for a while.”
She quickly grabbed the bill, as if she was afraid it would vanish before she had the chance to get it.
“That’ll buy you some time. That’s all I can promise.” She slowly walked to the other end of the diner to clean up a recently vacated booth. Gary watched her every move and reluctantly donned his hat and coat.
“I’ll be seeing you, Hubert,” he yelled as he walked out the door.
His cruiser, a dirt-encrusted Chevy truck, was parked in front of the diner, its front wheels resting on the sidewalk. He removed his nightstick from his belt, slipped it into the rack behind his head and put the truck in gear.
Lord, that girl was going to be the death of him. It was a good thing there weren’t many customers around to witness their display. It was rough enough on a man his age to be carrying on with such a young, vibrant woman. Even tougher to keep it on the sly. Shida was a small town with the usual small town ways. Gossip ruled, especially during the cold season, which was maybe why they had started their romance in the spring. He could just imagine what people would say, an old man stealing chances to sleep with a girl young enough to be his granddaughter.
Of course, she wasn’t the first. There had been plenty over the years. Between his weathered good looks, legendary charm and job title, finding a woman to keep him warm in bed was never a problem. At his age, he was expected to keep his wandering eye within a socially acceptable circle of women, all in their late forties and upward, most of them with grown children and divorced or widowed. That all changed two months ago when Erica put the moves on him and he was powerless to resist. Erica made him feel like a young man again. Being sixty was bad in its own right. Living sixty years in Alaska was enough to make an old man dive for the nearest wheelchair and day nurse.
No, being with Erica was
His mischievous blue eyes sparkled and his smile caused the lines in his tanned face to grow deeper, making him look older yet stronger. His heavy gray mustache tilted up in a V.
The waitress, over thirty years his junior and pretty as they came, gave him a wink and said, “You didn’t leave me a tip the other day, so now you pay.”
The sheriff pushed back into his chair and held his hand to his heart, like she had wounded him deeply with her words.
“In fact,” she added, “you haven’t left me a tip in as long as I can remember. Unless you count that time I rang you up and you let me keep the twelve cents change you didn’t want rattling around your pocket.” She adjusted her dyed red hair under its cap, turned, and walked down the counter to refill another customer’s coffee.
Hubert, the owner and cook at Cheryl’s Diner, popped his head out of the opening between the kitchen and the dining room and shouted, “Would you leave the sheriff alone, Erica. You won’t be so quick to antagonize the man when you need his help some day.”
Erica rolled her round eyes and faced the sheriff.
“See what you did. Now I’m in trouble with the boss.” She walked over, scooped up the check, crumpled it and tossed it in the garbage. Bending over the counter to get closer, she whispered, “I think I’m going to give you a nickname.”
He leaned in conspiratorially and said, “And what name would that be?”
“Sheriff Short Arms, Long Pockets.” She locked him with her gaze and held it until the corners of her mouth began to tilt upward.
“Well then, I guess I better do something to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He could smell the faint aroma of her perfume, dulled from working the morning rush. Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out a five dollar bill and slid it across the counter to her. “That should square things for a while.”
She quickly grabbed the bill, as if she was afraid it would vanish before she had the chance to get it.
“That’ll buy you some time. That’s all I can promise.” She slowly walked to the other end of the diner to clean up a recently vacated booth. Gary watched her every move and reluctantly donned his hat and coat.
“I’ll be seeing you, Hubert,” he yelled as he walked out the door.
His cruiser, a dirt-encrusted Chevy truck, was parked in front of the diner, its front wheels resting on the sidewalk. He removed his nightstick from his belt, slipped it into the rack behind his head and put the truck in gear.
Lord, that girl was going to be the death of him. It was a good thing there weren’t many customers around to witness their display. It was rough enough on a man his age to be carrying on with such a young, vibrant woman. Even tougher to keep it on the sly. Shida was a small town with the usual small town ways. Gossip ruled, especially during the cold season, which was maybe why they had started their romance in the spring. He could just imagine what people would say, an old man stealing chances to sleep with a girl young enough to be his granddaughter.
Of course, she wasn’t the first. There had been plenty over the years. Between his weathered good looks, legendary charm and job title, finding a woman to keep him warm in bed was never a problem. At his age, he was expected to keep his wandering eye within a socially acceptable circle of women, all in their late forties and upward, most of them with grown children and divorced or widowed. That all changed two months ago when Erica put the moves on him and he was powerless to resist. Erica made him feel like a young man again. Being sixty was bad in its own right. Living sixty years in Alaska was enough to make an old man dive for the nearest wheelchair and day nurse.
No, being with Erica was
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