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I’m sorry. —P

I didn’t know how long I stared at that fucking thing, and then like a fucking asshole, I walked around my house, just in case I’d misunderstood.

Cash gone. Apology note. What the hell was there to misunderstand?

Then anger hit, hot and immediate. I’d trusted her. I’d been her fucking mark. She’d seen me for the pansy I was and played me exactly right. She was no better than her father.

Last night, her eyes had been constantly moving across Draper’s Tavern, cataloging details. I’d attributed it tonervousness, but what if she’d been casing the room? Looking for marks, for opportunities?

The way she’d deflected personal questions, steering the conversation back to me whenever I got too close. I’d thought she was being modest, but con artists were good at redirecting attention, weren’t they?

Then when we’d gotten back here, when she’d looked at me with those big eyes and said she wanted to bewithme… Had that been real at all? Or had she already been calculating how much she could take?

The doubt was acid, seeping into every memory from last night. The way she’d responded to my touch—was that genuine desire or a performance? The soft sounds she’d made, the way she’d clung to me afterward—had any of it been real?

Much more likely: I was just another stupid man who’d been thinking with his dick instead of his brain. Maybe I’d walked right into the trap with my eyes wide open, believing what I wanted to believe until it was too late.

My phone rang, cutting through the spiraling thoughts. I grabbed it without checking the caller ID.

“Calloway.”

“Well, good morning to you too, sunshine.” Beckett Sinclair’s familiar voice carried a note of amusement. “You sound like you wrestled a bear and lost.”

Beckett. One of my best friends since middle school. I loved the man like a fucking brother but did not want to talk to him right now. Not when I was reeling over just how much of a fool I’d been with Piper.

“Just tired,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “What’s up?”

“Calling to grovel appropriately for missing your big celebration last night. Had a work emergency.”

Beckett worked for the recently founded Warrior Security, the Resting Warrior Ranch’s tactical team. So work emergency could be anything from unfinished paperwork to a death threat.

But probably not the latter since we would’ve heard about that in an official capacity. “Everyone okay?”

“Yeah, nothing but a thing.”

I didn’t press.

“I also heard some very interesting news at Deja Brew this morning. That Sheriff Calloway was seen leaving Draper’s around closing time with a very attractive brunette on his arm. Margie Henderson was practically vibrating with excitement when she told me what she’d heard—apparently you two looked ‘quite cozy’ at the bar.”

I should have known. In a town the size of Garnet Bend, gossip traveled faster than wildfire. “Margie Henderson needs a hobby.”

“Margie Henderson has made gossip her hobby for the past sixty years, so she’s damn good at it.” Beckett’s voice carried the grin I could picture on his face. “So come on, who’s the mystery woman? Anyone I know?”

“Piper Matthews.”

A pause. “Matthews… Wait. Like, Ray Matthews’s daughter from back in the day? I don’t really remember her much. She would’ve been pretty young when they left, right?”

“Eighteen. Just about to graduate high school.”

“And now she’s back in town, looking for a reunion with Garnet Bend’s finest?” There was teasing in Beckett’s voice, the comfortable ribbing that came with twenty years of friendship. “Must’ve been some reunion for you two to be making the rounds at Draper’s.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Uh-huh. So what was it like?”

I looked down at my empty wallet and that fucking note. “She’s not in town anymore.”

“Oh shit. Is she like her dad? Was she trying to con people?”