Page 27 of Wrangled and Tangled (Raven Peak Ranch #1)

S pencer came back not long after leaving and made a phone call. I have to admit, I enjoy watching him work. His coveralls are permanently stained in places, and when he gets hot, he unzips the top and ties it around his waist, leaving him in just the white t-shirt underneath.

The rest of the week goes pretty much the same.

We wake up, I make coffee, and we go to the garage. We’ve had a few more dinners at Mawmaw’s with Lucy and Briar, but I get the feeling Spencer doesn’t want me around his girl too much, and I don’t fault him for it.

Like usual, because of the weather, Spencer tied his coveralls around his waist, letting his belly hang over the knot, and my mouth waters. Watching him work is hot as hell. He’s so handsome and wholesome it hurts.

I remember having his tattooed arms surrounding me while we gave into each other, and I watch the veins pop while he works, and sweat beads on his brow as I get lost in my daydreams.

There’s a fan in the corner of the garage, so I flip the switch, and his head pops up at the flow of air.

“Thanks,” he mumbles and continues working.

The ringtone I have specifically for Staci plays loudly, echoing off the bay walls, and Spencer eyes me from where he’s working on the other car in the garage.

“Hello.”

“Tell me you’re with the mechanic,” she squawks.

“I am,” I say, slowly drawing out the last word.

“Thank God,” she says, “I’m going to call the sheriff back.”

“Wait–” I start, but the audible click of the line going dead sounds before I can get anything else out.

“I hate when she does that,” I grumble.

Spencer’s phone rings as he’s wiping his hands, and he eyes me, “Hello?” He answers, placing the phone on speaker and laying it on the ground beside his rolling chair.

“The sheriff called,” Lucy starts, “The police found another body.”

He stops moving, body going taut. Rolling over to where he placed his phone, he picks it up, takes it off speaker, and walks off outside of the bay where I can’t hear. Levi wasn’t the only body. How could that be possible?

Eddie’s name flashes on my screen, and I answer immediately, “Heath–”

“I know, there’s another body,” I cut him off.

“It was under your trailer,” he blurts, “and the guy was pretty fucked up.”

“It was where?”

“Under your trailer. When the police moved it, it was layin’ there, hardly more than a bloody pulp, seriously smelly. Must’ve been there a week or more,” his words make me want to vomit.

Under my trailer… The smell… I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. I think I may be sick.

“I’m–”

“Hang up,” Spencer’s voice resonates through the garage as he lumbers back in. I freeze, so he repeats, “Hang up the fuckin’ phone, Heath.”

Pressing the end call button, I stare at him, mouth agape and running dry. “I didn’t–”

He looks in my direction with flinty eyes, effectively shutting me up. “Get in the truck, and don’t argue.”

Following his instructions, he comes out a few moments later, cell phone pressed to his ear. “–comin’ to you,” is the only bit I catch before he’s throwing his phone onto the dash and gripping the wheel with more aggression than I’ve ever seen from him.

“We’re goin’ to the sheriff. I don’t care what your publicist says,” he starts, cranking the truck and peeling out of the lot. “You couldn’t have done this, you’ve been with me for a week now, and I’m going to go on record for that.”

Swallowing down the little bit of saliva I’ve got in my mouth, I nod, looking out the windshield. I want to enjoy the fact that Spencer's visibly upset on my behalf, that he’s so hellbent on making a statement that I couldn’t have murdered anyone.

“Thank you,” I murmur once we’re at the police station. Looking down at my hands, I’m picking at the skin around my nails. The only sign of my growing anxiety about being here.

Again.

Staci texts, the alert blinks on my phone screen and Spencer picks it up.

FlameThrower: You let your mechanic speak his peace, but you don’t say a fucking word.

FlameThrower: Do you understand?

The second pings faster than the first, and I cringe.

“ Your mechanic , huh?” He says, the column of his neck moves with his tone. Twisting in his seat, he looks at me head-on and hands me my phone. “She’s right, don’t say anything, I’ll do all of the talkin’.”

“Why are you here? Why do this for me?” I ask, “You’ve made it clear that you’ll never be able to move past the fake engagement before this whole mess started. I told you I didn’t have anythin’ to do with it, but it hasn’t seemed to matter. So, why?”

He pauses, eyes searching my face before saying gently, “I’d hate to see someone go down for something they didn’t do.”

Unlocking the truck, he steps out but I don’t budge. If he doesn’t want me to speak, I don’t want to go in. Realizing that I’m acting childish, I step out, place my hat on my head, and walk into the sheriff's office without so much as a fidget.

“I’m here to see Sheriff Follie,” Spencer says to the officer working the front desk.

Her hair’s slicked back into the bun at the base of her neck without a stitch of makeup to be found.

She looks young as if she’s right out of high school.

But that can’t be right, don’t they have to go through training first?

Her eyes find mine behind Spencer, and she scowls. “Have a seat, I’ll call him.”

I guess she’s not a fan.

We sit on the hard plastic chairs against the wall, neither of us saying a word. The same officer who brought me to the station for questioning a week ago, walks out of the hallway to our right with a grim smile.

“Spencer,” he says. He looks around Spencer’s age, only with more lines on his face and dark circles under his eyes. He seems more than tired as if he’s lost years of his life to his job.

“Sheriff,” Spencer stands, offering his hand. They clap hands and shake before Spencer follows the sheriff down the same hall he came from, leaving me alone up front.

FlameThrower: Lawyer will be there in 10.

Staci’s text brings me no comfort. For all I know, Spencer will be done by then, and we’ll be leaving.

The female officer at the desk eyes me every now and then as if I’m going to lose my shit at any moment. To be fair, I might. Only not in a ‘psycho murdering way,’ more like in an ‘oh my God, I’m being framed for murder’ way.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly as minutes go by before the door opens, revealing my lawyer and Kenzie, Staci’s assistant.

“I imagine your boss has questions for my client,” my lawyer says to the young blonde officer, stepping up to the desk.

“Actually,” a man dressed in slacks and a button-down appears from the left hall where the interrogation room is. His shiny shoes make me believe he’s not from around here, not with those expensive dress shoes. The officers around here wear boots covered in dust.

He’s got a badge hanging around his neck, which he allows us to see as he settles into the seat across from me. “I don’t have any questions for Mr. Macabe at the moment, unless he has something he would like on the record?”

Fuck no, I don’t.

“My client does not,” my lawyer says. I need to find out what his name is, and how much I’m paying him because he doesn’t bat an eye. The mother fucker looks almost bored .

“Well then, if you think of anything else, I’m Detective Royce from homicide. You all have a good day,” the well dressed man, Detective Royce, says as he hands my lawyer his card. Kenzie wraps her thin fingers around my arm, and lifts me out of the seat.

I don’t want to leave Spencer in there, but I won’t dare say a word when Kenzie’s scowling like she is.

Once we’re out of the building, nearing Spencer’s truck, she drops my arm and says, “Why would you think it’s a good idea to walk into a police station while you’re a person of interest in a murder investigation? ”

“Because Spencer’s here–” I start, and her look makes me pause.

“You’re all over the news. Didn’t you notice the reporters across the road?” She points their way with her middle finger and turns her wrist once they notice her, so she’s flipping them off.

“I don’t watch the news,” I smirk.

“Ugh,” she slaps her forehead and closes her eyes. Once she’s gathered herself, she looks at me, “Your fiancé wants to know why, every time you go out, you’re photographed with the same man. She’s demanding to know who he is, Heath, and she said she ‘doesn’t appreciate being made a fool of’.”

“Yeah, well, if she’d stop avoidin’ my phone calls, she’d know. Tell Staci to shut that whole shitshow down, I mean it,” I seethe.

She doesn’t respond, only lifts her phone to her ear and turns away. I can’t help watching the front doors, waiting for Spencer to come out. I know he’s okay, but still, I worry.

“Staci told me you get to keep your balls today,” she says, turning back around and looking at the lawyer. “He won’t be going back in, Burg.”

The lawyer man walks off toward the SUV Kenzie picked me up in yesterday and hops in.

“His name is Burg?” I blurt.

She laughs, “His name is Burgess, but we tend to spend a lot of time together.”

“Define a lot?” I squint.

“Too damn much for my liking,” she snaps. “I’ll be in touch.”

Not long after Kenzie pulls out of the lot, Spencer’s form comes into view through the glass. He’s smiling at the sheriff, and shaking hands with the homicide detective who introduced himself to Burg as Royce.

His eyes find mine across the parking lot, and I swear my heart jolts.