Sweet as Honey (Aster Valley 2)

“Why are you dressed like an insect?”

I blinked at him. “You know why. I told you yesterday it was time to put in the nasturtium seeds.”

He sighed. “Not this again. Truman, I told you to let someone else handle it. Your job isn’t to do free work for the town.”

Barney Balderson was the town librarian, who’d also spent a time trying to convince me to be his life partner, a role to which I’d turned out to be not only not well suited, but also not particularly interested in. There were things I’d liked about the older man’s offer. Stability, protection, companionship. But his idea of companionship had been slightly more paternal and controlling than I’d hoped for. Even though he wasn’t physically intimidating—a feature I was grateful for—he’d turned out to have very strong opinions about how I should manage myself and my business. It had made me nervous, defensive, and apologetic so often, I’d begun to feel like I was dating my own disappointed and angry father. Regardless of how much I longed for someone to be there for me, Barney wasn’t the one.

I’d tried making that clear to him, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. Which only made me more nervous around him even though we’d started out good friends. I missed having him as a friend, and part of me was relieved he was here. He’d make sure nothing bad happened.

I turned back to see Sheriff Stanner and one of his deputies cuffing Sam on the ground like some kind of criminal.

“He didn’t do anything!” I cried, lunging forward to intervene. My forward motion stopped when someone grabbed my stinger. “He was the one helping me,” I finished pathetically.

Barney pulled me back against him, wrapping his arm around my front to keep me from interfering again. “Let them do their job, sweet pea. That man looks dangerous.”

I struggled against his hold to try and find my phone which was deep in my costume. “He’s not. He’s Tiller and Mikey’s friend. We need to call them.”

Sam turned and found me struggling against Barney’s hold. His eyebrows lowered in an angry frown. “You okay?”

I finally pushed out of Barney’s arms and rushed closer to Sam. “I’ll call your friends up at Rockley Lodge. They’ll come help, won’t they?”

Sam’s dark blond eyebrows dipped even lower. “You know Mikey and Tiller?”

I nodded and felt the antennae bouncing on top of my head. Now that I was in the middle of town with everyone staring, I felt like a fool. “Yes,” I whispered.

“How did you know they were my friends?” he asked. The younger deputy had a hand around Sam’s arm while Sheriff Stanner made notes on the computer in his vehicle.

I shrugged and bit my bottom lip. “I’ll call them for you, okay?”

Sam’s eyes flicked from me to Barney and back. “That your dad?”

It wasn’t the first time someone had asked me that, but it was the first time it made me feel embarrassed and uncomfortable. “No.”

“Your boyfriend?”

I glanced around at the people standing nearby. Barney always said it was in my best interest for anyone associated with the Stanner family to think I wasn’t alone, that I had protection. “Um…”

Sam let out a breath. “None of my business,” he said gruffly like he was reminding himself of something. “Forget I asked.”

I winced. “I’m sorry about all this. You shouldn’t have stopped to help me.”

He stepped closer, and the deputy’s grip tightened on his arm. Sam lowered his face so he could meet my eyes. “Do you wish I hadn’t stopped?”

I thought of what Patrick would have done to me if Sam hadn’t run him off. As much as I didn’t want Sam to be in trouble with the law, I couldn’t lie and say I wished he hadn’t stopped. I shook my head.

He studied me for another second before nodding and stepping back again. “I’d be grateful if you’d give Mikey a call.”

Once the sheriff finished typing into his computer, he got out and walked over to me. “Would you like to press charges?”

I met his eyes and tried to be brave. “Against Patrick? Yes, please.”

Sheriff Stanner’s eyes narrowed. “Against this man right here,” he said, pointing to Sam. “For assault.”

“He didn’t assault me. But your nephew did.” I swallowed and tried to maintain eye contact. And there were witnesses this time.

Unlike the last time when Patrick and his brother, Craig, had assaulted me in the alley behind my shop one night after closing. When I’d reported the crime to the sheriff’s department, they’d informed me it was a “he said, he said” situation with no evidence or proof of the identity of my assailants.

Which was true. But there was proof of the myriad injuries I’d sustained.

Sheriff Stanner made significant eye contact with me. “I think that part was a misunderstanding, Truman.”