To Catch A Player

He froze and turned to the pretty brunette, and when his hazel eyes returned to mine there was regret and apology swimming in them.

I held a up hand because I didn’t want or need to hear whatever excuse—and definitely not an apology—he planned to issue. “I take it this means you can find your own way home?”

Getting angry and making a scene wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t change who he was and it wouldn’t change me.

He clearly wanted to say something, to try and explain who she was or the nature of their relationship, but he finally thought better of it and his shoulders fell in defeat. “Yeah, I can.”

“Great. Good night. And Jackson?”

He looked up, hope in his eyes. “Thanks for your help today.”

“Sure,” he said, that one word coming out sad and resigned. “No problem.”JacksonI didn’t want to leave things the way they were with Reese, not after we’d had such a good day together. The woman she assumed was a past or future conquest was neither. I watched the van drive off, my gaze fixed until her brake lights faded from view.

Then, I turned to the woman who had inadvertently ruined what little progress I managed to make with the finicky chef.

“Agent Witherspoon, what brings you to Tulip?”

She let out a soft, feminine sigh, but her stance was all U.S. Marshals Service, erect and stiff and alert. “You, actually. Well, our mutual friend Jarrod Lyons. He’s been spotted in Wisconsin. Allegedly,” she added, because there had been no less than a dozen false reports.

“You still think he’s behind some of the sightings?”

She nodded and produced a phone from her back pocket. “I do, and that’s why I’m here. Facial recognition puts this at a fifty-fifty match, but Lyons grew up around here. People know him.”

She held the screen up and I nodded. “The resemblance is close enough, but I wouldn’t stake a big op on it.”

“Exactly. Me either. But someone around here would see through the beard and the hair dye. They’ll notice a scar on his eyebrow or something else we won’t.”

My night was already shot so I figured I might as well put in some work on tracking down Jarrod. “Fine. Send me the photo and I’ll let you know what I find.”

“I don’t think so. No offense, but I need to hear and see these accounts. First hand.” Just to be sure, Witherspoon yanked the phone back, this time shoving it into the purse that hung from her shoulder. “We going?”

“Yeah. You have a car?”

“How else do you think I got to this place that’s ten thousand hours away from the nearest airport?”

I barked out a laugh at her frustrated question. “You sound like me when I first moved here.”

“Except you chose to move here. I’m only here to catch a perp.” She came to a stop beside a shiny blue SUV and pressed the key fob to open the doors. “Where to first?”

Early evening on a Saturday? There was just one place. “The Black Thumb.”

Witherspoon snorted a laugh. “What’s with this town and its flower obsession?”

“Seriously?”

She deftly navigated her way through town. “It’s kind of creepy.”

“Remember, you asked for this.” She frowned, but I wasn’t deterred as I launched into the story of Tulip Worthington. “As the locals tell it, she left home to avoid marrying some old rich dude, she stopped here in Tulip to regroup and figure out her next move. While here she fell in love with a farmer, using his knowledge of the land and her gardening expertise to create a flower empire.”

Her blue eyes went wide. “No shit?”

“True story. The town is doing a fundraiser calendar to help get her statue fixed, if you want to chip in.”

“Are you hitting on me when I just saw you with your tongue down another woman’s throat?” Her brows drew up in sharp arches, her expression angry.

“No, I’m being a good member of the community by hawking these calendars to everyone I know, which includes you.”

“Good answer.” She shifted into park and killed the engine in the Black Thumb parking lot. “How should we play this?”

“Ginger is well-liked, so just tell the truth. Ask if the photo looks familiar, if Jarrod has any identifying features. They’ll be more than happy to help. You and your love life.”

“What was that?” She frowned as she walked past me and entered the bar.

“Nothing. Let’s do this.” Inside, the music was loud, the conversation and laughter was even louder, and it looked like everyone had started drinking early.

“Lively bunch.”

“You have no idea. Don’t answer too many personal questions,” I told her and she shot me a look over her shoulder.

“I can handle myself, Detective.”

“Fine.” I pointed to a small cluster of people. “Over there.”

“Hey ladies, do you mind if we interrupt your fun for a minute?” The chatter stopped as four sets of eyes turned to me. And then landed on Agent Witherspoon.