The Worst Best Friend: A Small Town Romance

“I hope not!” I blurt out, hating the thought of Faye being alone and vulnerable here.

“Will do,” Weston says. Looking at me, he adds, “I’m pretty sure Faulk installed the system for Thelma at Amelia’s a while ago.”

“Really? I wasn’t aware we had one,” I say. “I haven’t had to turn it on and off.”

“Because it’s automatic and not advertised,” Weston says. “Putting a sign in your front yard that you’re protected just invites any dickhead burglars to cut the power off. Marty has the app for it on his phone with all the functions.”

I raise my eyebrows, surprised my brother never mentioned it.

Drake walks over to Faye. “Ma’am, I think you should go visit Thelma Simon for a day or two, or anyone else you’d enjoy seeing. Just a precaution.”

“Why, Sheriff?” Faye looks up, her eyes wide.

“Because whoever took that gun might have seen something else in mind. Repeat thefts aren’t terribly uncommon in smaller communities. Bad actors are used to vulnerable folks letting their guard down, including the cops. Rest assured that won’t happen on my watch,” Drake explains gently. “For your own safety, I’d prefer it if you weren’t home alone. At least not till Weston gets Faulk to rig up a new security system for you and change the locks.”

“I’ll call him right away,” Weston tells Faye. “We’ll see how soon he can help with the installation, but until then, I agree with Drake. You can either stay with Thelma or me.”

It takes a bit more back and forth prodding, but Faye eventually gives in.

Mainly because Weston points out that she’ll be able to walk over and see Hercules at his place if she’s at the B&B.

I happily agree to get her set up with a complimentary room, then help her gather a few bags with clothes. Weston loads up her van, which she insists on driving.

“Thanks for your help, Shel,” Weston says, once we’re following Faye’s boxy old van to Gram’s place. “And sorry for dumping another guest on you. I know you were probably enjoying the break in traffic.”

“You’re welcome, and you aren’t dumping anything. It’s a slower season, plus Gram will love having Faye hanging around.”

I smile. There are only three new reservations for the next week, so having Faye with us is no issue at all. Honestly, I think I’ll enjoy having extra company.

I’m still kinda creeped out over last night and don’t fancy being alone whenever I see Carson again, which will happen sooner or later. If I had my way, I’d ask Weston to move in for a few days and play into his growly bodyguard act just in case we’ve got a rat.

Even after our phone call last night, I had a hard time sleeping.

Knowing he’d be there for breakfast in a matter of hours was the only comfort.

We follow Faye into the small parking lot at Gram’s and before we’re even out of the truck, I see a chubby black balloon rounding the corner of the house.

Oh, crap. Hercules.

It’s legit shocking how fast he moves on those stubby legs.

“Uh-oh,” I whisper. “Looks like someone got out of his pen again.”

“That crazy, stubborn, curly-tailed little...” Weston trails off as he pops open his door and shouts after the pig.

“Hercules! Get your porky ass over here and back in your pen, or I’m gonna call your daddy Zeus and have him start slinging lightning bolts.”

I can’t help but laugh. He’s hilariously mad.

Predictably, Herc ignores him and makes a beeline for Faye’s van.

I’m not sure who squeals louder—the pig or Faye—when they see each other as she steps out.

I’m in stitches by the time I slide out of the truck. Just in time for Hercules to leap out of Faye’s arms as she kneels next to him and run over to me, squealing excitedly like he wants me to know his mama’s back.

I kneel down and scratch him behind both floppy black ears.

“I see her, big guy,” I tell him. “We might both feed you if you’re a good boy and go home with Weston.”