A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1)(59)

He poured two fingers into each glass.

“Yeah,” Sun said, wary again, “no offense, but that stuff is 100 proof. If I drank that much, you’d have to carry me home.”

The humorous grin that spread across his face stopped her heart. For a few seconds, anyway. “That can be arranged.”

“And what did I do that was so special? Besides get run down by a Mercedes, that is. And get threatened by a mayor who hates me. And eat muffins I’m pretty sure were cursed.”

“Well, you found several pertinent clues in a missing persons case. You managed to figure out we are being toyed with by someone who knows what he’s doing, thus you came up with a basic profile of our suspect. And you believed a girl who wrote a letter predicting her own death when no one else would’ve given it a second thought, which either makes you a genius detective or just as loopy as the girl.”

“Since you put it that way.” She took the glass, clinked it against his, and took a cautious sip. Then promptly coughed into her hand, and said in a strained voice, “That’s . . . really smooth.”

He chuckled and sat in the chair Deleon had warmed.

“Oh, I forgot. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but there’s a bona fide moonshine named after you.”

She scoffed lightly. “I’ve heard. But I have to disagree.”

“Okay, but it’s hard to deny it.” He turned the bottle until she could read the label. It was definitely one of Levi’s. It had the Dark River Shine logo, a skeleton cleverly disguised in the clouds of a New Mexico landscape, but the name of that particular recipe was called Sun Shine by Dark River.

She sat bewildered for a few seconds, then laughed it off. “Not likely. The guy who started the company is not a fan.”

Fields watched her for a minute, then said, “That’s not what I hear.”

It took everything in her, every ounce of strength she possessed, not to jump over her desk, grab him by the collar, and beat more information out of him.

First off, it would’ve been horridly unprofessional. Second, getting her hopes up only to have them crushed by the devastating realization that Levi did, in fact, despise her would be just a bit much to bear at that moment. She’d had a rough day.

But if she were honest, she’d been glued to her phone, hoping he would use the number she’d written on the note she put on his truck and call. To tell her he’d found Jimmy, yes, but it was more than that, and she knew it.

“Okay,” he said, downing the last of his drink, “I’m going to take off.”

She raised a brow. “On foot, I hope.”

“Absolutely.”

She put the lid on the bottle and handed it to him.

He held up a hand. “You keep it.”

“Oh no, that’s—”

“No, I insist. But look a little closer at the label.”

When he left, she turned the bottle into the light, not really sure what he was talking about. Then she saw it. A face. A profile, actually, of a blond woman, her hair covering most of her face as she smiled.

The image was so transparent as to almost be nonexistent. Yet it was there. And she recognized it. Rightfully so, since it was an image of her.

Quincy had taken the photograph in high school as part of an art project called Friends. He’d put it in a collage but then drew the collage on watercolor board and painted it, and it won a blue ribbon at the state fair. Soon after, however, the actual collage from which he’d created it went missing.

Sun ran her fingers over the image. It was like she was a ghost. Is that how he felt about her? A ghost from his past? Not that they’d ever really had one, but . . .

Either way, the use of that image was illegal on several levels and employed with a callous disregard for her privacy and mental well-being.

She loved it.

She grabbed her cell and looked up the number of an old flame. Well, an old flame in her eyes. She’d been in love with him since she was ten. But since he was married at the time, and the sheriff of Del Sol, any relationship with her would’ve been frowned upon. And resulted in prison time.

“Hey, handsome,” she said.

He let out a loud sigh. “I knew you’d hunt me down eventually, gorgeous, but on your first day?”

Royce Womack was a burly biker in his sixties who’d run this town with an iron fist and a deep laugh. He was sheriff for decades until he retired and a man named Herbert Kornel took over the post, much to Royce’s dismay. He currently spent his days running an incredibly successful, all things considered, rehab center called RISE.

Sun had fallen in love with him the first time she’d met him, probably because he’d pulled her out of the lake after she’d decided to swallow half of it. There was something about a man saving her life. Carrying her to the banks in his arms. Pumping her stomach until twelve gallons of water came out. It left an impression.

And he was there when she woke up in the hospital seven years later, even though it was well out of his jurisdiction. He’d held her when she cried. For three hours.

“I know. I know,” she said. “But it’s been a busy day.”

“It’s okay. Happens every time.”

“Oh yeah? What happens every time?”

Sun could tell by the tone of his voice he was about to hand her an overflowing load of BS. “Every time a hot, young sheriff blows into town, digs in her heels, and swears to clean up the place, she falls in love with me. Every damn time.”