Kristen Blooming by Jenny Penn Page A

didn’t like the mayor. Nobody really did. The man was pompous and annoying. Whenever he got involved with the sheriff’s department, it was an utter disaster, which reflected in Alex’s tone.
    “None of us need that kind of attention. Understand?”
    Another round of nods met that question, leaving Alex sighing and nodding himself.
    “Good. Then stay away from the woman. If she ends up talking to the mayor and he ends up talking to me, I’m not going to waste time talking to you. Got it?”
    That they certainly did. To a man, every one of them understood exactly what the sheriff was saying. If he had to suffer the mayor’s displeasure, then all four of them would be suffering his. Nobody wanted that. Alex could get creative with his revenge.
    “Now get the hell out of my office…and, Singer, I’m docking your pay for that extra half hour you took at lunch.” Alex pinned Dylan with a hard look as Dylan hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. “Don’t be making it a habit.”
    “Yes, sir.” Dylan waited to roll his eyes until he’d gotten out of the office.
    Travis sat his desk snickering as he watched the four of them tromp back past. It didn’t take but seconds before Duncan was asking what he was looking at and an argument to follow, which was mostly just insults being passed around. Brandon ignored them all to take up his station at the front desk.
    He’d be glad when his tour of duty sitting up there ended and he was back out on the road. He enjoyed patrolling, and nobody enjoyed the front desk. That was why they all took turns unless, of course, Alex was ticked at somebody.
    Brandon was kind of pissed at Killian and Adam right then, but those two idiots were in such bad shape over Rachel picking on them, that it would have been kind of like picking on a sick puppy. Nobody was that cruel, even the sheriff.
    “So aren’t you going to ask me where I was?” Dylan came to lean back against the counter as Brandon picked up his magazine.
    “Nope.”
    “Oh, come on,” Dylan cajoled. “You’re not still mad at me about the Kristen thing, are you? You know I didn’t have anything to do with that.”
    “And you certainly haven’t been of any help, either,” Brandon muttered, knowing that he was being a dick.
    The hole he found himself in wasn’t Dylan’s fault, but he still couldn’t help but feel as if the other man was set against him. He knew how Dylan felt about relationships. He was allergic to them and considered love like a disease. How then could he even begin to understand what it was like to fall so hard, so fast, and end up so miserable?
    “That’s where you are wrong, my friend.” Dylan turned to lean in closer and drop his tone, assuring nobody else heard him. “I just had the most enlightening cup of tea with Mr. and Mrs. Harold.”
    “You what?” Brandon froze, feeling his heart seize, his lungs following suit and making it almost impossible to even get out a whisper. “What did you do?”
    “Had an enlightening cup of tea,” Dylan repeated before correcting himself. “Actually it was a horrible cup of tea. Hot. Who drinks tea hot? I’ll tell you who, people who put plastic on their seats.”
    “Dylan.” Brandon was breathing hard now, hard enough that it was still hard to speak.
    That was okay. He didn’t know what the hell he would say. He really just wanted to hit Dylan, but his limbs felt too heavy, and his mind was still reeling with shock.
    “And I scored an invite to church.” Dylan grinned, an evil, mischievous twist of the lips. “Wanna come?”
    Brandon keeled over, hitting his head against the counter three times before letting it rest there as he focused on taking several deep breaths. He couldn’t kill Dylan. Not at a police station. Maybe later.
    “What?” Dylan blinked at him innocently as Brandon turned his head to glare up at his best friend. “I’m helping.”
    “You’re being a dick.”
    Dylan paused as he seemed to consider that before