An unfinished memory oil.., p.1
An Unfinished Memory (Oil Knights Book 3), page 1
An Unfinished Memory
OIL KNIGHTS, BOOK 3
MARIE JOHNSTON
LE PUBLISHING
Copyright © 2023 by Marie Johnston
Editing by Dawn Alexander and Midnight Wanderings Publishing LLC
Proofing by MBE, Judy’s Proofreading, and Deaton Author Services
Cover by Okay Creations
Photographer: Cadwallader Photography, LLC
Model: Storm
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The characters, places, and events in this story are fictional. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are coincidental and unintentional.
Created with Vellum
I never keep secrets from my best friend, but I’m not sure how to tell her I’m sneaking around with her brother…who’s also my ex-husband.
I might be single, but I’m not ready to mingle. I should’ve stayed home from the street dance. My feet are barely surviving the two-step, and my dance partners are looking for dates while I’m only interested in forgetting the man I was once married to.
The night’s about to end with bruised toes and a rainstorm when the guy who swept me off my feet years ago cuts in right before the downpour starts. Wilder Knight has always been the best dance partner I’ve ever had. Just not the best husband.
Once the storm hits, we take refuge in his pickup, but that isn’t all we do. After steaming up the windows and losing my underwear, I make a habit out of hooking up with my ex-husband.
Only the longer we continue, the easier it is to see why our marriage fell apart. I couldn’t get over him the first time, and losing him a second time might destroy the secure life I’ve built for myself, leaving me to ask… Were we better left an unfinished memory?
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Marie Johnston
One
Wilder
Saturday nights used to be for drinking, fishing, or fucking, depending on my age and marital status. At almost forty and newly divorced, I wasn’t doing any of the three. I was on the doorstep of an elderly couple, two people who’d known me my entire life and had lived in this small, square home since before I was born, and the guy looked at me like he’d never seen me before.
Saturday nights could be goddamn depressing these days.
I tucked my trusty ballpoint pen in my uniform shirt pocket. “All right, Mr. McCormick. I’ll keep an eye out and give you a call. Don’t worry, we’ll find your truck.”
Guy McCormick’s lined face was drawn, worry thick in his eyes. “Thank you, Deputy Knight. Maybe I can—”
“No, sir.” I didn’t need an elderly man with dementia roaming town for a pickup that was sold years ago. “The best thing you can do is stay here. I need to know where I can reach you in case I find it.”
Delilah, his wife, nodded and tugged at his arm. “Go sit by the phone, Guy. I’ll show the deputy out.”
Guy turned into the house. He stopped and nodded in my direction. “Thank you, Wilder.”
Just like that, I was back to being Wilder to him. One of the Knight boys. To him, I was probably still eighteen and racing too fast through town in an old ranch truck. To be fair, I could still be that guy, only I could get away with it now.
“Sure thing.” I stepped back, and Delilah crowded onto the stoop with me. The top of her silver-haired head didn’t come to my armpits, but she looked at me as if I was nothing more than the four-foot-tall little boy who skipped a rock right into her camper window.
She glanced behind her. Guy disappeared around a wall. The kitchen and their landline was on the other side. I could picture him at the mighty oak dining room table, waiting for a report from me. Later, Delilah would coax him into bed, and in the morning, he’d forget about thinking his pickup was gone.
“When do you want me to call?” I asked her. Sometimes a call reassuring Guy we were in full investigation mode calmed him. I usually checked with Delilah. She knew him best and how these episodes went.
She shook her head and squeezed her eyes closed for a heartbeat. “God, I don’t know, Wilder. In five minutes, he might forget about it all and remember why the pickup’s gone.”
Or he might go out and search for the vehicle. Our little slice of Montana was in full summer, but an elderly man shouldn’t be wandering the county searching for a pickup he hadn’t owned for years. Delilah used to go with him, but after he harassed an unfamiliar teen boy who was in town visiting relatives, she tried to keep him home.
There were times Guy still confronted me about that window I busted. I’d paid for a thirty-year-old broken window five times in the last three years. The next day Delilah would always return the money. The best way to deal with Guy was with routine. Guy had Delilah. Delilah had me.
I had this job. “Shoot me a message or call dispatch. Let me know what you need me to do.”
She let out a gusty sigh. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Her pale-blue eyes misted over. “This is so damn hard.”
I gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Delilah was a proud woman, and she didn’t want a fuss made when she teared up. “You know how to reach me.”
I got back into my black SUV with the standard word “Sheriff” emblazoned across the side. I wasn’t the sheriff. If I was, I’d have today off, and I wouldn’t be watching the clock. I’d have seen my niece and nephew perform their second-annual dance recital instead of missing it when I said I’d be there. My oldest brother Cody’s new wife was doing a dance number, too, and given she was seven months pregnant, I would’ve liked to have seen that. I would’ve liked to have seen Cody’s reaction to watching her. The guy was stupid in love, and I never thought I’d see him so happy. Which sucked to say when he was a widower, but he and his first wife had been more like resigned partners, and when she passed away, I’d worried about him.
Now he was worried about me. My brothers wouldn’t tell me, but since my divorce, they texted more. They called. They left messages. My sister too. My siblings were a pain in the ass. Every one of them.
As I pulled away from the McCormicks’ place, my phone buzzed. Since it was my personal phone, I ignored it as I called in my encounter with dispatch.
When I was done, my phone buzzed again. I looked at the caller. Eliot, my youngest brother. “Yeah?” I answered, irritated because he was going to give me shit about missing the performance.
The drive to Crocus Valley was just under three hours. Two and a half with no pee breaks or road construction and going a few miles per hour over the limit.
“Where the hell are you?” he asked. Laughter filtered in from the background. My family. Having a great time.
“Working.”
“I thought you were coming?”
“I told you I had to work.” I was a broken record, but it was the truth. I didn’t have a job I could just walk away from.
“You’re missing the barbeque. What about the street dance?”
“I don’t know, man.” I checked the time again. Hadn’t I been making calculations in my head the entire day? If I left now, I could get to the recital. That time came and went. If I left now, I could make the family cookout. That time was rapidly passing. If I left now, I could make the street dance. To be determined.
“Get your ass home and then come here.”
“I’m trying, Eliot, but I’m on the phone with a pushy bastard—”
“Smart-ass. You should’ve ridden with me.”
I should’ve, but I often worked over my shift’s end time, and we both knew it, which was why Eliot had proposed the idea. I should have said from the start I couldn’t make it. I was less of a bad guy if I opted out instead of canceling. “I’m almost done. Maybe I can make the dance.”
“Sure. Hey—” he hollered, and I held the phone away from my ear. “That’s my steak, not yours, dog.”
I laughed, picturing Cody’s dog going after a distracted Eliot’s plate of food. “Save your meat. I gotta go.”
I looked at the time again. The nights I met up with family to grill were some of my favorites. I’d missed too many of them over the years. My shift was nearly over, getting off early didn’t happen, but maybe if I left as soon as I got done…
To finish out my shift, I took another lap through Buffalo Gully, the small town I grew up in and continued to live in. Outside of town a few miles, Knight land sprawled for miles, full of cattle and horses my brother ranched. I often helped him. Since I was on the payroll and all. Since I had to be.
I pulled over. Jeremy was an old classmate of mine, happily married to his high school sweetheart, with a kid in college and a set of twins in their senior year of high school. The fucker was my age, and he’d lived an entire lifetime while I went home to an empty house to scratch my balls and watch ESPN.
I flashed him a tight smile and rolled down my window. “Whatcha need?”
“Nothing right now, but if you’re around this weekend, mind helping me tow Emily’s car in?”
Emily was one of the seniors. I hadn’t heard anything was wrong, but relief cooled the back of my neck. He didn’t need anything now. “What happened?”
“Transmission went out on Quarry Road. Leonard’s got family over this weekend. I hate to call him.”
Leonard had worked as a mechanic since I came back from college. Leonard was like me. Someone needed him, he went out to help, and everyone knew it.
“I’ll call you before I go out to the ranch.” Whether I was heading to Crocus Valley or staying, I had plans to meet Eliot in the afternoon. He’d probably drive back at dawn. I should have time to give Jeremy a hand and let Leonard have time with his visitors. “I’ve got a tow rope in my pickup. Maybe I can get Ray to come out with me.”
Jeremy grinned. “Nice. I get to have the sheriff at my beck and call. I was going to call him, but then I saw you passing.”
Ray Dahlen was my boss and mentor, an all-around nice guy, unless you were breaking the law. He took the safety of this county personally, and since he lived and worked in Buffalo Gully, he took special care of every one of its residents. I strove to be as respected as him.
Jeremy rimmed his hands around his khaki shorts, giving his striped polo shirt a good tuck. The New Balance shoes on his feet were white. He was in his middle-aged-dad glory.
An ache reignited behind my chest wall. The dad ship had sailed for me, and I was okay with it. Then I saw guys like Jeremy working in their yards with houses full of family, and the what-could-have-beens hit harder than usual. “See you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Wilder. I owe you. Hey—are you going to be the resource officer at the school again this year?”
I smiled and tamped down the impatience his small talk was causing. I looked forward to the start of school in a little over a month and the distractions working with the students brought. The town was small enough I knew each kid by name, and being around that much teen spirit was a nice break from the cases that kept me up at night. “How else can I see all the games for free?”
He laughed. “I know, right? With two kids going all year, those entry fees add up. Thanks for stopping. See you tomorrow.”
I waved and pulled away. Two blocks later, I was stopping again. Frustration ate at my stomach lining. I normally wasn’t this salty about being helpful, but the school librarian, Annie, was in her driveway with her ten-year-old son, trying to load a push mower into the back of her pickup. They picked it up, one end dropped, and I worried the boy would lose a foot if he dropped the front end.
I got out and jogged toward them.
“Oh, Wilder. Thank goodness.” She grinned, sheepish. “I overestimated all the strength I built up hauling books all day.”
“Not a problem.” Between the three of us, we tossed the mower in the back like it weighed two pounds. I withdrew a tissue from my pocket and brushed the grass bits and grease residue off my hands. I made little progress, but I was grateful the mess wasn’t either of their body fluids from an emergency call. If I wanted to get to the dance and spend any time with my family, I’d have to leave now. As it was, they’d all be heading out for the night, and I’d only get snippets of conversation between dances. I wouldn’t get to see as much of her.
“It’s my father-in-law’s,” Annie explained. “Ours broke down, and Dorian’s at guards this weekend. I’ve gotta return it so he can mow before the rain forecasted next week.”
Dorian was her husband. Her father-in-law had back surgery last year, but I doubted it’d stop him from trying to unload the mower. If I left her to deliver the mower, one of them might get hurt.
There was no way I wouldn’t feel responsible.
But the dance?
I resigned myself to missing the damn thing. I shouldn’t have tried to plan on leaving town. “I’ll follow you over there and help unload it.”
“Are you sure?” When I nodded, she patted my arm like I was one of her pupils. “What would we do without you, Deputy?”
Her appreciation was a thin bandage against my disappointment. “That’s what I’m here for.”
She laughed. “Deputy Wilder, your job does not include loading lawn mowers.”
It did. I had big plans, and if I wanted to become sheriff one day, this grassroots assistance would go a long way in my campaign. I’d been working toward that goal for years. Almost since the beginning of my career.
I followed Annie and her son and unloaded the mower. Another tissue wipe down later, I was back in my vehicle and heading home. Looked like it was another beer-and-ESPN night.
I maneuvered to the other side of the road to avoid Carla Bosworth, jogging in shorts short enough to disappear in the crack of her ass. She had on a yellow sports bra, and I knew her front was as impressive as her back.
There were no sidewalks on this stretch of town, and the road led past my house, which Carla knew. My disappointment at how predictable the night turned out morphed into irritation. All summer, if I was on duty, she was out for a run. She’d been through two husbands, got the cars and the houses to show for it, and was on patrol for a third.
She looked over her shoulder, her expertly dyed blonde hair swinging in a ponytail. She slowed to a walk, a sultry grin spreading across her face.
Was she wearing lipstick? Wasn’t she catching gnats in the stuff?
Walking across the road, she flagged me down. I stifled a groan. My job was to protect and serve. Not sit and flirt. I rolled down the passenger window after making sure the door was firmly locked.
“Heya, Wilder,” she purred.
“Evenin’, Carla.”
She draped an arm on the edge of the window. “Done with work?”
Yes, but I’d rather she didn’t know. She was becoming more forward in her flirtations. “Not yet.”
Her pout was expert level. “You work too much.”
Acid churned in my gut. I was acutely aware of how much I worked and what it’d cost me. “You know me.”
She propped her chin in her hand, her brown eyes dancing. “Do I?” She dropped her arm, somehow invading the interior of the car with the door closed. Her floral perfume billowed into the cab, but it registered as wrong in my brain. It wasn’t the smell of coconut-pineapple lotion—for a hit of summer every day when our winters were so long.
Fuck. Would there be a day I’d get over her?
“I’d like to get to know you,” she said playfully.
My phone buzzed again. Her gaze darted around the computer and radio equipment that made up my console, searching for where the sound came from. Taking advantage of the interruption, I eased off the brake. My personal phone had been vibrating with missed texts since I was at the McCormicks’, but the newest call was on my work phone. “Duty calls. Have a good night.”
She slowly pulled back, like she was doing me a favor. I didn’t speed away, but I was tempted. I’d been single for a year and a half. A woman like Carla should be exactly who I was cuffing to my bedpost. My dick nodded, tired as hell of my hand.
I glanced in the rearview. Was I sure I didn’t want to interview for husband number three? Yes. I had no desire to be left by another woman, but fuck, my ex had even taken the dog.
My hours weren’t stable enough, and if shit went down in the county, I could be gone all night. It had made sense for Oreo to go with her.
I was tired of shit making sense.
Was Carla being extra bouncy? Whatever husband paid for her tits wasn’t getting to enjoy them.
Hell, maybe he was. Maybe other divorced couples didn’t force smiles and make sure to stay on the other side of the room if they happened to occupy the same space.
