Easton shrugged. “It’s up to you. We don’t have to go far, or we can just keep sitting here. The view’s been pretty nice for the eyes.”
He winked, and she wondered if he was talking about a view that didn’t include mountains and blue skies. She flushed and averted her eyes.
“Yeah, okay. Let’s walk some. I could use the exercise.”
He motioned for her to lead the way, but he fell into step beside her as they started the walking trail. She studied him from the corner of her eye. His hair fell to his forehead, and he would occasionally swipe at it, only to have it eventually move back to its disheveled style. His jaw held some stubble as if he’d forgotten to shave that morning, and she couldn’t decide which she preferred — the clean-cut Easton or the rough and tumble bartender. Since the two were one and the same man, she didn’t have to decide. She bit back a smile at the notion.
“So how did you find this place?” She didn’t really care, but she clung to the only question that popped to her mind just to distract herself from the sexy man at her side.
“I found it when I was like twelve or thirteen, I think. It was right before one of the times I was put in a foster home. I was heading back to our shitty apartment after dark, but my dad was down at the bar drinking. I couldn’t find my key, and the spare wasn’t in its usual hiding place. So I started walking around town, trying to see what kind of trouble I could get into until mydad made it home. I found the path and investigated it. I ended up spending the night out here. It was unintentional. I had fallen asleep watching the stars. Anyway, I went home the next morning to shower before school, and the police were there. One of the neighbors reported my dad passed out in the hallway with no sign of me. They called in a social worker, and I was taken from my dad.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks.”
“Yeah. It did.”
“You said one of the times. So I guess your dad cleaned up enough for you to be placed back home.”
Easton barked out a dry laugh. “Nope. I ran away from the foster home and went back on my own. My social worker called me rabbit because I would never stay where he put me. My dad was a rotten father, but I didn’t care. He let me do my own thing, and the foster homes insisted I follow rules. I didn’t like that, so I left. The thing is I wasn’t really a troublemaker. I wasn’t a straight A student, but I made decent grades in school and played sports. I figured out how to cook food well enough to make sure I didn’t starve, and sometimes our neighbor took pity on us and left a casserole every now and again. I never realized what a bad life it was until my dad left me on my own for good, and I would up with Gish and my brothers.”
“I ran away once.” Bailee had no idea why she brought that up except that she wasn’t sure exactly how to respond to Easton’s memory.
“No!” Easton’s tone was blatantly sarcastic. “You? I don’t believe it.”
She nodded with a grin. “I did. I was six, and I just found out my best friend was moving away. My mother said I would make new friends, but I didn’t want any new friends. So I put my pajamas and stuffed animals in my backpack and headed over to my friend’s house. She let me hide in her room. We decided I would sneak in the back seat of their car while they were loading up, and then we would tell them once we were too far for them to turn around and take me back.”
“So what went wrong?”
Bailee rolled her eyes as she thought back. “My brother Adam told my parents what I’d done. They called my friend’s parents. The adults decided to let us have one last sleepover. The next morning, my parents were there to take me home, and my friend moved away. We lost touch after that.”
“Wow. All that trouble for nothing. That sucks too.”
She smirked. “Yeah. It did.”
The path started to have more dips and uneven surfaces, so Easton lightly touched her arm to stop her. They turned around and headed back the way they came. She felt relaxed and comfortable being with him, a nice change from the stressful morning she’d had.
“Can I ask you something?”
She twisted her head to look at him, a sinking feeling that her easy afternoon was about to end. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“I get that. If you’d rather I didn’t ask, I won’t. I’ll continue to regale you with stories from my life. The story of how I crashed Jackson’s first date with a cheerleader is a good one.”
She smiled. “I appreciate it, but how about this? You ask, and I reserve the right not to answer.”
“Fair enough.” He slowed to a stop, and she followed suit, turning her body to face him. “I was wondering if you’d tell me about Shantayle.”
Of all the subjects for him to ask about, she didn’t expect that. She felt like he knocked the wind from her lungs. She took a deep breath and studied him as if she could learn why he would take their conversation in this direction.
“Why?” The question left her on a whisper.
“Because I got the impression she was important to you, and not just as a CI. All anyone has asked you about is the intel she provided. I want to know who she was. She had to be special to earn your respect.”
Bailee was struck speechless. She’d had Easton pegged as a player, someone who didn’t see past his own needs. But he had more insight than she expected, and the loyalty and fondness he showed toward his family convinced her she had misjudged him. He was an ally. A friend. She couldn’t risk allowing him to be more than that, but for now, that meant a great deal.
“I’ve thought a lot about the night she came into the precinct for the first time. She was nervous and frightened. I figured she was a junkie looking to get even with her dealer, but after a few minutes with her, I quickly saw she wasn’t like that at all. She also didn’t have the look of gang life about her. After dealing with gang cases and knowing how they treat women, you start to notice things they have in common. They appear tough with their dramatic makeup, their clothes, piercings and tattoos.Underneath, they have this look of defeat, like they’d been used up and were only trying to survive.
“Shantayle looked nothing like that. She had on jeans with all these holes in them and a T shirt with some kind of saying on it. I don’t remember what it was. The only piercings she had were in her ears and one small hoop in her nose. She wore very little makeup and glasses that just dwarfed her face. At first glance, she struck me as someone who would be invisible. Nothing about her commanded attention. I learned then that first impressions mean nothing.”
“Let me guess. She purposely dressed and carried herself where she wouldn’t draw attention.”
