Hot as Heller by Lucy Lennox

3

Declan

The brash squawk of my radio woke me out of a dead sleep. If dispatch was trying to raise me on the radio, it meant they’d tried my phone already with no success.

“Sheriff Stone,” I mumbled, getting up and grabbing my clothes out of habit.

“10-101 at Merry’s Roadhouse,” Janine said. “Sorry to bother you, Sheriff, but Matt Jancer asked for you specifically. Said he won’t take no for an answer.”

I sighed and told Janine to tell the bar owner I’d be there in less than ten minutes. After a quick visit to the bathroom and a shot of bottled iced coffee down my throat, I was off. The clock in the dash said it was almost three in the morning. Matt tried to close up the bar by half past one most nights, so if he was still having trouble with some drunk patrons, he’d most likely tried all his usual tricks.

When a few of my brain cells kicked into gear, I called back to Janine and asked which deputy was supposed to be on duty right now.

“Well, that’s just it, you see.” Our evening dispatcher was young and a bit too into local gossip for my taste, but since her mother was on the county council, I’d decided not to rock the boat by reassigning her to something a little less sensitive. “I sent Rolly over there, but you know how he is.”

Yes. I knew how he was. Rollins Kepplow was a well-meaning doofus, a leftover hire from the old regime. Had we been in any other town than Aster Valley, I probably would have insisted on letting him go straightaway. But, like with Janine, I’d decided caution was the better part of valor in making big personnel changes in my first few months. Hearing the young deputy hadn’t been able to manage helping Matt close out the bar made me rethink my stance.

Sure enough, when I pulled into the parking lot of the Roadhouse, the place was filled with vehicles including a sheriff’s patrol vehicle. I strode through the front door of the bar in time to catch Deputy Kepplow taking a selfie with one of the actors from the movie.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. Of course this disturbance was caused by those assholes from California. Leave it to the film people to wake me from a dead sleep.

After a few friendly hellos from patrons leaving, I stood on a nearby chair and slipped my thumb and middle finger between my lips. My shrill whistle split the air, bringing the happy chitchat to a sudden stop. “Everybody, out. Last call was more than two hours ago. Unless you want to see poor Matt get shut down for serving violations, I recommend you save your thirst for another night.”

The bar owner met my eye from across the crowd. His expression was full of exhaustion and gratitude. I wasn’t fool enough to think he’d tried too hard to get everyone out as long as the money and fun were still flowing due to the notoriety the actors had brought to his place. Penny had mentioned the new social media hashtags popping up all over Instagram, and Matt had been the source for at least a few of them.

I caught a few teenaged girls begging the actors for body autographs, so I hopped down from the table and cut through the crowd to put a stop to it.

“Melanie and Samantha, right?” I lifted an imperious eyebrow at the girls. “Don’t you have Mr. Reyes for summer school tomorrow?”

The girls both dropped their jaws in shock. “H-how did you know that, Sheriff?” one of them asked.

“It’s my job to know where everyone is supposed to be at any given time,” I lied. “And if I’m not mistaken, at no time are you two supposed to be at a bar after hours. Do your parents know where you are?”

The truth was, I’d helped Daniel Reyes track down his lost wallet a couple of weeks ago, and for the first hour, he’d insisted he’d most likely been pickpocketed by a couple of girls in his summer school class.

But I wasn’t about to tell them that. Especially since the wallet was later found in Dan’s own gym bag in the faculty lounge locker behind his own combination lock.

The girls panicked and bolted, leaving one of the actor twerps drooling in their wake. I didn’t recognize the drooler or the two women sitting at the table, but I definitely recognized two of the other men as the brats who’d asked me to park their car at Rockley Lodge the night before.

“Let’s go,” I said, placing my hand on the shoulder of the man closest to me. The body under my hand stiffened. I looked down to see my hand on Finn Heller’s shoulder. The Finn Heller. The famous actor who’d played Chip Clover in the long-running sitcom Cast in Clover. The kid America had watched grow up from their living rooms. The asshole who’d treated me like the help the night before.

When I’d seen him at Tiller and Mikey’s house, I hadn’t realized who he was at first. He looked nothing like the smart-mouthed boy next door who’d made millions flashing his dimples in front of American households on Thursday nights for all those years.

He was all man now. Even though he still had distinctive freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, he also had tattoos I’d never noticed before inked on his muscular forearms and the rounded shadow of shoulders and pecs defined under his shirt.

I cleared my throat and pulled my hand away. “Time to go,” I said again. “This isn’t the Bayou on Santa Monica for god’s sake.”

The beach-blond man I’d pegged as Finn’s sidekick the night before raised one corner of his lips at me, and his eyes turned predatory. “You know the Bayou?”

“Sure do. And I also know that Colorado has a mandatory community service requirement for first-time DUIs. You look like the kind of guy who might want to stick around after filming is done to help beautify our little hamlet here. What do you say?”

Finn answered before his friend could mouth off at me. “He’s not driving. I am.” He met my eyes, and his gaze held a potent combination of defiance and exhaustion that made me feel enraged and shockingly protective all at the same time. My stomach pitched a little like it might qualify for a DUI even without the alcohol consumption. “And I’m sober.”

I had no idea why I did it, but I grabbed Finn Heller by his biceps and hauled him out of his chair and toward the door of the bar. “We’ll see about that.”

What the hell was I doing? The kid was cherry-cheeked, sure, but he didn’t actually seem drunk. But once I’d started this ridiculous charade, I was going to finish it.

“Could you… go easy on the optics, please?” His voice was soft as if he only wanted me to hear him.

I glanced sideways and noticed a few people watching me haul him out of the bar. I loosened my grip and instructed him over to the side of my vehicle where I proceeded to ask him a few questions, followed by holding out my finger and moving it side to side for the first part of the field sobriety test. Normally, that would be followed by the walk-and-turn test, but it was clear to me he wasn’t drunk. Now that we had an audience with a few cell phones out, I decided to spare the town the additional drama.

“Wait in your car while I check with the bar owner. I’ll escort you back to your hotel.”

Finn opened his mouth to argue with me, but I glared him into changing his mind. After making sure Matt was able to close the bar down peacefully, I returned to the McLaren. Several fangirls were swarming the vehicle with their boobs and fluttering cocktail napkins.

The sidekick was drinking it all up, but Finn himself just looked tired. He must have still been hungover from partying the night before after arriving in town.

“Alright, let’s go,” I said in a voice that meant business. I made significant eye contact with the fans, and they scattered like dandelion seeds.

The sidekick pulled his celebrity schtick on me again. “Do you have any idea who this is?” he asked with a laugh.

I tried to skewer him with my crusty, middle-of-the-night eyeballs. “Yes. I’m fairly sure it’s the man who asked me to park his car last night.”

Sidekick snorted. “Well, you should know he barely ever drinks. The man’s a total bore.”

Right. And I was Aristotle. “Be that as it may, I’m actually the sheriff of Aster Valley. And when I say it’s time to go, that means it’s time to go.”

Finn actually blushed. What the hell? “Sorry, man. I didn’t know,” he murmured to his lap.

So now he was playing the innocent schoolboy. Not interested in that garbage.

“Now you do. And now the sheriff is going to escort you back to your hotel.”

Finn looked up at me. “Yes, sir. We’re staying at the Rockley Lodge property.”

Normally, I didn’t appreciate being “sir’d.” But when that lush mouth did it? Jesus Christ on a motherfucking hot bed of coals did I have thoughts screaming through my head in response to it.

I cleared my throat to keep from squeaking like a hormonal teen. “Follow me.”

As I turned to my vehicle, I heard the sidekick murmur, “Yes, Daddy.”

I clenched my teeth against a smart retort. The McLaren’s hungry engine followed me through the dark mountain roads until pulling safely into the drive of Rockley Lodge.

The drama was over.

Until the following night when the same damned thing happened all over again.

This time, I wasn’t nearly as polite as I’d been the first night. I was exhausted and running on less than fumes. Janine had woken me up again with a loud radio squawk, and I was contemplating running over the damned thing with my vehicle.

“What is it?” I growled into the radio mic.

“Matt needs y—”

I didn’t even let her finish. “On my way, and tell Rollins to bring his sidearm and badge to my office first thing in the morning.” Aster Valley had no use for a deputy who couldn’t help Matt close his damned bar in the middle of the night. Was I being an asshole? Maybe. But at least the command would scare him into compliance.

When I arrived at the bar, the entire vibe was different. It wasn’t quite as late as it had been the night before, and people were still emptying their glasses from the recent last call. Music continued to pipe through the speakers, and a game of pool was in progress at the table in the corner.

I went directly to Matt before approaching Rolly.

“What the hell is going on?”

Matt pursed his lips in anger. “It’s those Hollywood guys. They offered everyone free drinks and conveniently forgot to close out. Every time Dakota tries to present them with a bill, the crowd around them squeezes her out. So I went over there and demanded a credit card. The kid put a stack of cash in the folder instead. When I got it back over here, I saw it was singles. Nowhere near enough to cover what they bought.”

Dakota leaned over the bar and whispered. “Honestly, he’s too drunk to realize what he’s doing. I say we just grab his wallet.”

I held up a hand to stop her. “Let me handle it. What’s he still owe you?”

When Matt handed me the new bill, my eyes nearly bugged out of my face. “Congrats,” I muttered to Matt before walking over and disbursing the crowd around our erstwhile actors. On the way, I found Rolly and told him to get out to the lot and make sure no one drove drunk.

Sitting at the table was the same group of three men and two women from the night before. Finn, his blond groupie, another actor I recognized as Logan Shaw, whose roles in action films usually embodied every aspect of toxic masculinity, a petite woman with long ebony hair straight as a board down her back, and a woman with full cheeks and a big smile, who seemed to giggle drunkenly at everything around her. There were also a few fans interspersed between them, and I noticed Russ Grant had his arm around Finn.

“Closing time,” I said, grinding my teeth. Some of us had actual work to do during the day and couldn’t keep waking up at all hours to put the kids to bed. “And the bill is due. Which one of you has a credit card for Matt?”

Everyone’s eyes went to Finn. He seemed to be swaying in his seat, and his eyes were unfocused. I flicked my eyes to his blond friend. “I thought you said he didn’t drink?”

The friend snorted, and someone elbowed him.

“Kix, don’t be an ass,” one of the ladies said. “It’s true. He doesn’t usually drink. But he was… different tonight.”

Kix snorted again. “Different like horny.”

Russ squeezed closer to Finn in the large booth. “Shhh. Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of you tonight.”

Like hell he was. I knew Russ was an upstanding guy, and he probably meant well. I just didn’t care. “Credit card,” I said again.

One of the ladies leaned over to Finn. “Finn, they need your card to pay the bill.”

He almost fell out of the chair trying to get his wallet out of his pocket, but when he did, he handed the entire thing to me. “I know you’re not the valet, okay? I know. You’re…” His face suddenly creased in confusion. “The waiter?”

Everyone at the table started laughing as if it was the best joke that had ever been told. They were all hammered.

I opened the worn leather wallet and saw Finn’s driver’s license. Finnegan Joseph Heller with a familiar address in Santa Monica. He also had a condom that looked like it had been in there a while, a membership card to someplace called “Jack’s Personal Fitness,” a health insurance card, a bank card, and a black American Express card.

He was twenty-four years old. A newborn baby.

I slid out the Amex card and handed it to Dakota. “Add twenty percent,” I told her under my breath.

“Make it thirty,” Finn slurred. “She never once got mad at us.”

I nodded to Dakota and turned back to Finn. “Come on, let me help you up. Deputy Kepplow can take some of you home, and I’ll take the rest.”

When Russ slid out of the booth and stood up, he gave me a firm nod. “No worries, Sheriff. I’ll make sure Finn gets home okay. My place is just around the corner.”

Finn’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “But I’m not staying at your place.”

“Tonight you are, babe,” Russ said with a chuckle. “You’re way too hammered to get home by yourself. You can sleep on my couch.” He paused. “Or in my bed.”

“I don’t think so,” I said as calmly as I could. Dakota brought back the bill, and I set it in front of Finn. If I hadn’t known how wealthy he was, I might have felt more uncomfortable about having him sign it while he was this drunk. But Matt and Dakota deserved to get paid, and the bill was peanuts compared to a big night out at Nobu for guys like this.

Once he’d signed the tab and stood up, Finn wobbled a little. “Why am I tipping over?” he murmured under his breath.

I shot a look at his friend Kix. “So much for the sober bullshit from last night.”

He waved me off. “Whatever, dude. I don’t care if you believe me or not, but he doesn’t usually drink much.”

The woman with the cheeks leaned in to speak softly to me. “He’s right. I know Finn got a call from home. He wouldn’t say what it was, but maybe it was bad news.”

Russ tried pulling Finn back under his big muscular arm. “Finn needs a friend. And I’m just the man for the—”

I gently guided Finn around to the other side of me until I was between the two of them. “Nah. I’ve got it from here. Thanks anyway, Russ.”

The man opened his mouth to argue, but I shook my head firmly. It’s not happening, asshole.

He gave me a narrow-eyed look, then stepped around me and took Finn’s hand. “Tomorrow, then. Meet me back here, okay?”

Finn looked at the guy like he’d never seen him before in his life. “I don’t even know where here is,” he said under his breath.

Russ laughed like it was a joke and then pressed a kiss to Finn’s hand. Just the sight of all that ink on Finn’s forearms sent a shiver of need straight to my dick. I pushed it down. Ink had never done it for me before, and I sure as hell didn’t need to get an ink fetish now.

I bit back a laugh when I saw Finn wipe the back of his hand on his jeans as soon as Russ turned to leave.

Finn’s friend Kix called after him. “Rusty! Russ! Whatever your name is. I’m down if you are.”

Russ turned back with a decidedly hungry gleam in his eyes, only this time it was aimed at the bleach-blond guy instead of Finn. “Yeah? Let’s go, then.”

Kix blew a smirky kiss to Finn and followed the firefighter out the door. As soon as they were gone, Finn seemed to sag against me.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

I grabbed his elbow and led him out into the dark night. Rolly had stepped up for once, organizing rides home for everyone, because it seemed like the parking lot was mostly empty.

Before we got to my vehicle, Finn yanked himself out of my hold and bolted for some nearby bushes where he proceeded to hurl up his evening fun.

I stayed well away from his pukefest, but I gathered some wet wipes and a bottle of water from the back of the SUV for when he was done.

He finally stumbled back over to me looking like death. “Fucking hell,” he said. “I forgot how bad it was. No wonder I stopped drinking. But my mom called and… you know? Sometimes it’s like that. Like drink needs.”

He wasn’t making much sense. I handed him the water and wet wipes and looked anywhere but at him while he cleaned up his plump lips and sweaty face. The idea I found this puking man child attractive was untenable. It was a testament to how delirious I was from sleep deprivation.

After settling Finn in the passenger seat of the SUV and clipping his seat belt around him, I forced myself to pull away.

“No sniffing the drunk celebrity,” I muttered to myself as I walked around the vehicle to the driver’s side. Even if he smells like the best combination of coffee and woodsmoke.

It was a surprising combination, especially since it held no hints of vomit. I would have expected a man like him to wear something expensive like Tom Ford or Dior, but whatever scent he was wearing was completely different. Not floral or citrusy.

I wanted to press my nose into his neck just to see if I could figure it out.

Is that why? Survey says no.

I stretched my neck side to side. The lack of sleep was getting to me. This kid was the opposite of everything I’d ever wanted, and having to pull him out of a bar after closing time two nights in a row was proof of that.

When I got into the car and started the engine, I heard Finn singing softly to himself. It was a little endearing, and since I had no interest in having soft, positive feelings for this troublemaker, I decided to cut him off.

“Two nights in a row now. You know this isn’t LA, right? Just because you and your friends want to stay out until all hours basking in the attention of your adoring fans doesn’t mean people like Matt and Dakota should have to stay up and serve you.”

He slow-panned over to face me. “What?”

“I’m just saying, this is a small town where we roll up the red carpet before midnight. How is Matt supposed to get up and be ready to receive his deliveries in the morning if you keep him up till three every night? And Dakota is a student at Rockley Tech. She probably has classes in the morning. That’s why they close at one.”

He glanced at the clock on the dash and squinted comically. “But it’s two now.”

“Exactly my point. Your people kept them open because you wouldn’t pay the bill and leave when they asked you to.”

“No, but…” He drifted off, seemingly distracted by something out the passenger side window. Just when I thought he’d forgotten he was in the middle of saying something, he continued. “I didn’t pay attention to the time. I didn’t want to come out, and then I didn’t… I didn’t want to drink. And I didn’t pay attention to the time. My mother says punctuality can be the difference between a starring role and the gutter.”

I glanced over at him and noticed the hank of brown hair that had fallen over one eye. My fingers itched to push it back.

“She’s right, but I’m not sure how that’s relevant to respecting closing time at the local pub.”

“It’s about respect,” he said.

That was rich coming from someone who’d thrown a house party back in LA so large and destructive they were recreating it as a training exercise for new recruits at the police academy to learn crowd disbursement techniques. Finn Heller’s reputation preceded him.

“Exactly. Think about your actions and the way you treat people. Actions have consequences.”

Finn’s head bobbled as I pulled down the driveway to Rockley Lodge. He’d mentioned staying at one of the chalets, so I took the turnoff to head farther up the mountain property.

“Yes, sir,” he said, sounding both exhausted and annoyed now. “I appreciate you so much.”

That was sarcasm. I made a grunt of surprise.

“In fact, I’m grateful someone like you is here to help me see the error of my ways. My mom wanted to come, but she was offered a chance to join Stavros Pagonis on his yacht instead. So now I have you here making sure I behave just right. So. Fucking. Grateful,” he ground out.

I threw the SUV into park behind the chalet with the McLaren. He must have ridden to the bar with someone else.

“Seems you’re sobering up,” I said. “Or maybe you’re still shitfaced if you can mouth off to a cop without blinking an eye.”

He finally turned to me with steel in his eyes. “I’m not drunk enough to miss the fact you’ve found the one person in a group of, what? Five other cast and crew, who you’re convinced is responsible for not leaving. Well, you know what? I wasn’t driving. And also… also… I was trapped in that booth. I told them I didn’t want to go out. And then I told them I didn’t want to stay.” As he spoke, Finn’s voice got louder and more belligerent. “And then I told them I wanted to go home!”

He threw open the door to the SUV and lurched out, almost landing flat on his face. I hurried around to help him.

“Careful,” I murmured, grabbing his elbow.

He sniffed. “I didn’t want to go out.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him why he didn’t want to go out. What had the phone call been about that had upset him to the point of becoming almost blackout drunk? But then I reminded myself he was a spoiled actor whose problems were most likely tied to not getting a role in a film rather than anything life changing.

“Well, you did. And actions have—”

He finished the sentence with me. “Consequences. Thanks, Sheriff Daddy. Now kindly fuck the fuck off.”

Finn stumbled to the front stoop where he crawled up the two stairs and then lay down on the welcome mat. I stepped forward to help him into the cabin but then stopped myself.

If he was going to tell me to fuck the fuck off, then he could sleep on the damned welcome mat for all I cared.

I turned and got back in the vehicle wondering how long it would be before the first hints of sunrise would sneak over Rockley Mountain. I radioed in my status and told Janine I would be coming in late today.

When I pulled into my own driveway, all I could think about was returning to my bed for a few more hours of sleep, but when I walked up to the front porch, I realized that wasn’t in the cards.

Tessa, my friend and next-door neighbor from LA, sat curled up on one of my rocking chairs. Her big belly was hidden by a hoodie sweatshirt, but I saw the evidence of the pregnancy in the fullness of her face.

She was beautiful.

“Oh honey,” I said, reaching out to shake her awake. “What happened? Why’d you leave LA?”

As soon as she woke up and saw me, she burst into tears.