“Frankie.” Luke beamed up at her, expertly bracing Zoe’s baby bottle with his arm while he ate his breakfast. “Have a seat.”
“Sure you aren’t busy?” Why did it seem every conversation she had these days featured babies?
“Nah. Zoe here’s keeping up with me, aren’t you?” The dark-haired baby grinned around the nipple, and milk oozed out of her mouth. “Sorry. That’s unappetizing. What’s on your mind? New plan of action to fight Gil?”
“I wish.” So far her plan of action had been limited to regaling anyone who asked about the most recent conversation she’d had with the mayor. The town was on a low simmer, as if waiting for someone to turn up the heat.
Instead of focusing on saving the department, though, she found herself trapped in the memory of that oh-so-perfect kiss she’d shared with Roman last night. In the firehouse. What was she thinking? He was absolutely the last man she could ever get involved with. The last man she wanted to be involved with, and yet... “I’d like to talk to you about Ozzy, actually. With Roman laid up—”
“You mean Splatman?”
Frankie couldn’t help it. She laughed. “I knew that one would stick. With Roman down for the count, I was really hoping you could spare Ozzy for a couple of weeks. Maybe through New Year’s? It’s busy season for most everyone else, and while Kendall said she can come in a few hours a day, Ozzy really knows what he’s doing.”
She wasn’t surprised to see the sheriff’s welcoming expression turn a bit dour. “Have you talked to Oz about this?”
“No. I wanted to talk to you first. It’s your department. I wouldn’t go behind your back. I just need someone I can trust.”
“He’s that good, huh?”
Frankie inclined her head. “You know he is, Luke. And you know he’s been wanting to do more as a deputy.”
“And he thinks I’ve been holding him back.”
“Have you?”
Zoe gurgled and kicked her feet at her father, who adjusted his hold so his daughter could grab onto his pinkie.
“Yes, he has.” Holly came over with a full coffeepot and hot mug for Frankie. “But only because he has a good heart.” She wrapped an arm around her husband’s shoulders and squeezed.
“Ozzy’s still young,” Luke argued.
“He’s twenty-six,” Holly said. “He’s not a rookie just out of the academy and he’s not reckless. You can’t keep him safe forever.”
Frankie wasn’t sure exactly what Holly was referring to, but apparently Luke understood and the comment flipped a switch.
“Ozzy’s always been the first one to come when the call goes out when he’s off duty,” Frankie said. “On his days off, he’s hanging around the station either working out or helping out. He’s got great potential, Luke.”
“Your job’s dangerous.”
“So’s yours. Life’s dangerous.” Why did this feel like a continuation of her conversation with Roman? “Do you trust me, Luke?”
“You know I do.”
“Do you trust Ozzy?” Holly asked and earned a knowing look from her husband for that question. “There’s your answer. Let him spread his wings a bit, honey. He’ll fly back, don’t worry.”
“I promise it’s temporary.” Frankie held up her hand as if taking an oath. “Just until Roman’s back on his feet.”
“How is Roman?” Holly asked. “Must be tough on him being tied to the station.”
“He’s been going through all the old station files, so he’s keeping busy.”
“Can I get you some breakfast?”
“No. I’m actually headed home to crash. It’s been a long couple of days. So, Ozzy?” She turned her attention back to Luke.
“You can have him through January. I’ll have to rework some schedules. Not everyone’s going to be happy about it.”
“Ozzy might be,” Holly said.
“You want to tell him?” Luke asked Frankie.
“No. It’ll mean more coming from you. Thanks, Luke. I really appreciate this.” Not only because she needed the help, but because he’d be another buffer between her and Roman.
“Okay, well, you’ll owe me one. Or five.”
“Don’t worry.” Holly gave him another squeeze. “She’ll be around to repay.”
Guilt clanged like a bell in Frankie’s stomach when she smiled, but she refrained from agreeing. Fifteen minutes later she walked in her front door, kicked off her shoes the second she was inside and stripped on the way to the bedroom. Wearing only her sports bra and underwear she planted, face-first, on the unmade bed and, after turning her head so she wouldn’t suffocate, dropped into sleep.