A Hero's Secret

eight

"I won't disagree with that." He pushed off the wall and stood next to her, crossing his arms.

She let out another breath as silently as she could.

"Just be careful, all right?" His voice lowered. Gone was the anger and in its place, something with much less force.

Dray found it unusual. All she had to do was check the log and tell Porter she didn't find anything, but the look on his face did nothing for her confidence. "I'll be careful."

Wells turned so his shoulder leaned against the wall. He reached out and tucked a stray piece of her hair behind her ear.

Dray felt her face heat up and she tried to think back if she'd put on enough powder to cover her now undoubtedly red skin.

"Hey, you kids doing all right over there?"

Dray jumped and stepped away from the wall and Wells. "Kids?" She mumbled.

Wells cracked a grin.

"Of course," Dray said, turning around to face the sheriff, whose voice rang too recognizable, "just getting away from the bustle for a bit." She smiled.

Sheriff Heron looked the two up and down. The length of his observation created an awfully uncomfortable atmosphere. "Sounds good," he said. "Don't stay cooped up to long in this alley, Miss Dinley." He turned around and looked both ways down Main before jogging to the other side.

She shook her head. "I'm not sure what to make of that man."

Wells rested his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. Despite the situation, he smiled.

They left the alley to go back downtown, making sure to stay on the opposite side of the road as Sheriff Heron—who took an oddly leisurely walk with his hands clasped behind his back and sneaking glances across the street. Dray made eye contact the one time she checked for him. She tried to recall another time she'd felt uncomfortable with an officer looking out for her. She couldn't, though he did look away just as fast as she did.

Back in the throng of people, the two grabbed something to eat from a food truck close to the stage. The DJ announced the headliner would be up soon, so they picked a bench off to the side to enjoy their greasy meal and wait for the music to start.

"So, are these guys local?" Dray asked. She sat sideways on the bench, one leg folded in front of her, and facing Wells and the stage. The band, called Hero to Throne, played next as the headliner. She scrunched her nose as the answer became instantly obvious, but at least it provided an easy conversation starter.

Wells threw away a plastic container that had held a couple of hot dogs in the trash a few feet away. "Sometimes your insight blows me away, Dray."

Dray couldn't hold an annoyed expression very long and matched the smile on his face. She picked up a french fry out of her fry cup and popped it in her mouth. Wells watched the band set up, so she took the time to watch him—watch how his dark hair curled at the ends and shined lighter in the sun and how the line of his jaw flowed into the smooth curve of his chin.

He turned back, catching her staring, and her face grew hot. She grinned to hold her own. Even the embarrassing moments in front of him have gotten easier.

Unfortunately, the moment couldn't last as Wells' face dropped like a rock smashing to the ground. "Your friend is coming."

Dray peered over her shoulder to see Porter waving her down. "I wouldn't say friend." She turned back around. "I'd much rather sit here and watch this band with you."

Wells looked into her eyes and smiled. He may never say anything, but Dray would bet he enjoyed her clear distaste of Porter.

"You ready to go?" Porter slapped his hand over her shoulder.