She turned and faced the stairs, put one foot in front of the other as if she were ready to start a race, her arms bent. “Ready.”

“Go! One, two, three…”

She bolted out of the room, and we could hear her feet pattering along the wood floor.

Thatcher turned my way, his counting stopped. “Did you decide what you’re going to do about Sarah?”

I hadn’t. I’d spent the entire day debating. “I want to toss her over my knee and spank her ass red for pulling shit like that, but it wasn’t a stunt.”

“To buy you at the auction to get you into bed so she could leave you like that? She was pissed.”

“A total understatement,” I grumbled.

“How’d she even find out?” he wondered.

“Kale’s accident yesterday.”

His eyes widened in surprise. “Seriously? I heard he ran off the road because of a fucking cow?”

“Yup.”

He shook his head and laughed.

“I called Graham, who was on duty.” Thatcher knew what had happened the night before, but he hadn’t heard what I’d figured out earlier. “He confirmed it was Sarah who took the call and towed Kale’s truck away from the scene. She must’ve found his paperwork. Kale’s the one who got the letter.”

Thatcher grabbed a paperweight off the side table and tossed it back and forth between his hands. “I didn’t know Sarah was working for her father.”

“Last I heard, she was doing his books.” It was a small town, and I was the police chief. “Has been ever since she was a kid and got smarter than her old man in math.”

“That’s probably not hard to do,” he said, setting the paperweight down. He stood and ran a hand over his hair. “He’s in the bar often. Pays his tab, but it’s always pretty hefty.”

I didn’t like Bill O’Banyon. He was a total asshole. He didn’t like me either, and I knew he thought I was an asshole. He’d made that very clear. I was a punk. A little shit who shouldn’t even be looking at Sarah, let alone dating her.

While I respected the fact that he protected his daughter, he also didn’t see her for who she was. He hadn’t thought I was good enough for her, that only a guy like Bunky would do. The little fucker had married Sarah’s sister, Lynn. It didn’t matter to Bill that his son-in-law couldn’t keep his dick out of other women or any of the other stupid shit he did. He’d wanted his daughters to have what he didn’t. Wealth. Cars. Status. It didn’t matter that Lynn was probably miserable or that Sarah didn’t want that lifestyle. He didn’t give a shit about what she wanted as long as it had a fancy title or wealthy last name.

Sure, he’d paid for her college, but he wasn’t rolling in cash like Bunky.

All Sarah had ever wanted was to be a mechanic and run a shop. Just like her dad. She’d once told me that dream, been eager for it. But since the only time I’d heard of Sarah going on a tow recently was for Kale’s truck, it was obvious he was stringing her along. Why she hadn’t set up her own business since she’d finished college and graduate school, I had no idea. I had to wonder what was keeping her there.