Jesus, sometimes he missed being a merc where he could shoot first and talk later.

“He’s correct, Knox,” Lillian said. “I do believe I’ll enjoy having a medical facility available closer than Soldotna.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t need all those asshole Outsiders cluttering up our streets,” Knox snapped.

Gabe shrugged. “Not everyone in town is into subsistence living. Some of them want a good school for their kids and—” He stopped. Why waste time on bozos who weren’t about to listen?

“What should we work on first, ma’am?” Chevy asked, shouldering a hoe.

“Come with me, and I’ll show you.” Lillian motioned to the side gate, pausing to say, “Thank you so much for unlocking the door, Gabriel.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.” He’d always enjoyed the challenge of opening locks.

After giving Gabe dirty looks, Chevy and Knox followed Lillian toward the backyard.

“They were awfully grumpy,” Julie said with a frown. “And for no reason.”

Gabe shrugged. “Some people see the police uniform and nothing else.” He’d dealt with the same problem in Los Angeles…and had hoped a small town would be different. Guess not.

Turning, he tried to throw off the gloomy thoughts. He probably wouldn’t stay long enough to change anyone’s mind anyway. “Just the way it is.”

“It shouldn’t be.” She eyed him, dug in her purse, and walked over.

“Here, Chief.” As she tucked something in his shirt pocket, she was close enough he could smell her spicy lemon-and-orange fragrance.

“Is that a bribe, Goldilocks?”

“No.” She had the cutest snorty laugh. “Of course not.”

“Well, all right then.” Unable to resist, he ran his hands up and down her arms.

She startled, all big eyed as she looked up at him. Took a step back. “Um, right. Enjoy.”

He let her go and watched her flee—and flight, it was. Bad Chief—shouldn’t have touched. But, Jesus, how he wanted to touch.

He settled for checking his shirt pocket. Damned if she hadn’t given him an oversized Snickers bar. His favorite, in fact.

His mood lifted as he grinned.

Chapter Eleven

Cities were fucking annoying. Especially when having to be in one for hours.

On Tuesday, back in the station, Gabe dropped down at his desk and let out a long sigh. Like a shorted-out circuit board, his nerves were still misfiring. From being in Anchorage. From the drive there and back.

Tourists had clogged Seward Highway, turning it into bumper-to-bumper traffic. He’d been stuck at twenty-five miles per hour because an RV driver refused to pull over and let the faster traffic by. Despite the law that stated he had to. Asshole.

A man’s irritated voice came from the bullpen. “Anybody in here? Doesn’t anyone staff this damn place?”

Yep, he and Caz definitely needed that receptionist. Gabe rose, hauling in a breath to smooth his frazzled nerves. Don’t break the unhappy citizen, MacNair.