But cologne wasn’t a deal breaker. That would be petty.
“How are you?” he whispered.
How did she even begin to answer that? “I’ve been better.”
He pulled away and cupped her face, his blue eyes searching hers. “You look . . .”
She frowned, already knowing the answer. “Terrible. I look terrible.”
She knew she had a black eye and a cut on her forehead. Her skin was pale and her hair hadn’t recovered from the harsh, unkempt look she’d utilized while undercover. She’d traded her business suits and neat hair pulled into a bun for some black sweat pants, an old white T-shirt, and a sloppy ponytail.
Maybe it wasn’t any of those things that really made her look terrible. Maybe it was the anxiety that churned inside her, keeping her up at night and replaying the worst moments of her life over the past two months.
Mostly, she remembered how close to death she’d felt. She remembered the things she’d had to do while undercover. Things she wouldn’t ever speak of. Ever.
“What did they do to you, Cady?” Ryan muttered, studying her face. “What happened while you were undercover?”
Nausea rose in her at the question. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
Cady wanted another hug, another reassurance. Instead, Ryan dropped his hands and paced away, getting down to business.
“You did good work,” he said. “The evidence you brought in is substantial enough to put them away for a long time. But it’s going to be your testimony that really seals the deal.”
“I’m glad my time undercover wasn’t all for nothing. How long do I need to stay here?” She was anxious to get back out in the field. To resume her life as a detective. To see her dog, Colombo, to explore her relationship with Ryan and to search for Lucy’s killer.
“We’re still assessing the situation. Your dad is concerned about you.”
Or was he concerned about his image? Worried about how this would affect him and his companies? A pang of bitterness resonated in Cady.
Ryan stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Listen, I have to go. I just had to see you for myself.”
She nodded, her bitterness turning to disappointment.
She should be used to being alone, she supposed. The only child of two absentee parents who pushed her, not to have a social life, but to engage in self-improvement and studying. They’d created someone nearly as aloof and cold as they were—a robot whose conscience felt like a self-help book.
Cassidy had always in some way felt alone, especially since Lucy had died. Lucy had been the one person who’d understood her. Lucy’s parents had also been wealthy, and together they’d called themselves tycoon orphans. Lucy was one of the only people who understood what it was like to grow up in a house like that.
Ryan planted a kiss on her lips and then briskly left the room. As he stepped out and into eyesight of Vann, he acted like nothing had happened.
And that only made Cady feel even more empty.
Ten minutes after he was gone, Cady sat down on the couch and pulled a blanket around her. There were few things worse than having nothing to do but contend with your thoughts. She’d always thrown herself into her work, into proving herself, into trying to make a difference.
This was like a strange new world to her.
Just as she closed her eyes and began to ruminate on things she should have done differently in her life, a window shattered.
Her head swung toward the door just as gunmen invaded the house.
Chapter 12
Today’s Goals: Resist the urge to investigate. Stay alive. Try not to eat another grilled cheese and peach sandwich.
When Cassidy stepped onto her deck the next morning, she spotted a piece of paper on the ground by her door.
She sucked in a breath and started to reach for a gun that wasn’t at her waist.
Instead, she glanced around, looking for a sign of anyone suspicious. She saw nothing but the waves and sunshine and happily soaring seagulls. Life in paradise.
She glanced at the note. Something rested on top of it. A little wooden . . . stick. No, that wasn’t a stick. What was it?
She scooped it up. It was an ice cream cone that had been whittled out of driftwood.
Curious now, Cassidy unfolded the paper.
Sorry we got started on the wrong foot. Please accept this as my apology.
~Ty
Cassidy's eyes widened, and she glanced at the ice cream cone again. Ty had made this for her? He’d even included the little lines on the sugar cone and little dimples on the ice cream.
It was cute. And thoughtful. And Ty really hadn’t needed to do that.
Did it change how Cassidy felt about him? Not really. She’d learned to trust her instincts. Put all the evidence together, and Ty was nothing but bad news . . . bad news who knew how to cook a delicious fillet of fish.
Cassidy shoved the gift in the pocket of her jean shorts and walked toward her truck. Halfway there, she stopped and stared at her watch. It was only nine o’clock. Though she was an early bird and liked to get her work day started promptly, how many people were really going to buy ice cream right after breakfast?
Not many.
There was one other place she wanted to go first. She bypassed both her ice cream truck and the sedan she’d driven into town. Instead, she found an old beach cruiser that had been left beneath the house.
The purple bike was rusted with a dry-rotted white basket on the front. She pressed on the tires. They were surprisingly firm.
Someone at the Crazy Chefette yesterday had mentioned that it was easier to get around the island on a bike at this time of year. It seemed worth a shot. Besides, being on a bike would give her the chance to take a slower pace and get a good look at everything around her.
Slowing down is the best way to gain traction.
It had been a while since she’d been on a bike, but people never forgot how to ride these things. At least, that’s what everyone said. Cassidy balanced herself and then took off down the gravel path leading to the main road on the island.
Though it was already warm outside, a gentle wind cooled her face as the bike cruised forward on the sidewalk, passing stopped cars. From what she could tell, a car up ahead was trying to make a left-hand turn and oncoming traffic wasn’t pausing to allow it.
For a moment, Cassidy felt like a kid again. Free. Unbridled. Like the world was ahead of her.
All that came crashing down when a truck slowed beside her.
A truck with a dull paint job and inappropriate stickers on the back.
Ty grinned at her from his open window, his eyes shadowed by sunglasses and a baseball cap that had been pulled down low. “Need a ride?”
Then she remembered the ice cream cone he’d left for her and her conflicting thoughts became even more conflicted.
“No, thank you,” she said, staring straight ahead at the sidewalk.
“Something wrong with the ice cream truck?”
She raised her chin, wishing he would leave her alone. “I just haven’t started working yet, and I thought I’d take a ride.”
“Okay then. Be careful because sometimes there are cracks in the cement—”
Before he could finish the sentence, her tire hit something. The bike wobbled. Teetered. Tottered.
Cassidy shifted her weight, desperate to remain in control. But, before she could fully realize that possibility, the bike tilted.
She landed in a clump of needle-like marsh grass on the side of the road.
All while Ty watched.
And probably gloated.
Chapter 13
Cassidy started to stand, trying to ignore the blood on her knees, when a hand gripped her elbow.
She looked up.
Ty.
Her gaze darted to the road. He’d somehow pulled over with superhero-like speed in order to help her. She might be impressed . . . if it was anyone other than Ty.
She pushe
d past her pain and stood at full height. But her knees and one elbow burned. She’d definitely scratched them up pretty well.
“Are you okay?” Ty pulled his sunglasses off and stared at her with those big, brown eyes.
Was that genuine concern in his gaze? Certainly not.
“I’m fine. I can’t say that about my bike, though.” She frowned as she glanced at it and noted the chain that had come off, as well as one flat tire.
So much for this great idea.
This so wasn’t like her. She prided herself in having everything together.
“I can fix that for you.” Ty picked up her bike and carried it to his truck.
Cassidy hurried after him. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Of course I do. This was almost my fault.”
“Almost your fault?” She rushed to match his stride, her voice scratching higher than she’d like. “How about: it was your fault.”
He glanced back at her for long enough that she spotted the knot between his eyebrows.
“How was that totally my fault?” he asked. “You should have been watching where you were going.”
He put the bike in the back of his truck with a little too much ease. Then, without waiting for her, he started toward the driver’s side.
How could Ty even think he wasn’t responsible for this?
“You totally distracted me,” she said, pausing by the truck.
“Ultimately, the responsibility falls on you.” He climbed inside and slammed the door.
Cassidy let out an exasperated puff of air, realizing that if she didn’t climb in also, she was going to be stranded out here, probably two miles from her home.
She scrambled into his truck, trying her best not to touch anything more than necessary. Who knew what went on in here—although, it was surprisingly clean. After slamming the door, she crossed her arms. She hated feeling like a spoiled brat, but this man brought it out in her.
“Don’t act entitled,” he chided before waving at someone on the road and then pulling out onto the highway. At least he didn’t almost cause an accident this time.
Cassidy seethed. She’d heard about entitlement one too many times while growing up, and the topic still turned her stomach. “I’m not entitled.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“Are you always this . . . this . . .” This what, Cassidy?
“Yes?” Ty said it like he was enjoying it.
Cassidy let out a growl. “Infuriating!”
He shrugged, unaffected. “I consider myself pretty easy to get along with.”
“Then maybe you should reevaluate!” She clamped her mouth shut. What was wrong with her? Why did Ty bring out this foreign side of her?
He said nothing for a moment, but a smile curled his mouth. “As much as I would love to continue this enlightening discussion, where are you headed?”
She licked her lips and reminded herself to calm down before she completely blew her cover. “I was going to the marina.”
His eyebrows shot up. “The marina? I didn’t see you as the type to care about boating.”
“I’m trying to get a feel for the island . . . as well as some exercise. Sitting in the ice cream truck all day doesn’t do great things for a girl’s figure.”
Ty smiled. “I’d say you’re doing just fine.”
She ignored his compliment, if that’s what it was. Next thing, if she wasn’t careful, he’d try to recruit her for his special project.
“The marina is the perfect place to fix this tire and chain,” he said. “And we’re not too far away.”
Cassidy glanced out the window, her thoughts out of control. She had to bring them back into focus before she was arrested for strangling someone. That would certainly blow her cover.
She cleared her throat, realizing that Ty might have some valuable knowledge about life on the island. “So, does everyone leave their boat at the marina?”
“You mean dock? Does everyone dock their boat at the marina?”
“Whatever.”
A gentle answer turns away wrath. Another Day-at-a-Glance quote, this one straight from the Bible.
That smile curling his lip climbed higher. “You’re correct. Some people, if they live on the sound side, have slips at their home and they dock their boats there. Why?”
Cassidy shrugged, trying not to look too interested. “I’m just trying to figure out life here.”
“It’s a lot different than Impact, Texas, huh?”
Her cheeks warmed. Was Ty onto her? Or was he honestly just trying to make conversation? The breeze coming through the open windows and the gentle country music twanging in the speakers helped calm her nerves. But only a little.
“I’d say,” she finally replied.
He waved at someone as they passed, the picture of an upstanding citizen. “The one thing I miss about Texas is their barbecue.”
Barbecue? Cassidy had never been a huge barbecue fan. But she would act like she was for her cover. “Me too.”
“That vinegar based sauce . . .”
Oh no. What kind of barbecue did people in Texas eat? She couldn’t remember the regional anomalies.
Was Ty testing her? Or was she just paranoid?
Cassidy’s stomach clenched for a minute. She had to do better than this, but of all the things she’d researched about Texas, barbecue wasn’t one of them.
“I like ribs myself,” she said instead, hoping Ty wouldn’t ask more questions.
Thankfully, they pulled up to the marina then.
“Let’s get this bike fixed,” Ty said. “And then you can be on your way.”
Thirty minutes later, Cassidy’s bike had been repaired by Ty. It didn’t look as good as new—that would have taken an act of God—but at least it worked. That was all Cassidy could ask for.
Ty presented the battered beach cruiser to her with a proud grin, as if the bicycle was a gift from him or something.
“Here you go. Watch where you’re going this time.” He winked.
Men who winked were always trouble. She and Lucy had figured that out after Harvey Milford had tried to kiss both of them within a week’s time in seventh grade. He’d been a winker also.
“If guys don’t drive by and talk to me then maybe I will.”
Ty placed a hand on his hip. “Then you might have some trouble because I’m sure this is a common problem for you.”
Was he complimenting her? Objectifying her? She wasn’t sure. Nor was she sure how she felt about it.
And she hated being unsure. Give her a bad guy to track down any day to trying to navigate the world of men.
“Thank you.” The words made her throat ache. Cassidy quickly clarified, “For fixing the bike, that is. And for the ice cream cone.”
She should have thanked him earlier, but how quickly she’d forgotten about it. Seeing Ty seemed to make her forget her sensibilities—something she wasn’t used to.
“Just a little peace offering.” He gave her a salute, but his gaze went down to her knees. “You’re bleeding.”
She saw the blood running down her leg and squirmed. “I’m fine.”
“I think there’s a first aid kit in the truck. At least let me give you a bandage.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
But before Cassidy could object, Ty was already rummaging around and emerged a few minutes later with not only bandages, but some first-aid cream. “Hop up on the back.”
She wanted to argue, but what was the use? Laid-back, beach-loving girl. Cassidy needed to start acting like it. It was so incredibly hard, though.
Begrudgingly, she pulled herself up on the tailgate, ignoring the slinky silhouette on the stickers behind her. The strange thing was that, based on her conversations with Ty, she really didn’t see him as the type to have those kinds of stickers on his truck. But she supposed it didn’t matter because this was the side of him he chose to advertise.
Her knees stung as she bent them, but she tried to hide
her discomfort.
“This might hurt just a little,” Ty warned her.
She resisted a scowl. “I can handle it.”
Using a swab, he gently applied the gel to her wound. As part of it started to slide off, he touched the bottom of her calf to raise her leg.
A shot of . . . something . . . rushed through her. Not electricity. For sure. Disgust maybe? That was more like it. Repulsion. Yes—that was even more like it. Definitely not tingles.
Cassidy held her breath, counting down the moments until Ty was done. Finally, he put on the bandage, and she hopped down. She really hoped her cheeks weren’t red . . . from repulsion.
Ty stood in front of her, his hands on his hips and the sun etching his features to perfection. Cassidy was sure he used that to his advantage. The squawking seagulls overhead only confirmed the thought.
“You good now or do you need a ride?” Ty asked.
“I’m just fine and dandy.”
A grin curled his lips again. “Just fine and dandy, huh?”
“Do you have a problem with that phrase?” Why did everything Ty said annoy her?
“It’s just unusual. No, I take it back. It’s unique. Just like you.”
“How am I unique?” Cassidy sounded halfway offended, and she wasn’t even sure why except for the fact that Ty had said it.
“You’ve got that free-spirited vibe going on, but you’re anything but laid-back and free.”
“What? Of course I am.” Could he see through her that easily? Cassidy really needed to refine her acting skills.
“No, you’re not.”
She crossed her arms. “Well, you’re wrong.”
“Maybe I am.” Ty leaned closer. “But maybe I know your type just like you think you know my type.”
“And what’s that?” Did she really want to know?
“The kind who acts over-the-top independent.”
That was so ridiculous she almost laughed. “I am independent.”
“None of us are independent, Cassidy. We all need each other. Community is like a machine. All the pieces—the gears—need to be connected to work.”
Lantern Beach Mysteries Box Set Page 8
