He winced. “No harm done. They’ll dry out good as new.”
“Remember, she can’t sleep longer than a couple hours and then you wake her.”
“I promise, Doc,” Frank said.
“And I’ll see her tomorrow.”
“Right.”
Frank guided Casey out of the room and down a short hall toward the clinic lobby. She wondered if the hunk was still around. She wouldn’t mind one last look at him to save for later. But why should the guy wait around? He didn’t even know her. What had he said his name was? Aidan?
“I don’t remember what happened after I fell off the gunwale. Do you know?” she asked Frank, as he held open the lobby door at the end of the hall.
An angry scowl wrinkled his features as he followed her. She glanced all around the lobby. No hunk. She couldn’t believe how much the disappointment hurt.
Big Louie stood up the minute they entered the room. Nicknamed for his six foot five height, Cypress Key’s chief shrimp boat captain—and scalloper in season—announced, “I just saw Sheriff Watson take that stranger who saved Casey off in his cruiser.”
“That’s right,” Frank growled.
“No, that’s wrong,” Louie argued. “I seen everything.”
~ ~ ~
Watson drove Aidan to the concrete-block sheriff’s department on Main Street in the center of town. When Aidan asked whether the marina was within the police department’s jurisdiction and if he might be some other reasonable government department’s responsibility, Watson grudgingly admitted Cypress Key wasn’t large enough for a separate police department, and pint-sized Cypress County was not populated enough for more funding than just for his sheriff’s department. As Cypress Key was the county seat, his office was conveniently located here.
“I’m all there is,” Watson said and smirked at Aidan in the rearview mirror.
This came after Watson had detoured to a rambling Victorian home downtown belonging to a Judge Whitley Robbins who resembled a skinny version of Father Time. Aidan had been informed the town’s only public defender was out of town on vacation and wouldn’t return for two weeks. So, Whitley performed the arraignment on his front stoop and set bail at two thousand dollars. Cypress Key never had enough criminals to hold night court, so Judge Robbins just arraigned them at his home as they occurred.
The sheriff’s taunts made Aidan wish he’d booted Watson off the dock and into the marina instead of the tattletale jerk. Aidan would make sure the Florida Bar checked out Robbins once he managed to get free of the town.
The sheriff’s department looked like a refugee of the Korean-War era with its concrete blocks, flat roof, and square-paned jalousie windows, save for the ones in the cells that had bars on them. Obviously, the crime rate was fairly low in tiny Cypress county for the sheriff’s containment area held only three cells, all in a row, and Aidan was the only present occupant. After fingerprinting him out front, Watson prodded Aidan down to the last cell in line. Had he planned on filling the other cells tonight?
The sheriff unlocked the cell door and swung it wide. “Sure you don’t want to cough up that last name? I’ll get it out of the system, but it’ll go easier on you if you just tell me.”
“You’ll get a last name when I get a lawyer,” Aidan growled. “And I get a phone call to locate him.”
Watson glared and slammed the cell door hard enough to vibrate the wall of bars. He stomped out of the containment area and returned moments later with a fresh glare and a portable phone. No formal booking procedure just yet, only a stop at Robbins’s house. With any luck, Aidan could avoid that process altogether.
He punched Ian’s cell number.
Watson waited outside the cell door, arms crossed and ugly glare evidently a permanent fixture on his mug. Aidan would have to do a little soft shoe to hide his identity during this call, with Watson eavesdropping on every word. He eased to the back of the cell. When Ian answered, Aidan turned the volume down as low as he could and still hear his friend, to reduce Watson’s chance of overhearing the deep-voiced Scot.
“Where the devil have ye been, Aidan? Ye’ve been gone for hours. I was tempted to take one of the WaveRunners ashore and have a look about for ye, but Joe assured me ye’d know where to get your wee motor part repaired. Did ye get lost?”
“Ian, I . . .” Aidan hated this. “I’m in jail.”
He almost put the phone to his chest to cover the sound of Ian’s uproarious laughter, but that would be too obvious. He took his chances, and dammit, if Watson didn’t grin.
“Enough,” he barked. “I have an audience.”
Ian abruptly stopped laughing. “Ye’re serious then?”
“Why would I kid about that?”
“Bloody hell. What did ye do? Refuse to pay the exorbitant repair fee? Ye were probably daft enough to tell the man it was for a yacht, and he charged ye double.”
Aidan closed his eyes and breathed deeply for patience.
“Assault,” he snapped. “I’ve been charged with assault.”
The phone went dead quiet for all of a moment before the explosion hit.
“That’s bollocks! What horse’s arse would charge ye of all people with assault?”
Watson glowered, and Aidan relished the fact the man had heard the last bit of Ian’s diatribe.
“Ye’d be the last man on the face of the earth to pull a stunt like that with all yer mon—”
“Ian!” he yelled, to cover up what his friend had been about to say.
None of it would have helped his predicament. Though stuck in jail, he still didn’t want to divulge his identity if he didn’t have to. Not after meeting Frank and Casey and Watson. He needed to get the lay of the land here first. This was to be his project site after all and being arrested so swiftly for so little had roused his spidey senses and stubbornness.
“Audience, remember? I explained to the sheriff that my last name is Doe as in John Doe.”
“Did ye?” The Scot was all ears now. His voice went very soft. “No identification with ye, I take it?”
“No. I left it on the boat.”
“Shite.”
“I told Sheriff Watson he’d get my last name when I got a lawyer, and this is my one call.”
“And it’s gone on long enough,” Watson sniped from outside the cell.
“I heard him, Aidan,” Ian said softly. “I’ll get yer Shaunessy to check on this Watson arse, and I’ll call Rhett—”
“Sheriff?” a deputy called as he burst through the door to the containment area. “Sorry to interrupt, but someone just bailed out your Aidan Doe.”
“Hang on, Ian. Hold off on calling anyone yet. I’ve just been sprung from this joint.”
“Ye call me back when ye’re out,” the Scot ordered.
“Promise.”
He handed the phone to Watson through the bars and fought back his own smirk at the sheriff’s glower.
“Your court hearing will be scheduled once the public defender returns unless you manage to hire a lawyer on your own. If the public defender’s behind, might be a month. Don’t you go anywhere.”
“But I don’t live here.”
“Should’ve thought of that before you hit PJ Bartow.”
“I didn’t hit him.”
“That’s right. You kicked the hell out of him.”
There was no reasoning with the sheriff and his questionable legal protocols, and Aidan wanted to know who had bailed him out and spoiled Watson’s plans.
Chapter 3
Frank Stuart, wearing an impatient scowl, waited by the front door. The deputy who had announced his bail waited outside the containment area to return Aidan’s meager belongings: his cell phone, his dive watch—thank God, he hadn’t worn his Rolex—and his boat keys.
&
nbsp; Watson followed him out, and when Aidan headed for Frank, the sheriff stopped him.
Aidan glared at the hand on his arm until Watson released him.
“I’m watching you,” he growled. “And I will find out your real name.”
“Is he free on bail or not?” Frank called out.
Watson glowered at Aidan. “You can go.” He added as Aidan stepped away, “For now.”
Aidan never looked back. Frank was already out the door, and he hustled to catch up. Darkness had fallen, and the streetlights had popped on. The humidity took a short dive with the sunset. Outside, a giant of a man with a bald head waited next to Frank’s truck.
Was he about to get his ass handed to him?
“I appreciate you making bail,” Aidan said as he warily eyed the waiting giant.
“I couldn’t let the guy who saved my niece rot in jail. She was worried about you.” Frank sighed. “She likes you, I guess.”
Worried about me?
The thought hit Aidan with an inexplicable sense of relief and delight. Inexplicable, because he never worried whether a woman liked him or not. A woman, any woman, either liked him or she didn’t. If she didn’t, he moved on. Since most were after his money anyway, he was never compelled to worry about their feelings. Except that time with Lily, and she had been an anomaly.
So why the relief now? Relief that his rescued beauty worried about him? There were too many women after him to worry about just one. Of course, the women he knew also knew about his money. This one didn’t, and he felt an overwhelming desire to see if Casey Stuart could want him for himself and no other reason—simple Aidan, crewman on a yacht.
He stopped dead and peered into the truck.
“She’s not here,” Frank said, sounding irritated. “Doc said she has to stay put and rest.”
Aidan didn’t move, only smiled to himself. The green-eyed beauty was worried about me?
A thought hit. “You left her alone?”
“Of course not,” Frank retorted. “I called Mamie to stay with her. She only lives three streets over from us.”
Aidan nodded. “Thanks for coming now. I wasn’t looking forward to a night in that cell.”
“You’re welcome.” Frank shrugged. “I just wish I could’ve been there to see you knock PJ in the water.”
“He made me mad.”
“I’ll bet.” Frank grinned.
“How did you know I—”
“Oh, sorry,” he butted in. “This here’s Big Louie.” He turned to the giant waiting next to Frank’s truck.
The big man held out a hand. Aidan stared at the plus-sized appendage, but when Big Louie grinned, he shook the hand.
“Big Louie saw everything that happened today in the marina. He came and told me right after the sheriff hauled you off.”
“I had to take care of my boat and my haul first,” Louie said apologetically.
“Big Louie is the town’s best shrimp captain,” Frank explained. “Keeps all the restaurants supplied.”
The giant shrimp captain nodded. “I was coming into the marina behind PJ and saw what he done, coming in so fast with that monster wave. He knew what he was doing. He meant to do it. No one comes into the marina that fast.”
“Did you explain all that to the sheriff?” Aidan asked hopefully.
Not that he didn’t trust his father’s team of attorneys to get him off. Aidan could have the Cross attorneys fix this bogus charge in a matter of hours, but he had two good reasons to leave things as they were for a short while. One, he didn’t want his father to know about the arrest at all. George Cross would never let him hear the end of it. Two, he couldn’t let the town know who he was. They would hate him outright, and his new resort needed a close-knit relationship with the town and its residents. If Aidan screwed up now, his relationship with the town might never recover and would forever paint him in an adversarial role. His resort could not succeed under those conditions.
If he was really honest, his identity leaking out could ruin his chance at Casey Stuart—forever. He had an inexplicable need to find out if this girl could care for Aidan without his money.
“Sure did," Louie said. "As soon as I told Frank, we come over here to see the sheriff.”
“And?”
“And Watson didn’t give a crap,” Frank said disgustedly. “He said it was Louie’s word against PJ’s word, and PJ didn’t know that a wave from his boat could cause any damage or injury. Said you were still on the hook for the charge. You swung first, or in this case, kicked first.”
“Why do you look so worried?” Aidan wanted to know.
“Mayor Bartow owns Sheriff Watson, and that’s the mayor’s boy you booted into the water.”
Aidan cursed under his breath.
“Big Louie will testify,” Frank offered.
The giant nodded emphatically.
“Did Watson tell you when your hearing would happen?”
“Yeah,” Aidan said, scowling. “At least two weeks, maybe longer. Depends on the public defender.”
For a second there, he thought Frank might smile. What was up with that?
“I gotta go, Frank,” Louie said. “Wife’s holding supper.”
“Sure thing. We’ll talk later. Thanks, Louie.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Aidan called as the giant headed for a dilapidated truck parked at the curb.
Frank turned back to Aidan. “You have a place to stay?”
“What? Oh . . . yeah. I can go back out to the yacht.”
“Are you nuts? It’s dark, in case you haven’t noticed, and there’s barely a moon.”
Aidan was about to tell him he could get to the yacht at night with his eyes closed—his runabout was outfitted with GPS and searchlights—but Frank added, “Climb in the truck. You can stay with us.”
He started to argue, but Frank had already climbed into the driver’s seat, so he climbed in on the passenger side. Aidan figured he’d let Frank do the talking on the way to his house, and the older man didn’t waste any time as he pulled his truck out of the small parking lot.
“Now that I bailed you out,” he said, “do I get a last name?”
Time to fish or cut bait. If I tell him my name, he’ll Google me, and I’ll become the most disliked man in town. And I still need to get my part fixed.
Aidan swore he would never do what Garrett did and create an undercover persona. Garrett almost lost Andi, his new wife, when he tried that. Not that Aidan had anyone to lose, though flashing green eyes sparked an image in his head.
Dang it all. The guy had bailed him out. He owed Frank. Aidan wanted to help him and his niece get out of their financial hole—it cost a lot of money to run a golf course, and the one tour boat probably didn’t make much—but Aidan couldn’t do that as himself. He knew they would refuse his help.
“Sure, it’s Cross.” He smiled. “With an e.”
Frank stared at him in the light of the dashboard, keeping one eye on the road.
“C-R-O-S-S-E. Like the jelly guy,” Aidan added.
“Jelly, huh?”
He hadn’t pulled Garrett’s stunt. Not exactly. He’d only added an e to his name and hopefully made himself ungoogleable, if that was even a word. It wouldn’t take much for an enterprising, computer-savvy guy to make the jump from his man Halowell and Princeton Holdings to Cross Enterprises to Aidan Cross. But maybe not to Aidan Crosse. He’d have half a leg to stand on when confronted in the future. There was no if about it, just when.
“Why would you take me home with you? I’m a complete stranger.”
Frank glanced over at him. “You’re right. I don’t know you from Adam, but you’re the guy who saved Casey and kicked that ass PJ into the drink, then carried my niece in your arms and ran three blocks to the clin
ic. So, I’m thinking you’re all right. If not, then I’ll kick you into the drink.”
“Fair enough.”
Aidan was reasonably certain Frank didn’t have any extra money laying around for bail and was just about to tell the man he would borrow the money from his boss to pay Frank back, when his newly-discovered bondsman said, “You probably don’t have the bail money yourself what with working as a crewman and all, so I figure you could work off the bail instead.”
“Did you?”
Frank grinned. “Yup. By driving the tour boat when Casey has a tour. Doc said she couldn’t drive the boat for at least a week. If you drive the boat, all she has to do is sit and narrate, then you could work for me and Casey at the golf course when there were no boat tours. I got a charity golf tournament in a couple days and could use an extra pair of hands. New course workers are normally hired at ten dollars an hour, so we can deduct your hours worked at that rate against the total bail.”
“Can we?”
Aidan had grown irritated by Frank’s presumptions. Had the man really said work for the beauty? At the golf course?
“Was that sass?” Frank asked. “That sounded like sass.”
“Probably.”
“Hard to believe a guy would sass me after I just posted his bail.” Frank wielded the guilt card like a pro. “See I only offered because I knew you’d want to pay me back, and this seemed like an ideal way for both of us.”
That, and the fact you posted bail you couldn’t afford.
Now Aidan had made himself feel guilty. “Maybe I—”
He’d been about to say, “Maybe I can borrow the money in minutes,” but Frank cut him off again.
“I could really use your help, especially tonight. Doc says I can’t let Casey sleep more than a couple hours without waking her up, and I have to watch her in between for nausea or a worse headache. I figured we could take turns through the night.”
Guilt bullied Aidan. At the same time, he worried about his green-eyed beauty. “I suppose I could stay with you tonight.”
PAR FOR CINDERELLA Page 4
