Don't Trust Me (Hamlet Book 1)

by Jessica Lynch

  “It's not even nine yet.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, but I was driving all night. All I want is to relax, maybe watch a movie. You want to explore, fine. I don’t have to go.”

  Tess frowned, then shook her head, tugging the curtain shut as she did. “Forget it. I’ll stay.”

  “No. No, Tessie, that’s not what I want. I wasn’t trying to manipulate you into staying.” Jack could feel the beginning of another of his killer headaches forming behind his right eye. Rubbing his temple, he climbed into the bed, stretching his legs out in front of him. He exhaled roughly. “Look, I don’t want to fight anymore.”

  “Me neither,” she told him honestly. She edged closer to the bed. When he winced, she caught it. “What’s the matter, Jack? Does your head hurt?”

  Jesus, yes. The throb could be absolutely excruciating at times. It only got worse after one of their fights. He would never admit it, though. “Only a little. I’ll be fine after I get some sleep.”

  “Hang on.” Tess walked over to the dresser. “I’ve got a surprise for you. I was gonna wait ‘til later but… well, you'll see.”

  Slipping her hand into the side pocket of her duffel bag, she pulled out the small bottle she purposely tucked there last night when she finished packing. It was made of plastic—due to their travels—but the familiar red cap and logo on the label made her think they were at home.

  After a long day at work, Jack had a nightly habit of having a single shot after dinner to help him to relax. She made a point of bringing a small bottle with her for their trip because she knew he would miss it.

  But even with all her planning, she hadn’t remembered to pack a cup. Heading for the bathroom, she settled on taking one of the plastic dixie cups that the hotel staff left on the side of the sink. It was wrapped in plastic, nestled between the flat bar of soap and a small bottle of rose-scented shampoo. Perfect.

  She poured out a shot of Jack’s favorite vodka before twisting the cap back on and tucking it in her pocket. Walking back into the cozy room, she handed him the cup.

  “Ah, hell. If this is what I think it is, you’re a lifesaver, Tessie.”

  With a mischievous grin, she held up the bottle and wagged it in his direction. “What do you think?”

  Jack took a small sip. Savoring, he let out a short moan. And Tess knew she was forgiven for her part in their argument.

  “Mm-hmm. Just what I needed to unwind from the drive. You know me so well.”

  She did. She absolutely did.

  “Enjoy your drink, honey.” Bending slightly, Tess ran her fingers down his leg. “Relax. You deserve it. Remember, you’re on vacation.”

  “You, too, babe. And I meant what I said before. Go out, get a look at this Hamlet if you want,” he told her.

  “If you’re really sure it’s okay,” she hedged.

  “I am. It's fine. Here.” Lifting up off the bed, Jack slipped his hand into his back pocket. When he pulled it out again, he was holding onto one of the keycards. “Take this. You can have it. I shouldn't have said no before.”

  She took the keycard from him, hugging it to her chest. “I really want to do just a little sightseeing. That's all. At the very least, maybe I can find someplace to buy you some headache medicine. I won't be gone long.”

  His eyes were starting to close. Jack yawned, resettled himself in the bed. Tilting his head back, he tipped the rest of his nightcap into his mouth and swallowed. “Oh, yeah. That hit the spot.”

  Watching him lay by himself in the bed, the guilt started to eat at her. They were supposed to be doing their best to make their relationship work. So what was she doing? Walking out on him the first chance she got, that’s what. Just because she had the itch to explore and her plans got shot to hell the instant she yelled padiddle.

  She couldn’t do this.

  She shouldn’t—

  Tess wanted to.

  “Jack?”

  “Mmm?”

  “You… you sure you don’t mind?”

  Jack opened his eyes. They were already starting to glaze over. From the way he seemed to struggle to lift his eyelids, she figured he must’ve been more beat than he let on.

  “I want you to be happy, Tessie. Just go easy on the tire, okay?” Reaching over, he placed his empty cup on the nightstand. It toppled over. He left it like that. “And don’t stay out too late.”

  “I won’t. Trust me. I’ll probably just go out, get some fresh air, and come right back.”

  “Okay. And do me a favor—if I’m sleeping when you get back, wake me up. I haven’t forgotten this is our second honeymoon. I’ll make it up to you later.”

  Tess let out a sound that was half giggle, half snort. Just like that, Jack put her mind at ease. Her husband might be tired now, but he had a voracious appetite after he got a couple hours of sleep.

  In the first couple of weeks after they got married, he was the one who did the random waking. Lately, though, she’d been sleeping through the night. It made her wonder if Jack didn’t find her attractive anymore. It felt good to be wanted. That was the one thing—the only thing—she ever asked for. To be loved and desired.

  Grabbing her purse, Tess made sure to turn all the lights off so that he wouldn’t have to. Then, leaning down, she pressed her lips softly to his cheek. “Love you, Jack.”

  Her only answer was a snore. He was fast asleep.

  Some time, especially in the last year, sitting in a dark bar seemed to lose some of its luster.

  To be honest, Tessa hadn’t had much hope when she took Jack’s car and went looking for something to entertain her. There was only one inn in Hamlet, and the woman at the front desk was no concierge.

  Like most small towns, she was used to her guests being locals and couldn’t give a coherent direction to save her life. When Tess asked where the best place was to get a drink, the answer was full of “down the street”, “at the light”, “past the tree” and, her personal favorite, “don’t fall into the gulch”.

  It was pure dumb luck that led her to stumble upon Thirsty’s—mainly because it was the only building in town she passed that had more than two vehicles in the lot. While it was a sorry crowd by the standards she was used to, when she finally got up enough nerve to walk inside she was surprised to find that there were about twenty others filling the big room.

  Though a couple of tables were occupied, the majority of the crowd was seated at a long countertop that ran the length of the place. The local watering hole, she figured. She made a point to take a table as hidden as possible. She wanted to be the one to observe for once.

  It took a few minutes before a waitress noticed her. It was obvious that the woman was surprised to find an unknown face visiting the establishment but a table was a table and she got over her shock quick enough to bring Tess a menu and a glass of water.

  After waving off food, Tess ordered a simple gin and tonic. If that drink passed her test, maybe she would indulge in something else. Until then she contented herself with watching the other patrons. She didn’t think she could manage to completely banish her guilt. Since she had already abandoned Jack, she decided she owed it to him to give it a try.

  It was a shame she hadn’t been able to convince him to leave the hotel room. Her husband would have felt right at home at Thirsty’s.

  There was an honest to God jukebox in one corner of the bar and whoever stocked it had the same taste in music as Jack. The first time Cinderella’s “Don’t Know What You Got (‘Til It’s Gone)” played, she cringed. The second time, she flagged down her waitress again. When the opening chords to Whitesnake’s “Is This Love” echoed through the room, she tilted her head back and swallowed the rest of her drink whole.

  Her mood perked up a little when the music did. Still firmly lost in the eighties, someone put on Def Leppard. Just as the singer demanded someone pour some sugar on them, a movement by the bar caught her eye.

  Tess watched as a woman stood up on her stool before pressing a booted heel onto the c
ountertop. As she marched down the bar, all of the nearby patrons hooted and hollered, laughing as they moved their drinks in order to give her a clear path. Once she didn’t have to worry about tripping over someone’s beer, she started to dance.

  Tess couldn’t tell if the woman was pretty but she sure was wild. Dressed in jeans that seemed to be painted on and a button-down shirt that was buttoned up just enough not to be obscene, the dancer had long red hair that spilled down her back and rippled like a flame in the neon lights surrounding the bar. A cowboy hat was placed smartly on her head, an odd accessory considering they were on the East Coast. Amazingly, no matter how she threw her head or how she moved, the hat stayed in place.

  As she swirled the straw in her latest drink, Tess was mesmerized.

  So mesmerized, in fact, that she didn’t notice it when a shadow fell on her table.

  “Hello.”

  Tess jumped, her hand slipping off her straw and knocking into the rim of her glass. Amber-colored drink splashed her skin and the table in front of her. With a shaky hand, she just managed to steady the glass before the whole thing toppled over.

  As she reached for a cocktail napkin and started to sop up the spill, she glanced up to see who had startled her.

  It was a man, about her age or maybe a year or two older than her twenty-five. There was something almost babyish remaining in his chiseled features, though, a softness that said while he’d seen a lot in this world, it still held some wonder for him.

  It was his eyes, she decided. A warm sort of cocoa brown, they were big and wide and utterly adorable. Tiny lines framed them. Laugh lines.

  He was smiling at her. She was used to bar crawlers smiling at her but there was something kind in his grin. It could’ve been pervy. It wasn’t. And that made her a little bit wary.

  “Sorry about that, miss. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You didn’t.” Her thundering heart called her a liar. “Something I can do for you?”

  He must have just come in from the outside. For one, she was pretty sure she would have noticed him during her perusal of the other patrons. For another, his cropped hair glistened with the raindrops that clung to the short strands. His coat was buttoned up to his chin. She could see that his shoulders were dotted with big, wet splotches. Ran in from his car, she guessed.

  “You can answer a question for me.”

  “Sure.”

  He nodded at the empty seat across from her. “You waiting on someone?” His offer was left unsaid. If she gave him the go sign, the seat wouldn’t be empty for long.

  Tess could tell that he was hitting on her, but he did it in such a transparent way, she wasn’t offended. The curious stares and open leers from some of the other men in the bar had rubbed her the wrong way. This guy was cute. It was almost a shame that she had to turn him down.

  Picking up her glass, she made sure to use her left hand. If he missed the wedding ring on her finger, then he was blind. “My husband wasn’t feeling well. I left him to get some rest back at the inn. If anything, he’s waiting on me.”

  The handsome stranger never lost his smile. He took the rejection incredibly well. “Have a nice evening, miss. Enjoy your time in Hamlet.”

  “Thank you. I am so far.”

  With a friendly wave, the man shook his head once before he backed away from her table and turned to search the rest of the bar. Because she was married but could still appreciate a good looking man, she sipped her drink and watched him go.

  He greeted a few of the others, some at their tables, some while they moved on the dance floor. All the same, Tess had to admit she wasn’t surprised when his path led him directly toward the redhead still gyrating outrageously on the far side of the counter.

  Though maybe she did choke a little on her drink when the dancer removed the cowboy hat from her head, letting it fly across the dance floor before she launched herself right at the man.

  4

  Underneath the weight of his boss’s slight frame, Mason locked his knees so that he didn’t fall over when she jumped off of the bar and landed right in his arms. He was a strong fellow, and Caitlin De Angelis was by no means a big girl, but he hadn’t expected her to jump when she saw him heading her way.

  Then he saw the glassy look in her bright green eyes and he realized he should have.

  “Hitting the bottle kind of hard there, huh, Sheriff?”

  She leaned in, a strand of her ruby red hair clinging to her clammy cheek. Whispering loudly, Sheriff De Angelis told him, “I’m off duty,” before reaching down to grab his ass with both hands.

  “Yes,” he agreed as he eased her gently down until she was standing on her own. He was ready to ignore her wandering hands when she gave one ass cheek a squeeze. His smile became a little strained as he reached behind him and removed her hands. “But I’m still on duty so maybe you can keep these to yourself.”

  She took his gentle refusal with a sniff and a flounce. “I can have any man in Hamlet,” she announced to the crowd before raising one of her hands royally. As if to prove her point, three bar hounds fought for the pleasure of helping Caitlin climb back onto the bar. She sat down on the bar top, crossing her legs and placing her pointed chin into her hand. “That’s why I’ve got to celebrate, Mase! Almost got trapped once, didn’t I? Now I know better. Why settle for one man when I can have anyone I want?”

  Mason wasn’t an idiot. Whether or not he was attracted to his boss—and, while she was a beautiful woman, he was most adamantly not—he knew better than to mix business with pleasure.

  He also knew better than to rile her up when she was brooding over her divorce. Three years after her marriage fell apart, everyone in Hamlet knew that Caitlin De Angelis might be able to get anyone she wanted—but she hadn’t been able to keep the only one who ever mattered to her.

  That was why he put up with her drunken behavior and outright harassment. For three hundred and sixty-four days out of the year, Caitlin was an ideal sheriff. A tad paranoid and fanatically loyal to Hamlet, she was the law in their small village. She never abused her power. If she wanted to make an ass out of herself on the anniversary of her divorce, the townsfolk let her. And her deputies made sure no one held her accountable the morning after.

  Which was also why Mason was checking in on her now. Willie dropped the sheriff off at Thirsty’s when they both went off shift but she had three kids at home. She couldn’t spare the time to babysit her thirty-year-old boss. So Mason promised to check in on Caitlin during the night, and Sly was on call to drive Caitlin home when she was finally done—if she didn’t find her own ride home first.

  From the way some of the fellas were eyeing her in her civilian clothes, Mason didn’t think she’d have any trouble getting to her place.

  His mind at ease, Mason took Caitlin by the elbow and gently helped her down from the bar top before guiding her to the closest stool. She was already wobbling in her thigh high boots. The last thing he needed was for the sheriff to take a tumble and break her neck. He’d almost had a heart attack when he saw her swaying on the top of the bar. And then, when she jumped at him… if she kept this up, he’d need a drink himself by the end of this shift.

  He used the excuse of retrieving her hat to put some more space between them. Leaning in, he plopped her hat back in place before backing away from her again. “Okay, Sheriff. I’m doing the overnight. I’ve got to get back out there. If you need me, give me a buzz.”

  She was already accepting another drink from Georgie, the bartender at Thirsty’s. Waving off Mason’s concerns, she tossed the shot back before slamming the glass on the bar. “Another!”

  The men surrounding her let out a cheer. Mason wasn’t too worried. Apart from the outsider sitting alone at a table, everyone inside of Thirsty’s was a local. They all knew Caitlin. One or two of them might take her up on her boast that she could have any man, but not one of them would hurt her. If anyone tried, there were at least five more who would nip that in the bud before it began. M
ason was well aware that the only danger to the sheriff was Caitlin herself and the hell of a hangover she would certainly have tomorrow.

  So, with a respectful nod to his boss, and a stern glare at her fan club, Mason backed away from the bar. Now that he’d done what he came down to Thirsty’s to do, it was time to get back on patrol. With only four full-time members of the sheriff’s department, they were running a little shorthanded lately. Willie was home with her family. Having come off a double that morning, Sly didn’t start his next shift until five a.m. unless one of the others needed him earlier. Caitlin purposely took the night off. Mason was the only one on duty.

  He wasn’t worried, though. There was never any trouble in Hamlet—not unless it involved an outsider.

  Without even meaning to, he searched out the lonely brunette with the golden eyes. She was still nursing the same drink she’d had when he first saw her. And, like before, she was sitting by herself, frowning into her glass. She looked so lost and alone, it made his heart ache.

  Mason was born and raised in Hamlet, never left the small village he always called home. With such a tiny population, he knew each and every one of his neighbors. On the rare occasion that an outsider found their way into Hamlet, they usually stuck out like a sore thumb.

  Not that one. Something about her called to him. In his eyes, she shone like a diamond. Her lonely presence lured him over to her the instant he entered the bar and, as he walked out, he had a strong desire to stay.

  It appealed to him that she was a mystery. Unlike all the other girls in town, he hadn’t known her all his life. He could discover everything about her in time, if she only let him.

  It was a pity that she made it very clear that that wouldn’t be happening. And, yet, he couldn’t bring himself to go back out into the rain.

  Standing in the doorway, hidden in the shadows, Mason continued to watch the pretty little outsider. He respected the ring she wore, and while her sad eyes and wistful smile were very tempting, he knew better than to poach when a lady said she was spoken for. Even if he couldn’t understand what sort of man would leave his wife to drown her sorrows all alone.