by Taryn Quinn
A little sliver of unease hit me. Where had that thought come from?
He narrowed his gaze. “Since when did you smoke?”
“Not me. Rita was here.”
“That makes more sense.” He tossed my little mesh bag at me. “Let’s get this done, Freckles.”
I caught it and sighed. Today was not turning out how I’d imagined.
I pulled on my shoes and followed him out. Sure enough, he had a clipboard this time around. I was pretty sure most fire code agents used a tablet. Then again, Crescent Cove was a small town. Maybe they didn’t have that kind of technology in the budget.
He made tsking sounds as he walked around the bar. He checked outlets and vents, and he even carried out a small stepladder from beside the front door he must have brought back in with him. He kept humming to himself as he marked things off.
I followed him around, my blouse sticking to my back with every step. There was no air circulation in this godforsaken place.
I wasn’t sure if checks were good or bad. The more his brow furrowed, the more I went with the shit column.
By the time he put the damn clipboard down, my shoulders were aching from tension.
Jacob tucked his pen behind his ear. “Well, you’re not quite to full shut down, but there’s a lot you’re going to have to fix before you sell this place.”
“Can’t I sell it without the fixes?”
“You can.” He propped his fist on his hip. “You’d take a helluva loss. If you made some simple repairs, you’d come out further ahead for sure.”
“Is that a professional opinion? Aren’t you supposed to be impartial?”
He dropped the clipboard on the table. “Look, Freckles. I loved this place. The Cove doesn’t have too many bars that aren’t overrun by townies looking to let off steam. Station 49 took to this place over the last year. We loved Sharkey, and I want to make sure you’re taken care of.”
My heart pounded. “Why?”
“We take care of our own. Sharkey thought you were good enough to take on this place, so I guess we have to as well.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Gee, thanks.”
He stepped closer to me, and his spicy woodsmoke scent filled my head. “Besides, you used to be one of my closest…” His gaze dropped to my mouth. “Friends. I take care of my friends.”
I stepped back and bumped into a chair. I tamped down the urge to growl at him. I hadn’t been that girl in a damn long time. I didn’t lose my temper and I wouldn’t be baited by him. “I appreciate that, Jacob.”
“Just Jake these days, Freckles.”
I poked him in the chest. “Stop calling me that.”
He grinned down at me. “No can do. Especially when they’re burning through your carefully applied face paint.”
“It’s not paint. It’s one-hundred-dollar concealer.” My fingers went to my nose automatically. Sure enough, my makeup wasn’t holding up to the heat in the bar.
He snorted. “You paid too much. Besides, you look better all natural.” He picked up his clipboard. “I’ll be back with the boys soon to start working on this list.”
“What list? Don’t I get a copy of the citations or whatever?”
“Citations?” He barked out a laugh. “I’m not a cop. But yes, you’ll get a written report of your violations in twenty-four to seventy-two hours.” He tucked the sheets in his inside jacket pocket.
“What? I can’t wait that long.” I chased after him. “Jake, you have to give me the preliminary findings.”
“You gotta stop watching cop shows, darlin’.”
“Erica. My name is Erica!” And okay, maybe I watched way too many true crime documentaries. But what else should I call the results of this farce of a meeting?
He slid on his aviators before he opened the bar’s door. “Go see your mom and sisters. I’ll be in touch.”
“That is not how this is supposed to work, Jake Mills,” I called after him.
He turned around and walked backward toward his truck. “How did you think it was going to work? You’re back in the Cove, Freckles. Things here aren’t like how they are in the big city.”
I stomped on the porch and heard another crack. I quickly stepped to a more secure board.
“Careful there or I’m going to wonder if you like me scooping you up in my arms.” He opened his truck door. “I know I enjoyed it.” He gave me a salute and shut the door before I could reply.
I ran down the stairs, but he just waved as he drove off, spitting gravel in his wake.
This was supposed to be a quick trip. In and out, with maybe some of my mother’s empanadas as a treat.
Not a project, dammit. And definitely not one involving Jake Mills.
Four
The overcast skies on Sunday morning in the Cove left me feeling lazy.
I stared at my childhood bedroom ceiling. It had been turned into a craft room for my mother, leaving only a lumpy futon for guests.
Better to make sure company didn’t overstay their welcome.
I knew my mother well. Since she’d ejected all her kids, she had restructured our house into a showcase for exactly what she’d always wanted. Add in the fact that her sole son was a master carpenter who didn’t know how to tell his mother no, and she definitely got her way.
She always had a plan. Probably where I’d gotten it from, even if we’d both chew off a finger before we owned up to being anything alike.
Unlike her, however, I was hiding out.
The last two days had been a lesson in patience and strategy. I had about a dozen new notes in my phone about what I’d need to do to offload the bar. That was in between fielding calls from my boss who had been blowing up my phone with texts and emails inquiring when I would be back. I’d worked my way up from junior marketing specialist—aka paid intern—after five grueling years at the midtown office for one of the largest financial firms in New York City.
I was one of the leads on a major marketing campaign. The singular goal I’d had in my five-year plan.
A far cry from my life in Crescent Cove.
Here, I’d played mom to my sisters while my parents worked. Or I’d babysat for kids in the neighborhood while waiting tables to save every penny I could for college. On a lark, I’d tried for a scholarship while helping Danny with his forms. I hadn’t really thought I had a chance in hell, but when we were both accepted, it had seemed as if the universe was giving me a sign.
Instead of growing apart in college, we’d stayed together. Back then, I took comfort in having a boyfriend so I could concentrate on school. It was easier to hold on to the familiar even if we never quite fit. Marriage had been the next logical step. We’d even started working for the same company.
Logical shouldn’t have been the word used when he actually asked me. I should have run the minute he treated it like a business transaction. Being stable and married had been a leg up to advance in Thompson Financial. And Danny had become the king of shortcuts—the right friends, the right woman. Until I hadn’t satisfied that slot anymore.
My phone buzzed on my chest, dragging me out of the past.
What now? Another fire to put out? My sister badgering me to meet her at the diner?
I lifted it and saw Jake’s name.
I shut my eyes and instead of annoyance, I got a flash of Jake’s crinkles framing his eyes behind his amber aviator sunglasses. No part of him reminded me of the boy I’d left behind all those years ago. That Jake was long, lanky, sweet—and now?
Now my nipples tightened at the memory of him holding me against his very wide, very muscular chest.
I clutched my phone as it buzzed again and covered my face with my arm.
“Get up, mija.”
I groaned and was very glad I was still under my blanket. “Mami, knock.”
“I birthed you, I don’t care if you’re naked.” Bonnie Ramos stood in the doorway, her dark hair piled up on her head. Her latest obsession was yoga, including all the gear. Today’
s ensemble included llamas over a bright purple background. A racerback tank that showed way too much boob for my brain to handle and a perfect face of makeup completed the look. “Get up. You’ve been lounging long enough.”
I hadn’t lounged in probably three years, but she was right.
I took a quick peek at Jake’s text.
Meet me at the bar, Freckles. I have some news.
I flung back my covers.
My mother’s eyebrow arched. “And what on that phone got you out of bed so fast? I’ve been calling for you for an hour.”
I grabbed my overnighter and kissed her on the cheek as I flew by. “Incentive, Mami.”
She followed me down the hall. “And who might have given you such incentive?”
I paused outside the bathroom door, dropping my bag before I pointed at her. “No.”
“What?”
She acted so innocent, but I knew her far too well. “It’s not like that. I’m going to the bar.”
She put her hands on her hips. “To see Jacob Mills?”
“No. Well, yes, Jake will be there.” I shook back my hair and mirrored her stance. “He’s the fire code chief. I’m meeting him so I can get the bar sold and get back to the city. Nothing more, nothing less.”
She shrugged. “If you say so, mija.” She turned on her heel. “I made some of your fancy coffee.”
“Don’t get any ideas about me and Jake,” I called after her.
“I didn’t say anything,” she said and disappeared around the corner and down the stairs.
I kicked my bag into the bathroom and stripped. I’d walked right into that trap. I knew better and still did it. My bloodline was mostly Spanish and Italian. Many of my family members, extended and otherwise, saw a single woman as a project to tackle. Being the first of us kids to marry and divorce made me a double target.
Their enduring disappointment and my advanced age—their words, not mine—made for extra heaping doses of matchmaking. I got at least three phone calls a week asking about my status and when I was giving my parents a grandbaby.
I pinned up my hair under a plastic cap and climbed into the shower. I slid a hand over my flat belly as I soaped up. I’d always assumed I’d have a child one day, but my priorities had shifted when Danny’s focus zeroed in on work. Sure, I wanted a family, but I didn’t want to be the only one willing to make sacrifices. So, I’d pushed thoughts of children down.
Being home with my family and seeing the baby boom taking over the town was just messing with my head. Lots of things were.
I quickly shaved since my dark hair made quick daily maintenance preferable to letting things go. Then I raided my sister Frankie’s closet since I’d only packed enough to get through the weekend. She was a little more athletic than I was, but one of her old sundresses would do in a pinch. Besides, she probably hadn’t seen this dress since high school, so I should be safe from her wrath.
That and she lived in Hell’s Kitchen these days.
I tugged at the front of the dress, hoping to stretch it a little. Instead, the center button kept popping. “Dammit,” I muttered under my breath.
I went back to her closet and flicked through her hangers. We might be sisters, but Francesca Ramos was on the lighter end of the skin tone spectrum. All the colors she had made me look like I had jaundice.
This was the only black one in her collection. I was a full cup size larger than Frankie. Did I go for vanity, or comfort?
I slipped a pink sweater off one of the hangers. A little bit of both, evidently.
I shrugged it on and closed the gaping buttons, then grabbed my purse and rushed down the stairs into the kitchen. Sunlight had burned through the gray clouds, allowing for a rare bit of March springtime heat. I made myself a quick travel mug of coffee and wandered to the window.
My father was on the patio with his radio blaring as he prepped his garden. It was tempting to go out there and sit with him. It had been so long since I’d simply sat and listened to him hum along with Elvis. He always said the King’s smooth voice was made for teasing blooms out of the flowers as much as girls out of their skirts back in the day.
I let the sheer curtains fall back over the kitchen window with a sigh. Regardless of the status of the bar, I’d have to go back to the city in the morning. I’d have to look into taking some personal time if Jake’s report was less than stellar.
I wasn’t sure how I was going to pull all of this off.
I snagged a slice of my mother’s fresh bread on the way out the door. I was on the opposite side of the town, and on the trip over, I got another two texts from Jake wondering where I was.
As I pulled up, I found him leaning against his dusty silver truck. The large grill made the breadth of his shoulders seem even wider. His long legs were crossed at the ankle, and those blasted aviators were shielding his eyes.
Different ones today. These were mirrored so I couldn’t figure out his mood.
I stepped out of my car.
“You’re late.”
“I wasn’t aware we scheduled a time.”
His lips twitched a little before a dimple dented his beard. “Raiding your sister’s closets again, Freckles?”
I gritted my teeth and lifted my chin. “How do you know it’s not my dress?”
He shrugged and slowly straightened. “Maybe you like showing off your lacy underthings. Who am I to say?”
Suddenly, I wished for a little more than the little pink sweater as a coverup for my borrowed dress. I folded it tighter around me and crossed my arms. “This was supposed to be a one and done, Mills. I wasn’t prepared for more than an overnight. So, yes, I had to borrow some clothing.”
He pulled an envelope out of his denim jacket. His woodsmoke and spice scent wafted after it. “Then let’s get to it, and you can be on your way.”
“Good.” I fidgeted a little under the weight of his gaze.
He waved the envelope. “I won’t bite. Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”
Obviously, he was baiting me. I moved in and he pulled it out of reach. “Jake,” I growled.
“I don’t want you to get too upset. The bar has violated code for a long time. I’m not sure how Sharkey passed his last yearly visit. All I can figure is my predecessor enjoyed the beer enough to overlook a few things.”
“And you won’t.”
He moved in until our toes touched. “I like rules and order, Freckles. I take my job seriously.” His voice lowered to a rumble. “Beer isn’t enough of a bribe, either.”
What about a sheer pink bra?
I instantly hated that the thought occurred to me. But I wasn’t sure if it was because I wanted the bar issue to be take care of or—
Nope. No or, dammit.
He handed me the envelope. “I’ll help you get it up to code.”
“You will?”
He inclined his head. “Well, me and the boys from the firehouse. We love this place.”
“Right.” I couldn’t help the quick pang of disappointment. “Of course.”
I flipped open the envelope and gaped at the long list of offenses. I scanned the three pages, my blood boiling over each small infraction. And finally, the last one got me.
“The pool table isn’t regulation-sized for the space?” I slapped the pile of papers against his chest. I was so angry I couldn’t even form words. My job was to create ads full of them, yet I was at a complete loss. “You—you…bully!”
He caught them against his very hard belly. “Now, Freckles, I’m just doing my job.”
“You’re being completely ridiculous. Is this because I’m a woman?”
His eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes went flat. “No, these are real infractions.”
His voice was so matter of fact. Rage swirled around me like a dust storm.
Before I said something I might regret later, I stomped up the stairs. There was fresh wood leading up to the door. It wasn’t stained like the rest of the ancient porch, but there had been effort put i
nto making the boards match up.
That attention to detail should have slowed my roll, but then I slammed open the door and saw the pool table. The pool table I’d played at for most of my summers as a teen.
Where Danny and Jake had taught me to play, no less.
Mostly Jake. Danny never had a handle on the angles like Jake. My ex used to get bored and wander off to try to charm Rita into giving him beer.
Memories tumbled free. Laughter and the jukebox playing well into the night. Curfew bent on dozens of nights, thanks to endless quarters fed into the table or the juke.
I walked around the perimeter and grabbed one of the pool cues off the wall. I heard Jake’s heavy boots on the scarred floor, so I knew he’d followed. “And just how is this not regulation?” I swung it above the green felt recklessly. The chalk-stained tip grazed his belt buckle.
To Jake’s credit, he didn’t even flinch. He simply took off his sunglasses and tucked them in the pocket of his pristine white T-shirt, then tossed his jacket on the foosball table. He eased the cue out of my hands and circled the table slowly.
I backed up into the wall.
“Your proof is right there.”
I frowned up at him. “What, that you’re crowding me?”
“There should be a minimum of five feet on every side of the pool table.” He stepped in front of me, and the space shrank. His shoulders seemed extra massive with the denim shirt over his white T-shirt. My skin flushed from the heat coming off him.
Memories battered me. Jake had always run hot. His skin had been like a furnace on all those late nights on his bike when he’d rescued me after I’d fought with Danny. Keeping me warm and safe.
His chest brushed along the buttons of my dress. “Does it seem like there is five feet of space right here, Freckles?”
No, there was no damn space.
And I didn’t mind.
Five
Her chest heaved and our height difference gave me a damn good point of view. Erica had been blessed by the gods in the breast department. Not too big, but more than a handful for sure. They pushed at the black material of her dress, begging to be freed.
