by Palmer Jones
Dewey Mitchell chuckled, sounding lighthearted as always. “I wish. I’m banging my head against the wall on this one, Cam. No fingerprints. Just like before. My gut is saying it’s not someone in town.”
“Then, why has it gone on for three weeks? We can’t overlook locals, Dewey.”
“I know. You almost back?”
Addie muttered, “finally,” as her fingers flew over her phone screen again quicker than any middle school girl he’d seen.
“I’ll be back in about thirty minutes. I need to drop Addie off at the house and swing by to check on Lacy. I’ll come in after that.” He ignored Dewey’s question of “Who is Addie?” and ended the call before he pulled back onto the highway.
Her head snapped his direction. “Where am I staying?”
“Hotel Dempsey.” He’d tried for a joke, but she didn’t seem to get it.
Her lips parted, and a blush crawled up her neck and across the exposed part of her chest, the one area he’d avoided looking since their first meeting. The space between them seemed to shrink as he swallowed over the lump in his throat.
“Cameron,” she began, a serious, steady tone to her voice. “I appreciate the offer, and I know you’re Trevor’s friend, but I don’t think I need to stay at your house.” Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip. “With you.”
At his house…in his bed. Not going there with her.
“Sorry.” He rubbed a hand over his buzzed hair. “You’ll stay at my parents’ house. My dad is the Sheriff. Since you’re Trevor’s sister, my mom refused to let you stay in a hotel, and the local bed and breakfast is full. We’d rather you stay close since you’re our responsibility. And because the next acceptable hotel is over an hour away. It’s better than back in jail.” He tried for a smile. “Better food.”
“I bet the toilets are nicer, too.”
Her deadpan expression caught him off-guard, but he would play along. “And there’s free cable TV.”
“An extra blanket?”
He nodded. “A very comfortable queen-sized bed.”
She shifted a touch, an inch closer, her eyes giving him that direct stare he’d remembered from so long ago. “And”—she paused—“Coffee?” The cute conspirator look on her face almost broke him.
He stopped at a red light. He moved until their shoulders brushed. Tiny flecks of gold reflected in her brown eyes. “I’m sure unlimited coffee is a negotiable item in the terms of your release.”
She tilted her head, barely a millimeter, but enough that if this had been any other woman, any other situation, he would’ve leaned in and kissed her.
“What else can be negotiated?” She asked, a little breathless.
He’d have to be dead not to feel the chemistry popping between them. Like throwing one lit match after another into kerosene, it was nothing he’d ever experienced with another woman before. Especially, not with Jennifer.
This was about to be two weeks in Hell. He straightened in his seat. It wasn’t real. Her actions. His feelings. They had to be fake since everything about her was fake.
How many other men had fallen under her spell? At least one. Her boyfriend.
“Tell me about Brian.” One of many reasons that made his friend’s little sister off-limits.
She blinked, and the cute dimple on her cheek disappeared. She sank back against the seat, curling both legs under her as she leaned her head against the window. “He’s gorgeous. A really talented actor trying to break into the business. I already told you he’s done a commercial, a few other modeling gigs. We’ve been together a couple of years.”
Nice resume. It confirmed one thing: She didn’t love the jerk.
She might think she did but listing off a man’s accomplishments didn’t lend itself to the once-in-a-lifetime love that Cameron wanted. The kind his parents had found. That eased his guilt a touch at lusting after another man’s girlfriend.
Is that all Addie looked for in a man? Money? She and his ex-fiancé could’ve been best friends.
“What about you? Girlfriend? Wife?”
“I have one girl in my life right now. Lacy.” He started to explain that she was a rescue dog, but Addie’s phone chimed with a text.
“Sorry. Trevor needed the name of the resort where Brian is staying.” She typed for a moment before setting the phone down. “Do you think I’ll see you, sometime, at your parents’ house?”
“I suppose you will,” he replied as he pulled into his parents’ driveway. Towering pine trees, still green in January, grew in perfect rows on either side of the gravel road. The scent of the woods he loved drifted into the truck as he drove past.
He put a little more space between them as he propped his arm up on the door. The truck bumped along until the small clearing opened up. His parents’ white, one-story ranch sat directly in front.
She leaned forward, staring at the house with an unreadable expression. Did she like it? She lived near L.A., so this was probably a lower income house for her neighborhood. It didn’t come close to the five-bedroom house she and Trevor had grown up in outside of San Francisco. Although, he’d rather have had this life with his parents than hers. Trevor had complained several times that it seemed the housekeeper knew more about him and Addie than their own jet-setting parents.
He cleared his throat. “I know it’s not a fancy, five-star hotel like you requested—"
“I love it.” The simple statement and blatant honesty in her eyes caught him off guard. It was hard to know which way was up with her.
He parked and climbed out, meeting her with her pink duffel bag as she hesitated at the bottom of the porch stairs, clutching her purse. “I’ve never stayed with strangers before.”
“But we’re not strangers.”
She tilted her head up and watched him for a long moment. “In a roundabout way, I don’t guess we are.”
Cameron’s hand hovered behind her lower back for a brief second before he dropped it to his side. He had no business touching her. It wasn’t right, and Trevor would kill him. His dad would kill him. Instead, he chose to live, adjusted her bag, and motioned toward the house.
“My mom is really nice and only the third most gossip-loving woman in Statem.”
“Third?” She looked at him before looking at the house. “I didn’t know there was a formal ranking.”
“In this town there is. My mom enjoys pumping my dad and me for information on the behind-the-scenes action in town.”
“I heard that.” His mom pushed open the screen door. Her hair was pulled back, her long black ponytail trailing over one shoulder. Her typical sweet expression permanently in place. She never aged. “I hope you included yourself in that list.”
“I have a professional responsibility to listen to gossip. Addie, I’d like to introduce Tanya Dempsey, my mom and the best cook in Statem.”
“Welcome, Addie,” she said and shook Addie’s hand. “Nice to have you stay with us for a while.”
Addie grimaced and looked between the two of them. “I know it’s really more of an imposition. I hope to be out of your hair in a couple days. Once my boyfriend, Brian, comes here to explain this mix-up, the judge will clear me. I really didn’t steal a car.”
He hated the man’s name when she said it. How could she stand it after the loser left her in jail?
His mom waved a hand in the air. “We all know that, sweetie. You’re welcome as long as you need to stay. Don’t consider yourself a stranger.” Her look was one that Cameron knew from over thirty years of experience. Arguing with her was useless. “You’re simply a friend we haven’t met yet.”
Addie quirked her lips to the side. “That’s a nice way to look at life.”
“My mother-in-law cross-stitched that into a sampler that’s hanging in the hallway. I’ve always liked that philosophy.”
Cameron’s phone chimed with a text message from Dewey, reminding him of a job more important than delivering Addie. “I need to swing by the house to check on Lacy, and then head
into town.” He rested his hand on Addie’s shoulder without thinking.
For anyone else, it would be a simple gesture, but the flash of heat there almost made him jerk away. Or move closer. His fingers tightened on their own.
Her eyes widened a fraction.
Crap. She thought he was like every other guy, falling all over himself to get to her.
He cleared his throat and stepped away, his tone dropping into something he’d use with anyone that’d been arrested. “Remember that you’re technically in custody. We need to know your whereabouts at all times, so don’t leave the house without—”
“Goodbye, Cameron,” his mom interjected as Addie crossed her arms with annoyance. They might not like to be reminded of her situation, but he needed that reminder.
A few days distance should help. He could make it for two weeks. Then, she’d fly back to California. Back where she belonged.
3
“Brian.” Addie fell back onto the wide, four-poster bed covered with a bright pink floral quilt, her phone snug against her ear. “Call. Me.” She tapped the end button. If only she could end their relationship just as quickly. It was a ridiculous situation at this point.
She watched the bright, morning light stream in through two, floor-to-ceiling windows partially covered by large, white shutters. The smell of cinnamon rolls added to the perfect Southern Living atmosphere. The jail down in Florida could take some pointers on how to decorate from Tanya Dempsey.
Cameron’s mom had been so welcoming yesterday. If it weren’t from the obvious physical resemblance, it would be questionable if Cameron and Mrs. Dempsey were related. Addie had held back her questions about Cameron, wanting so bad to pick Mrs. Dempsey’s brain about her son and his perpetual bad mood. What had caused the change from high school? Sure, his job was important, even dangerous, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t ever have fun. The one small moment in the car, when he leaned in close, had rattled her, giving her the same jitters he gave her back that one summer.
Addie jumped with the first knock on the guest room door. “Just a minute.” She climbed off the bed, pulling her light blue gypsy shirt down over her gray leggings. Had Cameron stopped by to check on her? She snorted, covering her lips at the sound. Not very sexy or ladylike. Also, not very probable that Cameron had given her a second thought.
Didn’t matter. She’d woken up early enough to grab a shower and get ready. Her stay at the Dempseys’ house had to be an imposition. She wouldn’t be a lazy house guest on top of it, sleeping all day long. She zipped up her boots and opened the door, a practiced smile in place.
Mrs. Dempsey, still in her pink pajamas with little white hearts, smiled. “You’re already up and dressed.” She crossed her arms, shaking her head slightly. “I wish we had somewhere fun to go. You look so cute.” She leaned a little closer. “And smell good, too. I’m not used to feminine things around the house.”
That was her opening. “I know Cameron said I couldn’t go anywhere without him—”
“And I told you he didn’t need to say that to you. I promise he was raised with better manners.”
Addie shrugged. “It’s okay. I know I’m still in custody. I was hoping to find a ride into the town today. I need to buy a new laptop.” And hope the store would take a credit card number over the phone from Trevor. It was worth a shot.
Her employer, White Rabbit, wouldn’t keep her on the payroll much longer if she didn’t find a way to log in and communicate her whereabouts.
A worried line formed between Mrs. Dempsey’s eyebrows. Addie’s heart sank.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry, but there’s nowhere in Statem to buy a laptop. Did you need to check your email or something?”
Without a way to explain that she needed to check the messages from her other job, she nodded. “Yes. My email.” She held up her phone and tried to giggle like she didn’t have a care in the world. “I can only check personal emails on here. With Valentine’s Day around the corner, the perfume business is booming.” She should have spent part of the night planning her cover story instead of running over ways to give Brian some serious payback.
“I’m not sure it works, but you can use our computer. Do you want me to try?”
“No.” The word stumbled from Addie’s lips before she had a chance to stop it. She fluffed her hair, hoping to look unaffected. “I don’t want to inconvenience you more than I have. I’ll wait for right now. No probs.” If anyone wanted to trace her, the Dempsey’s internet connection on an out-of-the-box computer didn’t stand a chance without some serious modifications. She wouldn’t put herself or the Dempseys at risk.
“I know, why don’t you head into town with me. I need to go to the library to return a few books. I know a lot of people use computers in the library for email and things. That way, you can see some of Statem.”
“That sounds perfect,” she said, ignoring an overwhelming sense of dread that she’d end up wasting the day instead of working on finding a way back home.
Mrs. Dempsey took her by the arm. “Come on. We’ll go to the kitchen and grab a cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee.”
Her mood picked up a little. “I’d love some coffee.”
“Yes. Cameron texted me early this morning and asked me to have a pot going for you.”
The man with the perpetual scowl had thought of her? It shouldn’t make her stomach do a little flip, and her hopes rise like she was fifteen.
“And a cinnamon roll.” Mrs. Dempsey squeezed her arm. “You don’t look like you eat enough to feed a bird.”
“Brian had us on an all raw, vegan diet,” Addie mumbled, her mind still circling around why Cameron would seem so annoyed and yet worry about her comfort.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but that doesn’t sound pleasant at all.” Mrs. Dempsey moved ahead of her into the kitchen. “Do you take anything in your coffee?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Creamer?”
Addie shrugged. “That’s fine.” Coffee was coffee in her book.
Mrs. Dempsey poured two coffees and slid into the chair across from Addie at the table, her own cup of coffee steaming from a lavender World’s #1 Mom cup with a heart-eyes emoji.
Addie sipped her life-blood, laced with sweet vanilla creamer, feeling the world come into focus at last. She eyed the brand Mrs. Dempsey had used, reminding herself to pick one up when she left. The cinnamon roll, something she’d not eaten in years, vanished in a couple bites. No way it’d been anywhere close to healthy. Probably what made it delicious.
Addie sat back, sipping her coffee. The kitchen was gorgeous. Her few friends back in L.A. would call the Dempseys’ kitchen country chic. A large butcher block island sat in the middle of the room with brass plated pots hanging above. A white, farm-style sink looked perfect below a picture window overlooking a pool covered for the winter. Mrs. Dempsey had set a container with the cinnamon rolls on her big, six burner stove that Addie now knew from personal experience was put to excellent use.
Mrs. Dempsey’s small, turquoise earrings dangled as she reached forward to take a napkin from the decorative wrought iron holder. Addie’s curiosity about Cameron couldn’t be contained.
“Can I ask you a question?”
She smiled. “Sure thing.”
“My brother mentioned back in high school that Cameron was part Native American.” Cameron, Mr. Grumpy and a Half, fascinated her after spending the past thirty minutes with his mom. She was…normal. Nice. Funny. Happy.
“That’s right. I’m full Creek. Born about a hundred miles away in a small settlement. His dad is not. Why do you ask?”
How do you tell a mom that you’ve fantasized about her son’s tattoo for over a decade and longed to know the meaning behind it?
“It seems pretty cool to be a part of something like that.”
Mrs. Dempsey took her coffee cup to the sink, touching the small red and yellow decoration hanging in the corner of the window that also looked Native American. “I l
ove my heritage. I sometimes wish Cameron had experienced what I did growing up, surrounded by our Creek culture and family, but Statem is a great town. It is like one big family.” She wiped her hands on the dishcloth after washing her cup. “Are you ready to go see all that a small town in Georgia has to offer?”
After another cup of coffee and a second cinnamon roll that didn’t come from a cardboard tube at the grocery store but did give her a healthy dose of guilt, they drove to town. The landscape didn’t fluctuate much from tall pine trees, still green in the winter, and sandy, dirt roads. Houses began to appear closer together along the main highway into Statem. Some were recently renovated, whereas others needed a little help with peeling paint, high grass, and broken fences.
The closer to town they drove, the larger the homes. A few were two stories and wholly brick with full porches that wrapped around. Tidy yards. Still, they were nothing like the houses in Addie’s neighborhood growing up. The small, sweet homes would look out of place along the cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
She craned her head back and read the sign. Yup. That was a funeral home. In a house.
They passed a three-story, antebellum style home with gray siding. A porch wrapped around the home lined with almost a dozen white rocking chairs. Four of the chairs were occupied with men gently rocking as they chatted about something.
“That’s the bed and breakfast. One of the families in town invited a hoard of people in for a wedding, so it was all booked up.” Mrs. Dempsey waved her hand in the air. “That’s one reason you’re at Casa la Dempsey. It’s only right that we get to repay the favor. Your family offering to let Cameron stay with them that summer for camp in San Francisco was the only reason he got to go. We didn’t have the money to pay for a hotel for him for the eight weeks of camp.”
“We enjoyed having him.” More than Mrs. Dempsey probably wanted to know.
“There’s the Sheriff’s office.”
“How many people work there?”
“Nine officers including Cameron. Only three on duty most of the time aside from the Sheriff.” Mrs. Dempsey motioned toward a place called Crossroads Coffee Shop across the street. “There’s my handsome son. Cameron works almost every day since he doesn’t have a wife and kids like most of the others.”
