Her feet squished and pinched inside her wet heels as she darted through the cold, wet wind. Her fingers numbed in the bitter chill as she pushed the numbers into the security keypad. All she wanted was a hot bubble bath so she could warm up and forget about her awful day.
But as soon as she entered the building, she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Her sister sat in the corridor waiting area. Nothing good ever came of her visits. She shifted the bags against her chest. “Zoe, this is a surprise. What brings you out on such an ugly evening?”
Zoe rolled her eyes as she stood. “Well, if you’d answer your phone, I wouldn’t have had to come out.”
Amy continued down the hallway toward her door. She wasn’t about to tell her about her day. Zoe would think it was hilarious, and she wasn’t in the mood to be laughed at. Relief washed over her as she stuck the key in and gained entrance into her home. Her safe haven. Broken dishes and all.
Zoe followed. “So did you go? Did they have everything I wanted?”
Amy tossed the bags of penises into the coat closet. “Since when does the bride plan her own bachelorette party? I’m not going to tell you what I got.”
“Come on, Aim. We both know you would never go there on your own, and you’d be too embarrassed to pick anything out. It’s best you went in with an order in hand.”
“Maybe your friends should have been in charge of this part.”
“But you’re my maid of honor.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to buy the dirty stuff. I was so embarrassed when it all spilled out in front of those policemen.”
Zoe quirked a brow. “What?”
“Nothing.” Amy quickly took off her coat and hung it over a chair to dry, then kicked her shoes off and dropped them into the trash. She needed to change the subject. Fast. She grabbed the broom and bent over to pick up the broken dishes. “How’s Johnny?”
Silence.
Amy turned to look at Zoe and found her staring at Amy’s ass, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “What are you looking at?”
Zoe’s face lit up and she bit back a grin. “Sweetie, did you know you…leaked?”
“What?” Amy twisted her skirt around. “It’s not even that time of month!”
Zoe’s chest vibrated with laughter, but at least she had the audacity to keep it silent.
“Oh my God. I’ve been walking around like this since noon.” She’d even taken her coat off while she shopped in the penis store.
Angry tears threatened. Heat seared her chest as her hands trembled. How could this day get any worse? If only the floor would open up and swallow her.
Zoe came up behind her and squeezed her around the waist. “So…I have a favor to ask.”
“Of course you do.”
“I was hoping to catch you before you went to Get Lucky, but I see you already went. I thought of a couple other things I want.”
Amy’s eyes went wide. “No way. I only go to Betty’s once a week. Thursdays.”
“Can’t you go tomorrow?”
“I have appointments all day.”
Zoe pressed her hands together and held them to her lips. “Please. This is the only bachelorette party I’ll ever have. Can’t you do this for me?”
“Zoe,” Amy said with an exasperated sigh. “I’m driving on a spare tire. I’ve got to get it fixed before I drive all over the countryside.”
“Fine. I really, really, really want dangly light-up penis earrings, but I guess my party will be fine without them. I won’t make a big deal of it. Really. I mean, they would be the hit of my outfit, but it’ll be okay.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding, right? Light up penises?”
“You can even set them to blinking mode if you want.”
“I’m not wearing light-up penis anything.”
“Does that mean you’ll go?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you love me.”
“I also love my dignity.”
“I also want glow in the dark lip gloss. Won’t that look awesome under the black lights at the bar? Just think—lips and penises. We’re gonna be hot!” Zoe squeezed her from behind again. “Thank you for doing this. I love you so much.”
Amy held her breath as Zoe released her and went toward the door. She knew she would go back to Get Lucky for Zoe’s penises. Guilt would eat her alive if she didn’t. But that meant she’d have to relive the humiliation. In broad daylight this time. Her insides churned at the thought of being seen and her professional appearance being tarnished before she even got started. Something was bound to happen. It always did. No matter how careful she was, she always ended up the butt of a joke.
“See you in two days! Be ready for lots of pictures.” Zoe giggled and scrunched her face in delight, then darted out of Amy’s apartment.
Pictures. That meant social media, no doubt. Amy slumped. This was getting worse and worse.
She sighed and turned, broom in hand.
“Arghhhhh! Fumpchafriglasonofashit!” Pain seared through her heel as blood spilled onto the floor.
Of course.
Peter
Wind whipped and whistled outside while tree branches scratched against the bedroom window. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyway. Amy Jenkins, that beautiful woman who had no idea who he was, weighed heavily on his mind.
The woman was too chic for his little town. Designer clothes, a nice, new car. He got the feeling she wasn’t necessarily all that well off, but merely tried to make herself look professional and successful. It was more show than anything. And after speaking to her tonight, he was sure of it.
Didn’t matter if it was show or not, she was setting herself up as a prime target for the thug that’d been around town the past couple weeks. New Haven was a small town, and everyone knew each other. The thug undoubtedly knew who and where his targets were. A wealthy outsider was an added bonus. Or, at least someone who appeared wealthy.
He needed to warn her. Somehow tell her that she didn’t need to put on airs in New Haven. Or maybe just tell her she needed to tone herself down so that she fit in. He didn’t want to scare folks, but he also didn’t want them to advertise themselves.
Plus, he really wanted to talk to her again. Even with her mascara running down her cheeks and her hair matted to her face, she was still beautiful. He would have noticed that much in the darkened evening even if he hadn’t seen her earlier in the light of day.
Tomorrow, he would track her down. He needed to reach her before the thug did.
Chapter 3
Amy startled at the pounding on her door. It was too early in the morning for her sister to stop by, but it couldn’t possibly be anyone else. She pulled her robe tight, quickly added four more white and brown contouring streaks to the eight that already existed on her face, closed her compact, then hobbled out of the bathroom toward the door, careful not to step on the deep cut in her foot. Curlers balanced precariously on top of her head.
The pounding sounded again.
“Hang on!” Amy bellowed. “What the hell are you doing here so early anyway?” She unlatched the safety chain, scooted over the deadbolt, flipped the lock, and slammed her hand to her hip. She was far from looking mean and intimidating, but she could try. Narrowing her eyes, she whipped the door wide open in exaggerated irritation, her robe loosening and gaping at her chest with the animated swinging motion of her arm.
A man stood before her. Not Zoe at all. His eyes went wide, dropped to her chest, back to her face, then down the hallway. He cleared his throat. “Um, good morning, Amy.”
Heart pounding, she slammed the door shut and flipped, slid, and latched all the locks. She was always so careful about safety. How could she just whip her door open without looking to see who was out there? Granted, no one other than her own family had visited in forever, but that was beside the point.
The man knocked again. “Amy, I need to talk to you, please.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“Yes, you do.”
She bit her lip. All she could see of him through the peephole was his arm in a navy jacket. A big arm. A big man. Her heart squeezed with fear. “Talk through the door.”
“I need to give you something. Just open it a crack. You can leave the chain latched.”
“No way. Just say what you have to say or I’m calling security. How’d you get in here, anyway?”
“Security.”
Her heart fell into her stomach. Didn’t matter much though. It’s not like she had a phone to call security anyway. “I’m absolutely positive I don’t know you, and I’m also positive you have nothing to discuss with me.”
A soft thunk sounded from the door. “You met me yesterday, Amy. Three times actually. And twice last Thursday. Glad to know you noticed.”
She looked through the peephole again but all she could see was a blur. “Stand back so I can see you.”
He straightened and scooted away from the door to stand in the middle of the hallway. “Believe me now?”
The curve of the peephole distorted him, but she could see well enough to know he was a very well-built man. Narrow hips, broad chest, solid shoulders. His jacket hid most of him, but she was still sure she would have remembered him had she seen him. “Nope. Don’t know you. Now move along or I’ll get the cops involved.”
“For God’s sake, Amy, I am a cop. How do you not recognize me?”
She looked at his face. It was round and large and distorted. Stupid peephole. “Show me your badge.”
He reached to his pocket and pulled out a silver badge, along with her roadside assistance card. “You left this in my backseat last night.”
“You’re Peter? The policeman who saved me?”
He nodded.
She flipped the lock and slid the deadbolt, then pulled the door open slightly, keeping the chain in place. “How did you know how to find me?”
He cocked his head. “Well, for starters, I’m a cop.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Thank you so much for bringing this to me. You didn’t have to do that though. I could have gotten it next time I see Betty. I hate that you came all this way just for this silly card. I mean, yesterday I used that silly card twice, but hopefully I won’t have anymore trouble. Maybe I should memorize those numbers or something.”
Head still cocked, Peter grinned.
Amy looked away. “Sorry. I either don’t talk at all, or I ramble on and on. There’s no in between.”
Peter chuckled and reached for his pocket. “You also left this. It was kind of awkward when that drunk old man I hauled in last night found this on the floor of my car.”
She took the wadded napkin through the door crack and opened it. A penis swizzle stick. “I’m so sorry. I… Wow, this is embarrassing.”
“Not as embarrassing as a drunk guy finding it in my car. He’s never gonna let that die.”
“Thank you. That’s so kind of you to drive all this way to bring me my card and penis.”
“Actually, there’s more. I really need to talk to you, Amy. For your own safety.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s been a couple robberies in town and I’m worried you might end up a target. You might already be one.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. All done rambling, apparently. She’d reverted to silent status.
Peter looked down the hall and then moved closer to the door opening. “Your neighbors are staring.”
With a deep breath, she unlatched the chain and pulled the door open, clutching her cheap, useless robe to her chest. It was the exact opposite of the designer clothes she wore for work, but it did the job. Kind of. It wasn’t really meant to be worn in front of someone.
Heat traveled up her neck and face, just as it always did when she was uncomfortable. She was definitely uncomfortable now. She could only imagine her rosy skin with huge white splotches scattered about. Lovely, for sure. Especially with the curlers in her hair.
Dear God, she’d forgotten about the curlers! She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched one hand to her robe, and the hand holding the penis to her head. As if putting her hand on the curlers made them any less conspicuous. She grimaced.
Peter stepped inside and closed the door behind him, but remained firmly in place without taking so much as a step inside.
She dared to meet his eyes, and her heart came to an abrupt stop. Deep blue eyes stared back at her. Short, reddish-brown hair that looked soft and shiny and inviting for her fingers to delve into. “I… You… I mean…” She closed her mouth before the words tumbled out. She’d never before seen such a beautiful man, and she’d been about to tell him that. So much for being quiet and shy around men.
“You still don’t recognize me?” He chuckled softly. “I’m the one who shouldn’t recognize you. You look different each time I see you.”
Her heated cheeks turned hot as lava. She looked like hell last night. She dropped her gaze to her bare feet sticking out from under her robe. “It was dark last night, but I do recognize your voice. Where else did I meet you?”
“Betty’s Fabrics?” he said. His voice was incredulous, like he was questioning her sanity. “Yesterday, and last week. I also saw you at lunch yesterday.”
The blood drained from her face. Now, she could safely assume she was pale as a sheet rather than red as a beet. So he had seen the ketchup stain on the back of her skirt. Probably. She assumed everyone did. Her voice went soft, weak. “I’m sorry. I stay pretty deep inside my own thoughts.”
“I noticed.” Grinning, he cocked his head and lifted a brow. Again. Why did he keep doing that? Such a cute little move. Between that and his voice, her belly was on full flutter mode.
She looked anywhere but at his face. His belt was good. That way she was still looking at him, but not at him. She lifted her chin proudly. “I’m always thinking about work.”
“And penises?”
“What?” Her eyes went wide and she lifted her gaze. Did he think she was staring at his junk? The penis in her hand scalded her skin and she tossed it over her head, having no idea where it landed. Her neck and cheeks heated once again as the waves of red blotchy skin just kept coming. She pulled her robe higher and tighter. “Those are for my sister’s bachelorette party.”
“Ah, your sister. Do you…” After an awkward moment of silence, Amy looked up to see Peter’s forehead creased. “Do you have a man? Husband? Boyfriend? You know, someone to watch out for you in case you’re in danger?”
She shook her head fiercely, the curlers dangling loose. “No, not me. I’m one of those ‘always the bridesmaid, never the bride’ type of girls.”
Peter’s shoulders dropped and he let out a deep breath.
“What?” Amy said, her voice full of defense.
“What what?”
“I can get a boyfriend if I want.”
A smile formed as his gaze traveled over her face and hair. “I’m sure you can.”
“Then why did you react like that?”
“Because I…I was wondering if you had someone with you. You know, for safety purposes.” He rubbed his chin and darted his eyes from her to the floor. “It’s not always safe for a woman to be alone. Especially someone like you.”
Wave number three of heat roared up Amy’s neck. Or was it four? “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Peter squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t want to scare you, but I want you to be aware that there’s some guy out there who’s robbing the wealthier people in New Haven.”
“So I should be good, right? I’m not wealthy, nor am I from New Haven.”
“You’ve been in town looking like a million bucks. No one, not even the wealthy folks, dress like you do in our community. You might as well be walking around with a flashing dollar sign on your forehead.”
“So, you’re suggesting I dress unprofessional?”
“You don’t need to do that to impress the folks there. Just be
on guard when you come into town.” He narrowed his eyes. “If you let me know when you’re coming, I’ll even watch out for you.”
“You’re that worried about me?”
He cocked his head and lifted his brow again. That little move of his was quickly turning her to a puddle of mush.
She looked away as Heat Wave Five crept up her neck. “I have to go back to Get Lucky tomorrow morning. My sister thought of more things she wants.”
“I’m off work tomorrow. I’ll go with you.”
Heat Wave Six rode in on Heat Wave Five’s wake. A trip to the sex toy store with the guy that turned her gooey was all she needed. “Okay,” she squeaked.
“Do you need help getting your tire fixed?”
“I’ll do it after work tonight.”
“I don’t want you driving on your spare. I’ll go get it fixed now while you’re getting ready.”
“What? You’re not taking my car! How do I know I can trust you?”
He pulled his keys out of his pocket and grinned. “You can keep my car for ransom. And you can use my phone until you get a new one. I have my police radio, so I can do without it.”
Peter
Amy studied him only briefly before going to her purse and pulling the keys out. Peter was both frustrated with her for giving in without more of a fight, and happy that she was placing her trust in him.
He narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t limping last night. What happened?”
With a wave of her hand, she shook her head. “Just the topper to my worst day ever. I cut my foot on a piece of broken glass when I got home.”
“So you wouldn’t even be able to run if someone accosted you.”
“Are you really that worried? Did this guy hurt someone?”
He cocked his head and lifted his brow. He could swear he heard her sigh and that her eyes went dreamy, but it was probably just wishful thinking. He hardened his voice. Her safety was serious business. “Not yet, but it doesn’t mean he won’t.”
She brought the keys to him and placed them gently in his hand, her fingers trembling. “You’re making me nervous.”
Luck o' the (non)Irish (New Haven Police Romance Series Book 1) Page 2
