Odette C. Bell - Ladies in Luck - An Unlucky Reunion

by Odette C. Bell

  Enjoying the sound of my shoes crunching over the dirt and twigs and stones and bracken, I took a deep breath of air and let it push hard against my chest.

  There was always a musty, wet smell in the air, and it was something you never appreciated in the city. Sure there might be a park or two, and if you were lucky enough, you could have a few plants in a window box outside your kitchen sink, but there was something about being out in a forest that could not be replicated.

  In a suitably nostalgic and dazed mood, I continued to walk. Though I fancied I could have tackled at least the first section up to one of the smaller lakes along the mountain range, I wasn’t that stupid, and within an hour or two, I promptly turned around and headed back to my car.

  The walk was uneventful and exactly what I needed. I didn’t pass another soul, and though I occasionally heard the shuffle of leaves and the shake of a bush as some woodland creature darted away from me, fortunately I wasn’t set upon by bears or cougars or ax men.

  Feeling placid and far calmer than I had all morning, I wasn’t paying attention to the path ahead of me.

  The path coiled like a snake through the dense forest, making it impossible to see too far ahead.

  So it wasn’t that much of a surprise when I failed to see someone walking my way. Neither was it that much of a surprise when they rumbled out a quick “hello,” and it made me jump with fright.

  Back in high school, I’d been renowned for being easily startled. You could creep up on me, say hello, and I would jump off my chair and promptly fall in a pile by your feet. Yet I liked to think that now, as an adult, I was unflappable.

  Apparently I wasn’t.

  I hadn’t been joking when I’d said these woods were treacherous. The terrain was uneven. There were holes, dips, and short valleys—and god knows there were sharp cliffs to make it all the more dangerous. You could trip on roots, boulders, even particularly tough sections of bracken.

  As I jumped with fright, I stumbled.

  I didn’t stop there though. As I pitched to the side, the ground gave away sharply to my left, leading down to a steep, rock-covered cliff. As I scrabbled for purchase, I tried to grab hold of a section of bracken, but it didn’t work.

  I tumbled over the edge.

  Everything happened so fast. Just a flash.

  I saw the sharp incline to my side, felt myself tipping towards it, and then it stopped.

  Or rather, I stopped.

  Somebody grabbed me.

  That someone thrust their shoulder into mine, and then wrapped their hand around my middle, locked me in place, and easily tugged me back over the edge.

  My breath was trapped in my chest, my heart was beating at one million miles an hour, and my mouth was so dry that I would never swallow again. Yet I did have the presence of mind to look up into the face of my savior.

  At first, I didn’t recognize them. The jaw, the smoldering, pale-brown eyes, and the rugged cheekbones took me aback.

  Helping me to my feet, the man stepped to my side, still holding onto my shoulder with one large hand as he nodded my way. “You okay?”

  “Thorne?”

  “That’s right, Patti Smith. It’s me, Thorne. Now you okay?”

  Dear god, it was the Thorne Scott. The other brother. I hadn’t had a chance to speak to him at the reunion, and had only seen him from afar, but now I indulged in the close-up look, and it took my breath away.

  “It’s pretty dangerous to walk these woods on your own. I saw your hire car on the side of the road, and I decided to come and take a look.” He was dressed in a police uniform, and he took a moment to cross his arms as he looked me up and down. It was not a smoldering look; he wasn’t checking me out, or maybe he was, but not with any romantic purpose in mind. There was a stiff, disapproving edge to his gaze, and he even followed it up by shaking his head. “Do you know the number of unprepared tourists we have to save from these ranges every year?”

  I clenched my teeth together, shifted my lips around them, and let out a tight breath. “Too many?”

  He nodded. Then those stiff lips of his finally turned up into a smile. And boy was it a nice one. It was the kind of move you only ever saw on TV or in the movies. The kind of grin that would set a quick pulse of nerves traveling through your middle and end up making you a giddy mess at a guy’s feet.

  Fortunately, I managed to stay on mine for now. I’d already had enough tumbles for today, thank you—or at least enough tumbles in the dirt.

  I managed a shy little smile at that thought.

  Thorne hadn’t exactly lived in his brother’s shadow throughout high school; both Scott brothers had been equally as handsome and equally as popular, and both totally out of my reach. Yet Denver had always had an extra charming quality that saw him scoot just a notch above Thorne in the desirability stakes.

  Well things changed with time, a fact underlined by how far down Denver Scott had managed to travel in my esteem.

  “Do you need a hand getting back to your car, ma’am?”

  I fancied I needed a hand, but not for that. As I entertained that particularly dirty thought, I had to stifle a giggle. Yes, a giggle. And let me tell you, I was not the kind of girl that giggled. Sultry laughs? Yes. Bursts of seductive mirth? You bet you. Giggling? Hell no. I wasn’t in high school anymore.

  I eventually managed to shake my head. “I’m not exactly a tourist, Thorne. I used to walk these ranges with my father.”

  “So you know all about the bears, the cougars, the treacherous potholes, the sudden cliffs, the snakes in summer, the loose boulders,” he began.

  I put a hand up. “Yes, I know all about them.”

  “How about dehydration and walking in unsuitable footwear?” He glanced at my rather simple flats.

  I bit hard into my lips and tried for a smile. “I know all about those too.”

  He nodded. He didn’t look convinced, but damn did he look charming. “Well, Patti Smith, I’m still going to ask you again—do you need a hand getting back to your car?”

  “Why do I get the feeling that if I say no, you’re going to handcuff me and drag me back there anyway?”

  He launched into another one of those smiles. I say launch, because it was a sudden and powerful move. Those lips of his spread up, pushing his cheeks high into his eyes and making them dazzle all the more. “That depends. If you make a move on me, I may have no choice but to restrain you.”

  Damn… there was some serious flirtation to go along with that smile apparently.

  Not exactly a rookie at this, I gave an appropriate smile in return. “I think I’ve already got dirty enough for one day.”

  Thorne let out a laugh, and I joined in.

  “So, how long has it been since you’ve been back?” he nodded at me.

  “To my car? About two hours.”

  “I see you went away and you got a sharp wit, Patti. What else did you pick up in the big wide world out there?”

  Oh my, there were so many ways to answer that question: some honest and some downright seductive. Instead, I paused and I waited for the right answer to bubble up from my subconscious: “a life.”

  “Now hold on a second, I think you already had one of those before you left. Or are you one of those people who hated high school so much any thought of ever returning to the dreadful scene of the crime is enough to curl your toes?”

  I tried to look deliberately thoughtful. “Well, it doesn’t exactly curl my toes, but I can’t say I’ve enjoyed the experience so far.” My voice bottomed out at the end, for obvious reasons. Visions of a dead body in the rose bushes came slamming back to my mind, and all ideas of flirting with Thorne burned away.

  A moment of silence passed between us. “Are you okay?” he managed as he stared at the ground only to look up sharply and dazzle me with those pale eyes of his.

  “If by okay are you asking did I expect to come back to the scene of my horrible high school only to find a dead body in the rose bushes? Then no.”

&nbs
p; “I’m sorry,” he answered simply. He didn’t ask me a question; he didn’t try to change the subject; he just apologized and offered a low nod. “Are you planning on heading out after your walk?”

  “Do you mean to dinner?”

  “Damn, Patti Smith, you went away and you got direct. I didn’t mean dinner, but a good police officer knows how to react to surprises. There is a nice little Vietnamese place behind the police station. Dinner aside, what I actually meant is are you heading out of Wetlake; are you going home?”

  Going home. I seriously did want to go home. In fact, until I’d run into Thorne, only to be buffeted back by his sheer attractiveness, that had been my plan. A short walk followed by an exceedingly long drive. Now I teetered there on the spot with the promise of Vietnamese making me second-guess myself.

  “It would have to be very good Vietnamese to keep me in Wetlake,” I managed, “because I can’t say there’s much else to keep me here.”

  He brought a hand up and patted his chest, making it sound as if he’d been wounded. “Nothing else to keep you here. Now hold on there, Patti, shouldn’t you be enlivened by the opportunity to see how your classmates have changed and grown?”

  “If by enlivened do you mean attending all of these functions while everybody else gets pissed and they all start reminding me of the football game?”

  “Have I have reminded you of the football game?”

  I shook my head.

  “Plus, maybe you are judging them too harshly. We didn’t all run off from Wetlake to make our fortunes. You should cut us some slack.”

  Though I’d been smiling at him until that point, my expression suddenly soured.

  He clearly saw it, because he put his hands up. “I’m sensing that’s a touchy topic.”

  “That’s very perceptive, officer. I feel like Annabelle has spread it throughout the entire school. I honestly feel I’ve come back to high school and everybody’s spreading rumors about me again.”

  “So you’re not an incredibly successful self-help writer with two dogs?”

  I looked at him pointedly. “You read my bio?”

  He shook his head and laughed. “No, Nancy told me.”

  Nancy.

  “What, you don’t like Nancy?”

  “She took a photo of me in my underwear at the football game, and spread it around the entire school. She made copies for the people who hadn’t been able to get there on the day. Hell, she even made postcards out of it.”

  “That was a long time ago. People change.”

  “And sometimes they don’t. Don’t you worry, officer; I’ve already had the pleasure of running into Nancy again. She doesn’t seem different to me at all. Except she wears a little more leopard print than she used to.”

  Thorne smiled and shook his head. “She is okay. You really shouldn’t judge her too harshly.”

  I pressed my lips together and decided to drop it for now. “So, are you going to shepherd me back to my car and protect me from all the bears and cougars?”

  “And cliffs, you forgot cliffs,” Thorne pointed to my left at the sharp drop off that led to a stony scree and a section of forest far below.

  “I would have been fine if you hadn’t startled me.”

  “Of course. And sorry, ma’am. Now, do you need any water?” He nodded at my already empty plastic bottle.

  I wanted to say no, but I didn’t. Instead, I let him take off his pack and hand me some.

  “You came prepared,” I noted through a swallow.

  “We always have a pack or two in the back of our cars. There’s not much crime in Wetlake, but there sure are a lot of people getting lost in the woods. I was up here last week tracking down a man who’d gotten turned around, and then the week before that a couple of British tourists who had taken a wrong turn and hadn’t been prepared.”

  “And now you’re dealing with a murder,” I said in a very quiet, hushed voice.

  He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked sharply to the side, brushed a hand down his head, and shrugged his shoulders. “Yes we are, ma’am, but I cannot share any details of the investigation with you.”

  “That’s what Denver said.”

  “Denver?” Thorne’s expression crumpled slightly. “Have you been talking to him?”

  I shook my head. “Talking? No. He’s been questioning me. From the moment I saw him at the back of the motel, he hasn’t left me alone. I mean, I can’t say I remember high school perfectly, but I don’t remember him being like that.” Suddenly I stopped. Denver was Thorne’s brother. I gave a cute smile. “Sorry, I kind of forgot you two are related.”

  Thorne shrugged his shoulders again. “It’s fine. And you’re damn right; Denver does nothing but ask you questions. You are wrong though; he was like that in high school, just not around any of the other kids.”

  “Oh.”

  “What were you doing at the back of the motel with Denver though?”

  A question. Just maybe all Scott boys asked questions, but at least Thorne did it with a rugged smile and a whole load of charm.

  I could have strung him along, offered a secret smile, or giggled a little, but I didn’t. “Well, I was legitimately behind the back of the motel checking it out. I heard someone shouting, and I went to see. Denver, on the other hand, followed me and then questioned me, and hasn’t stopped since.”

  “I see. You’ve got to forgive him, Patti; he has a strange sense of justice. He is also damn determined. He doesn’t mean anything by it though.”

  I squished my lips against my teeth and settled for offering a shrug. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  We dwindled into silence as we continued to walk back. It wasn’t particularly awkward though. I didn’t find myself clutching for questions to ask or anecdotes to bring up about our high school days. I just walked beside him, enjoying the outdoors while occasionally slicing my gaze towards those muscular shoulders of his.

  Eventually we started talking about our lives. Reluctantly, I did confirm that I was a rather successful author and that, yes, I had two dogs, and then Thorne filled me in on his life.

  Unmarried. Single. Police officer. Had never lived anywhere but Wetlake. Amateur cook. Had a goldfish named Stan.

  That was it.

  It wasn’t exactly the world’s most incredible resume. I’d met men who were investment bankers from Switzerland who had family chalets up in the Alps. Men who had traveled the world, who were pearl divers off the north of Australia or lawyers in Dubai. With stories, with history, with experience.

  Yet that didn’t matter. Because while Thorne wasn’t wealthy and hadn’t traveled—and he still lived in Wetlake ,of all places—he made up for it by being equal parts sweet, rugged, and charming at the same time. You would think that would be impossible; there was something about sweet and rugged that didn’t go together, but goddammit, it went together with this man. It was like chili and chocolate; the sweet drew you in and the rugged hit you over the head with a pow.

  By the end of the walk, I was practically putty in his hands, and I was hardly ever putty in anyone’s hands.

  I still had enough self-control not to throw myself at him, but as I opened my car and rummaged around the front seat for my handbag, I was sure to neaten my hair surreptitiously. When I straightened up, Thorne offered me a sharp nod.

  I needed to wheedle that Vietnamese restaurant into our conversation again to prompt his memory, and to get him to agree to a date. Yet before I could even mention it, he took a step back, waved at me, and pointed his thumb at his squad car. “I’ve got to go; I’m still on duty. But Vietnamese, tonight, I’ll meet you there, say seven?”

  I didn’t want to seem too keen. I tried to control my smile, but goddamned the thing, it seemed to have full control over my lips and chin. “That sounds great.”

  “So does that mean you found something to stay in Wetlake for?” he toyed with me.

  “Yes, Vietnamese. I’m very partial to a fresh spring roll.”
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  He laughed. “Well then, seven.”

  “Seven,” I repeated needlessly. Then I watched and waved as Thorne Scott walked back to his car, got in, wound down the window, nodded my way, and drove off.

  I hadn’t been expecting that.

  In my mind, my plan had been to have a calming walk through the forest, to head back to the car, to dump the keys at the motel, and to get the hell out of Wetlake. Now my mind was rather occupied. It wasn’t by the reunion, and it wasn’t by that mysterious and dreadful murder; there was only one word and only one topic: Thorne.

  Feeling a little giddy, I clambered into my hire car, waited there fixing up my hair for a few minutes, and then finally decided to head back to the motel.

  It was probably mid-afternoon, and I would have to find some way of keeping myself occupied until seven o’clock.

  Driving back along those dirt roads, I felt conflicted. I wanted to leave; I wanted to stay. I needed to mourn and process the murder, yet the thought of Thorne and dinner tonight had complete control over my imagination.

  It wouldn’t last.

  Nothing ever does.

  Chapter 7

  I pulled up into the motel car park reluctantly. A part of me just wanted to move on and find somewhere else to stay, yet I already knew that every other bed and breakfast in town was already booked out. It was this place or sleeping in my car. While I half seriously considered that, I quickly realized I wanted another hot shower.

  Grumbling to myself, I got all the way to the front door of my room before I realized my suitcase and all my stuff was in the back of the car.

  Swearing under my breath, I turned sharply, lugged my suitcase out of the trunk, and dragged it up the steps to my room.

  By the time I opened my door, I swiveled my head to hear footsteps ringing out along the concrete towards me.

  It was Denver.

  Of course it was Denver. And of course he was still wearing that exact same suit, that exact same tie, and that exact same half-frown. I could tell just by the angle of his chin and the narrowed look to his eyes that he was about to march over to me to ask some more frigging questions.

  Before I could push my head back and sigh in exasperation, someone called his name.