As he stepped inside his heart sunk. The place was packed. The noise level was something he could do without, but beggars couldn’t be choosey. It was this or cooking his own dinner. Tonight he wasn’t in the mood.
“One tonight, Officer Caan?” the young teenage hostess asked. Because Tish was underage, the owners let her waitress during the day, others covering her drink orders, while she seated people at night when it was busier.
“Yep. Just one.” He scanned the crowd, his sight landing on a familiar face. “On second thought I think I’ll join the young lady sitting in the corner.”
“Do you need a menu?”
“No, thank you. I know exactly what I want.” His boots tapped across the wooden floor as he approached. “Good evening, Tempest. Mind if I join you?” He removed his coat, hung it on the back of a chair, before pulling it out and sitting down.
She quickly chewed and swallowed, nearly choking. “Uh. Sure.”
“Ahhh,” he hummed after he saw the dish before her. “A woman after my own heart.”
Her eyes widened. “What?” She released her fork and it clinked against her plate.
He nodded toward her plate. “Mussels and anchovies.”
“Oh.” She picked up her napkin and patted her mouth.
“It’s delicious, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I haven’t had mussels in so long.”
A new waitress Leo had never met before approached the table. “What will it be, Officer?”
“I’ll have what she’s having. And a beer,” he added. When the short, forty-something woman left, he turned to Tempest. “Eat. Don’t let it get cold.”
“I’m finished. I thought I’d take the rest home for tomorrow night.”
“Are you sure you’re not just running away from me?”
She sat straight up in her chair. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”
He leaned back. “Because I get the impression that I make you nervous.”
“Me?” She huffed. “Not me.” But even as she spoke her fingers twisted in her napkin.
He reached across the table placed his hand over hers. She gasped, her tongue sliding quickly between her lips.
“Tempest, I mean you no harm.”
She released a halfhearted laugh. “I know that.”
The waitress set his beer down in front of him. “Thank you.” Then he turned his attention back on Tempest. “Why don’t you finish your dinner and we can chat. Get to know each other better.”
Slowly she pulled her hand from beneath his. “Of course. Why not?” Her fingers folded around her iced tea and she raised it to her mouth and took a drink. “So where are you from?” She set her drink down.
“New Hampshire.”
“Only child? Brothers? Sisters?”
“An older brother and a sister.”
“How long have you worked in Whispering Cove? Did you always want to be a cop? What do your mother and father think of you being a policeman?” She pelted him with one question after another and he knew exactly why. If she kept him talking about himself then he couldn’t turn the tables and quiz her.
He took a deep breath. “Going on three years. Yes. Not thrilled, but they’re glad I’m happy.”
“And are you happy?”
“Yes. I like helping people. Whispering Cove is a wonderful place to live and raise a family.”
“So you’re married? Children?”
He chuckled. “No and no. But someday when I meet the right woman.”
“And the right woman is delicate, blonde, demure and obedient?”
“No. I prefer tall, dark and sassy.” Where that answer came from he had no idea, but she snapped her mouth closed tighter than her grip on the napkin.
An uneasy silence stretched between them.
“So, Tempest, how did you become a glass blower?” He chose a question that he hoped wouldn’t scare her off.
“Five years ago I was strolling through an art show and saw a woman creating the most incredible things out of molten hot glass.” She released a sigh of awe. “It captivated me. I returned day after day and would watch for hours and hours. She offered to teach me and I couldn’t refuse her generosity.”
Leo quickly did the math and realized she had to have been sixteen at the time. “You went on the road with her?”
“Yes.”
He casually took a sip of his beer. “What do your mother and father think of your occupation?”
“They— Uhm. They’re dead.”
Her hesitancy and the slight shift in her posture gave her away. Her parents were no deader than his were.
“It’s getting late. I probably should go.” Her chair scraped across the floor as she scooted it out and stood.
While she struggled to put her jacket on, he rose. “Please stay a while longer. I really hate to eat alone.”
“I can’t. I have so much work.” She stuck her hand in her pocket.
Reaching out, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “I’ll take care of it.”
“No. Please let me pay for your dinner. I owe you for covering my doctor bill.”
“I see the stitches are out and the scar is healing nicely.”
“Yes. I’m fine. Thank you.” She pulled away from him. “Enjoy your dinner.” Pivoting, she took off like a bat out of hell.
“Tempest?”
When she ignored him, he took a seat. As she reached the door, she slipped some money into Tish’s hand and rushed out. Tearing off a piece of bread from the loaf sitting on the table, he slathered it generously with butter before he took a bite.
Tempest was hiding something.
He was still pondering the thought when the waitress set his dinner before him. Glancing across the table he noted Tempest had left without taking her remaining food. “Could you please pack up her dinner?”
“Of course.” The brunette waitress picked up the plate and disappeared into the kitchen. When she returned she placed a sack upon a chair. “Would you like another beer?”
“Yes.”
Leo picked up his fork and dug in. With each bite, he thought of Tempest. What had happened in her life that would make her lie about her parents? Was she abused? The thought turned his stomach and he pushed his plate away.
As the waitress passed by, he waved her down. “Can you please pack my dinner? I’m ready for my ticket.”
“The young lady you were sitting with paid for your dinner.” She picked up his plate. “I’ll be right back.”
Damn. He hated that Tempest had paid for his dinner, especially when she needed money. When the waitress returned with another sack, he thanked her. After he put on his coat, he picked up both sacks and headed out the door.
The fog had thickened. The night cooler than a couple of hours prior, which got him to thinking he hoped Tempest had heat in that old RV she called home. Unlocking his vehicle, he got in and flipped a U-turn, heading to Tempest’s.
Slowing down as he approached the storefront, he could see that her lights were still on. From his vehicle he saw her hunched over her workbench. It looked as if she was painting on something beneath her lit magnifying glass. Getting out of his truck, he grabbed the sack containing her leftover food, walked to the door and rapped lightly on the glass.
She glanced over her shoulder and her features tightened. Not exactly the reaction he had hoped to receive. But for some damn reason he couldn’t stay away from her. His attraction to her was annoying, but there you have it. He was attracted to her and there was no use fighting it.
Dipping her paintbrush into a mason jar, she stood just as he tried the door. To his displeasure it sprung open, ringing that darn bell. Now it was his turn to frown. “You didn’t lock your door.”
She cocked a brow. “I thought you said Whispering Cove was a great place.”
He grew nearer. Close enough to smell the cleaning solution she had placed her brush into. “Yes, but better safe than sorry.”
Her chin rose defiantly. “I’m a big girl
, Officer Caan.”
He closed the distance between them, slipped his arm around her small waist and pulled her against him. “Yes, you are.” She stared at him with huge eyes and then he did something so out of character it shocked him. He leaned in to her and pressed his mouth to hers.
She tasted of bubblegum. Sweet, sexy and playful.
Sipping gently from her mouth, to his delight she kissed him back. He released the bag in his other hand, so that he could embrace her completely. It landed with a thud. When he tightened his grip, she moaned softly.
Damn, she felt good.
Her body fit next to his as if she had been made for him. Then he tilted his head, slid his tongue between her lips to deepen the caress and ran right into her big wad of bubblegum. She choked on a giggle, the moment blown to smithereens.
Pinching her lips together, she appeared to fight the grin that finally burst free. “Sorry.”
He ran the back of his hand across her soft cheek, and then released her and took a step back, separating them. “I should be the one apologizing. I only stopped by to thank you for dinner and deliver your food.”
“Oh.” She blushed and he knew he’d embarrassed her.
“I mean—”
“Thank you.” She quickly retrieved the sack from the floor and then glanced at the clock on the wall. “Wow. I didn’t realize it was so late.” She moved to the door and he got the hint loud and clear.
As he stepped out into the night, he pivoted to say good-bye, but she had already shut the door. The lock clicked and she turned her back on him. Moving through the shop, she switched the light off.
“You doofus,” he whispered beneath his breath. He had never had trouble with women. Yeah, he was a little shy, but he’d never screwed up as badly as he had with Tempest.
Chapter Eight
Seven o’clock rolled around way too early for Sky as she hurried down the sidewalk. She had felt off kilter all day long and it was because of one redheaded policeman, who, by the way, hadn’t stopped in like he usually did. Sky found it funny and a little disconcerting that she had already become accustomed to his sporadic visits, his thoughtfulness and his irritating presence. In all honesty, he wasn’t as irritating as she had first found him. In fact, the entire day had been filled with memories of his kiss, and then her faux pas.
What could she say?
She hadn’t known he’d kiss her or that he even wanted to. Bubblegum helped her focus and calmed her when she was stressed. After the little white lie about her parents’ deaths and making it worse by almost running from the restaurant, stress was exactly what she had felt. Now she was not only stressed, but confused.
Did he regret the kiss? Was it an accident? Could a kiss be an accident? Was she overthinking what had happened? The questions just kept coming as she pushed open the door to Vic’s salon and stepped inside.
Various scents assailed her. From beneath the sweet smell of a cinnamon candle burning, the pungent odor of perm solution and dye rose. It appeared the party had started early because a half a bottle of wine sat on the table surrounded by a group of Whispering Cove women and, by their laughter, it was clear they were having a good time.
Tabby popped a chunk of cheese into her mouth just as she noticed Sky’s presence. “Tempest,” she said between chews. “You missed a great tree lighting ceremony.”
Sky had completely forgotten about the event.
Vic, Andie, Katy, Mary Ann and a woman Sky had yet to meet turned around and greeted her with hellos.
“Tempest this is Josie Wells.” Tabby tossed another chunk of cheese into her mouth. Andie raised a brow. “What? I’m eating for two and, no, this isn’t wine. It’s cranberry juice.”
The cute little brunette smiled. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Sky hated these awkward moments when she wasn’t quite sure what people were saying about her. “I hope it was good.”
“All good. I’m told you do beautiful work.”
“Exquisite.” Mary Ann pushed a glass of wine into Sky’s hand.
She took a hearty drink.
“Adam and I will have to stop by before Christmas. I can’t believe it’s already the 22nd.”
“Adam’s her husband,” Tabby interjected while she chewed. “It seems I’m hungry all the time now.” She frowned while the rest of the room laughed.
While Sky sipped her wine and looked around the salon, the other women got into a debate about the do’s and don’ts of eating during pregnancy. The shop was mixture of elegance and quirkiness, from the odd-shaped light fixtures to the art hanging on the wall.
“Is that a Van Gogh?” she asked.
“You know Van Gogh’s work?” Mary Ann asked.
“The Red Vineyard is special. It’s known because it’s the only piece he ever sold during his lifetime.” From the curious stares pinned on her, Sky knew she had made another mistake. “At least that’s what Stella told me. He was her favorite artist.”
“Mine too,” Vic said. “I only wish it was an original. But I’ll settle with a copy. Who’s Stella?”
“She was my mentor and best friend. She died last summer.” As the women each shared a note of sympathy, a lump formed in Sky’s throat. She swallowed hard to keep her emotions at bay.
“Well, enough of all this sadness. Let’s get started. Tempest, let’s start with you,” Mary Ann suggested. “Come sit in this chair.”
Sky sat in the salon chair the older woman pointed out and when she did Mary Ann twirled her around so that she faced the crowd. Tabby rose and refilled Sky’s glass of wine, while Mary Ann began to drape her with one color after another.
“This is wrong,” Mary Ann stated. “You’re a warm-soft muted. Your hair color should not be black.”
“Makeover!” Tabby screamed.
Sky’s eyes widened with something close to panic. “No. That’s okay.” She attempted to crawl out of the chair, but Mary Ann held her back while the rest of they women closed in on her. Vic reached for a black, seer-sucker cape and draped it over Sky.
“Tempest, we’re here to have fun. Anything we do can be changed back.” When Vic reached for pre-mixed dye, Sky knew she’d been set up.
Before she knew it, she was sitting beneath a dryer, another glass of wine in her hand. The women were huddled around the table. From the little bits Sky could hear through the roar of the stupid thing on her head, they were talking colors and styles. It shouldn’t have surprised her when Tabby held up a shimmery gold dress and stilettos.
“No, but hell no.” Sky did have to admit the dress was beautiful. She hadn’t worn anything that stunning since she left home. The woman in her wanted to reach out and touch the shiny material, but the girl in her held her back.
The second the dryer stopped, the women descended upon her. They were like an army of ants with marching orders, which not only included her hair but her makeup. The minute it was removed, she felt exposed, bared. She began to breathe hard, praying she wouldn’t hyperventilate. The glass of wine she hadn’t touched still in her hand was like a crutch as she put the cool glass to her lips and drank. After another drink she breathed easier. Vic was right. Whatever they did to her could be reversed. She was due for a color touchup. Tomorrow she would put things to right. Besides what would it hurt if she tried on the dress? Felt pretty for the first time in a long time?
In less than half an hour her makeup was reapplied. At Tabby’s encouragement, she left the room to try on the dress and heels. As the silky stockings Tabby had handed her slithered over her skin, she wished there was a mirror so she could see the damage her new friends had done. Instead, she slipped on the dress and pushed her feet into the heels before she walked out of the dressing room to a group of ohs.
Andie released a sigh. “Oh, Tempest. You’re beautiful.”
“Gorgeous,” Mary Ann agreed.
“The change is amazing,” Jodie said.
Tabby grinned ear to ear. “Girl. You’re
hot.”
Vic smiled softly. “Take a look, doll.”
Sky turned and her heart jumped into her throat. The girl she used to know stood before her, older now with more curves, breasts and wisdom. Tears threatened, but she fought them.
“Well?” Vic asked.
Sky tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
“You don’t like it.” The disappointment in Vic’s voice was obvious.
“No. It’s just—” What? The first time she’d been stripped of her mask. No one knew how hot that damn makeup was. Or what it did to her complexion and she hated her black hair. The color Vic had chosen for her was darker than her natural shade, but Vic had added just the right amount of auburn and highlights to make her hair glisten.
“Party. Party,” Tabby began to chant. Then one by one the remaining women joined her.
Confused, Sky asked, “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
“Nope. We’re heading out.” Tabby tossed a knee-length coat at Sky and she caught it. “Harold has a table waiting for us at Hauk’s pub.”
“Harold?” Sky’s blood pressure shot up. Her heart pounded. “I can’t go out looking like this.”
“You’ve got that wrong, doll.” Vic slipped on her coat. “You can’t stay in looking like that. Besides, we’ll have one drink and if you want to go home you’re free to leave.”
“I think this was a set up,” Sky groaned.
“Friends don’t let friends wear all black.” Tabby smirked.
Sky rolled her eyes but fought the smile aching to be released. Friends. She hadn’t hung out with a group of girls/women since she was just a girl. Besides, it was ten o’clock. How busy could the bar be anyway on a weekday?
Her question was answered when they waltzed through the doors of the Seaside Pub. The place was packed. Right in the front of the dance floor at a large table sat Harold, Errol and Byron. With them was each of the women’s husbands along with Dr. Dani and Braydon. When Sky’s party approached the men got to their feet.
Stockings (Whispering Cove) Page 9
