Cole held up a hand. “I get it. First rule of prison life is not to sneak around behind a man. Good way to get hurt.” And even when he’d made his presence known, Stitch, his cell mate, had reacted violently when Cole caught him off guard. Fight or flight was powerful, especially when a person’s only choice was fight.
“Except this isn’t prison. You weren’t sneaking. And there was no reason to...” Rebecca pursed her lips. “Freak out.”
“I respect fear.” Cole shrugged. “Better than most, I get being afraid. And I should never have put my hands on you.” He had no explanation for why he had except desperation. This soft, sweet woman wouldn’t understand desperation. “The kid. What happened?” Why was he asking? The situation had zero to do with him. He wasn’t getting involved with anyone, much less her.
“He realized the mistake he was making, I think.” Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut. “He might be your neighbor. When I drove up, I’m sure it was Eric standing under the basketball goal.”
“Ah, another reason to shake like you were about to meet with a serial killer when you opened your car door.” Cole shoved aside the curtain to look out the window. The same three kids who’d loitered under the goal almost every night that week were in their usual spot. “Don’t know them, but they spend a lot of time right there. Days and nights.” He didn’t add that that was where all his trouble started. The plan to steal his grandmother’s station wagon for a joyride had hatched right there and ended with a long walk to town and his grandmother having to pay a tow truck to pull it out of the mud. His first taste of alcohol had been under that goal.
Ricky Martinez had shown him the handgun he’d “borrowed” from his stepfather there, too.
Maybe he shouldn’t have felt the wave of nostalgia for the goal. The kids might be better off if he knocked it down.
“I haven’t seen him at school since that day.” She shook her head. “Why didn’t it occur to me that he hadn’t been there since then? It’s been more than a week.”
“Seems like that would be a relief.” Cole let the curtains drop. A weak breeze lifted the fabric before it settled. “Just like me avoiding you was my gift to you. Accept it and move on instead of invading my space with a peace offering I can’t refuse.” He shrugged. “Assuming those cookies are any good.”
“It’s my job to assist these kids and make sure they have a plan for the future,” Rebecca muttered as she jerked the lid off the tin.
His input was unnecessary. She was talking to herself.
She sighed and held out the cookies, her mouth downturned.
“Forget about me and those guys. Nothing but trouble that direction. Focus on the kids you can help.” Cole picked two of the biggest cookies and then set the tin on the table next to his grandmother’s photo album. A split second later he realized he should have shut it before confronting Rebecca. He’d been trying to distract himself by flipping through the pages. Sixth grade had been a rough year for him. If she got a load of that school picture, she’d die of laughter instead of fright. “Those girls headed to college appreciate your help. Save yourself some aggravation. Work on them. Leave the rest of us...” Behind. Where we fall. In the dust. He wasn’t sure what words finished that sentence.
He took a bite as she slammed both hands on her hips. Wrong thing to say.
“I’m supposed to help them all. And that boy needs his high school diploma.” She paced in a line back and forth in front of the coffee table, her fingers twisted together in a tight knot. “Loitering like that is only going to lead to trouble.”
“No argument here.” Cole nodded as he took a bite of the chocolate chip cookie. Then he closed his eyes to savor it. Nothing tasted like homemade.
“So, what are we going to do about this?” Rebecca stopped pacing to wait for his answer.
He couldn’t be bothered. They weren’t his grandmother’s sugar cookies, but they were heaven.
When the first cookie was gone, Cole realized she was waiting for him to say something. “What?”
“I asked what we’re going to do about Eric. Those kids. Out there.” She pointed at the window in case he couldn’t add all the clues. “We have to do something. Good people don’t walk away when they can see someone needs help. What should we do tonight?”
“Nothing. You’re too scared to say boo to them and I’ve got all I can handle keeping a roof over my head.” He broke the second cookie in half and held a piece in each hand.
“Unacceptable.” Rebecca pursed her lips. “Try again.”
He thought about arguing. The firm set of her jaw indicated she was ready to go a round or two.
Cole sighed, set his cookie down and stood abruptly. If that didn’t send her on her way, he’d be shocked. He held both arms out in a trick he’d learned to make himself seem bigger.
More dangerous.
The more he said with body language in prison, the fewer bruises he’d picked up.
She didn’t retreat, but something about her posture shrank. Her hands were clenched in white-knuckled knots. Standing her ground was costing her.
“I’m not going to panic. Not again. No one who hums when he bites into a chocolate chip cookie is going to hurt me.” She tapped her chest. “I make the best cookies in Holly Heights.”
Cole pressed one hand to his chest and dropped down on the couch.
“Also, that’s a dirty trick, using my fear against me.” Rebecca’s disappointed face wasn’t quite as powerful as his Mimi’s, but it was hard to ignore the guilty feeling he’d always gotten when his grandmother gave him the same sad eyes.
“And now we know it doesn’t work,” Cole muttered. “When did that happen?”
“Possibly it was the sight of your knobby knees.” Rebecca tilted her head, a bright smile chasing away clouds of worry. “Now I know your weak spots.” She blinked so innocently as she said it that he studied her face. She was teasing him? They were alone. She had no safety net.
He didn’t smile but watched her until she got that nervous V in the middle of her forehead.
Her smile faded as she stepped closer to the door. When she had one hand on the doorframe, she stopped. “You could talk to them? Tell them they should be in school?”
Cole shook his head slowly. “Not going to happen. I made a promise. No more trouble. They are trouble.” She was trouble.
Rebecca nodded slowly. “If I leave my phone here, will you call the police if things get out of hand when I go tell them they should be in school?” She snapped her fingers. “I could pay you in more cookies.” Her enthusiastic smile told him she’d won plenty of cooperation previously with charm and baked goods.
For a split second, the idea that she was trusting him to have her back, even from way back, by being her phone call lifeline amused him. Her opinion of him had taken a small turn, at least. Then he realized she honestly thought baked goods could fix everything. How naive. And insulting.
“You’ve done your good deed, so your guilty conscience should be taken care of. Go home. Call their parents. Help the kids who want your help.” Cole waved another cookie. “Write a cookbook or something, but learn the lesson that kid tried to teach you. Don’t stick your nose in his business and you’ll be okay.”
Now get out. He didn’t say it. He didn’t have to.
He expected an argument. Instead, she pointed at the tiny photo his Mimi had framed and hung over the sink. “Is that the county fair?”
Cole frowned as he tried to follow the conversation.
“It looks like the building where they do all the craft and food judging.” Rebecca bent to study the photo. “Someone should have brushed your hair.”
“Someone did. The tousled hairstyle was in.” That sounded like a criticism of his grandmother. She’d done her best to hold him down and make him presentable. It wasn’t her fault he’d taken t
hat as a challenge. “And yeah, that’s my grandmother and me at the fair.”
“Blue ribbon. For what?” Rebecca asked.
Cole rubbed his aching head. “What does it matter? Baking. She won a ribbon for baking sugar cookies, but she’s dead, so you don’t have to worry about losing your cookie queen title.”
Even he was surprised at how angry he sounded. Instead of arguing or telling him to shove his head in the toilet, Rebecca turned and disappeared into the dark night.
If she gets hurt by three boys when you could have stopped it, you’ll have nothing in this life left to redeem, idiot.
Cole lifted the curtains. The boys had disappeared.
He hurried over to the door to see Rebecca’s taillights fading as she drove out of the trailer park.
Good. This was not his problem. Those kids would learn their hard lessons.
Cole slammed his door shut and locked it before he turned to see Rebecca’s neatly folded apron on his grandmother’s counter. “Probably has a frilly apron for every day of the week. She’ll be fine.”
Cole studied the tin of cookies and considered walking down to EW’s to offer him a couple. The guy had been his lifeline so far. Without him, Cole wouldn’t have stood a chance. That burned, irritated him because he’d been so certain he’d be better off by himself. There’d been no beer runs, but it was a matter of time until EW let him down. Still, that afternoon had been nice, normal, a glimpse at what life could be like. Too bad EW hadn’t taken him fishing at seventeen. How different his life might have been.
What if you could do that for one of those kids? What if that is all it takes to make a difference?
To drown out the little whisper that sounded a lot like Rebecca’s voice, Cole snatched up another cookie. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with my knees,” he grumbled.
He was certain he’d be replaying her visit long after her peace offering was gone.
CHAPTER SIX
ON MONDAY, REBECCA stubbornly refused to acknowledge the arrival of the man who’d ruined her weekend. If Eric and his friends had still been under that basketball net when she’d left Friday night, she would have been angry enough to tell him exactly what she thought of his behavior and order him back to school.
Just because Cole Ferguson had told her not to do her job.
But Eric had disappeared and she’d seethed the entire drive through Holly Heights. When she’d gotten home, she’d realized her favorite apron was still on Cole’s counter, so she’d eaten the remaining cookies in retaliation. The sickness that came afterward could have been from too much sugar or the recognition that she’d been following his advice without realizing it. Instead of investigating Eric and his absence, she’d breathed a silent sigh of relief.
Now she had to face the jerk who’d forced her to confront her own cowardice.
And none of this was his fault. The jerk.
“Come in and have a seat.” Sarah waved vaguely toward the couch that Bub had claimed as his own. When Cole approached, Bub hopped up on the couch and barely waited for him to sit down before he collapsed in a furry, boneless heap across Cole’s legs.
Animals were supposed to be such great judges of people. Rebecca tightened her lips. The fact that Bub was right so far was another reason to feel like the world’s biggest failure.
“It’s time to finalize the plans for the first annual adoption drive in the center of town. Getting approval to set up in the town square took every bit of leverage I have left. This has to be awesome.” Sarah leaned back in her chair. “We’ll stake out my lucky sidewalk spot to attract attention and focus on two things—adoptions and donations.” She shrugged. “And if we can find anyone else to volunteer around here, I’ll be ecstatic.”
“‘Many hands make light work,’” Rebecca said with a nod. The pious tone of the quote tasted funky in her mouth. How much holier-than-thou could she get? And nerdy. Jen’s snort spoke volumes.
This was not the first time Rebecca wished her mouth came with a rewind button, but the heat flooding her cheeks was worse. Not only had she said something ridiculous, but she couldn’t even pretend she didn’t know she’d done it.
One quick glance at the couch showed that Cole was doing his best to memorize Bub’s face. He wasn’t paying a bit of attention to her.
The jerk.
The unexpected blessing took a second to appreciate.
That was long enough to see the look he darted her direction.
“With Brenda’s help, the bake sale is going full speed ahead,” Rebecca said, anxious to move away from her seconds-ago self. Bake sales were Rebecca’s area of expertise. Brenda, Jen’s mother, was an amazing baker. She’d seized this challenge with both hands. “That will help with the donations. Les has worked up some cards for the dogs and cats currently ready for adoption. We’ll attach one to each dessert to give people a reminder of the sweet faces waiting for them.”
Jen held up a hand. Rebecca slapped it in a victory high five, feeling a twinge of guilt for taking credit for what had been Les’s inspiration.
“We’re going to do another fashion show,” Jen said. “Chloe insists. We’ve been working on costumes every weekend. We’ll take some photos. There’s a calendar waiting to be made and sold.” The first fashion show at the shelter’s open house had been a big hit, but Jen and her niece, Chloe, had thrown it together at the last minute. With weeks to plan, this show could be epic.
“I’ll make sure that goes in the press release I’m sending out to the local papers and radio stations.” Sarah made a note. “Cole’s going to draw up a list of basic training for the dogs we’ll be taking to the event. Cats...” She shrugged. “Cats will be cats. We’ll have a large pen and crates for them. The dogs will be out on leashes, rotated in and out of kennels by volunteers.” Sarah tapped her pen. “We have two weeks. Before that Saturday, the dogs need to walk calmly on leashes and it would be nice if they could sit on command.”
“With enough volunteers and practice, we can make that happen.” Cole cleared his throat as everyone turned to him. “I can make that happen?”
“You train the volunteers. We work together to make it happen,” Sarah said. “We’ve got to have more help. Shelly, Les and I will be running adoptions. Brenda and Rebecca have the bake sale. Even if I rope in Stephanie, Daniel, Will, Chloe and the four Saturday volunteers to show the dogs, we’re going to be scrambling.”
“None of the juniors I reached out to wants to add volunteer hours. Not yet.” Rebecca crossed her legs. “They’ll change their tune in the spring when planning for college gets real.”
Sarah scrubbed her hands down her face. “Should we hire help?” The question was loud in the center of the quiet room. No one wanted to spend money that should be going to helping the animals if they could come up with another idea.
“Make sure I’m on the list. I’ll be there,” Cole said matter-of-factly, as if it was a given.
“You’ll have to take a day off during the week,” Sarah said, and pulled out her calendar. She scheduled all the shifts at the shelter carefully to stretch resources as far as she could. “After we get the volunteers going on the basic obedience training.” She bit her lip as she ran her finger down the calendar.
Her small frown almost convinced Rebecca to offer to cover more help out of her own pocket. No one could accuse Sarah of wasting the shelter’s money. She worked around the clock, hours that were not reflected in her paycheck most weeks.
“Call me a volunteer that day. No problem,” Cole said. He brushed a hand across his forehead when they all turned toward him. “It’s no big deal. I want to.”
“Okay, but let’s keep searching for help,” Sarah said, her shoulders drooping. Rebecca was reminded again of how often she had to make choices between imperfect options.
Cole nodded. “How many dogs?”
“All of them.” Sarah shrugged. “I can’t pick and choose, so we’re going to take them all.” Her lips firmed as if she expected an argument.
“And we can only do things the hardest way possible,” Jen muttered.
“They all deserve a shot. At the open house, we weren’t ready. We will be this time.” Sarah pointed. “This time, we have Cole. A trainer.”
Rebecca understood where Sarah was coming from, but she had her students to protect. At least one dog needed to stay at the shelter. “Major should stay here,” Rebecca said softly. “He barely lets Shelly inside to clean his kennel. We have to let him out in the yard alone. He has behavior issues, Sarah. Picture all the little kids rushing around.”
“He’s better. Cole is making him better.” Sarah straightened in her seat. “Tell them, Cole.”
Cole tugged on the neck of his T-shirt. “He is doing better, but...”
Sarah raised an eyebrow.
“He might need more help than we can give. There are rescues specifically for German shepherds that might help.” Cole rubbed a hand over his mouth. “But I’ll keep working with him. We can decide closer to the day.”
“Fine. And you’re up for working with Jen and Rebecca today to show them how the volunteers can help us get the dogs ready?” Sarah asked.
Cole tapped the tiny clock on her desk. “For an hour or so. EW will be here on time today.”
“But I’m out for this afternoon,” Jen said as she stood and smoothed her ruffled skirt down. “Previous plans.”
“Are you going to tell us what they are?” Rebecca said slowly.
“Interior designer’s coming to review my homework. Then he’s going to start the plans on my house. I’ll be glad to see some progress.” Jen turned on one heel and pointed at Cole. “Landscaper, right?”
Cole blinked, obviously struggling to follow Jen’s leaps, as well.
“You know how to do more than mow and trim,” Jen said as she nodded.
“Yeah, I studied design, too. Outdoor architecture, how to plan beds for all seasons, things like that.” Cole gave a quick glance at both Rebecca and Sarah.
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