by Jessi Gage
Cole had been the one to bring things to a stop. “Slow,” he’d reminded me, and I’d handed him the reins, like the night I’d let him get to second base.
There was remarkable freedom in trusting this man with my body. Didn’t mean I wasn’t going to push for a little more speed eventually, but I needed time to process Dad’s final message to me and all that had happened with Brock. At the moment, slow was okay. Better than okay. It was nice, safe, special.
“You’re trying to distract me,” I said with a swat to his arm. “I want to see you skate through a turn before we go. Get up to speed, then foot over foot.”
“Slave driver,” he muttered, but he did as I asked and managed not to wipe out as he did a halting half lap, including two turns.
I whooped and applauded, drawing some gazes from the other ice rink patrons. “Way to go, babe! I think you deserve a coffee or a hot cocoa. My treat.”
I towed him to the waist-high door, and heard him sigh with relief when his blades met the rubber mat. “My treat,” he insisted as we switched into our street shoes.
I’d learned not to argue with him. I was his girl, he kept reminding me. That meant he paid when we went out. Maybe it was unfashionable of me, but I liked the chivalry behind the gesture. Plus, I never got tired of him calling me his girl.
We drove a few miles into downtown Nashua and went inside a small café where Cole claimed the coffee was some of the best around. He ordered for us and met me at the table I’d picked out. We had a nice view of the bustling street with its early-afternoon shoppers and snack-seekers weaving down sidewalks lined with leafless trees. He scooted his chair around so it was next to mine, sat down and slung an arm around me.
“Okay,” he said. “I let you teach me how to skate. Know what that means?” At my blank look, he informed me, “I get to teach you how to cook. Tonight, you’re my sous chef.”
Gulp. Now that was terrifying.
He chuckled and kissed me, a sweet peck on my lips. Still leaning into me, his shoulders went rigid.
I followed his laser-beam gaze to the door. Randall Tooley had just walked in, and he’d spotted us. He wore a navy blue baseball cap with a Security Specialists, Inc. logo. Hands in the pockets of a navy blue windbreaker with the same logo, he came our way.
Cole groaned. He kept his arm around me. Leaning back in his chair with his legs spread, his posture read: insolent.
“Cole. Mandy.” Tooley greeted. He wasn’t smiling. Neither were we.
“Tooley,” Cole said. He sounded more resigned than surprised to run into his former chief here.
I said nothing.
“Heard about Brock.” He took off his hat and shifted his gaze to me. He twisted the bill in his hands. “Want you to know I’m real sorry about the fire. I swear I didn’t know he was capable of anything like that.”
Cole squeezed my shoulder and released, a subtle reminder, perhaps, not to say anything about the investigation. Newburgh PD and the state police were keeping the four-hundred thousand dollars Cole had handed over to the FBI yesterday under wraps. As far as the public knew, Brock had been arrested for the arson and theft of Dad’s collectable guns. His threats against me in order to get his hands on the money weren’t public knowledge. Nor had anything come of them so far. Cole’s house was safe and sound, and Newburgh PD was driving by frequently to make sure it stayed that way. Brock hadn’t lied about having that awful video on his computer, but Vance hadn’t found any sign that Brock had access to my email contacts. Looked like Mr. I-Never-Bluff had been bluffing after all.
Cole needn’t have worried about my saying anything about the investigation to Tooley. I didn’t have anything I wanted to say to him. I muttered, “Thanks, I guess,” then pretended interest in the view of the sidewalk, hoping Tooley would take a hint and move along.
“So, is it true you shot him?”
My throat went dry. I’d been too worried about Cole that afternoon to think about maiming versus killing. I’d just pulled the trigger. I could have killed Brock. Knowing I was capable of killing someone didn’t sit well with me.
“She’s not allowed to talk about any aspect of the investigation,” Cole said. “You know that.”
Tooley put his hands up, palms out. “Didn’t mean to pry. But Brock’s my friend. Haven’t been able to talk with him, get his side of the story.”
“That’s because he’s under guard at Exeter and healing from a .45 wound to the shoulder from two-hundred feet. I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell you all about how he underestimated Gripper’s daughter when they move him to a holding cell at the station.”
Tooley’s face turned red. “Don’t make light of what happened. My buddy’s life is at stake here. If what I’m hearing is true, there’s more to what happened than just property damage and theft. What happened at Gripper’s place? How many years are we talking?”
“Don’t worry about Brock. He’ll get exactly as many years as he deserves.”
Cole wasn’t mean about it, but Tooley’s shade darkened even more. His jaw worked. “You callous bastard. There was a time we were all tight. Now you act like you’re above us all.” He curled his lips in, like he’d cut himself off from saying more. Then, eyes gleaming with malice, he said, “Heard you’re letting Mandy stay at your place. That’s awfully neighborly of you.”
“My living situation is none of your business,” Cole said.
Tooley snorted. “Hate to break it to you, but it’s everyone’s business. Can’t keep an affair like this secret in a small town like Newburgh. I don’t even live there anymore and I’ve heard all about how you were oh so quick to offer the damsel in distress a warm bed to sleep in while she’s in town. Quick as you were to make moves on her the second she got back. Jesus, you were moving on her before her father’s funeral. What would Gripper say, you taking advantage like that? Shacking up with his little girl? Christ, Cole. Talk about a disgrace. You’re old enough to be her father.”
At the thought of Newburgh’s gossip mill churning with news about me and Cole, I got queasy. The last thing I wanted was for my reputation or his to get any worse. But Tooley had just called Cole a disgrace. That pissed me off. There was only one disgrace in this room, and it wasn’t the cop who had helped me rediscover lost pieces of myself and learn how to trust.
Cole shoved his chair back and stood to glower down at the smaller man. “Don’t remember asking for your opinion or anyone else’s.”
“Me either,” I added, rising to stand beside Cole. “But since you asked, I think my dad would be happy to see us together. He loved Cole, and he loved me. Maybe he would have been surprised to know we’d hit it off after I grew up, but he would see how good we are together and be happy for us.”
Tooley dug to the bottom of the well of condescension to give me a smarmy look. “Honey, no father is ever happy to see his little girl with a man twice her age. You can trust my authority on that. I’ve got two girls older than you, and thank God they ended up with men they won’t outlive by twenty years.”
I didn’t bother correcting him on our age difference, which was sixteen years, not twenty. “Maybe you had one foot in the grave when you were forty,” I told Tooley. “But Cole’s stronger and healthier than any college guy I’ve spent time with. He’ll keep up with me for a good long while.”
“Bet you’ve spent time with a lot of college guys,” Tooley said. “Always were a little slut. Far as I’m concerned you were asking for that assault, way you always dressed—”
“Shut your fucking mouth, Tooley!” Cole’s face was red now too. A hush fell over the coffee shop into which Cole said, “You say one more word to Mandy, one more fucking word, I will lay you out.”
Tooley bringing up my assault had hit me like a blow to the stomach. I fell back into my chair. There had been some wonderful things about being back in Newburgh, well, one wonderful thing, anyway, but mostly, being back in New Hampshire reminded me of a past I’d worked hard to o
vercome.
Vaguely, I was aware of Cole and Tooley exchanging more heated words and a barista shouting from behind the counter for them to take their argument outside. They did, leaving me to stare at the lacquered tabletop while my coffee got cold.
* * * *
“It’s a little lopsided,” Cole said, examining Mandy’s work. True to his word, he’d enlisted her help in preparing tonight’s dinner, spaghetti and meatballs. Figured he’d keep things simple for her first cooking lesson. But Gramps would whack his shin with his cane if he ever admitted to using frozen meatballs, so they were at least doing that part of the meal from scratch. “Here, like this.” He picked up her last attempt at a meatball and rolled the cool mixture between his palms until it was perfectly round.
She raised her eyebrows. “You’re kind of a perfectionist, aren’t you?”
“Not really. But Gramps taught me how to do this, and he’s always taken cooking seriously.”
“Ah, yes. I remember his views on turkey well.” She giggled and dipped her hands into the meatball mixture. He loved the way her bracelet caught the light. She only took it off to sleep and shower. Rest of the time it was right there on her left wrist, making him feel ten feet tall.
How would it feel to have her wear his diamond on her left ring finger, his gold band snug beneath? Not that he’d gotten as far as buying a ring yet, but that’s where this thing with her was headed. He just wished he could figure out a tactful way to broach the subject without scaring her off. Hopefully he’d get that chance before she returned to Philly.
“It’s so sticky. Are you sure we shouldn’t add more bread crumbs?” She spread her fingers, frowning at the meat clumped between.
“Sticky now means they’ll be moist when they come out of the oven.”
“So, sticky equals good. Got it.” With a look of adorable concentration, she rolled another meatball.
Thank God he hadn’t decked Tooley this afternoon. He’d been so tempted. The things he’d said about Mandy, his entitled attitude, his insinuation that Cole had mishandled things with Brock. The man knew how to get under his skin, that was for sure. It was only knowing Mandy was watching him through the plate glass window of the coffee shop that kept him from breaking Tooley’s nose a second time. That and not wanting her to have to spend the evening alone while he got booked for assault, because Tooley would sure as hell press charges.
“How’s this one?” Mandy held out a perfectly round meatball on her palm. But it was too big.
“Pull off about a quarter and redo it or it’ll be under cooked compared to the rest.”
She blew him a tongue raspberry. “I’m going to call your grandpa and tell him you’re being mean to me.”
“He’d take my side. Food is involved.”
Grinning, she rerolled the meatball. But her grin fell too fast. She’d been doing that a lot since they’d run into Tooley, pretending she was okay when she clearly wasn’t.
The oven beeped, signaling it was preheated. He helped her form the rest of the meatballs, standing close beside her at the island, their elbows bumping. After sliding the cookie sheet into the oven, he turned on the heat under the sauce and the pot of water for the pasta.
Mandy washed her hands. She smiled bravely at him while she dried them on a dish towel.
“What’s on your mind, honey?” he asked her gently.
Her gaze cut away. “Ice skating was fun today.” She busied herself with putting the dirty bowls and measuring cups in the dishwasher. Whatever it was, she wasn’t ready to open up to him yet. He would let it go, for now.
“Fun’s not exactly the word I’d use.”
She huffed at that, humor shining in her eyes as she rewarded him with a sideways glimpse. Jesus, she was a gorgeous woman. He loved the subtle things, like the way her nose wrinkled when she laughed and the way her eyebrows sloped when she was worried. He loved the big things, like the power of her radiant smile and the spirit shining from her eyes. He wanted to grow old with this woman, watch her expressions change with age and wisdom, spend a lifetime memorizing everything about her.
“Well, you did great,” she said.
“Yeah, if falling down a dozen times is great.”
“Was it only a dozen?” Her lips pursed with mischief. “Seemed like more.”
He wound up the dish towel she’d dried her hands on and gave her a playful whip with it.
She danced away and grabbed a ladle out of the holder by the range. Brandishing it like a foil, she said, “Bring it on, Officer Oakley.”
He advanced on her, watching her carefully for any sign of distress. He saw none. In fact, as he came close enough to tower over her, her eyes darkened with invitation. There was no trace of whatever sadness he’d noticed earlier. Either she was deliberately hiding it from him or he’d managed to take her mind off it for the moment. He chose to believe the latter.
He slipped the ladle from her grasp and wrapped her in his arms. Then he kissed her.
Just like that, she lit his fire. He’d meant it to be a peck, but she wound her arms around his neck, plastering her body to his. Her mouth fed at his, lips nibbling. He couldn’t tear himself away from her even if he’d wanted to. He would never want to.
The sound of the lid jiggling on the saucepan forced him to end the kiss so he could turn down the heat. In more ways than one.
Something was definitely off with Mandy. There was a desperation in the way she’d been so reluctant to let him go. He’d get it out of her over dinner. Whatever it was, they’d deal with it together. Like they’d be doing everything from now on.
Chapter 25
I moaned in rapture as a meatball melted on my tongue. The meat was salty, savory, and perfectly tangy with tomato sauce and Italian seasoning. “Have I told you you’re a fabulous cook?”
Cole took a sip of his wine. Whenever his eyes crinkled at the corners like that, I got a fluttery feeling in my stomach. He did things to me no other man had ever done. He made me want again. He made me dream of all the things I’d convinced myself I could never have.
If only he weren’t so established in Newburgh, the one place I could never live if I truly wanted to leave my past behind. Tooley’s comment about our relationship being the business of everyone in town had reminded me that as long as I was here, I would never know the kind of acceptance I’d always craved. I already had it in Philly. It was waiting for me along with my friends, coworkers, and clients. Acceptance, worth, home.
“The meatballs were all you, honey. You’re a great student.”
I smiled past the sore spot that had been slowly spreading behind my breastbone since we’d left the coffee shop. “I would have ruined them without you telling me exactly what to do. I’m hopeless in the kitchen.” My appetite wasn’t doing justice to the delicious dinner. I made myself take another bite and washed it down with some red wine.
“Nah. No one’s hopeless. You just need practice. I’m happy to show you the way.” His grin told me he was being playful and hinting at activities out of the kitchen.
A week ago, the same innuendo would have made me tense up. Not now. He’d proven his patience on the physical front. If anyone was going to be pushing for more in our relationship, it would be me.
I felt my smile fall. What use was pushing physical boundaries when we would hardly ever be together? The reality of our LDR was sinking in, especially since I’d moved up the timetable on returning to Philly. Before running into Tooley today, I’d planned to stay about two more weeks, but afterwards I realized I was only prolonging my stay so I could be near Cole. The longer I stayed, the more I would deprive myself of the love and acceptance of my friends and the satisfaction I got from my job. Memories didn’t haunt me in Philly. No one threatened me or called me trash.
Cole’s hand covered mine. “Not hungry, hon?”
Oops. I’d put down my fork. Extracting my hand from his, I picked it up again and twirled some pasta. “I wasn’t kid
ding. This is really good.”
“Food tastes better when you make it yourself. Tastes better when you feel like eating it too.”
I glanced up to find his gaze sympathetic.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
I sighed and pushed my plate away. “I decided I’m going back to Philly after the New Year.”
He blinked. “Thought you said your boss was cool with you staying another couple weeks.”
I couldn’t meet his eyes. I stared at the napkin I was twisting in my lap. “Most of what I have left to do is just paperwork and phone calls. I can do a lot of it from home.” I looked up, and the wounded look in his eyes made me feel like the biggest jerk. “I’ll come visit as soon as I can.” A lump of longing lodged in my throat. Even as I suggested a visit, I knew it was going to rend a hole in my heart to drive away from him. Weeks or even months might pass before I saw him again, if I saw him again. Would he really want to put up with a long-distance girlfriend who had intimacy issues?
He shook his head sharply. “No, honey. I’ll come visit you soon as I can. And I’ll help you move back. What day you thinking? Thursday? Friday? The weekend?”
My eyes welled with tears at how well he was taking this. Swallowing down the urge to miss him before I’d even left, I said, “You have to work a double shift on Wednesday, so I was thinking you’ll need your rest on New Year’s day. Then, I wanted to have one more night with you. So Friday? The second?”
He nodded. “I’ll follow you down in the truck and stay the night with you in Philly before driving home. Give you most of the weekend to catch your breath from the trip.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I said, even as the thought of Cole’s big, warm body curled around me in my bed at home warmed me.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes.”
“Then I will.”
I smiled from the heart for the first time since the coffee shop. “Thank you.”
