The Cottage on the Corner

by Shirlee McCoy

  “I think we’re done here,” he said. “Let’s head over to the office and get those fingerprints processed, Max.”

  Cade wasn’t the kind to give orders, but that was pretty close to one. It didn’t bother Max. He was on the clock, working for the town, and he’d do what he was told when he was told.

  On his own time, though . . .

  That was a different story.

  He walked outside, ignoring Cade’s hard look as he got into his cruiser. It was impossible to ignore Cade’s entire upper body leaning into the car, though.

  “It’s going to be hard for me to get to the office with you hanging out of the door,” Max said calmly. No sense getting upset. Charlotte and Cade had been friends for a couple of years, and Cade was the kind of guy who looked out for the people he cared about.

  “What’s going on with you and Charlotte?” Cade didn’t beat around the bush, and Max wasn’t going to sidestep the question.

  “Nothing. Yet.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that maybe I want something to happen.”

  “You could have any woman in town, Max. How about you leave Charlotte alone and go find one of them?”

  “How about you worry about my work ethic and my job and leave my personal life alone?” Max suggested, keeping his tone as even as Cade’s had been. They were friends, and they’d never let women get in the way of that. When Cade had gone after Tessa, Max had stepped back and watched him do it.

  Not that Tessa had ever paid Max more than five seconds of attention. She’d had eyes for no one but Cade. That had been obvious from the beginning. Still, Max had stayed away and kept his nose out of Cade’s relationship.

  Cade’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with frustration. “Charlotte is a friend of mine, and I don’t want to see her hurt.”

  “Since when do I hurt women?” he demanded, finally getting about as pissed off as Cade seemed to be.

  “Since when have you ever wanted a woman who needs more than a few nights out and a couple of compliments to make her happy?”

  “I haven’t decided what I want. When I do, I’ll be sure to let you know,” he responded, every word dripping with sarcasm. He needed this discussion about as much as he needed to chase cows along the interstate again.

  “Yeah? Just be aware, that I don’t want Charlotte hurt. If she is, I’m going to take it damn personally.”

  “I am, too, so how about we both drop the subject until there’s some reason to bring it up again?” Max suggested.

  Cade eyed him for a moment, and then nodded. “As long as we’re both clear on where we stand, there’s no reason to keep hashing things out. I’ll see you at the office.”

  He stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets and watching as Max backed out of the driveway.

  Knowing Cade, he wouldn’t mention the subject again. Unless Max did hurt Charlotte. Which was a distinct possibility. He wouldn’t mean to. He wouldn’t want to. He’d have absolutely no intention of it, but Charlotte was the kind of woman who’d want the white picket fence and the kids and the little dog yapping in the yard. She’d want to make dinners every night and sit down as a family to eat them. She’d probably give shoulder massages and pep talks and spend her days trying to think up ways to make the people she loved happy.

  Max just wasn’t that kind of guy. The kind that could appreciate a woman like that. The kind that could give her what she wanted and make her happy.

  Not that he didn’t want to be. He just . . . wasn’t. Simple as that.

  He flicked on the radio, ran a hand over his hair, catching a quick whiff of dark chocolate. Must be on his hand. He was tempted to lick his fingers, just to get another taste of the cupcake.

  “Damn!” he muttered, because he wanted to turn around and go back and ask for a couple more of the things.

  He wouldn’t, but he was still going to take Charlotte out to dinner Friday night. As a thank-you for her help, and maybe to get to know her a little better.

  One dinner wouldn’t hurt either of them.

  He just wasn’t sure it would be enough.

  Maybe, like the damn chocolate cupcakes, he’d end up wanting more.

  There were a few of reasons why Charlotte was wandering down Main Street at midnight. First, she couldn’t sleep. Second, she had no idea how to replace the lock on her back door. She hadn’t even been able to figure out what kind of lock to buy. She really didn’t want to sit around at home imagining someone sliding a credit card between the old lock and the door and walking inside. Plus, she just . . .

  Well, she was lonely.

  Simple as that.

  She wanted a house filled with noise. Not the empty silent shell of a home she lived in.

  Especially with Christmas looming.

  All the things she wanted for so many years, all the things she’d thought that she’d have after she married, they were like the Christmas carol drifting from the upstairs apartment of one of the businesses—faded reminders of a million hopes that had come to nothing.

  She stopped in front of the storefront she’d been drooling over for months. A two-story brownstone with a huge picture window in the front, it had office space and storage upstairs. Downstairs, the place had everything she’d need to run a bakery.

  That’s what she should be thinking about. Not old dead dreams.

  She pressed her nose to the glass, trying to see into the interior.

  Hers.

  That’s what it felt like, what she wanted it to be, but even a storefront couldn’t fill the emptiness.

  She shoved her hands deep into her pockets and turned away. She needed to shake off the funk that she’d been feeling since the twenty-seventh, let go of the niggling unhappiness. Or figure out what was causing it. Certainly not some sudden desire to jump back into the dating game, find another not-so-perfect match, and try the whole happily ever after thing again.

  “That would be the definition of insanity. Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results,” she muttered.

  “But talking to yourself isn’t the definition of insanity?”

  She jumped, whirling to face Max.

  “Where did you come from?” she demanded, irritated because her heart was racing. Not because he’d scared her, either. Because he was one fine example of male beauty.

  “Your place. I’m replacing your lock. Remember?”

  “I thought we agreed that I didn’t need you to do that.”

  “My memory is fuzzy. Lack of sleep does that to me.” He grinned, and her stupid heart just about jumped out of her chest.

  She had to pull herself together, keep the conversation on neutral ground so that she didn’t find herself looking deep into Max’s eyes, thinking about things she shouldn’t.

  Like what it would feel like to step into his arms, rest her head against his chest, listen to the quiet thud of his heart.

  She was such a loser.

  “Zuzu has been keeping you awake?” she asked, turning back to look at the storefront again.

  Just keep your goals in mind and everything will be fine, she mentally reminded herself as Max stepped up beside her and peered into the dark store.

  “No. She sleeps pretty well. I’ve just been working odd hours since the wedding. Now that Cade is back, things will get back to normal.”

  Good.

  They were talking about something neutral.

  She could handle that. Could just kind of keep the conversation going without making a fool of herself.

  She hoped.

  “How normal can they be when you have a little girl living with you?” she asked. He hadn’t complained about having Zuzu dropped into his life, but Charlotte couldn’t imagine that it had been easy to adjust to a toddler. Especially not one as precocious as Zuzu.

  “Zuzu and I are kind of coming up with a new normal. Neither of us is all that happy about it, but we’re getting used to it.” He turned away from Nick’s store
. She could feel the weight of his gaze, but she tried really hard to just keep looking at the large picture window.

  Unfortunately she could see herself in the glass.

  She could see Max, too.

  She focused on the Christmas lights reflected in the glass. Red, blue, green, and white. The colors of the holiday painted across the wide window of the store she hoped would be hers soon.

  There.

  She’d refocused.

  “Has Morgan given you any idea of when she’ll be back?” she asked, finally ready to turn away from the window and look Max straight in the eye.

  The real thing was much more impressive than the reflection. Not that she was noticing.

  Much.

  He shrugged broad shoulders beneath a dark wool coat.

  Why was it that good-looking police officers always seemed to wear coats that emphasize their muscles? There should be some sort of law against that.

  “So far I’m getting a lot of excuses for why she can’t come get Zuzu and why I can’t bring Zuzu to her. No definitive date, though,” he said.

  “You have the doctor’s appointment Friday, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “What if Zuzu is your daughter? Will you want her to go back to Mor—”

  “You know, Charlotte”—he cut her off, his tone gentle with a just a hint of steel beneath it—“I’d rather not discuss my problems while I’m standing in the moonlight with a beautiful woman.”

  Her cheeks blazed, but she was not going to act like a simpering fool because he’d called her beautiful. “The moon is covered by clouds. Even if it wasn’t, I’m not beautiful.”

  “Who told you that?” he asked, his hand sliding up her arm and coming to rest on her shoulder, his thumb just brushing the exposed skin of her neck. Her pulse thrummed in response, every nerve cell humming.

  “Told me what?”

  “That you’re not beautiful. Because whoever it was,” he murmured, bending down so that they were eye to eye, nose to nose, breath to breath, “was either blind or lying.”

  “Max—”

  His lips brushed hers just like they had in the attic. Only this time, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She stepped right into his arms, her hands sliding inside his unbuttoned coat and settling on his firm waist.

  He tasted like mint and coffee with just a touch of something dark and exotic and absolutely addicting. She could make a cupcake with those flavor profiles, and every woman in town would beg her for them. She moved closer, intoxicated with the moment and with Max.

  He broke away, rested his forehead against hers. His eyes were the deepest blue of a dusky summer sky. Looking in them made her long for the time when she’d been young enough and naïve enough to believe in heroes and in happily-ever-afters. If she could go back to those times, she’d let herself relax into whatever spending time with Max might bring.

  “You hooked me with that cupcake, didn’t you, Charlotte?” he murmured.

  She laughed shakily and stepped back because she sure as heck couldn’t keep staring into his eyes. “Why? Are you about to propose?”

  “Not quite,” he muttered, raking a hand over his hair and scowling. “But I can’t seem to stop thinking about you. That’s got to mean something.”

  “It means we’ve spent too much time together lately.”

  “Maybe so.” His gaze swept from her head to her toes and back again.

  “Absolutely so. You and I are not a good match, Max. No cupcake in the world can change that.”

  “Really?” He raised an eyebrow and smiled, cupping her elbow and leading her back toward home. “I don’t suppose you’d like to explain your reasons for saying that.”

  “You’re adventurous. I’m a homebody.”

  “I’d be a homebody too, if I had the right person to go home to.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. You’d get bored and head off into the wilderness to hunt or fish or whatever macho guys do when they’re tired of the routine.”

  “I don’t know what other guys do when they get bored, but I can tell you what I’d like to do.” His hand slipped from her elbow to her hand, his finger twining through hers. There was something really comfortable about walking up Main Street with Max. Something homey and warm and delicious about the Christmas lights and the darkness and the man walking beside her. “I’d like go into the wilderness with a woman I cared deeply about. I’d like to build a fire and make a bed out of sleeping bags and lie under the stars with her. We wouldn’t even have to talk if we didn’t want to. We’d just listen to the world and watch the night together.”

  That sounded nice.

  It sounded like the best romance novel she’d ever read, the best story she’d ever been told. It sounded like Christmas cookies and hot chocolate and marshmallows roasted over a fire. “If that’s true, whatever woman you decide to care about is going to be very lucky.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be true?” His thumb slid across the tender flesh on the inside of her wrist, and she shivered.

  “People say all kinds of things that aren’t, Max. You’ve been a police officer for long enough to know that.” She kept her tone light even though her heart was beating frantically.

  “True,” he responded. “Speaking of which, I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask why you were staring into Nick’s shop in the middle of the night. You’re not planning to turn to a life of crime, are you?”

  His question surprised a laugh out of her. “Not unless renting a storefront on Main Street is against the law.”

  “A storefront, huh? I hadn’t heard about that.”

  “No one has. Only Nick knows that I’m considering it.” At first the idea had been too new to share. Then she’d been afraid to say it for fear that she wouldn’t be able to make the dream come true. “I figured there was no sense in mentioning it until I was certain it was going to happen.”

  “Are you certain now? Because news like you opening a store on Main Street is going to make a lot of people happy. If I start spreading it, and it turns out to be false, I’ll have to explain myself to a lot of people.”

  “You can save yourself the hassle and not tell anyone.”

  “What fun would that be?” he asked with a grin.

  She shook her head, but returned the smile. “You’re an interesting guy, Max.”

  “Glad you think so.” He led her up the front walk to her porch, waiting as she shoved keys into the lock, and opened the door. “I bought a lock for your back door. It’s in the Corvette. How about you get it for me and lock yourself into the car while I check out the house?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Just in case.” He handed her keys.

  “In case of what, Max? I was home until an hour ago.”

  “A lot can happen in an hour. You saw how quickly Cade opened your back door.”

  True. She had.

  He nudged her toward his Corvette. She went because she figured he was a lot more capable of handling an unwanted visitor than she was. Not that she thought anyone was going to be inside the house.

  She hoped no one would be in there.

  She grabbed the lock from the Corvette, glancing at Zuzu’s car seat squeezed into the back of the vehicle. The little girl loved cookies. Charlotte would make her some in the morning. Sugar, because every child she’d ever known loved sugar cookies. Maybe she could even have her over and let her help decorate them. Max could bring her to the house, and they could spend the morning . . .

  No! They could not spend the morning decorating cookies with Zuzu.

  Not tomorrow. Not the next day. Not ever.

  It was hard enough keeping Max at arm’s length. No way would she ever be able to do that if she spent more time with Zuzu.

  She scowled.

  No more spending time with either of them.

  No dinner Friday night. No walks along Main Street when the sun was down. No trips into the wilderness to lie under the stars and listen to the night.

 
What was the point of putting herself in temptation’s way? She’d just avoid it until she got over whatever bee was buzzing around in her bonnet. Probably just Christmas depression. There had to be a clinical name for it. Holiday blues or something.

  Whatever the case, she wasn’t going to wrap herself in the warm strong arms of the best-looking guy in town just to make herself feel better.

  She slammed the door to emphasize her decision and stalked across the yard. Frozen grass crunched under her feet, the frigid air stinging her cheeks. She’d always loved winter, and in Apple Valley it seemed even more wonderful. The fresh air, the decorated houses, the distant mountain peaks white with snow. She had never felt more at home than she did there. If things worked out the way she wanted, she’d spend the rest of her life there in her little house.

  She wasn’t going to let anyone steal away the sense of security she had there. Whoever had broken into her house and gone through her things had another thing coming if he thought Charlotte was going to be scared away. Not that the break-ins seemed particularly threatening.

  She walked inside, hung her coat in the closet near the front door. Max’s footsteps tapped on the attic floor, the old boards creaking beneath his weight. In another house at another time, the sounds might have been creepy, but right then they were comforting.

  When Max walked down the stairs, she tried really hard to keep her focus on the lock she was still holding. She managed to do that for about thirty seconds before she met his eyes.

  He smiled the kind of easy smile that she had only ever seen a few times, and her heart did the same silly little flip and jump it did every time she looked at the man.

  She was a mess.

  Pure and simple.

  When it came to Max, all bets were off, every promise she’d made to herself just kind of floating away.

  “Didn’t I tell you to wait in the car?” he asked mildly.

  “You won’t be here every time I come home, Max. I figured I had to get used to checking the place out myself.”

  “I see,” he responded, taking the lock from her hand.