The shower turned off, the curtain yanked back again. Alex bolted off the bed and paced to the window just as Mitch came out in nothing but a towel. Why was this bothering her all of a sudden? She’d seen him in his underwear before. Hell, she’d seen him in a towel before.
“What kind of crazy stuff?” Alex heard Mitch open a drawer and close it, and then the closet door opened.
“Grady said Jackson told him he was going to quit the Air Force. Said he was going to ask for a discharge.”
Another long string of curse words filtered from the closet, and then Mitch walked out buttoning his uniform shirt. “He had to be out of his mind. I’ll talk to him. Let’s go.”
“Take your own car, I have to be at work in a couple of hours.”
“MAJOR Jackson?”
Cole winced and blinked his eyes open. Then shut them against the bright light.
“Major Jackson, can you hear me?” an unfamiliar male voice roared next to his ear, splitting his head into jagged pieces.
“I’m sure everyone in Nevada can hear you,” Cole grumbled. His head throbbed like a son of a bitch. He raised a hand to cover his eyes, but something tugged on his arm. He opened one eye and stared at the IV attached to the back of his hand.
He dropped his hand and looked in the direction of the voice. A young African-American man in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck stood peering at him.
Producing a penlight, the doc leaned over Cole, poked his eyelid open and fired a light into first one eye, then the other. “Pupils responding. Do you know where you are, Major?”
“In hell?”
The doc grunted. “His sense of humor’s intact. I guess he can have visitors for a few minutes.”
“Thank you, Doctor.” That was Grady’s voice. And Grady shaking the doc’s hand.
Silence permeated the room for several long seconds. It was so quiet Cole could hear voices outside and down the hall.
Grady stalked to the window, and opened the blinds to a sunny Las Vegas day. “I contacted your commander at Lackland. He wants to be notified as soon as you’re discharged here.”
Cole cleared his throat. “Thanks.” He reached for the pitcher of water on the table beside his bed and his head exploded. “Think I could get some aspirin?”
Grady stalked over to Cole and poured him some water as McCabe strode in, with Hughes right behind him.
“You know, Jackson, if you’ve got a thing for nurses, there are easier ways to get their attention.” McCabe flashed a huge grin and wiggled his brows.
Cole smiled, glad to see his friends. “McCabe, you dog. I was just telling Grady, here, that I’m fine. You can’t keep using me as an excuse to get out of work.” His grin faded and his gaze shifted to Hughes, who was standing behind McCabe. “Did you talk to her?”
Hughes stepped forward, shaking her head. “She has a job interview this morning. Give her some time.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember her saying—”
“Come on, Jackson,” McCabe scoffed. “You aren’t seriously thinking about getting out?”
Cole nodded. “As soon as I report to Lackland I’m going to request a discharge.”
“Jackson, think about what you’re doing.” McCabe’s voice was strained. “You’ve got twelve years of service. How bad can controlling air traffic in Texas be?”
“That’s not it. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I want to do with my life. And I need to be out there. On the front line, making a difference.”
“What are you planning?” Hughes studied him, her eyes narrowed.
Cole grinned and spread his arms wide. “What else? Las Vegas P.D.”
While Grady raised his brows, and Hughes nodded her approval, McCabe’s jaw dropped. “Police? You want to be a cop?”
“If they’ll have me. I’ll have to pass the tests, and the physicals, but…yeah.” And as soon as he started that ball rolling, he’d move on to his next mission: win back a woman’s love and then spend the rest of his life loving her.
Jordan. He missed the sound of her voice, her touch, her smile.
There were inherent risks involved in his plan, but the thrill buzzing around inside him told him he’d begun a new adventure. The quest of a lifetime. Winning Jordan back would be the biggest challenge of his life. Cole smiled. He did love a good challenge.
14
IT WAS her first day at her new job. And Jordan loved the work. She had a salaried position she’d dreamed of for years. Her own cubicle. Some nice coworkers. And last week, she’d had a heartfelt goodbye party at The Grand where everyone had chipped in to buy her a gift card to her favorite department store.
But when a florist delivered an arrangement of red and yellow roses to her cubicle that morning, Jordan’s heart soared. She knew what that particular combination of colors meant. And she knew only one other person with that knowledge.
Cole.
Two weeks. Two weeks since she’d last seen him.
In two weeks her life had completely changed. She’d been offered the position with Nevada Power and had accepted it. The building where she worked was downtown, within blocks of a bus stop. She’d given notice at The Grand and found a well-run adult day-care facility for her mother. And now she worked days and had weekends off like a regular person.
So how did Cole know where she worked?
Alex.
She fished a five-dollar bill out of her wallet and stuffed it into the deliveryman’s hand, hardly waiting until he left before snatching the card from its plastic holder.
I never stop thinking of you
C
Jordan drew in a long slow breath. Why did he have to reopen the wound? There was no point. That chapter of her life was closed.
“Beautiful roses.”
Jordan looked up and realized she’d been staring at the card while holding her breath. “Too beautiful not to share,” she said as she picked up the vase. Without giving herself a chance to think twice, she carried the bouquet to the break room and set them on the table. Out of her sight.
But Cole was never really out of her thoughts.
She could keep herself busy in her waking hours. Yet when she slept, that’s when he invaded her mind. When she dreamed, it was of Cole.
Cole, handing her a bag with a carton of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Cole, playing cards with her mom. Cole on his motorcycle, his shirt open to her touch…
The next day at work, Jordan was just about to open her brown-bag lunch when a man appeared at her cubicle wearing a chef’s apron and hat. He carried a silver tray with a chrome-covered plate. “Ms. Brenner?”
Jordan blinked up at the man. “Yes?”
“Compliments of a Major Jackson.” He set the tray on her desk and whipped off the cover. The chef had attracted a crowd of her coworkers and several people oohed and awwed. Sautéed shrimp with prosciutto. Pasta and asparagus steaming with flavor. It was the same meal Cole had made for her the night of her graduation.
“Th-thank you,” she finally stuttered.
The chef bowed, and left.
The tray held a slim vase with a single red rose, a thick napkin, silverware, iced tea in a crystal glass, but…
“Wait!” She jumped up and chased after the chef.
He stopped and turned.
“Was there a note or a message?”
“No, ma’am. Just that it was with his compliments.”
“Oh.” Jordan’s shoulders sagged. “Thank you again.”
By the time she made it back to her cubicle, the crowd had grown and everyone was staring at her. “I’m so sorry for the disruption.” Her first week at work and what an impression she must be making.
“Are you kidding?” one lady answered for the crowd. “This is the most exciting thing to happen around here in forever.”
“Aren’t you going to eat that?” another lady asked.
“Yeah, don’t let it get cold,” chimed in the guy who worked across the aisle from her.
Jorda
n nodded and picked up her fork as everyone wandered away. The meal sure beat a bologna sandwich. The flavors of garlic and cream, several cheeses and shrimp melted together and exploded on her tongue.
What was she supposed to glean from this? Was she supposed to call Cole and thank him? Shouldn’t she? That was what he wanted.
Could she?
Once she heard his voice her resolve for a clean break would dissolve. All the pain of the past weeks would be for nothing.
Wasn’t it already?
She’d never be able to go back to the clear-cut and simple life she’d lived a couple of months ago. Everything had been black and white then. School: good. Getting swept off her feet: bad.
Now there were shades of gray.
She loved him.
On Wednesday, the largest box of Godiva chocolates Jordan had ever seen, gold-leafed, embossed and heart-shaped, was delivered to her desk. This time there was a note, but the usual crowd of coworkers lingered until she opened the box and offered a piece to everyone.
As soon as the group dissipated, Jordan slipped the sealed note in her purse and headed for the ladies’ room.
Her fingers trembled as she peeled open the envelope and pulled out the card.
Did you get the meal from Delmonico’s?
I miss you
C
Cole. She could smell him. Feel him. Hear him.
What was she going to do? This had to stop. Where was the peace and acceptance she needed to move on? But how could she move on, when he wouldn’t let her?
She ducked into a stall and pressed her palms into her eyes. You’re an idiot, Jordan Brenner. It was a waste of time feeling sorry for oneself. Trust that you made the right decision, stop letting him sway you, and move on.
Looking down at her palms, she noticed she’d smeared her mascara. Great. She pulled out some tissues and repaired her face as best she could.
On Thursday, he went too far. “Okay, now, this has just got to stop.” Jordan fisted her hands on her hips and stared in disbelief.
The security guard had called her down to the lobby of the company’s high rise building to sign for a delivery. When she stepped out of the elevator, a man was waiting to hand her a key.
Jordan walked outside and there in the circular drive sat a brand-new, bright-sunshine-yellow Volkswagen Beetle with a huge red ribbon around it and bow on the roof.
The deliveryman holding a clipboard with papers to sign moved to stand beside her. “Jordan Brenner?”
At her nod, he held out a note. “Here’s a message for you.”
There was no way Jordan could accept the car, but she snatched the note from his hand.
I didn’t choose the convertible
See how responsible I’ve become?
C
Jordan burst into a laugh, and then held her fingers over her lips as it turned into a cry. She turned to the man with the clipboard. “I can’t sign for this. You’ll have to take it back.”
The man blinked. “You don’t want it?”
Jordan shook her head as she crossed the street to a park. Cole had to quit doing these things. She sat on a bench, pulled out her cell phone and punched in Alex’s number.
“Major Hughes,” Alex answered.
“Is he crazy? I can’t accept a car.”
“I tried to tell him.”
“Well, he should have listened to you.”
“Jordan.” Alex sighed. “Just call him.”
“Why doesn’t he call me?” Jordan cringed to hear how petty that sounded.
“He thinks you won’t listen to what he has to say. And, for what it’s worth, you should. What can it hurt?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you love him?”
Jordan paused. “Loving someone and trusting them always to be there for you are two different things.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, and then Alex said, “True. I can’t argue with that. Talk later.”
“Yeah,” Jordan managed the one syllable past the lump in her throat, and then snapped her phone shut.
OKAY. So, maybe she missed his daily gifts.
After a week of not hearing from Cole, Jordan seemed to go through the five stages of grief like a textbook patient.
First there was denial. She didn’t care. It was a good thing. She wanted to be left alone so she could move on with her life. And she suited action to feelings. After spending the morning at the coin laundry Saturday, Jordan took her mom to the nail salon and celebrated her new salary by getting them both a manicure and pedicure. She couldn’t care less about Cole Jackson.
Second was anger. How dare he send her all those romantic gifts? And the notes? What kind of mind game was he playing? Did he understand that he had gotten her hopes up?
After taking her mom to church Sunday morning, Jordan spent the afternoon cleaning her apartment from top to bottom, scrubbing extra hard and extra long just for good measure.
The third stage was bargaining. Maybe she should have called him. Or at least sent a thank-you note. If she called him now, maybe it wouldn’t be too late.
On Monday, at work, Jordan picked up her cell phone and almost called Cole a dozen times during the day. In addition, she composed an e-mail thanking him, but she never hit Send. She even started to buy an online greeting card with a corny thank-you message. But at the last minute she canceled it.
This led to the fourth stage of grief: Depression. Of course it was too late. It had always been too late. Their situation was hopeless. How could she have ever believed anything else? Even if she were willing to trust in a long-distance relationship, he’d obviously moved on when she didn’t respond. He got the message. She should be happy. Wasn’t that what she wanted?
On Wednesday night she stopped by the store after work, bought a half gallon of double chocolate chunk ice cream and ate it straight out of the carton while her mom watched television.
And at last, the final stage: Acceptance. Thursday morning, a sense of peace hit Jordan as she sat at her desk at work and opened up her e-mail. She accepted that Cole had moved on. That was what she’d needed. And that was why she hadn’t responded to his gifts. This was a good thing. Eventually she’d be able to look back on this experience with gratitude for what it had taught her.
15
“I CAN’T BELIEVE you did it, man.” McCabe thunked three beers and a glass of water on the table and then sat across from Cole in a booth at a pool hall close to Nellis.
“Believe it.” Cole grabbed one of the beers and sipped. “I’m out.”
As of yesterday, Cole was no longer officially an Air Force man. The moment Cole signed his honorable discharge papers he’d felt the weight of an F-22 lift off his chest. He’d loved the Air Force and all the opportunities it had provided him. He’d loved serving his country and even the job as an air traffic controller wouldn’t have been half bad. More money than he’d see as a cop, that was for sure.
But there was more to life than money.
“And, it gets worse,” Cole sipped his beer and shot Hughes a conspiratorial grin.
“What?” McCabe looked back and forth between Hughes and Cole. “What have you gone and done now?”
Hughes gestured with her beer. “Look out the window.”
McCabe stretched his neck to look. “Aw, jeez, Jackson. A sedan? You loved riding that hog.”
“Yeah, but it’s kind of hard to take two special ladies out on it.”
“Two?”
Hughes cleared her throat. “Jordan and her mom, hello?”
Cole smiled at Hughes. “Where’s Grady?”
“Right here.” Grady slid in next to Cole. “Good to see you out of the hospital, Jackson.”
“Thanks.”
“So, you’re going to be a cop, huh?”
Cole was anxious to start at the police academy. It had felt right the minute he’d applied to the Las Vegas police force. He was looking forward to it, maybe he could do some good.
He still had to go through police training, but he’d passed all the tests and they seemed eager to have ex-military personnel on the force. Even ones who were deaf in one ear. “Yeah, they might let me write tickets and everything,” he answered Grady. “And no favors. You guys break the speed limit, I’m writing your ass a ticket.”
“That’s kind of like letting a jewel thief guard the crown jewels, isn’t it?” Grady’s lip curled, the closest he ever got to smiling.
“Joke all you want,” Cole said. “But I get a pair of handcuffs.”
“Hey, I never thought of that,” McCabe said, and Hughes rammed her elbow into his ribs.
“Don’t encourage him, Jackson. Ever since his thirty days were up, he’s been worse than ever,” warned Hughes.
Grady raised a brow. “Did you expect him to take to celibacy?”
“Guess we can’t call him Monk Man anymore, huh?” Cole chortled.
“Hell, no.” McCabe rubbed his hands together. “McCabe the Babe Magnet is back.”
Hughes shook her head at him then turned her attention to Cole. “So, what are you going to do about Jordan?”
“I have a few aces left up my sleeve.”
Jordan hadn’t called him. Hadn’t written. No response to his gifts. Well, fine. She’d been a challenge for him from the day he’d met her, and he hadn’t given up then. She wanted to play hard to win? It was time to step up the game.
“Have you thought about simply calling her and telling her you love her?”
“Aw, man, now why would he want to do that?”
Cole ignored McCabe. “I could.” He’d thought about it. “But where’s the challenge?” Besides, he wasn’t sure he could take it if she said nothing and hung up.
And there was one other reason. He wanted her to meet him halfway. He had to know she wanted him enough to take him as he was.
In the meantime, placing an online order at Ben and Jerry’s was a good start.
“Hey, I just thought of something.” McCabe slowly smiled. A huge grin combined with an evil glint in his eye.
Let It Ride Page 15
