by Amie Denman
Despite the misery of visiting his father in jail, Matt couldn’t face going with his mother and his brother. It was better to face it alone and shoulder that burden for them. As far as he knew, his mother had not been to see her ex-husband in more than a decade.
The food in front of him no longer tempted him. Matt wiped his hands on his napkin and remembered he hadn’t answered Caroline’s question.
“Once,” he said. “One time we all went together.” He tried to force a smile. “It’s not the world’s best family activity. I was twelve that time, but my brother was only seven.”
“So young to face something like that,” she said. “And your mother remarried a few years later?”
He nodded. His mother had done a lot better the second time around.
“So your father is doing time for embezzlement,” Caroline said matter-of-factly. “Are you a criminal, too?”
Matt felt as if he’d been slapped in the face. Until Caroline laughed and reached across the table to squeeze his hand. Her hand was smooth and much smaller than his, but its warmth erased the sting of her question.
“Judging from your reaction, I’d say the answer is no,” Caroline said. “In which case, you have failed to answer my question.”
“What do you mean?”
“I asked what you were hiding. Your father’s crimes are his, not yours. So I still don’t know what makes you less than perfect.”
Matt drew a deep breath and wondered why he tortured himself by spending time with Caroline. If he could resist her, he would. Was he brave enough to reveal the one thing that tortured him and made him wonder when, not if, he would fall short? He ate an onion ring and two wings while he considered his answer.
“I pull off my clothes and throw them in the washer while they’re still inside out.”
She shook her head. “So? You’ll have to do better than that.”
“I have a birdfeeder in my yard, but I have never once put food in it. Not even last winter when the snow piled up to the bottom of the feeder.”
“How do you live with yourself?” Caroline asked, smiling.
“I cut the tags off everything. Pillows, mattresses, blankets, you name it. I’m reckless about the warnings.”
“Still no good. I want to know the bad thing that keeps you awake at night.”
Matt leaned back and rested his shoulder blades against the hard slats of the chair.
“I’m selfish.”
Caroline laughed. “You’re going to have to provide evidence if you think I’m going to believe that. I’ve seen you bring doughnuts to your workers.”
“Maybe I just want to bribe them to work faster.”
“And you brought me maple-frosted ones.”
“I could be buying your security skills,” he said.
“Starlight Point signs my paychecks.” Caroline steepled her hands, put her chin on them and stared him down. “What makes you selfish?”
Matt considered how far he wanted to go with his confession. How long had it been since he’d shared his thoughts and fears with anyone except for his brother? Something about Caroline made him want to reveal his feelings. She had a tough-cop outer shell, but he believed there was something softer on the inside.
“It would probably be in the best interest of my family if I encouraged my stepfather to sell the construction business,” Matt admitted.
She wrinkled her brow, and Matt realized he’d managed to surprise her.
“You have to back up and explain. Why would he want to sell a thriving business?”
“Because,” Matt said. He paused and swallowed. “He has serious health problems. Although he’s just sixty-five, he has a bad heart.”
Caroline gave a slight nod as if she’d already suspected Bruce’s condition.
“You saw him at the media boat trip,” Matt said. “And that was a good day. The doctors have told him to take it easy because there’s not a lot of time left.”
“So you think selling the business will allow him to retire and rest?”
“Yes. It will also provide a big payout for my mother to invest and live comfortably when Bruce is gone. She deserves that.”
“Back to the selfish part,” Caroline said, waving her fork for emphasis. “Tell me why you’re the bad guy here.”
“Because I don’t want him to sell it. I want to inherit it and continue the family tradition.”
Caroline didn’t say anything and it made Matt want to fill the silence.
“The good family tradition of building things. Not the bad one of embezzling.”
“I figured that out,” Caroline said. “So, you’re asking your stepfather to take a chance on you by leaving you his business instead of just selling it outright.”
Matt nodded.
“If you do well, it’s a happy ending for you and your mother.”
“And my brother. He’s got several years left in college.”
“And you want to pay for that.”
“Bayside Construction paid for my master’s degree.”
“So you think you owe everyone.”
“I do.”
Their food arrived, a welcome intrusion into a conversation that was starting to churn the acid in Matt’s empty stomach. The steaming plates were loaded with steak, fries and asparagus spears.
“I’ll never eat all this,” Caroline said after the waitress left. She picked up her knife and fork. “But I’m prepared to try.”
Matt chuckled. “That’s what I like about you. I doubt you’ve ever backed down from a challenge.”
“Sure I have. My mother enrolled me in dance class when I was five. She stopped taking me after a few painful weeks.”
“So she was the one who gave up, not you.”
“Nice try, but that was my fault. I also failed at the summer reading program at the library in sixth grade. I thought we’d be reading books, but it was glorified craft and social hour. I usually skipped the activity of the week and read mystery novels instead.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“I read an entire series of mystery books in a big blue chair by the window of the library. That was a great summer. But I never completed one single art project using macaroni and yarn.”
Matt sliced off a piece of steak and chewed it slowly while he listened to Caroline describe her favorite fictional detective—a girl—who always stayed on the scent and tracked down the answer. Her eyes were bright and she talked with her hands as she relived some of the books. Matt found himself thinking how nice it would be to have dinner with her every night.
“Did that inspire you to become a police officer?” he asked. “Reading all those mystery novels?”
“No,” Caroline said. “But it was part of it.”
“What was the other part?”
Instead of answering, Caroline cut her steak into neat strips, then cut across the strips to make small cubes. She took her time carving up the entire piece of meat.
“It’s a long story,” she said.
“I’m willing to take my time eating and then order dessert. We have to have a slice of cake—even if I don’t tell anyone it’s a milestone birthday for you.”
* * *
THIS IS OUR second time eating together, Caroline thought. And Matt had shared a deeply painful and personal story. Had sought her out on her birthday and taken her to dinner.
When she’d squeezed his hand to show him she was kidding about him being a criminal, she hadn’t wanted to let go. Holding hands across the table with a man she’d built a long, slow relationship with this summer seemed natural—just another marker on the road she’d taken.
Except that she was digging up the surface of that road, and probably its foundation. She should be reading the report, not indulging in dinne
r with Matt. What if she’d finally found evidence incriminating his uncle’s business? For all she knew, Matt was already aware of the contents of that report and he was entertaining her to keep her from reading it.
Looking up and meeting his green eyes, she found it hard to believe he could be hiding something treacherous. She was better at reading people than that. Wasn’t she?
“Well, Nancy Drew? Are you going to tell me why it’s a cop’s life for you?”
“My mother wouldn’t let me be a pirate. That was my first choice.”
“That’s everyone’s first choice. What’s the real reason?”
Caroline took a breath and shoved her asparagus around. It was the least tempting thing on her plate and this was her birthday. She didn’t have to eat her vegetables.
But she did owe Matt a credible answer. It was only fair.
“I always want to fight for the underdog,” she said. “Victims of crimes need a champion.”
“Admirable.”
“I hope. That’s why I’m training to be a police officer.”
“You could also be a lawyer. Don’t they also advocate for victims?”
“They do,” Caroline said. “And my mother suggested the same thing. But I feel as though lawyers are removed from the crime. They don’t actually solve crimes, they just prosecute the accused.” She paused and speared a piece of steak. “Someone has to do the accusing first.”
“And that’s where you come in,” Matt said.
Caroline nodded and continued eating, hoping Matt would be satisfied with her explanation.
“I feel like there’s more,” he said.
So much for hoping.
“There’s more to every story,” Caroline said.
“And?”
She put down her fork. “When bad things happen, people deserve answers. Maybe nothing can make them feel better or replace someone they’ve lost, but knowing someone has been brought to justice has to help.” Her words tumbled out quickly and she heard her voice rise a notch.
Why did talking to Matt unnerve her and make her want to share more than she’d shared with anyone outside her family?
Matt gave her an encouraging smile as he leaned forward and spoke quietly. “You don’t have to tell me what made you feel so strongly, but I hope you’ll trust me enough to give it a try.”
Heat spread from her heart throughout her body. When Matt spoke to her in that low tone with thoughtfulness in every word, she considered telling him everything, even things he hadn’t asked to hear.
She could at least tell him about her sister.
“When I was a baby, my older sister died in what was ruled an accident. But I’ve never felt it was an accident.” She paused and waited for Matt to ask questions. He didn’t. He reached across the table and took her hand, his eyes focused on hers, listening.
“We were staying at a hotel with my parents. Catherine was twelve, my brother, Scott, was seven, and I had just turned one. It was a business trip for my dad, and my parents went to a company dinner with a bunch of other people who were staying in the same wing of the hotel. A fire broke out in the room next door, probably from a cigarette.”
Matt’s grip on her hand tightened, but he didn’t say anything.
“My brother fell asleep because he was tired from playing in the hotel pool all day. Catherine took a long shower and didn’t notice the smoke smell. By the time she came out of the bathroom and realized there was smoke seeping under our door, it was too late.”
Matt’s expression softened into concern and sympathy. Caroline took a deep breath. This was the hardest part of the story for her to tell. The part that always brought her tears to the surface. But she had to do it. Had to master her feelings if she wanted to be a police officer and help others avenge senseless deaths.
“It was too late to get out, and there were no smoke alarms or sprinklers in that hotel. No one came to our rescue, so Catherine had us all get in the bathtub with wet towels. Scott and I were on the bottom and we survived, although he has some ugly scars on his back. Catherine—” She paused and struggled to control her shaking voice. “Catherine didn’t survive.”
Why was it so hard for her to tell the story, especially after so many years?
“I’m so sorry,” Matt said. “For you and for your family. Losing someone like that...”
“What makes me most sad is that it could have been prevented. It’s why my brother became a firefighter and a fire safety inspector. It’s how he copes, especially since he was old enough when it happened...he remembers.”
“Was anyone ever prosecuted for failing to follow fire codes in that hotel?”
She shook her head. “It was an old building, but I don’t think that’s any excuse.”
“Which drives you to do what you do. Make sure laws are followed.”
“Yes.”
“That’s one of the most admirable things I’ve ever heard.”
Just hearing Matt validate her career choice and motivation made telling the painful story worthwhile. On top of being a hard worker, loyal to his family, sweet and kind and funny, he was also a good listener. It was one of the skills she was trying to cultivate in herself.
People who lived with their ears wide-open often heard things they never expected, and sometimes didn’t want to know. Did Matt know more about his family’s construction business than others—even his mother and brother?
The waitress arrived, cleared their plates and asked about dessert.
“Do you have cake?” Matt asked instead of opening the dessert menu.
“Chocolate torte, white chocolate raspberry and carrot.”
“Chocolate,” Caroline said.
“Make that two,” Matt added.
“So that wasn’t the best birthday conversation,” Caroline said, attempting to lighten the mood after the waitress left.
“I asked,” Matt said. “And I’m glad you told me. Birthdays are a good time to look back on where you’ve been and think about where you’re going. We broke ground on the new coaster on my birthday this past May, and it will open next year on my birthday if I don’t manage to screw it up.”
“You won’t.”
“I hope you’re right.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
AFTER DESSERT AND settling the bill—which Matt insisted on paying—Caroline and Matt walked past the boats in the marina. The sun had just set and a soft darkness enveloped them as they turned toward her dorm.
Matt reached down and took her hand as they walked. Caroline liked having her hand in his. Even though she didn’t need protection, he made her feel safer than she had in a long time. Perhaps it was sharing her past. Maybe it was trusting someone enough to open her heart.
Was it so hard for her to be vulnerable? She’d spent years developing a safe wall around her emotions so they wouldn’t escape and couldn’t be hurt. Was there a place in that wall where a window might go?
“I had big plans for this summer,” Matt said. “But I never planned on meeting someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
“I love building things. Love the sound of trucks and the feel of the dirt under my boots. I love reading blueprints and seeing walls go up, concrete being poured. That’s my life. It’s why I studied construction engineering. But you’re the first woman I’ve met who makes me want to take a day off and just—”
They paused under one of the old cottonwood trees growing along the dim path that led to the employee dormitory.
“And just do this,” he said. Matt ran his gentle fingers through Caroline’s hair until his hand came to rest on her shoulder.
The feeling of peace and safety she’d felt strengthened. She leaned closer to him and tipped her head up, inviting him to kiss her. He lowered his head and his lips brush
ed hers.
It was delicious. She tasted chocolate icing on his lips, and it was the best birthday gift she’d received in a long time. She slipped her arms around his waist and returned his kiss, wishing it would go on a long time. His hands caressing a circle on her back felt almost as good as his lips.
She’d never thought she’d meet someone who would make her forget she was devoting her life to solving crimes. But here she was kissing Matt Dunbar along the waterfront and ignoring the envelope she’d waited six weeks to get.
The envelope! She’d left it on the chair next to hers in the restaurant. She pulled back from his kiss with a gasp.
“Was it that bad?” he asked.
“No,” she said, laughing. “It was very good. You taste like birthday cake.”
He moved his hands to her shoulders. “So you’ve...had enough cake for the evening?”
“I forgot something. In the restaurant. I have to run back and get it before they throw it away or it gets lost.”
“Wait here, I’ll run back for you.”
“No,” she said quickly. She didn’t want him to see the return address or, worse yet, look inside. Not that she believed he would violate her privacy like that. But as the man building a roller coaster ride at an amusement park in Michigan, he would certainly recognize the name of the state agency that inspected rides. He’d probably met with them several times this summer. If he knew she had a report from them, he’d certainly put it together that her investigation into the Loose Cannon was continuing.
She wasn’t sure how she felt at the moment, but she didn’t want that envelope to ruin the perfect evening she’d been having. With a man who’d completely distracted her from her summer mission. Perhaps it was time to call it a night.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said, slowly stepping backward, although it didn’t feel right to leave the warmth of his arms.
“Thank you,” Matt said. He didn’t try to stop her retreat. He only kept his eyes on her. “It was the nicest evening I’ve had in a long time. And I hope you had a great twenty-first birthday.”
