When We Kiss

by Louise, Tia

  Every word is a cringing flash of shame, and I stomp up the pool steps, scooping my shirt off the tattered lounge chair and over my shoulders. My tight jeans are next, but it’s a challenge getting them up my damp legs.

  “What would your uncle say if he saw you?” Betty continues regaling me.

  I stomp back to where Sheriff Cole and his new storm trooper stand, not even casting a glance at the kid in the pool. “Are you planning to arrest me?”

  Lines form around the sheriff’s eyes as he suppresses a grin. “Well, Mrs. Pepper here has listed your potential crimes.”

  “You’re turning into a Jezebel,” BP continues nagging. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to end up just like—”

  My eyes flash at her, and her voice dies. She’d better not say my mother. If she knows what’s good for her, she’d better not say it.

  Instead she tightens her robe. “It’s a slippery slope.”

  “What do you think, Chad?” Robbie exhales, straightening his posture and tugging on his waistband.

  Mr. Silent But Deadly’s eyes skim the front of my transparent bra before meeting mine. When they do, I realize they’re light brown. I also realize they’re hot, and chills break out over my skin in the warm night air. It strikes me this sexy future sheriff might be the real bad boy in the group.

  His voice is a nice, low vibration. “I think you’re playing a dangerous game… Miss?”

  “She’s single,” Betty interrupts, as if not being married is another of my offenses.

  Chad’s eyebrows twitch ever so slightly. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t think my being single is a crime.

  My stomach is tight, and I swallow the knot in my throat. Get a clue, Tabby. The last thing on God’s green earth I have any intention of doing is getting mixed up with a lawman.

  “I don’t play games, Mr. Tucker.” My voice is higher than his, but just as determined. “And I don’t check IDs on people I’ve just met.”

  “Maybe you should start.” I can’t tell if Chad Tucker is being a smartass or if he’s just naturally cocky.

  Seeing as he’s a deputy, I’m willing to bet it’s the latter.

  Robbie’s chuckle breaks the tension. “I think we can let you off with a warning this time. Do you need a ride home?”

  I’ve managed to get my feet into my slides, and I see Jimmy standing on the side of the pool, pulling on his jeans and tee. He looks so skinny and young now. I wonder why I ever fell for his counterfeit tattooed bad-boy routine.

  My phone is in my hand, and I tap the icons quickly. “No thanks. I just ordered an Uber. Looks like it’ll be here in two minutes.”

  Gripping my shirt closed, I stomp up the sidewalk that leads to the front of the hotel.

  Betty Pepper calls after me, getting her final jab in. “Consider your ways, Tabitha!”

  I grind my teeth and fight the urge to flip her off as I round the corner. I’m saved by the headlights of a Dodge Dart with a white U in the windshield. It’s too late to call my best friend Emberly, but when I get to the bakery tomorrow…

  A billboard on the Interstate catches my eye, and I get an idea. Not Robbie Cole, Betty Pepper, or even Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy will see this one coming.

  Two

  Chad

  One year later

  The highway leading from the beach into sleepy Oceanside Village is tranquil tonight—as usual.

  I’ve made my rounds, driving past closed businesses, along the strip where the tourists have all gone home, past deserted beachfront mansions closed up for the season. I’ve driven through neighborhoods, where residents have turned in for the night. I’ve checked on the single moms, the shut-ins, the bars that will be shuttered in another hour.

  I’ve spent a year in this place, and I know its rhythm.

  I know what will and what won’t happen as the shadows lengthen, as the noise of the cicadas rises louder than the crashing of the waves on the shore less than a mile away.

  When I told my dad I’d taken a job as a sheriff’s deputy in a tiny county of less than twenty thousand, he said I wouldn’t last a month.

  I said he was wrong.

  He was wrong.

  Taking this job was a 180-degree turn from the life I grew up in, from the forces that led to my sister’s death, a death the detectives still haven’t ruled out as a suicide.

  I came to this hamlet along the coast to get away from the city, from my family, and from the memory of Charity lurking around every corner.

  She died, and a month later I started basic training.

  I’d already enlisted before it all went down. We buried her, and I buried myself in learning to protect and serve. I couldn’t save my sister. Maybe I could save somebody else.

  It seemed like the best way to kill the pain, to silence the questions, the never-ending whys.

  Why did she do it?

  Why would a 23-year-old woman climb out the window of a car and stand facing a semi-truck racing head-on in a demented game of chicken?

  Her body exploded on impact, the police said. Her friends were too traumatized to speak. I can still hear their hysterical screams.

  Was she just a daredevil? An adrenaline junkie? A “bad girl” gone too far?

  These were answers we would never get.

  No note. No explanation.

  We were left to pick up the pieces, carry on as survivors of her reckless existence. My parents chose to stay in their gilded bubble, to walk around town like nothing had changed.

  I walked away.

  Actually, I sailed away with the U.S. Navy to the coast of Africa onboard a destroyer. Missions like these have been risky since the bombing of the Cole.

  I didn’t really care.

  Nothing made sense anymore, and if life was so fragile, it seemed pointless to care about the expectations of my pedigreed past. It grew harder and harder to worry about the things my friends would get so hung up on.

  Yeah, I probably should have gone to therapy or seen a counselor or something. Looking back now, it’s water under the bridge, a rough patch I had to walk through. Not too many visible scars.

  I know the scars. I know the answers I want and will never find.

  Four years and several letters of commendation later, I retired from service with my degree in psychology and criminal behavior.

  Looking at my options, I wanted to get as far as possible from the place I once called home. I never wanted to hear the sound of eighteen wheelers barreling down the highway or the buzz of a Jake brake splitting the night.

  I wanted to find a place where life existed like it did in those old TV shows—the ones from the 1950s, where people lived and worked and grew old in quiet towns smiling and happy, surrounded by familiar faces.

  Where the worst thing that could happen was a kid stealing a baseball card from the drugstore or sneaking a cigarette under the bleachers.

  Oceanside is that place.

  Here, I’ve found that life.

  It’s Saturday night, and I’m sitting in my cruiser off the county road leading into town. The hum of insects is the only noise, and with my windows down, the air hangs thick and damp, pushed occasionally by a stray ocean breeze.

  It smells like salt and fresh fish.

  I really like it here.

  I like the busybody old ladies like Betty Pepper, who owns the grocery store. I like the laid back old men like Wyatt Jones, who runs the hardware store, and my boss Robbie Cole, soon to retire and hand me the reins.

  Emberly Warren and Daisy Sales are the two single moms in town. They have preschool daughters, and I check on them every evening. It’s just a simple drive-by, a glance around the perimeter, before I call it a night.

  This place is peaceful, idyllic. It’s an America I wanted to believe still existed when I joined the service. Saving strangers because I couldn’t save the person I thought I knew best. Why didn’t I know she needed help? Why didn’t she let me in?

  My thoughts are slipping back to the darkness whe
n a car blasts past me, clearly speeding, windows down, radio blaring. It snatches me back to the present, and I look up in time to see a streak of yellow before red taillights illuminate the night.

  The car pauses at the stop sign and turns with a screech down Oak Alley.

  “That was not a complete stop,” I mutter, flipping the switch for my lights, but not turning on the siren.

  Whoever it is will see the flashers, and I won’t have to disturb the whole town. It’s an unusual occurrence, but I’m not concerned.

  Concern melts to a different feeling altogether as I slowly get closer and recognize the yellow Volkswagen Bug. My stomach tightens. It’s a feeling I’ve grown used to ignoring. Especially in the presence of this person.

  Still, I hit the button to give the siren a little bark. Red lights illuminate the night as she slams on breaks and pulls to the side of the road. I ease onto the shoulder behind her and type in the number of her license plate, even though I know how this will go.

  Switching off the ignition, I leave my lights flashing as I exit my cruiser and walk slowly to where Tabitha Green is sitting in her car in front of me.

  The window is down, and I lean forward. “Where’s the fire, Miss Green?”

  Red velvet lips purse briefly before she flashes emerald eyes at me. “Is something wrong, officer?”

  Her voice drips with fake innocence, and I hold off a smile. Tabby and I have been circling each other for almost a year now, ever since the night I was on hand to bust her skinny dipping in Elmer Pepper’s Motel pool. The Plucky Duck… an artifact from another time.

  Elmer’s cousin Betty had been keeping an eye on the place, and the minute she heard a suspicious noise, she was on the phone with Robbie.

  Robbie told me to get used to it. Betty Pepper calls the station at least five times a week.

  “Would you please step out of the vehicle?” My voice is level, full of authority.

  “Step out?” Her brows lower, and I see her prickle against the rule of law in my tone. It’s crazy how much I like her response. “Why do I need to do that?”

  “Because I asked you to.” Straightening, I put my hands on my hips.

  Her hands tighten on the steering wheel, and she wiggles around in her seat.

  “Is something wrong, Miss Green?”

  Frustration flickers across her face and she jerks the door handle before pushing it open roughly. She steps out, and I see she’s wearing one of her usual, curve-hugging dresses. This one is red.

  She reaches down to tug the hem, and I tear my eyes away from the moonlight glistening on the soft rise of her breasts.

  Heat rises below my belt as a memory flashes to the front of my mind. I’ll never un-see Tabitha Green standing wet, in only a transparent lace bra and panties. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head, and her dark nipples were straining through her bra. Damn, she was sex on wheels.

  Clearing my throat, I focus on my job. “Looked like you were going about forty-five just now.”

  “That’s not really very fast.” She lifts her chin, our eyes meet, and it’s the same as it always is between us.

  Sparks.

  Truthfully, I haven’t been avoiding her, but I know she does her best not to be in the same room as me at all times. It’s confusing, because I know girls like Tabby. I grew up with one, and being fearless is her most valued character trait.

  She’s not afraid of me.

  “It’s too fast at night driving through Oceanside. You could hit someone walking or riding a bike.”

  “Nobody is out at night in Oceanside.” Her tone is defiant, challenging. “You know that as well as I do, Deputy Tucker.”

  “You can call me Chad.”

  “Not while you’re on duty.”

  I want to laugh, but no way. I have to keep the upper hand on this lady. “May I see your driver’s license?”

  Her bottom jaw drops, causing her lips to form a little O. I clear my throat against the pornographic image it conjures.

  “You’re going to give me a ticket?”

  “Maybe. I need to see your license.”

  “But…”

  “License, please.”

  She turns to the car and hesitates a moment before turning back. “I don’t have it with me.”

  Now it’s my turn to frown. “You’re driving without a license? Weren’t you just at the Tuna Tiki? Did they even card you?”

  “I couldn’t find it. Anyway, everybody knows everybody around here. You know me.”

  Straightening to my full, six-foot two height, I cross my arms, thinking about this interesting situation.

  “So speeding, driving without a license, blowing a stop sign…” My eyes travel down to her bare feet. Her toenails are painted red. “Can you walk a straight line?”

  “Of course I can.” She turns quickly, walking on her tiptoes away from me.

  My eyes are drawn to the sway of her perky ass. Jesus, get a grip, Tucker.

  She stops and walks back slowly. “Are you planning to arrest me?”

  Her voice is a sultry challenge. A hint of a grin is on her lips, and yep. It’s a total turn-on.

  I’m pretty sure she’s trying to flirt her way out of this, and while I like it, I’m not that easy. My hands go to my hips, and her eyes go to my biceps. They widen slightly before quickly returning to meet my gaze. If it weren’t so dark, I’d almost think she was blushing.

  “I could take you to jail… Or I could give you a hell of a ticket… However, I’m willing to let you off with a warning.”

  That gets me an immediate smile. “Thanks.” She starts to get in the car again, but I stop her.

  “I wasn’t finished.”

  She pauses and looks up at me. “You weren’t?”

  Tabby is the niece of Bob Green, pastor of the small church in town. I attend somewhat regularly to keep the townsfolk happy. She is rarely there. It gives me an idea.

  “I’ll let you off with a warning and…” Stepping back, I turn as if I’m ready to walk to my cruiser. “You’ll be in church tomorrow to make up for it.”

  “Church!” Her voice is just short of a shriek, and I bite back a grin. “Why do I have to go to church?”

  Pausing, I allow a cocky grin. “Because I have a feeling it’s the one thing you’d hate more than a hefty fine.”

  She jams her hands on her hips, and I can almost see her doing an angry little stomp. “That’s blackmail.”

  “I could give you the ticket instead. I expect it’d be around… Five hundred dollars.”

  “Five hundred!”

  “You’re breaking at least three laws.”

  “Bastard,” she whispers.

  “What was that, Miss Green?”

  The cicadas grow louder, filling the empty air like a pitcher of water.

  “I said I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “I’ll follow you home. No more driving without a license. I won’t be as lenient next time.”

  “That was lenient?” She’s grumbling, and I grin at the cute sass in her walk away from me.

  I’m in my car, shutting off the flashers and starting the engine. It only takes her a moment to do the same, and we slowly follow the highway into town, through the oak-filled neighborhoods and out past the four ancient storefronts belonging to Betty, Wyatt, Emberly, and Daisy.

  Tabby takes a turn and drives to a little strip of land down the road from the church, a small cottage I know she calls home.

  I wait until she shuts off her car and gets out. A pair of red heels dangle from her fingers, and she doesn’t even look back as she jogs up the short flight of steps to her front door. A jiggle of keys, and she disappears into the house with a slam.

  Her lights flicker on, and I’m sure she’s in for the night. I can’t help thinking about how I’ll see her tomorrow in the tiny sanctuary.

  Three

  Tabby

  Chad Tucker is the most annoying man on the planet.

  Dropping my heels on the flo
or of my bedroom, I slip out of my skirt and go to my small bathroom. I step into my footed tub and turn on the hot water, sitting on the side as I wash the sand off my feet with the sprayer.

  Making me walk a straight line…

  I know he did it just to piss me off. As if I’d drive drunk. I do some crazy shit, but nothing that would endanger the lives of others. He should know better with his damn biceps and that damn tight waist. My panties got hot when he put his hands on his hips.

  He just grinned with that ridiculous square jaw and those dimples. For a man of the law, he doesn’t have to be so damn sexy busting me for speeding and driving without a license.

  Go to church.

  My eyes go to the clock. I need to call Emberly and tell her what happened. I also need to be sure she’s going to be there tomorrow. There’s no way in hell I’m walking into that building by myself.

  Betty Pepper will corral me in beside her and her stinky son Bucky wanting to know if I’ve recommitted my life to Christ.

  As if.

  The water is getting a little too hot, and I crank up the cold to cool it down. I consider sinking into my oversized copper tub. Last year, I took a semester’s worth of night classes in web design. Then in January, I launched my own website design business. I’m slowly building my client list, but it’s netted me enough money to afford some luxuries. This tub is one of my favorite things.

  I actually saw it in the photos for Daisy’s antiques shop when she sent me the updates to her page on the Oceanside Village website, which I designed and maintain pro bono. That’s a fancy term for free, and it’s the only time I’ve ever done something like that.

  It’s mainly for Emberly because she’s such an amazing baker and she’s so broke. I wanted to figure out a way to make her famous locally and maybe even worldwide without costing a ton of cash. If anybody deserves it, she does. She works so hard as a single mom to build a life for her and her daughter, my adorable god-daughter Coco.

  Daisy is also a single mom, and she has a real eye for antiques. But after the way she slept with Travis Walker the five minutes he and I were together, no way in hell would I go in her store and buy anything from her. We’re not speaking.