In a Jam

by Cindy Dorminy

  She stares while she removes some stuck food off her tooth with her tongue. “You have a master’s degree?

  I should be used to that reaction by now. I thought I wanted out of this hellhole, and an education was my ticket out. Funny how things end up. Willow and I had plans to run as fast as we could away from here. Funny how feelings change. “Shocking, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, so why are you a cop?” She closes her eyes and holds her hands up. “I mean, why did you choose the noble profession of law enforcement?” She peels one eye open to see if I’m offended.

  I snicker because at least she has the decency to realize she’s being rude. Most people around here blurt it out and don’t care how it sounds.

  “I get that a lot. I was working on my PhD but decided to settle for a master’s instead and left early. Psychology of human behavior.” I’m stretching the truth a little, but she’ll get the watered-down version I’ve fed everyone else in this town. Now that I have a few years’ distance from the incident, I’m glad I didn’t finish. I would never be happy being in a stuffy office all day. I like being out there with real people, trying to make a difference.

  Andie blinks as if she doesn’t believe me. “Really?”

  “Sounds strange, I know, but I missed it here. I missed the people, the pace. And you might find this interesting, but I use what I learned at Northwestern every day in my chosen profession.”

  She sits back in her chair and crosses her arms. No telling what I said wrong. That’s what I do best with women. She shouldn’t be any different.

  “You went to Northwestern?”

  “I know that’s a surprise, but it’s true.”

  She points to herself. “I went to Northwestern.”

  “No way,” I say, but I already knew that. Miss Gracie always talked about Andie. I felt as if I knew her already when she drove into town. And I often wondered if we were only two seconds away from running into each other in Chicago since we were there around the same time. But when I didn’t have my head buried in a book, studying, I was deflecting barbs from Willow. Some people marry their high school sweethearts; others thank God every day they didn’t.

  “Then you must have taken Psych 350 with Professor Roth,” she says.

  I groan. “And I was grateful to pass. He was a tough bird.”

  She sits up tall and peers down her nose. Then she puckers her lips and taps her index finger to her mouth, acting like him. “To truly understand someone’s psyche,” she starts.

  “You must first understand your own,” I say along with her. We both laugh.

  “Small world, huh?” she asks.

  “Guess so.” I could play the “what if” game forever, and we would still end up right where we are, so it’s no use driving myself crazy.

  After a pause long enough to gulp down another swig of tea, Andie takes a deep breath. “Okay, I have to know. Are you eating with me to convince me to give the money to church?”

  My tea goes down the wrong pipe. I choke out my reply. “Boy, you don’t beat around the bush. No. Of course not.”

  She leans in and whispers, “Then why aren’t you eating lunch with your wife?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The pretty lady at church. I can’t remember her name. And your daughter. Very cute. Why are you here instead of with them?”

  She must think I am an idiot because I’m trying to register what she’s saying. “Are you talking about Faith?”

  She nods. “That’s her name. Sorry. I forgot. So many people were introducing themselves today, I couldn’t remember them all.”

  I stare at the ceiling and let out a breath. “I’m not married.”

  “Oh.” She cocks her head to the side. “You sit with your ex-wife at church? Doesn’t that give the townspeople fodder?”

  “For your information, that’s my sister.”

  She drops her fork. “You were married to your sister?” she screeches, causing a hush to fall over the restaurant.

  “Jeez. This isn’t West Virginia.” I take a deep breath before I choose my next words. “That was my sister and her daughter, my niece. I’ve never been married. I came pretty darn close one time, but I am not married to a cousin or sister or anyone. Are we clear?” She must really be full of herself if she thinks I would ask her to lunch by myself and leave a wife and kid at home. That is not how I roll.

  She bites her bottom lip and flashes those big eyes through those long lashes. “My bad. I guess this is a modern town after all.”

  “I would not—”

  I can’t finish my rant because Stanley lollygags our way. He’s the local doofus. He’s a big ole teddy bear but not very bright, and he thinks he’s smooth with the ladies, when he couldn’t be further from it. Besides, he really only has eyes for his on-again, off-again girlfriend, Jolene.

  Stanley licks his thumb and slicks back what’s left of his hair. His jeans ride low under his beer belly. If he bends over, we’ll all get a plumber’s butt showing, I’m certain. He gives Andie a once-over.

  I lean over the table near Andie and whisper, “Don’t look.”

  She turns around.

  “I said not to look,” I hiss at her.

  She trains her eyes on her lap and fidgets with her napkin then glances back up. Through gritted teeth, she whispers, “What?”

  “Stanley’s coming this way.” I take a gulp of my tea. “If you make eye contact, he’ll start a conversation that will never end.”

  “Who is Stanley?”

  “Nice guy but not the brightest. He lives out near the county dump.”

  “Great. What does he want?”

  “Oh, probably being neighborly. That’s all.”

  Stanley is almost to us. Andie steals a glimpse at him. “Is that a Skoal can in his pocket?”

  He stands right next to our table.

  “Stan, the man! What’s up?” I try to sound as chipper as possible and stick my hand out to take Stanley’s, but he ignores me.

  He’s set his cap on Andie. This is going to be real awkward. I clear my throat. The Friedmans at the table next peer over their tea glasses, waiting to see how this plays out.

  “Stan, this is Miss Gracie’s granddaughter, Andie. Andie, this is Stanley Culpepper.”

  He grins like the Cheshire Cat. “I heard of you. You’re rich, ain’t ya?”

  Andie bites her lip but cannot conceal a grin that has started forming at the side of her mouth. If she keeps that up, I’ll need to untuck my shirt to hide the evidence of my inappropriate thoughts. That would definitely be awkward.

  “No. Not rich yet, that is.”

  “Miss Gracie was always nice. She’d save her leftover muffins for me. Never went hungry because of her.”

  Andie grins and glances over at me. I sit back and take in the show. Serves her right for thinking I was married to my sister.

  Stanley drags a chair from a neighboring table and sits on it backward, straddling the seat. “She talked a lot about you,” he says, licking his lips.

  “Really?” Andie visibly squirms in her chair. “That’s sweet, I guess.”

  I casually sip my iced tea and enjoy Andie’s reaction to his questioning.

  Stanley’s grin gets even cheesier. “Yeah, she said you were hot.” When her mouth pops open, Stanley points at me. “Sorry, he’s the one that said that.”

  And my iced tea makes an abrupt appearance out of my mouth. I choke and cough. Stanley whacks me on the back a few times then raises my arm over my head like his mama probably did when he was three.

  Andie folds and unfolds her napkin. “It’s not nice to talk about people behind their back.”

  Stanley snickers. “I’m pretty sure he meant it as a compliment, and I’d have to agree with him.”

  Andie bites a fingernail and rocks in her chair. She catches my eye, and I wink at her.

  Stanley gets up to leave. “Well, uh, I better go for now. I’ll see you around the shop.” He takes his Skoal can out of his pocket and dep
osits a pinch between his teeth and gum.

  Andie gulps. I think she threw up in her mouth.

  “Save the leftovers for me,” he says.

  Andie paints on that fake smirk again. “Every last one of them.”

  As soon as Stanley shuffles off, she pops me on the shoulder.

  “Ow! What was that for?” I ask, rubbing my arm. It didn’t hurt a bit, but she doesn’t have to know that.

  “For talking about me, that’s what fer,” she says, trying to sound hillbilly. Not working, sweetie.

  “He misunderstood. I said you were going to be hot down here. You know, the temperature.” Liar.

  She crosses her arm and scowls. “Still, the thought of people talking about me...” She shivers. “I like to fly under the radar.”

  I wave my hand around the room. “No chance of that here. Might as well enjoy yourself.”

  “Are you the only cop in town?”

  “This isn’t Mayberry. We have a full force to keep everyone safe around the clock. My shift starts this afternoon.”

  She rests her elbows on the table, cradles her head in her hands, and groans. Finally, when her anxiety attack has lessened, she meets my gaze and crinkles her eyebrows together, as though she’s trying to figure me out.

  “What?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “What’s your story, Officer Welcome Committee? Since I now know that you aren’t married, why are you single? You don’t seem hideous.”

  My neck gets hot. I don’t like to talk about all my failed relationships, especially one in particular. I drum my fingers on the table.

  “I mean, you’re young and powerful. And you carry a nice piece.”

  My jaw drops.

  She points to the gun strapped to my belt, which is peeking out from under my blazer. “Your gun.”

  Okay, I feel like an idiot. Of course she was talking about my gun. I have to get my mind out of the bedroom, pronto.

  “Powerful? Hardly.” With a cocky grin, I add, “But handsome and modest? That’s another story.”

  “Oh my goodness. I don’t know what’s worse, Stanley or you. Both of you are very full of yourselves. And you let me think you were married, to your sister. Ugh.”

  I fight back a chuckle as I take our trays to the trash can. She has no idea how wrong she is. Stanley wouldn’t hurt a fly. And my man-whore days are way behind me. It has been years since I had a “one and done,” and I don’t ever want to relive those days. Ever. I would rather be alone than live that kind of life again. Come to think of it, that’s how it’s been—alone and lonely. Until now. This is different. I’m not sure different is what I deserve, but different feels good. That’s for darn sure. I’m drawn to her, and I am sure I’m going to pay a heavy price for it.

  There are so many people wanting a piece of her inheritance, and I sure don’t want her to feel that’s what I want too. So for now, it’s best to be her friend and leave it at that. It sucks because I think with some time, I could really like this girl.

  During the short drive back to the church, where she left her car, she sits in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window, stewing. I am very familiar with that behavior, and I know better than to say anything until I’m spoken to.

  “You let me think—”

  “Nope. You assumed. I didn’t say anything to make you think that.”

  “You didn’t say anything either way,” she mumbles under her breath, and I’m not stupid enough to ask what she said. If she wants me to know, she would say it louder.

  “And I’m beginning to think you were talking about me behind my back to Stanley. I don’t like that. At all.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  She throws a hand up to stop me. “Don’t care.”

  When I drop her off at the church, she slams the door and stomps toward her car. She’s a spitfire when she gets her dander up. As soon as I know she’s safely in her car, I drive away, toward the fitness center. In the parking lot, I call Tinsley to brief him on the situation.

  “Speak.”

  “Hey, Tinsley. Gunnar Wills here. I thought I’d call to update you on Miss Carson.”

  “How’s our gal?”

  Our gal. I lean back in the seat of car. “She’s adjusting. I think with time, we’ll grow on her.”

  “Excellent. I hope so. And you?”

  I furrow my brow at the phone as I exit my car to pace through the parking lot. “Not sure I know what you mean.”

  “Come on. She’s adorable. I’ve had to chase away ten maggots that didn’t stack up. She’s pretty irresistible.”

  Oh, he must be into her. Crap. “I, uh... I didn’t know you and her were...”

  He belts out a laugh. “No, no, no. I’m very happily married. She’s like a little sister. Pain in the ass, but wouldn’t trade her for Red Sox tickets even if they were winning.”

  I let out a sigh. That shouldn’t give me relief. I need to stay professional about this situation, and I certainly don’t need to get too close. “That’s good, I guess. Not that it matters. She’s pretty ticked off with me about a misunderstanding.”

  “Look, man. I don’t know you from Adam, but I feel like I can trust you. We’re blue brothers, you know? She’s a sweet girl, and I worry about her. All the drinking she does... I mean, she’s gotta be wicked lonely to live that way. I think this thing with her grandma may be her way to a better life.”

  I wave to the Fuller family as they stroll down the sidewalk. Hearing how lonely Andie is saddens me. No one needs to go through life alone, and I hope I can help her see that life doesn’t have to suck. “No chance of her being lonely here. By the time she leaves, she’ll have her fill of Smithville. That’s for sure.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  “All right. I gotta hit the weights before my shift, but I’ll keep you posted.”

  “You do that.”

  “Oh, Tinsley, maybe you can clear up one thing for me.” I scratch my head and assess the area to make sure the Fullers are nowhere around. “Why does Andie call me George?”

  I have to hold the phone away from my ear. His laughter rumbles through my eardrum. “She’ll have to tell you that one. Bye.”

  So Tinsley’s not her boyfriend. Andie is as lonely as I suspected, and I have no idea why any of this matters to me. I need to do extra sets of weights to work off this pent-up energy before I explode or do something I won’t be sorry for. I want her to feel as though she’s part of the Smithville family without thinking I want anything in return. And if I can convince her of that, maybe I can convince myself too.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Andie

  Like the phrase in my How to Speak Southern guide says, I want to wring his neck. I can’t believe he let me think he was married to his sister, of all things. And then that stunt about talking to Stanley behind my back before he even had a chance to meet me. That infuriates me. Of all the nerve. If this is Southern hospitality, I don’t want any part of it.

  I almost trip on the stairs as I bolt up to my apartment in frustration. As I pace back and forth in front of the bay window, I review today’s happenings. I didn’t completely suck at church, so that’s a win for me even though I think I would have been more comfortable running down Main Street in the nude. And lunch with Gunnar started out okay, but things turned pretty sour. I didn’t think he would be a part of the church group that wants my money, but it could be why he let me embarrass myself.

  None of this matters, anyway. I’m doing what Granny wants and nothing more. But that doesn’t stop my heart from skittering when I see Gunnar’s police car pull into the fitness center parking lot across the street. He talks on his cell phone before he opens the car door.

  His dress shirt stretches tight over his back as he pulls out a gym bag and tosses it over his shoulder then saunters inside. Boy, it’s hot in here.

  “Yeah, Andie. Nothing more, my butt.” I need to get a grip. Six weeks tops, and I’ll be gone. Even though my plans include checking out th
e gym, it would be too much for me to show up when he’s there. I would have “crazy stalker out-of-towner” tattooed all over my face. Besides, that would give the locals way too much gossip for one weekend. So I reshuffle my plans and start with number two on my list: buy some things at the Save-Mart to spruce up the shop.

  I kick off my sandals, strip out of my sundress, and slip into my comfy tank top, running shorts, and flip-flops. Time to spend some of Granny’s money.

  IN TWO HOURS, I ACQUIRED a shopping cart full of items and ten stares from the locals, and now I’m heading back to the shop. The cute tablecloths and silk flowers will be perfect on the booths, and the place mats are adorable. It won’t take much effort to make this place really shine. Granny had the decency to die with a pantry full of ingredients. All I need to do is figure out how to combine all those items into something edible. No shopping trip will help me in that department. I guess tomorrow will consist of only coffee.

  Every thirty seconds, my eyes gaze out the front window just in case I can catch a glimpse of Mr. Muscle and Fitness. When he does exit the gym, my breath fogs up the window. That loose stringer tank top exposes all those ripped muscles I knew were hiding underneath his uniform and—oh God, I think he spotted me.

  I stumble backward in hopes he didn’t catch me gawking at him, especially since I should still be miffed at him. He drives away, and I can finally suck in a much-needed breath. Before my mind leads me down the dirty path, I grab a bottle of water, my phone, and earbuds then change into running shoes. I’m ready for a nice little afternoon jog, anything to burn off this unnerving tension that has suddenly spread down my body.

  I crank up the volume on my cell phone, which only has ten percent battery life left. Steven Tyler’s sexy voice sets the pace, and away I go. Considering Smithville isn’t a booming city, I figure there aren’t many jogging trails, so I keep to the sidewalks. They should lead me safely back to my shop even if I make one or two wrong turns. But if I jog down the street Gunnar lives on, I think I will die of embarrassment.