In Too Deep

by Tracey Alvarez

  “Piper, darling? Did you hear what I said?” Her mother pulled back, blocking West’s stare and forcing her to refocus.

  “Ah, sorry, I missed that last bit.”

  Glenna smoothed her cap of sleek auburn hair and sighed. “I said, ‘It’s wonderful to see you. How long are you planning to stay?’”

  Aware of West and Bill standing across the room, Piper lowered her voice. “Mum, you know why I’m here, don’t you?”

  “Darling, I know nothing less than the catastrophic would bring you back to Oban.” Glenna gave her a thin-lipped smile. “Shaye told me you’d arrived when she rang earlier. I would’ve been down sooner, but guests—always wanting one thing or another.”

  Piper glanced at her mother’s clasped hands. The gold Claddagh wedding ring mirrored the one her father always wore. She cleared her throat, swallowing the memories before they overwhelmed her. “None of us are willing to let you use the house to clear Ben’s debt—Ben’s especially adamant. So I’ve come to help for about six weeks until his ankle’s healed enough to skipper again. Dad wouldn’t have wanted you to risk your home to keep his dive business operating.”

  “I’m grateful and very touched that you’d do this for your brother—stubborn as a mule though he is.” Glenna squeezed her hand, her fingers a cool, soothing balm on her flushed skin. “Have you arranged for somewhere to stay?”

  “Oh. I thought I could sleep in Shaye’s old room.”

  “Darling, I’m sorry. I turned it into another paying room a couple of months ago and right now it’s the busiest time of year for the B&B. I’m booked to the gills for the next two months.” Glenna shrugged a shoulder under her chiffon blouse. “If you’d rung to say you were coming...”

  She hadn’t told anyone in Oban of her plans, because up until the plane had left the runway in Wellington and turned toward the southern city of Invercargill, she had half-convinced herself she’d chicken out and change her mind.

  “It’s okay, Mum. I’ll bunk in Ben’s spare room, or with Shaye if she’s got space—”

  Glenna shook her head before Piper finished speaking. “Ben’s rented his house out over the summer season to bring in some extra cash—he’s staying in West’s downstairs room. Shaye’s sharing a house with the new schoolteacher, Kezia, and Kezia’s little girl, and goodness, there’s barely room to swing a cat in their tiny place.”

  She tapped one peach nail against her matching shade of lipstick and then clapped her hands. Piper respectfully resisted an eye roll. Her mum, ever the drama queen. “I’ve just thought of the perfect solution.”

  She whirled around in a swirl of chiffon and Chanel. “West, dear? A word, please?”

  Piper’s palms were damp, so she tucked them under her elbows.

  Any idea, any perfect solution followed by West’s name, couldn’t turn out well.

  ***

  Glenna beamed and gestured him over.

  West slapped his father’s shoulder and strode across the kitchen. “What’s up?”

  Behind Glenna, Piper looked like she was in the process of swallowing a lemon.

  “We’ve a bit of a problem with where Piper’s going to stay, but then I remembered your spare room.” Glenna moved closer, and laid her hand on his forearm. His gaze jolted to Piper’s, even as Glenna continued speaking. “—And though Ben’s downstairs, I’m sure you could squeeze Piper in for a wee while?”

  Piper. Just down the hall from his bedroom. The idea ranked up there with kicking himself in the balls or a self-inflicted root canal.

  He glanced again at Piper, who if she opened that mouth any wider would start attracting insects. “I don’t think—”

  Piper blurted, “I’m not staying—”

  West shoved his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat. “My office is in the spare room. It’s not designed for someone to—”

  “Pffft.” Glenna patted his cheek, like he was still thirteen years old and offering a lazy-assed excuse of why he couldn’t stay to help Ben stack firewood. “Listen to you, Ryan Westlake. I saw your office the other day and you’ve got that futon sofa-bed tucked in the corner. Piper doesn’t need much room, do you darling?”

  Piper uttered a strangled, “Mum!”

  An out-of-control steamroller had nothing on Glenna Harland. “You, Ben and Piper were always thick as thieves growing up, weren’t they Bill?”

  Bill grunted in acknowledgement but West caught the undercurrent of humor in the clipped sound.

  Piper finally found her voice. “I don’t want to impose on West. I’ve brought my sleeping bag and I’ll just find a spare bit of floor somewhere—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. My daughter is not sleeping on the floor and you wouldn’t be imposing on West, I’m sure.” She turned back to him. “Right, dear?”

  Like Piper, Glenna had piercing hazel eyes and he got the full intimidating force of them from both women. One woman demanding he accept her request, the other demanding he deny it. One woman had been like a mother to him when his had taken off with another man, and the other?

  His back muscles knotted into steel barbs.

  Going cold turkey off the drug that was Piper nine years ago, he opted not to put into words what she once meant to him.

  But she meant nothing now. So really, after he’d moved past his initial knee-jerk reaction, Piper staying at his house temporarily would only be a minor irritation. Personally, he couldn’t care less if she even warmed Smitty’s bed at night. Except he’d feel a smidgeon of sympathy for the old fella.

  So West hurled the ball back into Piper’s court. “If she needs my futon, she’s welcome to it.”

  He took an indulgent moment to wallow in Piper’s poleaxed expression.

  ***

  Piper sent West a look that could’ve shaved stubble off his smug face.

  Sanctimonious prick.

  He knew—of course he knew—her mother would give her the third degree if she insisted on finding somewhere else to sleep. And no doubt he presumed that she’d overreact. The old Piper, the wiseass teenager who couldn’t control her temper, would’ve lost it. The new Piper, the seasoned police officer who’d learned to somewhat control her tendency to blurt out whatever popped into her head, would not.

  So she closed her mouth with a snap and forced her lips to peel back into a smile. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

  “All settled then—and you’ll both come for breakfast with Ben and Shaye for a family meeting.” Glenna rubbed Piper’s arm. “I’d best be off. Bill—?” Bill turned from where he was trying to slip out the back door. “Be a dear and close up for Ryan tonight, will you?” She blew him a kiss. “West can take Piper home. My poor baby’s ready to drop.”

  “Righto.” Bill gusted out a sigh and trudged back through the kitchen. “I’ll nip into the pub and turf out the hardcore hangers-on.”

  Few could resist a direct request from Glenna. Except Piper, who had finally learned how after being away from her mother for so many years.

  She whipped the towel off her shoulder. “I’ll wipe these counters down.”

  “Don’t be too long, you’re looking decidedly peaky.” With a toodle-oo wave, Glenna swept out the way she’d come—leaving her and West alone.

  Piper’s heart tapped out a little two-step routine.

  West leaned against the stainless steel counter. “I’ll finish up here and take you home. My bike’s around the back.”

  A vision flashed into her mind of sitting precariously balanced on a mountain bike’s handlebars while West pedaled madly behind. The bemused disbelief vanished when she remembered the old motorbike he’d slaved over as a teenager. “You still have the Suzuki 250?”

  She put some distance between them by crossing the kitchen to slot the roasting pan back in its place under a countertop.

  “No, I sold the Suzuki years ago. Got a BMW now.”

  “Really?”

  “An R100-GS.”

  “Oh…nice.” This conversation was so awkw
ard-high-school that she expected to begin her next sentence with the word “like” and giggle uncontrollably.

  Why was she acting like a dumbstruck teen when men dominated her everyday working environment? Some of them hot men—and men in uniform. Yet, for all the jokes her friends made about handcuffs and batons, none of her fellow cops got under her skin with one sardonic glance like West had. “Look, give me directions to your place and I’ll make my own way.”

  He raised both eyebrows but didn’t shift from his casual stance. “It’s almost eleven, and as Glenna said, ‘You’re looking peaky.’ I’ll take you home on my bike.”

  Sitting behind West, snuggled up against his back with her arms around his waist? Not going to happen. She ignored the lurch in her stomach and slowly dried her hands on the kitchen towel before draping it over a rail.

  Piper untied her apron and tossed it into the hamper. “I’m a cop who’s used to long hours and hard physical work whether I’m peaky or not. I’ll walk. Just give me the directions. Please.”

  “Your call.” His tone mild, West rattled off a series of lefts and rights.

  “And where’s the spare key? I don’t want to get Ben out of bed to answer the door.”

  “It won’t be locked. You’re not in the city anymore, Piper.”

  “Right.”

  His lips curled into a half smile. “I’ll probably beat you back anyway, but if not, my office is on the top floor, and the linen cupboard is in the hallway. Make yourself at home.”

  The beer she’d drunk earlier curdled at the thought.

  Chapter 3

  “You’re off your game, boy.” Bill leaned in the doorway.

  West looked up from behind his office desk, straightened, and slid the desk drawer shut. “All locked up?”

  “Tighter than the Virgin Mary.”

  For the first time that evening, he really looked at his dad. Purple shadows bruised the crinkled skin under his eyes, and everything about him sagged, including the two woolen jerseys he wore, even though the temperature inside the pub was warm enough to be comfortable in only a shirt. “You look like hell. Did you stop to eat tonight?”

  “That girl of yours bullied me into a sandwich. Didn’t want anything else.”

  West sat forward with a frown. “I’ve told Shaye before you’re meant to—”

  “—not Shaye. Piper.”

  “Oh.” He aligned a pen next to the desk pad and straightened his stack of invoices. “I forgot to tell Piper to make sure you take a break. And she’s not my girl.”

  Bill cocked a finger at him. “Waiting for that. As I said, since she waltzed back in the door, you’ve been off your game.” He rubbed a hand through his white hair and yawned. “I am beat. Bloody old age.”

  “Go to bed. I’ll look after the rest.”

  “Thought Glenna told you to drop the girl home?” Bill chuckled. “Though how the bleedin’ hell she ended up staying at your place—should’ve seen your face, boy!”

  “Ms. I’m-so-independent Harland declined a lift with me, saying she was quite capable of walking. She left about ten minutes ago.”

  Bill’s gaze slid to the rain zigzagging down the office windows. “In this?”

  “Bit of rain never killed anyone.”

  “True, true. She’ll miss the turn to your road in the dark.”

  “More than likely.”

  Bill scratched the back of his head. “Ah well. As you say, bit of rain never hurts. Might cool that temper of hers.”

  West snorted and moved around the desk to collect his helmet. “Yeah. That’ll happen. I’d better go find her.”

  West shooed Bill out the kitchen door in the direction of the tiny cottage he and his younger brother, Del, had grown up in on the corner of Due South’s property. He’d have fobbed Piper off at his father’s place if the cottage’s second bedroom hadn’t been stacked halfway to the ceiling with Bill’s junk.

  He changed into jeans, tugged on an ancient leather jacket, and headed outside. Temperamental weather was a fact of island life, something he was sure Piper had forgotten while living in the capital city.

  Rain like automatic gunfire plinked onto his helmet as he strode to his bike, tucked away under a covered car-port. His plans of a quiet beer alone were screwed. The last thing he wanted tonight was to deal with a Harland temper tantrum. Why had he caved to Glenna’s demands?

  He straddled the bike and twisted the key. Revving the accelerator, West guided the bike onto the road and headed along the foreshore, tires hissing across the wet asphalt as he changed gears. He passed the wharf, where the streetlights abruptly ended. Surely a street savvy cop wouldn’t walk off into the night without a flashlight? Or maybe it was Boy Scouts that were prepared for any eventuality. He sure as hell wasn’t prepared for Piper. He swallowed thickly and concentrated on riding.

  The bike’s headlight illuminated the narrow lane leading to his place, and he stopped parallel to the entrance. A gust of wind howled over the crest of the hill. Branches rattled and the rain hammered down so hard it bounced. West squinted through the trees to see whether his house lights were on. Nope. Which presumably meant she’d walked straight past. Piper was likely halfway to Horseshoe Bay, if she hadn’t fallen into a ditch.

  With a sigh, he continued on. Less than a minute later, a solitary figure appeared through the curtain of rain. Shoulders hunched, thumbs hooked into the straps of her backpack, Piper trudged single-mindedly toward him. He braked slowly and rolled to a halt, dropping his feet to the ground. Piper kept walking, head down. Either the driving rain had drowned out the sound of his bike or, knowing Piper, she’d chosen to ignore his presence.

  At least she had the common sense to turn around and come back.

  He pulled off his helmet as she drew alongside, and held it out to her. She froze beside him and kept her hands on the backpack straps, her mouth a pale, straight gash on her face.

  Cold rain trickled down his neck and oozed inside his collar. The fingers on his left hand felt frozen to the handlebars with icy rivets. “For once in your bloody life don’t argue—just get on.”

  Her face jerked toward his, but her eyes were hidden under the brim of her cap. The bike’s engine rumbled in neutral and a peal of thunder cracked across the sky. Piper’s lips opened but nothing came out. She took the helmet and moved out of his line of sight. Pretty certain she muttered a word ending with “hole” as she jammed the helmet on, West turned the bike toward home and waited. He forced his muscles to relax when she lightly touched his shoulder and swung on behind him.

  The pretense didn’t last once she settled into position, her wet denim-covered legs pressed against the outside of his thighs, her upper body forced close to his as the bulk of her backpack shifted her center of gravity forward. One hand clutched her cap in a death grip, the other snaked around his waist and settled lightly on his abs. His groin tightened and the crotch of his uncomfortably damp jeans squeezed like the denim had shrunk a size.

  “Ready?” he gritted out.

  The chin guard of the helmet clipped his shoulder blades as she nodded. He toed the bike into gear and released the clutch. The spread of her fingers across his stomach nearly caused the lever to slip from his grasp. Stalling like a kid with a learner’s permit was not the impression he wanted to give.

  West steadied his hand and let the clutch out slowly. Grit and small stones crunched under the tires as they gathered speed and headed back toward town. Thankfully the rain tapered off to a wet drizzle so he could see where he was going.

  When he turned into his lane and gunned it up the hill to his driveway, Piper’s second hand joined the first as she clung to his torso, the firm mounds of her breasts mashing against his back.

  He came to a complete stop in front of his garage. Piper leaped off the back like the seat of her pants was on fire. Fine by him. He hit the automatic roller door button in his pocket and walked the bike inside. Donny, the mad mutt, padded out of the shadows, panting and wet. By the time he’
d nudged the kickstand down, Piper had the helmet off and was staring bug-eyed at his dog.

  “Is that yours?” She let out a girlish squeak when Donny whipped his body around, sending water and slobber flying.

  “Yep.”

  “What kind of dog is he? A miniature, balding Yeti?”

  He studied her expression. Donny was a deal breaker, and if she he didn’t care for him, tough. She could sleep in here. “Staffy boxer cross.”

  Donny strolled over to Piper and delicately sniffed her knee. Maybe he resembled a miniature bald Yeti, what with his missing ear, droopy jowls and mangy fur, but West’s pal had manners. Piper slowly lowered her hand and let the dog transfer his snuffling to her knuckles. “He looks like he’s been through the wars.”

  “He has.”

  “What’s his name?” After receiving Donny’s tongue swipe of approval, she stroked his head.

  “Donny.”

  She crooked an eyebrow at him. “As in Donnie Wahlberg from New Kids on the Block?”

  “You’re kidding, right? Think I’d name my dog after someone in a boy band? No—it’s short for Don Juan.”

  “Don Juan? You named this poor ugly creature—and no offence buddy,” she crooned, scratching the dog’s back while he shivered in delight, “—after Don Juan, the greatest fictional lover of all time?”

  “Donny doesn’t think he’s ugly and the ladies appreciate him just fine.”

  “I suppose they see past his flaws.” Piper shot him a pointed glance and strolled further into his garage as if she owned the place. “This is quite the man cave.” She placed the helmet on an empty spot on his workbench.

  Tools and grease-smeared bike parts covered almost every available surface and he squashed an irrational urge to tell her to get the hell out of his garage. “You expected something else? A craft nook complete with scrapbooking supplies and knitting needles?”

  Her nostrils flared and her hands returned to the straps of her backpack, gripping them until the skin across her knuckles turned a bloodless white. “I wasn’t expecting anything.” She huffed out a sigh. “I know you don’t want me here any more than I want to be here, but surely we can be civil?”