by Megan Hart
It was the woman from the Cottage Cafe. The woman from the other night. Her dark hair had pressed down over her forehead, coffee running in rivulets over her cheeks. It had stained her white T-shirt and made the fabric cling to her in ways his libido definitely sat up and noticed.
“Sorry,” Jase called down to her. “Hey, c’mon up here—let me at least get you a towel.”
The woman hesitated, looking wary. “I’m okay.”
“If you’re sure? Damn, I feel bad. Some paper towels, something. A napkin?” He paused, considering the situation. “You can stay out here on the deck if you’re...worried.”
That she’d even have to take one second to fear for her safety pissed him off, but he understood it. You didn’t need to believe in things that went bump in the night to understand the world was full of monsters. He watched her doubt cross her face, but then she nodded.
“Sure, okay. I could use something to dry off.” In half a minute, she’d made it up the wooden stairs to the deck.
Jase had grabbed one of the beach towels he’d hung over the railing to dry. Too late realizing it was still damp and cold from the late-spring air, he first handed it to her, then pulled it back before she could get a grip on it. He looked like an asshole.
The woman laughed. “Um?”
“Sorry, this one, it’s... I used it earlier. Let me get you a dry one. You want to stay out here or...?” Now he sounded even more like an asshole.
At that moment, Reg took the opportunity to slide open the glass door and shake his naked ass all over the place.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who needs a towel,” the woman said.
* * *
The cute blond guy with the amazing green eyes was Jason. Jase, the other guy called him. Reg, he of the bare-booty shaking and wicked sense of humor. Also Jase’s partner, which just figured, didn’t it? Chelle thought with an internal sigh. Two superhot guys, of course they’d be together.
“Here, drink this.” Reg passed her a mug of blessedly hot coffee. “You sure you’re all right?”
“It was cold, I told you that.” Jase sounded annoyed. “I already told her I was sorry.”
Chelle sipped the coffee with a sigh. “I’m fine. Really. I was more surprised than anything.”
Her shirt still clung to her, and the run she’d been looking forward to now seemed more of a chore. The coffee would help with the creeping exhaustion she’d known was going to hit her, but it wasn’t going to be enough to get her motivated for a run any longer than it took to get her back home. She wrapped her hands around the mug, warming them.
She watched the two men move around the kitchen with an easy compatibility that made her envious. “I should get going. Thanks for the towel, and the coffee.”
Standing, she realized her mistake in sitting. She’d gone stiff and sore again. At the sight of her wincing, Jase moved forward.
“You’re hurt?”
“Not from the coffee shower,” she assured him as she rotated her shoulder. “Just sore muscles. I’ll be okay.”
“Let me give you a ride, at least. Shit, I feel like the biggest ass.” He shook his head. “At least let me drive you.”
She didn’t want to say yes. It felt like too much of an imposition, especially after she’d needed to bum a ride from Eddie the other night. But Reg looked her over with a practiced eye and nodded.
“Yeah, let Jase give you a ride. You look like you feel like shit.”
She had to laugh at that, then again at Jase’s expression. “Wow. Thank you.”
“Reg!”
“No, it’s fine.” She waved a hand. “But I will take you up on the ride. Sure.”
“So...you’re local?” Jase asked as she gave him directions to her house. The twenty-minute run was going to be a five-minute car ride.
Chelle nodded. “Yep. Grew up in Millville, then moved away for a while. Moved back down here from Wilmington about four years ago, after... Well, I quit my job to focus on some other things, and I figured the beach would be a great place to do that.”
“Other things?” He shot her a curious glance as he made the turn at the square.
“Yeah. I’m... Well, I’m trying to be a writer. I mean, I am a writer. I just am trying to be a different kind of writer.” It felt awkward to say it out loud, like admitting something shameful.
Jase looked impressed. “Yeah? What kind of writing?”
“I used to be a journalist. Now I’m focusing on fiction.” She pointed. “Turn here. Then the next left.”
“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever met a writer before. Have you had anything published?”
She smiled. “You know, that’s the first thing anyone ever asks.”
“Yeah. I bet. Sorry.”
“No, it’s a legit question. The answer is yes, tons of stuff in my old career. I wrote a lot of articles for different newspapers, a bunch of web content, stuff like that. My fiction has been taking a while to get off the ground, but...actually...” She paused. She hadn’t told anyone else this, not her parents or sister, not Angie. The closest she’d come was that moment this morning in bed when she’d turned to a man who was no longer there. Taking in a breath, she blurted, “I just sold a story.”
Jase twisted a bit to look at her. “No kidding? Really?”
“Just a short story, nothing big. The money’s not that great, but it’s for a good small press, they’re respected and...” She stopped herself from babbling more. “It feels good. Like maybe I’m going to make something of it.”
“Doing what you love—that’s a real blessing,” he told her.
She smiled. “What do you do, Jase?”
“I’m a private investigator. Mostly insurance-fraud stuff,” he said casually. “Down here working on a couple different cases. I’ve never been to Bethany Beach before. It’s a great little town.”
“Very quiet,” she said with a laugh. “If you want any kind of excitement, you really need to go to Ocean City or Rehoboth. Even Dewey.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He pulled smoothly into her driveway. “This the place?”
“Yep. Home, sweet home. Thanks for the ride.” Chelle put her hand on the door handle, then glanced at him over her shoulder. He was the guy from a few nights ago at the Cottage Cafe, she was sure of it. Which meant she’d written something sexy about him. And he’d dumped cold coffee on her over a balcony. “Do you believe in coincidence?”
“No,” Jase said firmly.
Fair enough. She did. There was proof of it, right there in the driver’s seat. She didn’t argue, though, just smiled and thanked him again. Right before she got out of the car, he stopped her with a question.
“Do you run up my way often? I mean, I like to get in a run in the mornings, do a few miles. Reg doesn’t run. Sometimes it’s good to have someone pushing you, though.”
She paused, then nodded. “Yeah. I run up that way, along the beach. I know some great trails through the parkland, too, and you can get to them really easily from your neighborhood. If you want to grab my number, you can text me if you—”
“I’d like that,” Jase said immediately.
They exchanged numbers. She got out of the car and watched him drive away with a small wave. It didn’t mean...anything, she told herself. Just a running partner. Right? It wasn’t more than that?
She didn’t have much time to contemplate it further, though, because at that moment, her neighbors’ pack of obnoxious dogs began their furious cacophony of barking. There were at least five of the tiny terrors, though sometimes in the summer, when the neighbors had guests, there’d been seven or more rowdy dogs creating havoc. They were supposed to stay in their fenced yard but often escaped to leave presents for her in her...
“Damn it,” Chelle muttered. She’d stepped in a pile
of poo. She let out a long string of other curses as she scraped the bottom of her sneaker on the driveway stones, then toed off her shoes on the front deck and went inside.
The noise was barely quieter—her house was in the popular windjammer style, with sliding glass at the front and rear. Great for sunlight. Bad for soundproofing.
She’d spoken to the neighbors a few times, but Linda and Fred were the sorts of pet owners who referred to the dogs as their “fur babies” and who didn’t seem to think letting the animals run wild and tear up the neighborhood, creating a noise disturbance in the process, was anything to worry about. She could’ve called the police. Made a complaint. That would lead to awkward interactions at the annual neighborhood picnic, of course, not to mention having to deal with them across the tiny backyards all summer long. Anytime she tried to cook out or use the outdoor shower or take a nap in her hammock. It wasn’t worth it.
She could manage some kind of revenge, however, she thought as she went inside, stripping out of her dirty clothes and tossing them in the hamper. After a quick shower and some breakfast, she thought of her bed, but something else was more compelling.
She sat down at her computer and started to write.
CHAPTER 12
“A pterodactyl,” Jase said. “Really.”
“Swear to God,” said the woman in front of her. Linda Rogers wore her teased blond hair like a helmet, her matching blue eye shadow like goggles. She was shaking.
Reg, to give him credit, did not laugh. Jase wanted to, but more at the inside decor of the woman’s house than the fate of her dog. Four of the remaining pooches were huddled around her feet, all of them shaking, too.
He looked around the kitschy room before focusing on her. “Describe it again, please.”
“I told you both already. I’d let the kids out in the backyard to do their doodles, as you do...”
“As you do,” Reg murmured.
Jase shot him a look. “And?”
“And I heard them all barking, which they never do, and I looked out the back window, and there was this...giant... Well, it was a flying dinosaur. That’s all!” She moaned, rocking, and one of the smaller dogs hopped onto her lap. “It carried off Pipsy!”
It wasn’t funny at all. A third case, more of that glowing stuff and, this time, an actual death. Or presumed death anyway. They hadn’t actually found the dog’s body. Things were escalating, though. That was clear.
They got more information from Mrs. Rogers and left her with assurances that they’d be in touch. Out in the driveway, Reg avoided a few piles of dog crap, all glowing with the black-light wand, even in the late-afternoon sunshine. Jase looked across the gravel toward the house next door.
Chelle’s house.
“Hey, go on and take the car,” he said, pressing his keys into Reg’s hand. “I’m going to say hi.”
Reg grinned. “Uh-huh. I’ll leave the light on for you.”
“It’s not like that,” Jase said, though of course his protests did no good. Reg was already getting in the driver’s seat and giving him two fingerguns of approval. Jase shook his head. “It’s just part of the investigation. Maybe she saw something.”
“Maybe she’ll see a giant anaconda,” Reg said with a straight face.
Jase didn’t dignify that with an answer. He didn’t wait for Reg to leave, either, before heading over to rap on Chelle’s sliding-glass front door. He caught sight of her through the sheer curtains and hoped he wasn’t overstepping.
Investigation, he told himself. That was all this was. It had nothing to do with that dark curly hair or the bright green-blue eyes or the lush body. It had nothing to do with how easily she’d laughed with him.
Nothing to do with the dream he’d had of being her guard, her champion. Her lover.
“Hi,” she said, surprised. “Jase! What a surprise.”
“I was next door.” He jerked a thumb in that direction. “Um...investigating.”
Too late, he realized he was going to have to backtrack to a lie, since he’d already told her he dealt with insurance stuff. What was he going to say now? That he was checking into tales about real-life flying dinosaurs making off with yappy little dogs?
“Linda and Fred? Are they in trouble?”
He wasn’t imagining the swiftest glimmer of smug satisfaction rippling over her expression before neighborly concern replaced it. “No. I was just asking them some questions about something else going on.”
Shit, what if she asked the Rogers about it? Linda wasn’t going to lie about losing her dog or about the two guys who’d come around asking about it. She might not admit to seeing a long-extinct reptile, but you never knew.
He was getting sloppy, which wasn’t like him. And for what? A pretty face? Stupid, he told himself as she stepped aside to let him in.
“Can I get you a drink? Coffee, cola?” She’d pulled her hair on top of her head, but a few tendrils had escaped to frame her face. She looked down at her clinging yoga pants and T-shirt, then at him with a twist of a smile. “I was working. I’d apologize for being a mess, but hey, at least I’m not covered in coffee.”
“If it makes you feel better, you can dump it all over my head.”
She tilted hers to look at him. “There might be a certain satisfaction in it, I’ll admit. But nah, I think I’m okay. Do you want to sit, or...?”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll take some coffee.” He settled into one of the stools lined up along the bar separating the galley kitchen from the living-and-dining area. “Nice place.”
She handed him the mug along with a shaker of sugar and some creamers in plastic tubs. “Thanks. It’s more of a cottage, really. It wasn’t meant for year-round living. But I had it winterized and stuff, so it’s all right. And it’s just me, so I don’t need a lot of room.”
He sipped. Perfect. “How long have you lived here?”
“Four years.” She leaned her hip on the counter and looked around the space. “I love it down here. How about you? Where are you from?”
“Kansas, originally. Now, wherever I need to go. So, have you seen anything strange around here lately?” Smooth, Jase, he thought. So smooth.
Chelle frowned. “Like what?”
“Just anything.”
“They’re not supposed to have a shed,” she said quietly after a moment. “It’s against the homeowners’ association. Fred and Linda, I mean. Their shed. It doesn’t bother me or anything, if that’s what you want to know. Are they getting in trouble for it?”
“No. It’s not that.”
She hesitated. “I’m pretty sure they have too many dogs.”
“You don’t like dogs?” Jase asked.
“I like dogs,” Chelle answered after a second. “But theirs are very loud.”
He decided to come clean, at least a little. “Yeah. They are. And they have one less.”
“What?” She looked startled and put her mug down hard enough to splash coffee on the counter.
“Yeah. Something happened to one of their dogs.” He watched her carefully, noting her reaction. “Know anything about it?”
“No,” she said too quickly, with a cut of her gaze from his. “Did they have insurance for them or something?”
“Um...sure, homeowners’ covers it,” he lied easily. “But there’s been a few weird things happening around here lately, so. If you’ve seen anything strange...”
Chelle, biting her lower lip, shook her head, then looked at him with a small, strained smile. “I’ll let you know.”
Something was off here, that was for sure, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. Maybe, Jase thought, something had happened to her, something offbeat that she didn’t want to share. That could be one of the hardest parts of his job, getting people to admit to something they didn’t want to believe happened.
He drank more coffee. They made small talk. She relaxed visibly as the conversation steered away from the neighbors’ dogs and weird things. It turned to her writing.
“My mom and dad aren’t thrilled,” she admitted. She’d curled up on the couch with another mug of coffee and a plate of cookies on the coffee table between them. “They didn’t love that I went to college for journalism, but at least I had a job and was making money. They don’t like that I’m living in Bethany Beach, which isn’t that far from them at all, but they think I’m... Well, they think I’m kind of destitute.”
She laughed, shaking her head, and gave him a slow smile that sent warmth all through him that had nothing to do with the fresh cup of coffee. Jase looked around the house. Small, cozy, but in prime real estate.
“Not many people would think that of someone who lives in this neighborhood. What are you, a mile from the ocean?”
“About that.” She shrugged. “They want to see me settled, that’s all. And they don’t think I’ll be able to maintain myself writing fiction. Truth is, the only reason I...”
She stopped with another small shake of her head and looked away. Jase waited. One thing he’d learned from his work—sometimes the best question to get the answer you wanted was asked with silence.
“The only reason I could afford to buy this house and put this effort into writing this way, without a job, is because I inherited a decent sum of money. They thought I should put it away for the future. But they didn’t realize he left it to me so I could make writing my future.” She cleared her throat, her gaze bright.
“He?” Shit, there was a he.
She nodded. “My boyfriend. We’d been together for eight years. They also thought he should’ve married me. It didn’t matter in the end, though, except to them.”
“He...died?” Jase held his mug in both hands, then put it down to take a cookie he suddenly didn’t really want to eat.
“Yeah. Sorry, this is a terrible conversation.” She put down her mug, too. “What a downer.”
