I did as commanded, scrubbing my hair as she scrolled through the dozens of messages that had been left while I'd slept, while I'd been dreaming of beautiful, tall trees and rainy parking lots, a hooded stranger, a hooded Patrick…also a stranger.
I allowed myself one devastated chest heave over that, and one tear to escape my eyes, then let it all wash down the drain with the rest of the grime.
While towel-drying my hair, I returned some calls and scrolled through a few more messages that had come in after Piper left. I had to admit, I'd hoped there would be a job offer from New York in there. But apparently, my first big scoop wasn't big enough to blast me back East.
Though maybe, for now, Eureka wasn't so bad after all.
I glanced at the clock, bit my lip, and applied my eye makeup, very slowly. I was due at the sheriff's office soon, but after last night's embarrassing revelation, I was in no hurry and no mood to see Detective Loomis.
Fat raindrops hit the driveway as I walked to the Taurus. Patrick's 4Runner was next door. Good. If I was fast, maybe I could give my statement at the station then get the heck out of there without having to face him. Surely, he'd be heading back to LA soon. The thought should've been a relief, but instead, my body felt heavy, like it was being weighed down by another pile of wet ponchos.
As I was being ushered to a conference room, I recognized a few of the deputies from last night. I was relieved that the sign outside the door actually did say "conference room" and not "interrogation room." I still wasn't comfortable around law enforcement.
Detectives Rouse and Easton joined me at the conference table, along with an ADA from City Hall. I took them through the events of the last four days, fresh in my mind from reliving them as I'd written my article. They had a lot of questions, and I easily answered every one. After three hours and two jelly donuts, they said I could leave.
On my way out, I stopped in the ladies'' room, turned the water on full blast, and leaned over the sink, feeling like I might pass out. I hadn't slept more than a handful of hours in three days. I lifted my chin, staring at myself in the mirror.
If I didn't get some serious R & R, I'd be checking myself into an insane asylum. Or maybe Katie's hypnotist of the stars could compel me into not needing sleep. The thought made me chuckle.
I waved good-bye to Deputy Vallerga, that tall, cute officer at the front desk, then pushed myself out the glass doors. The March sun was actually shining through the clouds. As I hiked across the pavement toward the Taurus, my high heels clicking in time, I dug around my purse for the keys.
A few paces from my car, I spotted a blue SUV in the space beside it. No one was inside the car. I glanced to the right, the left. The coast was clear.
A hand clamped down on my shoulder and I screamed bloody murder, nearly jumping out of my skin.
"Jeez—sorry."
"Patrick." I pressed double fists over my flipped-out heart. "Don't do that."
"Are you okay?"
"No. I'm obviously in the middle of a heart attack and a nervous breakdown."
He stepped back and lifted what might have been a grin. This was one of the only times since he'd taken me to Mazzotti's that he wasn't dressed in his undercover garb. He sported a snowy white button-down shirt, blue striped tie, dark gray suit, and shiny black shoes. The knot of his tie was loose and his shirt was open at the throat. I hated myself for sneaking a peek at his chest hair.
He was so darn handsome, so fun, and sexy. It made my heart beat fast and then pass out and die to even look at him now, knowing he was never really mine. For the past few days, I'd let my emotions run out of control, race way ahead of reality.
It wasn't like I merely felt like I'd known Patrick forever. I had. But our forever hadn't been long enough.
I bit the insides of my cheeks to hold back the tears.
"You're going home now?" he asked.
"Yes." I fingered my keys. "Well, no. Joey's coming for a visit, but I might stay with her in Brooklyn for a week. I don't know."
"Joey? Isn't she your friend who stopped being your friend?"
"Yeah. She called yesterday, and we talked it all out. Things are a lot better now."
"That's great." He slid his hands in his pockets. "So, you are going back to New York."
"Didn't you just ask me that?"
"What I was actually asking was if you were going home from here. To your parents' house."
"Oh." I swept a hand across my forehead, fearing the onset of sleep deprivation insanity. "I guess."
"Do you have a minute first?" Raindrops hit the pavement, trickling at first, then the beginning of a full-on shower. So much for a sunny day.
"Patrick." I sighed, unable to keep my weary shoulders from slumping. "I'm so beat."
"I haven't slept in three days either, Maren."
I supposed that was true, but I didn't think my brain was capable of having a casual conversation with this guy. I liked him…too much. "I just want to go home now and"—I gestured to the sky—"since it's raining, hey—"
He took my hand and towed me down the stairs to the front of the old library. It was Saturday, the building was closed, but the long awning we stood under kept the rain at bay.
"Maren." He dropped my hand, looked at his own hand, and then ran it through his hair. "There's something I didn't tell you about Brady." He turned his back to me and started to pace. "The DA's going to make a statement about it within the hour, but I wanted you to hear it from me."
"What about Eric? His drama queen routine with the knife scared me, but now I'm mostly ticked about it. He's harmless."
"Harmless," he muttered under his breath. Still pacing, he had one hand at the back of his neck, massaging a muscle ache. After a minute, he dropped his hand and stood directly in front of me. "While living in LA and New York, he was accused of assaulting five women. The charges were always mysteriously dismissed, witnesses refusing to come forward, but each time the attacks grew more brutal, more personal. The last victim, a woman your age, nearly died."
The back of my neck prickled. Lisa, my subconscious whispered, recalling Eric's words, how he'd said she looked like me, and how he'd…sliced her. Wanted to slice me next.
"I've been watching him for a year," Patrick continued. "On the surface, he's an unstable conman with a short fuse, but I knew if he was confronted by someone like you, he'd go on the defensive."
"Defensive?"
"He has a gun. It wasn't on him last night—I knew that, but I had no idea about the knife. He always keeps them at home, doesn't carry a weapon. I never would've left you in that warehouse if I thought he'd find you. If I'd gone back there a minute later than I had, even five seconds later…"
"Stop." On the verge of a faint, I slumped against the building and slid down until I hit a protruding groove on the wall. I leaned forward, balancing my elbows on my knees. Like I'd learned in first aid, I dropped my chin, waiting for the blood to rush to my head. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I couldn't." Patrick was in front of me, down on one knee. After a few more deep breaths, I lifted my chin. His face was as drained of color as mine felt.
"You let me go out with him," I said, feeling a panicky surge of it-could-have-been-a-disaster. "He was in my car. I was alone with him."
"You were never alone with him, never out of my sight. I was always there."
"You should've told me before, Patrick. You should have told me everything."
"Everything? How, exactly?" He stood up and took a few long strides away from me, pacing the length of the awning. "What should I have said to you, huh? Something like 'Hey, Maren, I have good news and bad news. What do you want first? The good news? Okay, the good news is I'm in love with you. The bad news is someone wants you dead.' How's that sound?"
He spun away, both hands massaging the back of his neck now.
But I was frozen where I sat. "What did you say?"
He turned around, wearing that trademark mystified notch between his eyebrows. "When?"
>
"You…love me?"
"Oh." He lowered his hands as his expression softened. "Only every day. Forever," he said. "Luckily, my feelings have been dormant for fifteen years, but they started waking up sometime around that scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream."
Sizzling air filled my lungs until it almost hurt to breathe. "Patrick."
He smiled, but only halfway. "I didn't mean to tell you like that, shout it like a psycho. I never planned on telling you at all."
"Why not?" I wanted to go to him, to that face I'd known in my childhood, and the big, caring heart I was just now getting to know.
"Mare, I remember loving you when we were eight years old, then again when we were fourteen." Bursts of sunlight-gold shone in his hazel eyes, as raindrops soaked through his shirt. "At twenty-eight, what guy gets a chance at the girl he's been in love with forever?"
I couldn't wait another second but leapt to my feet and threw my arms around him. The sound of his exhale in my ear, mixed with the warmth of his breath, and the heavenly scent of his skin made me sigh in return. Home.
Then we were kissing, and he was whispering things, and I was whispering back, and I'd never felt so blissed-out, so reassured, so strong in all my life.
Strange. I never dreamed I'd have to come home after ten years away to fall for the boy next door, the man who'd loved me forever.
"You're so beautiful," he said, the first time I allowed his mouth to be free. "I wanted to tell you that every time I was with you." He coiled a strand of my hair around a finger then looped it behind my ear. "For a troublemaker, you're the most fun I've ever had."
"For a sexy detective, you're the most fun I've ever had." My heart thrummed his name as I licked my lips, halfway to kissing him before I stopped. "Hey. I can't believe all those times you kissed me were mere ploys."
He stared down at me in complete confoundment. Then he tipped his chin and laughed, his body shaking against mine. "Ploys, right. Because I'm such a great actor, and it had nothing to do with me wanting to kiss you every damn second of the day."
Dizziness and daydreams filled me head, along with the phantom taste of cinnamon.
"Maybe the first two seconds were to distract you," he added, running his thumb over my lips. "But that hardly explains all the time following, how I never wanted to let you go, couldn't bear it." He touched his forehead to mine. "You gorgeous, amazing woman. Drove me crazy."
Each word brought another burst of lightness to my body, my brain, turning my legs into so much jelly that I could hardly stand.
"Even in a rainstorm, Maren…" He cupped my face in his hands. "You're sunshine."
I beamed up at him, but had to shut my eyes to keep all the tears from spilling out. And then I kissed him, because I could, because I wanted to kiss him every damn second of the day.
"If I neglected to answer your earlier question," I said against the side of his neck, "I'm not moving to New York."
His hands running circles across my back stopped. "No?"
"Seems Eureka isn't through with me yet. And I hate to admit it, but I'm pretty addicted to this place."
"But you want to go back?"
"New York's in my blood, I'd do anything to live there again, but not until it's right. Not until I can get the job I want, which probably means I'll be waiting for all the good deeds I've ever done to pay off."
Patrick smiled with both his mouth and his eyes, dimple included, and he exhaled a long, sweet breath. I didn't know which of us was more relieved. "In the meantime, are you interested in dating a cop?"
"Such dangerous work," I cooed, tightening my arms around him, inside his suit jacket. "How will it be with me covering crime beats, and you working deep undercover?" To emphasize my point, I traced a hand down his back, over his belt, hooking my fingers through one of the loops.
A moan rumbled in his chest, and his kiss sent my whole body buzzing like a beehive. "I'm glad to hear you'll be sticking around the west coast."
"Eureka's a much shorter flight from LA," I said. "And since your mom lives here, that's further incentive for you to visit."
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention my mother while you're touching me there." He dipped his chin to look at the hand in question. Before I could move it, he kissed me again. I'd never tire of those lips.
"I can't apologize for not dropping the story like you kept asking me to," I said, running my nails up the back of his head.
"Oh, I realize that."
"But I am sorry if your job was harder because of it. I didn't mean to make you so mad."
He pulled back to look at me. "When was I mad?"
"Patrick." I had to laugh. "You were furious."
"When?"
My mouth fell open. "Um, how about last night right after you caught Eric? You snapped at me, you couldn't even look at me." I dropped my chin, feeling just a tiny bit guilty. "I get it. I mean, I was totally in your way."
"Mare." He kissed the top of my bent head then cupped my chin so I had to meet his gaze. "You frustrated the hell out of me, but I was never angry at you. Raids are intense, complicated. Last night, before you even got to the docks, we'd already decided to arrest him at that location—it was technically over. But seeing you there, how close he came to hurting…" Instead of finishing, he blew out a sharp breath. "I'm livid beyond words, but at myself."
"Don't be, okay?" I initiated the steady eye contact this time, and wouldn't even blink until he stopped looking so guilt-ridden.
It took a minute, but finally his posture relaxed back to normal. He dipped his chin and nodded, then took my hand, warm between his, and kissed it.
Knowing I'd been able to calm him this time, made my heart want to sprout arms and reach for him. Plus, Patrick shouldn't blame himself because I was such a kickass investigative journalist…
"Not to sound all caveman-overbearing," he said, his arms enfolding me in a tight hug, "but I'll never let anything happen to you."
"Oh, boy. Then I'll probably need that helmet you offered."
He laughed and rested his lips over the war wound on my forehead that didn't hurt anymore. "At least now you can stop all that worrying about someone following you."
"True," I said, standing on my toes and hooking my chin over his shoulder.
"You've got one active imagination."
I join in when he laughed, but I couldn't help from raking my gaze from street corner to street corner, scrutinizing every dark corner. Just when I thought I spied…something, Patrick's hand found a slice of my bare skin where the back of my shirt had come untucked. Then his other hand found it. The stirring sensation of his skin gliding over mine forced my eyes closed.
Oh well, it was probably nothing, anyway…
"I do like your hair down, but you should wear it up more often." His fingers slid deep in my locks.
"Easy access?" I held his eyes in a sultry grin as I wrapped my hair into a quick knot, then tilted my head to give him all the access he needed.
He stared at my exposed skin, hungrily. "Damn, woman. You'll be the death of me yet." With his mouth planted on my neck, he scooped me up into his arms and sat on the ledge of the library wall, me balanced on his lap. "I'm transferring to the San Francisco division," he whispered over my skin. "It's been in the works for months."
"You're kidding?" My mood lifted impossibly higher than it had been two seconds before. I grabbed his arm and shook it. "Patrick, that's only a ninety-minute flight, or a two and a half hour drive if we meet in the middle."
"Seems I'm being rewarded for my good deeds."
"I think I am, too, or we both are." I snuggled to his chest, breathing in a savory inhale as I yawned. "Or something like that."
He ran a thumb over my eyelids. "You need sleep, baby. I'll walk you to your car." With his hand resting on the back of my bare neck and mine looped around his arm, we crossed the parking lot, neither of us bothered by the rain. "See you later, then."
"Well, unless…"
He cocked an eye
brow. "Unless?"
"Unless we take one car together to save gas. We're practically going to the same place."
"Practically."
"Since your parents aren't home, maybe you can show me your room."
He narrowed his eyes, scanning my face. "They didn't give me permission to have a sleepover."
"How many times do I have to tell you—I'm not sleepy."
When he kissed me, the tingling that started on my lips floated to my head then slid down my spine, proceeding to shoot through my limbs. My entire body reacted to him in a way I'd never felt, but wanted to feel every day. Forever.
"I better get you out of here," he said. "Oh, wait, hmm. Looks like I have to give you a lift, anyway." He pointed at the back tire of the Taurus. Flatter than a pancake.
"What happened?" I surveyed the ground for shattered glass. "Did I run over something?"
"Uh, no, that was me. Sorry." He coughed under his breath. "Yesterday, I hammered in a nail—a small one. It was supposed to be a slow deflate to render you car-less." He rubbed his jaw, frowning down at the tire. "Guess I made the hole too small if it didn't flatten until this morning. Huh."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm afraid you'll have to pay colossally for that, Detective Loomis." I gave his tie a tug. "If you know what I mean."
"I know exactly what you mean, and I'm ready to settle up." He drew me to his side, strong, warm and all mine…just like his heart. "Come with me, Maren Colepepper." He planted a slow, lingering kiss on my temple, foretelling things to come. "Let's go home."
Author Acknowledgements
My huge, heartfelt thank you to Gemma Halliday for taking on this project and for seeing what I couldn't see yet. Thanks to the additional editors, staff, and authors at GH Publishing. Muchas gracias to my superb betas: Ginger, Nancy, and Sue. I hit plenty of rough patches with this one, and I couldn't have done it without you. Thank you to my family and friends back home for loaning me your names and inspiration. Lastly, to the entire city of Eureka, California and its iconic, memorable, wondrous sights! #PaceyLove
Chalk Lines & Lipstick: a Maren Colepepper cozy mystery (Maren Colepepper Mysteries Book 1) Page 19
