Frost Security: The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  Around me, the bar had just seemed to grow more rowdy and crowded. People from all over had piled in, eager to catch the last few minutes of happy hour.

  And what about Matthew? God, just the sight of him had sent my thoughts scattering, my heart fluttering. I could suddenly feel his arms again, wrapped around me when I’d hugged him back at the office.

  “Oh, man,” Derrick said as he unceremoniously set the longneck down in front of me, “you’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

  “What?” I asked, biting my lower lip as I shook my head. “No, I don’t.” I took my beer and drank down another swallow. Thank God he hadn’t brought any shots back. Any more and I think I’d be seeing what I’d eaten at Dixie’s later tonight.

  “Uh-huh,” he said, a note of sarcasm in his voice. “Know what you need?”

  “What?”

  “You need to talk to him. Outside of work.”

  “He’s in back with Roy, though.”

  “After he comes out, Becks.” He sighed. “Just go up and talk to him when he gets out.”

  “But I’m drunk,” I said miserably. “I don’t want him to think I’m some wino.”

  “You’re not a wino, though. You’re just someone having some drinks with a friend. So what if you’re having a good time?”

  My alcohol-fogged mind nodded along with his words. Yeah, he was right. I was just having a good time. What’s the harm in that? And when else was I going to see him outside of working on the case?

  “Know what?” Derrick asked. “I’ve got a great idea. Why don’t you get him to join you for a beer?”

  “That,” I said, taking another drink, “is an awful idea.”

  “Oh, come on, Becks. When he comes out, just walk right up to him, look him right in the eye, and invite him over. Or ask to join him if he sits down. That’s all you have to do.”

  I sighed. “You think so? You don’t think that’ll be too desperate?”

  “I know it won’t be. You’ll just look assertive, like you know what you want. Who wants to do this whole ‘playing hard to get’ thing, anyways? Guys like it when a woman knows what she wants.”

  I sat there, considering his words, my lips twisted to one side. One on hand, what Derrick was recommending was totally not me. On the other, maybe that was a good thing. I mean, Matthew didn’t seem like my normal type, and I didn’t seem like his, either. Finally, I nodded. “You’re right. Soon as he’s finished talking to Roy, I’m gonna go over there and talk to him.”

  Maybe it was the right move, maybe it was the wrong one. But at least it was a move.

  Chapter Thirteen – Matthew

  I stepped outside, back into the hustle and bustle of the crowded Elk. I searched until I saw Frank, who’d kept himself planted right at the bar, then made my way over to him. I had every intention of crashing the little party at Rebecca’s table, just to say hi, but I wanted my coworker to know he could head out if he had to get home to the little woman.

  I maneuvered my way back through the crush of bar patrons until I was at Frank’s side.

  “You and Roy were back there awhile,” he said before downing the last of his beer and setting it aside. “He got the goods?”

  I nodded. I gave him a quick brief of what Roy and I’d spoken about. Not hiding any of the details or anything, but not delivering a PowerPoint presentation either. “You wanna head out, big guy, feel free.”

  “Sure you don’t want me to stick around and kill a couple brews with you, pardner? Been a while since we hung out, and all. Not counting the bachelor party, of course.”

  “Frank, man, you’ve got like four or five days till your wedding. I think Ashley probably wants you at home more than she wants us to do some kind of ritualistic bonding. Don’t you have wedding favors or something to be making?”

  He glanced away for a moment. “It’s not like that, Matt, we just haven’t hung out for a while. Used to be roommates, pardner.”

  And then it clicked. “Oh, shit,” I said, laughing. “You actually do have wedding favors to make, don’t you?” I clapped him on the shoulder. “Man, you better get home before Ashley comes tearing after me on a warpath. I don’t wanna get that little blonde any more pissed at me than I have to.”

  “Now, hold on just a damned minute,” Frank sputtered, his face starting to go red from frustration and his twangy drawl getting even more pronounced, the way it did when he was frustrated. “I can go home any time I damn well please, wedding favors or no goddamned wedding favors. Ashley knows I’m my own man.”

  “Excuse me?” asked a beautiful, slightly loud, voice behind me just as a dainty finger tapped me on the shoulder. “Excuse me?”

  Rebecca Stokes. I turned to face her, a smile plastered on my face at just her smell and the sound of her voice. “Rebecca?” I asked, my smile fading into a faint frown. “You okay?”

  Rebecca stood there in front of me, beer in hand, swaying a little, her eyes glassy. “Hi, Matthew,” she said, smiling in that sweet, I’ve-had-one-too-many kind of way. “I saw you and I wasn’t sure if you’d seen me, so I came over to say hi because I didn’t know if you were going to come say hi.”

  Oh, man. She was rambling drunk. I glanced back at Frank for guidance as he looked to me with a little smile turned up one corner of his lips.

  “And I was wondering if you needed any help with the case still, and how things were going, and whether or not you had time to have a beer with me and Derrick, or if maybe you wanted to, you know, go up to the Nugget and have a quiet drink by ourselves since this place is kind of crazy.”

  “Uh,” I said, so eloquently, “before I grab a beer, how much have you had to drink, Rebecca?”

  “Oh, you know, just a few,” she said, grinning with a wave of her hand. “Nothing much. Just to, I guess, celebrate my hiring you on.”

  “Oh, really?” I asked, smiling a little at how drunk she was. It was amusing to see her cut loose a little. “So three or more?”

  “Well, maybe a little more than a few,” Rebecca replied as Derrick came up behind her, beer in hand.

  “Hey, Matt,” he said, his voice un-slurred and almost perfectly normal. “You gonna join us for a drink?”

  I glanced over at Frank, and he gave me a little shake of his head. “Think I'm gonna pass. Actually, Rebecca, I was going to see if you were up for a trip tomorrow to go see your Uncle Zeke. I wanted to interview him for the file, to see if we could dig a little deeper, and I think it’ll go smoother if you’re there.”

  She smiled. “Sure! I mean, I've got the whole day free.”

  “Positive?” I asked. “It's a long drive out to the prison. If you're not up to it, I can try and get his lawyer out there sometime soon. It'd be a little bit of a delay, but we could still work it.”

  She shook her head emphatically. “Tomorrow would be better.” She paused and looked down at the beer in her hand. She put it on the bar and pushed it towards the bartender's side.

  “Oh, come on, Becks,” Derrick said. “Not even going to finish your beer?”

  “No,” she replied, smiling a little, “looks like I have an early day tomorrow. I should probably get walking.”

  “Whoa, there,” I said. “Walking? How far?”

  “Just like half a mile or so.”

  “Well, let me give you a ride home, okay? My truck's right outside.”

  “Yeah,” Derrick said, putting a hand on her shoulder, “let Matt take you home.”

  “You sure?” she asked, eyebrow raised. “I don't want you to be put out, or anything.”

  “Of course I'm sure.”

  Chapter Twelve – Rebecca

  As Matthew escorted me out of the bar, I stumbled a little on the bottom sill of the doorframe.

  “Whoa, there,” he said with a chuckle as his strong hands grabbed me by the shoulders, steadying me. “Sure you were okay to walk home?” he asked, a knowing chuckle lurking in the corners of his voice.

  I blushed a little, embarrassed at my sorry state. But,
still, something about Matthew’s hand on my shoulder was just so reassuring, so strong. I nearly melted inside as I reached up and touched it. “Thanks. And, I guess not.”

  I ached a little as he withdrew his hand and walked me over to the truck, unlocking it with his key fob as we approached. He opened the door and I climbed into the cab as he went around to the driver’s side and got in. “Where’re we headed?” he asked once he’d gotten settled.

  I gave him my address, which was really just down the road, and we pulled out of the Elk’s parking lot.

  “Thanks again for giving me a lift,” I said, my head drunkenly swaying with every little bump in the road. I shouldn’t have listened to Derrick and started doing shots. I’d had way too much to drink, and way too fast. “I guess I am a little too tipsy to walk home.”

  “It’s okay,” he said with a laugh as he relaxed a little more in his seat, putting his arm on the center rest. “Believe me, I’ve been in your shoes before.”

  I turned a little in my seat, shifting my body so I was pointed a little towards him. I put my arm on the rest next to his, close enough that I imagined I could feel the heat coming off his body, mingling with my own.

  “Feeling sick or anything?” he asked after a moment, his forearm brushing against mine.

  My breath caught at the touch of his skin, at the way his toned muscles felt. “No, I’m feeling fine. Just regretting those last couple of drinks, is all.”

  He chuckled. “You know, it’s always the last few that get you.”

  I licked my lips a little, considering my next move. I don’t know if it was the liquid courage, or if it was something else, but my brain was screaming at me to just slip my hand into his, to throw caution to the wind. My hand opened and closed as I tried to build up the willpower to make my move, but try as hard as I might, I still couldn’t convince myself to slip my fingers between his.

  Then he touched my hand.

  I gasped a little.

  “Is this it?” he asked, taking his hand away and pointing to the road up ahead.

  “Yeah,” I said, a little disappointed. “Ferguson Road.”

  He turned onto the little residential road and put his hand right back where it had been before, close enough to where I could feel its presence like some sort of tactile sensation. A few houses later, we were pulling to a stop in front of my little two-bedroom bungalow.

  I turned and looked out the window at my house.

  Even during the summer we didn’t get long days down here in the valley, and the sun had already slipped behind the mountains and begun to plunge the world of Enchanted Rock into grays and dark blues. I hadn’t planned on coming home so late, and I hadn’t left my front porch light on.

  I was suddenly struck by how lonely it seemed, living there all alone with no animals or other people to help make it a home. Because there’s a difference between the two. A house just needs four walls and a roof. A home, though, needs warmth and light and laughter to make it one.

  I knew I should get out of the truck. But I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Something inside me wanted to stall, to get as much time with Matthew as I could. I searched for something to talk about, anything that would keep us together for another moment. “Uh,” I began, a little unsure at first, “what time should I be ready by tomorrow morning?”

  “About eight, I think. It’s a long drive there and back, and I want to get as much time with your Uncle Zeke as I can.”

  I nodded, searching for something else to say. Nothing came, though.

  “You okay?” he asked, a note of concern in his voice. “Feeling sick or anything?”

  I shook my head, chuckling a little at how ridiculous I must look. “I’m fine. I guess I should get going.” I pulled the handle and popped the door open, lighting up the overhead dome lamp.

  Matthew fixed me with a concerned look. “You sure?” He opened his door and went to get out. “Here, let me walk you up, make sure you get inside.”

  “I don’t really–”

  “You stumbled over the door jamb coming out of the Elk. Believe me, no charge.”

  I sighed and rolled my eyes as he climbed out of the car, even though my heart was thumping like I’d just finished a triathlon. Here was Matthew, man of my dreams, about to walk me to my front door.

  He walked around the front and pulled open my door.

  My palms were suddenly sweating, and I bit my lower lip as I gingerly stepped out onto my lawn.

  “You got it?” he asked, putting a hand on my shoulder again.

  I sighed a little. “Yeah,” I said, touching his hand again. Together we trekked up the short path, and I savored every step and every moment of his tender grasp. “I’m not that drunk, Matthew.”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, the smile evident in his voice. “Right.”

  We came to a stop at my door, and I fished my keys from my purse. I inserted my house key into the lock, twisted back the deadbolt, and pushed it open. “See?” I asked as I turned around to face him. “I figured–”

  I stopped, though, my purse tumbling from my hands as his chest suddenly loomed in my vision, filling me with his musky, manly pine-filled smell. He was right there, right in front of me, so close my nose was practically brushing against the cotton fabric of his polo shirt.

  He cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he said as he went to step back.

  This was it, my uninhibited, drunk brain suddenly shouted. This is your chance! I slipped my arms around his neck, just like I had back at the office. But this time, I wanted more than just a hug. I tilted my head back, went up on my tiptoes, and pressed my lips to his.

  He tensed at first, beginning to pull back. But then his mouth pressed into mine, crushing me with tenderness.

  I groaned a little, loving how he felt. Ever ridge, every bit of hot flesh beneath mine, every second an eternity of heaven as our lips locked together.

  But then, he pulled his mouth from mine. “Rebecca, I’m sorry, that–”

  “What?” I asked, confused, cutting him off as he reached up and gently removed my arms from around his neck. “Wasn’t it nice?”

  “That shouldn’t have happened,” he said as he took a step back, shaking his head. “You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  My mouth dropped open, shock filling my mind. “But Matthew–”

  “Rebecca,” he said quietly. “I can’t. Not like this. Not with a client.”

  “But–”

  “Rebecca, please.”

  Suddenly, I saw red, saw the vibrant crimson of anger and the lighter pink of shame. I was nothing more than a stupid drunk woman throwing myself at this guy who was desperately coming up with excuse after excuse for why kissing a woman he wasn’t attracted to was wrong. And that was fine, I got it. When that spark’s not there, that spark’s just not there. You can’t force someone to be think you’re cute or sexy. And that’s even truer when you’re nothing more than a high school English teacher.

  “Please what?” I asked, that same primal part of me that had been reveling in his touch just moments before suddenly switching into a defensive mode. “Look, if this is because you’re not into me, that’s fine, that’s whatever. Okay? No skin off my back. I wasn’t going to try and invite you inside or anything. I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you, not because I’m easy and wanted you to climb into bed with me, okay?”

  His eyes went wide. “No, no, no, you don’t understand–”

  “Oh,” I said, my brain still in that defensive mode and fired up, “I think I understand. I understand just fine. Goodnight, Matthew. Drive safe.” I picked up my purse, turned, threw my door open, and charged inside, slamming the door behind me like a pissed off teenager escaping from her parents into her bedroom.

  Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? I might be a high school English teacher, but I was still attractive. Maybe not to him. But, Goddammit, there wasn’t anything frumpy about me. I knew guys gave me plenty of looks, even if I wasn’t some bo
mbshell beauty. I threw the lock over, ramming the deadbolt home.

  He sighed loudly, loud enough that I could hear him through the door, and muttered something to himself. A moment later, his heavy footsteps sounded as he walked back down my little walkway to his pickup.

  That’s right. Walk away.

  His pickup door opened and slammed shut, and the engine roared to life. As he shifted into drive and began to pull away from the front of the house, the past few minutes began to replay in my mind. The words he’d spoken as he pulled away, as he’d been trying to explain himself. “Not with a client,” he’d said.

  My breath caught in my throat and I slumped back against the door. The world seemed to snap into razor sharp focus, all the lines crystal clear as I realized what had actually just happened. I’d just made a complete ass of myself. I’d thrown myself at Matthew while he was working my case, and he probably couldn’t entangle himself with personal conflicts.

  I pulled my phone from my purse and began to search for his phone number. I stopped before I put the call through, reminding myself that I was drunk and already looked like a foolish girl. First from throwing myself at him, and second from my reaction when he’d rejected me. Instead, I scrolled down my contacts list, all the way to the bottom until the name highlighted was simply “Zeke.”

  I stood there, still pressed back against the front door in my little entryway, staring at the name on my phone. My eyes began to well up with tears, my uncle’s name swimming as my vision became misty. Did I just screw up my best chance of getting Uncle Zeke out of prison? Would Matthew have to drop my file because of some stupid, foolhardy action I’d taken? Would his boss take him off my file entirely?

  With a shake of my head, I dropped my phone into my purse. “No,” I whispered. “No, girl, none of that. What you need to do is go to sleep. You’ve already caused enough problems for one night with your drunken self.”