Searching for Always

by Jennifer Probst

  He ached to make her say it again, but it was already way too weird between them. "Good. Can I go?"

  "Not yet. I need you to do me a favor."

  He laughed. "Somehow, I'm not feeling too charitable." He turned away to dismiss her, but her voice cracked like a whip in the air, making him freeze.

  "I'm not asking."

  His brow shot up. Was she serious? Her jaw tightened in that stubborn gesture he was beginning to spot, and she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Are you blackmailing me?" he asked in a dark tone.

  "Of course not! I need you to take a ride with me out to a property. I suspect a dog is being abused and I want to get an overview of the situation."

  He didn't respond. Just studied her. Definitely defensive. Almost like she didn't like pushing him but was forced to, due to the circumstances. No way. She wasn't getting away with bullying him to do something in the name of his job. "As you like to point out, I'm suspended. I can't do anything in an official capacity."

  She practically snarled. "Since we already called the police, who refused to do anything to help, that won't be a problem."

  "That's what the animal protection groups are for," he shot back. "Unless we witness a crime being committed, we're not allowed to prowl through people's backyards 'cause we want to. We have what's called the Constitution and all."

  "Right. So we're supposed to sit around while we know an animal is being abused, waiting for the proper paperwork."

  He shrugged. She wasn't saying anything he hadn't seen and fought with on his own. "Some departments have an animal advocate they can call in, but the town can't afford it. Bureaucracy is a bitch. Sorry it's not like in the movies and all. Call the dog rescue people or something. Good luck."

  "You're still going with me." She grabbed the giant cloth thing she called a purse and yanked it over one arm. "It's on Bluebird Avenue on the dead end. Do you know where that is?"

  He spoke slowly. "I. Am. Not. Going. It's a crappy part of town, I'm not on duty, and I don't care about any animal not getting the luxury-hotel treatment you probably demand. What if the dog likes being outside? It's good for them."

  Aww, great, now she looked like he had admitted to being a child molester. Pure horror carved out her features. "You can't mean that," she whispered. "You cannot be that cruel and . . . and . . . heartless!"

  He wasn't about to tell her the real truth. He hated dogs. Stone rarely admitted his fear, but the image from his past had never left him. He still heard the snarling and remembered the sharp teeth rip into his flesh, drawing blood. He'd only been about eight, walking down the street, and the guy had sicced his pit bull on him as a twisted joke. Stone came home with a bad bite and even worse memory. His father, of course, had called him a pussy.

  He made sure to hide his weakness from the other cops by pretending he was too cool for an animal, especially one to feed, care for, and clean up after. So far it had worked like a charm, and he wasn't about to let Arilyn Meadows screw up his ruse.

  "Sorry to disappoint you, sweetness, but dogs are like rats. The world would be better off without them."

  She lifted her nose up in the air, her eyes growing cold. "I should've known you'd be no help. Still, you're driving me out there to be my witness. We'll snap some pictures for documentation. I'm not expecting the police to do anything, but this may speed up the response time from the Humane Society or ASPCA. Plus, being a witness in law enforcement will hold up my story. Let's go."

  She marched out the door and didn't even look back, ignoring his refusal. Did she ever give up? Stone had a gut instinct she'd be hell to deal with once she focused on saving something. Or someone. What a pain in the rear.

  He followed her out. "You already kept me past my time. I have a date at the pool hall and I'm not gonna be late."

  "My condolences to your date, Officer. But you are going with me. I control the sign-in sheets for the course. What a shame if I marked you down as absent one day. Or told your boss you've been uncooperative and I can't advise passing you. Why, you may need to repeat the entire session all over again!"

  His mouth fell open. Her look of satisfaction steamrolled over him. "You are blackmailing me! Dammit, that's a crime!"

  "Prove it. Where's your car?"

  He cursed viciously, pulled out his keys, and marched down the street. "You're a hypocrite. The worst kind. Pretending to be all good and wholesome and kind, when underneath you're completely spiteful."

  "You're delusional. I'm doing this for the good of a higher power."

  "And you're a liar. Isn't that bad karma or something?"

  She hummed something maddening under her breath, easily keeping up with his stride with those long legs. "You worry about your karma, and I'll worry about mine." He stopped at the curb and went to pull open the door. "Please tell me this is not your car."

  He shoved his anger aside for a moment to puff up with male pride. His sweet baby was his pride and joy, and he didn't get to drive it half as much as he craved. "It is. A 1965 Pontiac GTO Tempest, 335 horsepower, 389-cubic-inch engine. Montero red." He waited for her long sigh, but she curled her lip in disdain, hitting him with one of those arctic gazes.

  "This car should be a crime," she said primly. "We're on a mission to save the earth, and you're destroying it with this hunk of metal and dirt. Besides being a gas guzzler, it's completely inefficient. The emissions alone should be criminal."

  Now she'd gone over the line. Mess with his job or his friends, but no one insulted his car. He lowered his voice to a warning. "Dirt? Careful. I restored this car and rebuilt it piece by piece. She's a classic you can't appreciate."

  "A classic nightmare," she muttered. "Do you know they actually make cars that help the environment instead of harm it?"

  "And you couldn't get up a hill. This one goes zero to sixty in record time. Bet you have one of those ridiculous Fusions or something." Her startled look made him laugh. "So predictable. Now get in."

  She shivered with distaste and carefully slid onto the black leather seat. He sucked in a breath filled with that old car/new car smell and revved the engine. The loud growl still got him excited. He revved the engine, the loud noise a symphony to his ears, while she made all sorts of faces and talked to herself under her breath. Stone pulled onto the road and headed toward the far edge of town. The sheer dimensions of the car reminded him of a bully in school, taking up the entire hallway while the other kids shrunk away. Total badass.

  She did not look as impressed.

  "It's huge," she complained. "Almost indecent."

  "Aww, now you're flattering me."

  She stiffened her shoulders in that puritanical way of hers and gave him another look. His body roared to life, completely contradicting his mental state. She'd be smokin' if she had those librarian glasses she could peer over. With a Britney Spears Catholic school outfit. Oh, yeah, he so needed to get laid. He was losing it. Arilyn Meadows probably had sex with the lights off, in a proper bed, with her eyes closed. She didn't look like the wild screaming type.

  "Very funny," she sniffed. "Again, I feel bad for your date."

  "Trust me, I'd feel worse for yours." She glowered, and they were off and running again. If she was gonna force him to help with her ridiculous plan, he'd at least control the conversation. "Honestly, I'm curious. What type of men do you date?"

  Her body language told him he'd hit a hot spot. She shut down, gazing out the window. "Men with morals," she finally said. "Men with ideals of what they want to give to the world. Men who serve a higher purpose."

  Stone rolled his eyes. "No wonder you're so backed up. There's no such thing. Men like that simply don't exist."

  She jerked in her seat and swiveled her gaze around. Her tone warmed to a molten lava heat of general pissiness. "That's ridiculous, of course they do. I've dated them!"

  "They lied to you. Men are simple creatures. We're controlled by our id. Food, sex, work. More sex, and we're pretty damn happy. We're simple."

 
; The shocked expression made him feel a bit bad for her. Did she really believe there were men who followed their higher morality over their dicks? Well, he was sure many tried but few succeeded. She needed a wake-up call or she'd spend the rest of her life chasing a dream that didn't exist.

  "I disagree. The last man I dated focused on his spiritual work and craved to be a better man. He was sweet, giving, a great listener and supporter. He transcended the physical."

  Stone groaned. "If he's so great, how come you're still not together?"

  "It's none of your business," she snapped. "This is a stupid conversation anyway. I bet you think jumping into bed with anyone just to scratch an itch is acceptable."

  "It's definitely fun. When was the last time you had real fun?"

  "I have fun all the time. I go out with my friends on the weekends. I volunteer with charities I'm passionate about. I practice yoga, and take care of dogs, and spend time with my grandfather."

  He laughed. "Yeah, I bet Grandpa is a barrel of laughs."

  "He's more fun than you'd ever be. At least I have a ton of outside interests. What do you do when you're not buried in your all-important job?"

  "Tons."

  Her mocking laugh scraped his nerve endings. "Hmm, let me take a wild stab at this. You drink beer with some cops. Shoot a bit of pool. Maybe lift a few weights at the gym. But basically you're a workaholic who spends most of his time alone. Even your dating probably is wrapped up in your inane ideas about women and sex. Keep it to the physical so no one figures out you're not cool. God forbid a woman messes with your career, or Friday nights at the pool hall. You, Stone Petty, are just as big a hypocrite."

  She lapsed into a simmering silence, deliberately tuning him out. He opened his mouth to tell her a few hard truths, realized he didn't have any, and shut up. Sure, he loved his job. That's why he worked all the time, but he had plenty of outside interests. A lot. She had no idea what she was talking about, and he wasn't about to waste his precious time arguing with her. This past relationship of hers had probably blown up in her face, and she was still sore. He'd bet his balls the guy had done something scummy. Maybe cheating. His cop instincts flared to life from her guarded expression and what he suspected was the real reason they'd broken up.

  Transcendent, his ass.

  He made a right onto Bluebird and scanned the area. Not much going on. The dead-end street held neglect and the stink of something illegal. Drugs? Teens? Or just people who'd fallen on hard times?

  "The house at the end of the street. There." She pointed toward a run-down ranch in puke brown. Weeds choked the yard, and empty bottles littered the ground. There was a large area in the back, behind the rusty metal gate, but he couldn't see much from the curb. Stone parked, cut the engine, and studied the property. Lots of garbage cans. A charred fire pit. Seemed to be deserted, but he bet the place came alive at night. He may need to do a drive-by with Devine and make sure there wasn't some kind of weed fest going on in his town.

  "Let's go." She reached for the handle. His hand shot across the seat and circled her wrist before she could escape.

  The feel of her soft skin sliding under his made him jerk, but he kept his grip firm. Holy hell, what was it about touching this woman that put all his senses on high alert? "Where do you think you're going?"

  That cute little frown marred her brow. "To check it out, of course. That's why we're here. Got your phone?"

  He shook his head. "This isn't some vice squad drama. We're not allowed to go traipsing around on private property and snap pictures. Let's walk to the end of the street and get close. Maybe we can see the backyard better."

  "Fine. Great plan, Officer." This time he let her go, but he cursed under his breath and jumped out of the car. Her insulting tone made him want to prove what he could do to her as an officer of the law. Some good things. Some bad.

  Very, very bad.

  He made sure to look casual while he took in his surroundings. Yeah, they were definitely doing something back there. The yard contained a pile of rusty car parts, large paint-type cans scattered around, and a beaten-up doghouse. The wood was rotted, and the roof sagged. He stayed back, taking note of the tin bowl, a few leashes, and mud pits. A nasty smell radiated from the yard, like a rodent trapped under the porch. Ugh. Not a good situation. Bet there were rats running around.

  Stone shuddered more from the thought of encountering a dog than a rat. Rodents he could handle--he'd seen and lived with his fair share. Dogs? Not so much.

  "See, there's the doghouse. There are dogs. Who knows how many? We have to get closer."

  Again she went to march onto the side lawn in plain view of any asshole checking them out. If there were drugs or dog fighting involved, things got complicated. Best to go back with Devine and poke around at night.

  He stepped in front of her, lowering his voice to his famous cop growl everyone obeyed. "No. You can take a picture from here, noting the gate and the doghouse. But there's no animals evident around, and we can't go further."

  "I'm not leaving a helpless animal trapped inside without proof. Cover me."

  Moving in a blur, she jogged toward the side lawn, her iPhone held out in front of her for any Tom, Dick, or Harry to see. Cover her? What the hell did she watch on television? He muttered a vicious curse and took off. If he were on duty, he'd be tempted to lock her ass in jail for a night for disobeying a police officer. Instead, he looked like some poor chump racing after her with a helpless look on his face.

  She reached the gate and flashed a few pictures. His instincts told him they were alone, but he didn't want to take a chance. Arilyn pressed her face against the creaky metal and lowered her voice to a soothing pitch. "Are you in there, sweetie? Come on out, we won't hurt you."

  Stone thanked God he was on the other side of the gate. She was nuts. He braced himself for a snarling, angry pit bull to race out and try to attack, but the doghouse was silent. She snapped another photo.

  "Enough. There's no dog here, and we're trespassing. Let's go."

  "But--"

  "Now." This time he grabbed her wrist firmly and led her away, not bothering to pause to let her catch up. Her Amazon legs were almost as long as his. "You don't have to be so pushy. I know there's a dog in there, Stone. I'm telling you, something is going on."

  The sound of his name on her lips by her own accord made a funny thing happen to his gut. Probably indigestion. "I know, but there's nothing to do right now. Listen, I'll come check out the situation, okay? I'll bring my partner and we'll look into it."

  "When?"

  He let out a breath. "When I'm back on official duty."

  She got that mulish look on her face again. "Too late. We need to check it out now."

  "Oh, for God's sake, get in the car. Fine. I'll tell Devine to do a drive-by this week. Will you get off my case now?"

  "Yes. I'm sending these photos to Anthony. If I need you as a witness, I'm giving them your number."

  "Who's Anthony?" The question popped out of his mouth before he had time to think. It was the familiarity in her tone that made him curious. Maybe she'd moved on from her other perfect relationship after all. "New boyfriend? Ex?" He couldn't seem to stop himself, which was frickin' embarrassing.

  She didn't seem to notice his question was out of bounds, satisfied she'd gotten what she could from him. "The director of Animals Alive. We work closely together."

  "Oh. Is he spiritually enlightened, too?"

  She rolled her eyes. "We're not dating. Though he's perfect for me. Just more in the friend camp."

  He relaxed and got in the car. Yeah. Friends. That was good. Not that he cared. "Let me guess. He loves dogs, helps out with charity, wants to grow as a better person, doesn't hunt, and is super nice."

  Her gaze narrowed. "Are you making fun of me?"

  "Nope. Just running down the requirements of the men you condescend to date."

  She buckled her seat belt, looking at both him and his muscle car with pure distaste, and stuck he
r nose in the air. "At least I date more than a body. Bet your requirements are as simple as you are. Big boobs, small brain, undemanding, and a seeker of fun."

  He drove, refusing to tell her how close she was to the mark. Not that he enjoyed women of little intelligence. He loved a sharp, witty female who didn't let him get away with his normal stuff. It was just easier to date someone he'd never have a long attachment to. That way, he didn't have to deal with the slow eroding of a relationship that was doomed from the start. Cops were among the highest casualties in marriage, and now he knew why. He wasn't gonna make that mistake again.

  "You're wrong." He paused. "Boobs can be any shape and size. I never discriminate."

  She shuddered with distaste. "Please drop me off at the firehouse."

  "Fine." They drove in silence back into Verily. "Where's your car?"

  "There."

  He pulled up to a shiny, tiny Ford Fusion in an awful sea-green color. Just as he thought. The car was just horrible. "Have fun saving the environment. Oh, and thanks for the blackmail trip. Let's do it again sometime."

  She yanked open the door, spun around, and shot him a glare. "I don't like you, Officer Petty."

  "Good. Don't like you much either. Night, Arilyn."

  She gasped, slammed the door, and turned. He grinned, roared away, and turned on the radio. Yeah, that was almost worth the trip. Something about getting her all irritated satisfied him on a deeper scale. He sang aloud to some pop music and headed to Ray's Billiards. It may be a long six weeks, but at least he'd manage to keep himself entertained.

  six

  ARILYN SLOWLY OPENED her eyes and eased out of her pranayama practice, going back to regular breathing. The soft sounds of a flute whispered past her ears.

  With slow motions, she stretched out her legs in front, raising her arms to the ceiling and stretching straight out and dropping her head to her calves. The delicious stretch loosened the last of her stress. Rising back up, she pressed her palms together, bowed her head, and said a quick prayer of gratitude.

  Finally. Her emotions were back under control. A lightness flowed through her body, her mind was crystal clear, and she was ready to face the day.

  No more thinking of Stone Petty and his aggravating ways.