Authors: Lisa Jackson

Beach Season (29 page)

BOOK: Beach Season

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There’s no place like home ...

All these years she’d been reaching for the next star, stirring up excitement, when the missing puzzle pieces weren’t colored by any of those things. She’d been missing stability. A home on solid ground. A love that would last.

Settling into the seat of the police cruiser, she studied Cooper’s handsome silhouette and allowed the dream to ease her heart ... just for a moment.

C
HAPTER
5

What a difference a few hours could make.

The smart, lovely lady beside him was nothing like the stunned, jittery mouse he’d pulled from the car late that afternoon. It was a marvelous twist of fate that had him walk into Bubba’s that night, allowing him the reassurance of knowing that Jane Doyle would be just fine.

And now, just having her beside him in the car brought a new excitement to the evening. It was an effort to keep his eyes on the road when she was invading his psyche, her perfume softening the edges of the patrol car, her soft sigh easing his tension as she settled into the seat.

Too soon, he was turning into the parking lot of the motel, pulling up near the unit she pointed out. He put the car in park and turned to her.

“Thank you for ... for everything,” she said. The glow of the dashboard lights lit the smooth planes and curves of her face, and he had a crazy desire to run his fingertips over the creamy skin along her jawline. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help today.”

“No need for thanks.” It would be so easy to reach over and touch her, but he restrained himself, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “I’m glad I ran into you tonight, Miss Jane. A lot of time in my line of work I see people at their worst. People in accidents. Evacuating hurricanes. Folks all beat-up from barroom brawls or domestic disputes. It’s good to see a happy ending for a change.”

“I don’t know about a happy ending,” she said wistfully, “but I’m glad we ran into each other, too. It looks like my luck is changing.”

“That, or you’re good at turning lemons into lemonade.”

“I don’t know about that, either. But thanks and ...”

She turned to him, her face tipping up toward his, and suddenly he wondered if she meant for him to kiss her. Was that possible?

The breath stalled in his lungs and the air between them warmed as he considered taking her in his arms, pulling her close, pressing his lips to hers ...

In a patrol car? Kissing the victim of an accident? What the hell happened to his ethics and his sanity? Reality seeped back into the edges of his consciousness and he turned away.

“Okay.” She sighed. “I have to ask you a favor.”

“Sure thing.” He dropped his right hand from the steering wheel, then turned back toward her, and his fingers caught the edge of Leah’s card sticking out from between their seats. Damn, but it wasn’t the first time Leah Pope had come between him and another woman. The reminder of his ex-girlfriend dampened his spirits like the cold glass of water that was Leah. Suddenly the temperature in the car seemed cooler, the air thick with regret.

“You know, I hate to do this. I feel like a total wimp, but ...” She looked out the window, her focus intent on the little room she was renting for the night. “Would you mind checking out my room?”

He cocked his head. “You want me to come inside?”

“If you don’t mind. There’s this ... this fear I have of finding someone else in there. Walking in on a robber or just some creep. It will only take a second.”

“Of course. I’m happy to do it.” In a second, he was out of the car, moving around to get Jane’s door for her. “You got the key?”

She handed over a key on a large plastic disk with the motel name. Without a thought, he opened the door and stepped in. No real need for caution; he knew that Marvin ran a pretty tight ship.

Inside, the room was nicer than he remembered. A robin’s egg blue on the walls. A double bed with a dark wood headboard and printed quilt. All tidy and clean and smelling of lemon. The bathroom window was locked tight. Front windows, too.

“Looks fine to me,” he told Jane, who had crossed the threshold gingerly. “But hold on and I’ll check the closet.” The small space was empty but for a small safe and a rack of hangers. “It’s all clear.”

“Thank you.” She threw up her hands. “I seem to be doing a lot of that.”

“It’s my job to help. My pleasure, too.” He went straight to the door, not wanting to tangle ethics and emotions again. “I enjoyed talking with you, Miss Jane.” He paused on the patio, just beyond the threshold. Safe outside. “Next time you head down this way, you’ll have to stay a while.”

“I’d like that.” She leaned on the doorjamb, a sheen on her dark hair from the yellow outdoor lights.

He put two fingers to his forehead in a sort of salute. “Safe travels. You take care now.”

“Good night,” she said. Then the door closed behind her.

Talk about a long, torturous good-bye. He kept his eyes on the ground as he got into the cruiser. He drove off without looking back.

Cooper’s shift was nearly over when he got a call from Brenda, the night dispatcher.

“Dale would like you to meet him at the Quickstop. He’s having trouble with his cruiser. Might need a lift.”

“Ten-four.” The cruiser’s lights swept the parking lot as he turned into the Quickstop. The three garage bays were closed up tight for the night, but the Avon police car was parked in front of the center garage. Rusty and Deputy Dale Martin stood beside the unit.

Cooper stepped into the dark, humid night and joined them. “What’s up?”

“Car keeps stalling on me,” he said. “I jumped it a few times, but now it won’t turn over. Rusty came and gave me a tow.”

“The battery is good,” Rusty said. “Looks like the alternator. I’ll take a closer look in the morning, but I was about to head home for the night. Unless you need to have the car.”

“Nah. That’s okay. You can use mine, Dale.” He fished the car keys from his pocket and tossed them to Dale, one of two cops working the night shift.

“I was just hoping for a loaner from Rusty,” Dale said, swinging the keys in one hand. “I never expected to be riding around in the sheriff’s car.”

“It works like any other cruiser,” Cooper said. “Just keep it clean inside. I got no tolerance for old coffee cups. And no smoking.”

“Got it.” Dale tipped two fingers toward them, then strode toward the car.

“Pretty finicky about your car, Coop.” Rusty tipped back the brim of his Rangers baseball cap. “You sound like my wife.”

Cooper bumped him on the shoulder. “You aren’t allowed to make wisecracks about Kailani. You’re lucky she puts up with you.”

“I know that. Too bad we never found a girl with the grit to put up with you.”

They were laughing when Dale approached, back from the cruiser. “Sheriff? In the name of keeping the vehicle clean, I just thought you might want to hold on to this.” He held out the card with the puppy on it—the note from Leah.

“Crap.” Trying to ignore the sting of embarrassment, Cooper took the card. “Thanks, Dale. You know I want to take this home and, uh ... put it into my puppy scrapbook.”

“I had a feeling, sir.”

The three men looked at one another, then burst out laughing.

“All right.” Cooper shook his head. “That’s the last time I check my mail while on duty.”

Dale sighed, wiping tears from his eyes. “It’s great to start the shift with a good laugh. Thanks, Coop.”

As Dale drove off, Rusty gestured toward the card. “What the hell is that? A birthday card from your little nieces?”

With a growl, Cooper waved him off. “You don’t want to know.”

When Rusty scowled, Cooper answered, “It’s a Dear John letter from Leah, just a few years too late.”

“Gimme.” Rusty grabbed the card and opened it up. “From Leah.” He read silently. “Oh. Oh. She’s getting married.”

“So she says.”

“And how do you feel about that, tough guy?”

“Relieved that she won’t be stalking me anymore. Sorry for the poor sucker she’s latched on to.”

“Now, now, let’s be charitable. That girl did wait for you the whole time you were in West Point.”

“All four years. Then when the going got tough, when I was freezing my nuts off in North Korea, she hightailed it to Charlotte and took a job working in a girly bar. Can you imagine how it feels to hear that your girlfriend is working in a place like that?”

“I heard she was working on the modeling career,” Rusty said.

“Whatever. The point is, I ended it then, and once I said it was over she refused to let go.”

“She always had a stubborn streak.”

“Like a mule. I always wonder how Ruthann deals with her. Daughter of a doctor who goes off track like that. At least Ruthann never held my part against me,” Coop said.

“Ruthann knows it’s not your fault. Folks say that she and Leah had a screaming match one day at the go-karts in Rodanthe. After that, they didn’t talk for years, but that’s probably not hard with Leah living over in Charlotte.”

Coop lifted a hand. “I kept out of their business and tried to stay away from Leah. I never wanted to be downright mean to her, but it was coming to that. This is all for the best. I hope the wedding is real soon.”

Rusty looked over the card once more and handed it back to Cooper. “This is good, Coop. Good that she’s moving on. Good to get it off your chest. We haven’t talked about Leah in years. I always wondered when she came in town. Thought maybe you two were friends with benefits.”

“You kidding me?” Coop scowled. “That’s not my speed. Nah, I’ve kept my distance.”

“Saint Cooper.” Rusty clapped him on the shoulder. “We gotta get you a woman, man. I’m going to keep my eyes open for you.”

“Don’t do me any favors.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Rusty said earnestly, making Cooper feel like a total loser.

Rusty dropped him at home so that he could pick up his car for the last half hour of the shift. Cooper could have cut it short and stayed home, but he didn’t like taking liberties, figuring that the head of the department needed to model good behavior and all that.

He had just clocked out when a call came from the Salty Dog, a bar/billiards hall next door to Golden Pizza. Brenda told him someone needed a ride home.

It was the bartender’s way of asking to have someone removed before they became a problem.

The parking lot was crowded with shiny SUVs and sports cars. One look inside the bar, and he understood the crowd.

Frat boys.

Cooper wove through the room, chatting as he passed the tables. “Hey. How’s it going? Nice night.” He kept low-key, testing the waters, getting a read on the situation, the players, the potential for danger.

When he reached the bar, Cracker, the bartender, came right over.

“Evening, Sheriff. Can I get you a water?”

“That’d be great. With a lot of ice, please.” Cooper spoke to the old-timer sitting beside him at the bar. “Frank. How’s everything?”

Frank lifted his head, but couldn’t seem to come up with an answer.

“Got a lot of Greeks here tonight,” Cooper said when Cracker handed him the water. “University crowd?”

“Newland College,” Cracker said. It was a private school, closer to Avon than the U in Columbia. Cracker leaned closer. “Some of the kids had a little brawl a few minutes ago. Bloody nose. I was ready to toss them all, but the troublemaker’s buddies hauled him out of here fast enough.”

Cooper looked around the room. “Seems pretty tame now.”

“I think this crowd is going to be okay.” Cracker plucked two empties from down the bar. “But Frank here needs a ride home.”

“I got my car!” Frank sputtered suddenly.

“I know you do,” Cracker said.

“But nobody wants you using it,” Cooper said. He didn’t fancy having to lock Frank up for the night. “You can come pick your car up in the morning. I’ll give you a lift for now. You ready?”

Frank lifted his head and gestured toward the door. His eyes were bloodshot, his face unnaturally red.

“Okay. Let’s go, then.”

With his head down, Frank managed to motor along on his feet, at least until they got to the parking lot. Instead of following Cooper, he paused on the wood walkway, staring. “Where’s er pllleese car?” he muttered.

“Got a car in the shop, Frank. You get to ride in the luxury of my private wheels.” Cooper went back to the walkway to guide Frank to his car. “Come on, now. Slow and easy.”

Frank lunged to the left, stumbling in an odd diagonal from car to car until he made it to Cooper’s Ford Escape. “Are you on duty, Sheriffff? Or just being a good S’maritan?”

“Whatever works to get you into the car, buddy.” He was off the clock, but he didn’t mind taking Frank home. Some weeks he did a bar run every night. It wasn’t the prettiest form of philanthropy, but it kept Cooper out of the bars himself, and he figured it was all payback for the people who had helped him out of the black hole he’d been sucked into when he got home from Afghanistan.

Cooper opened the door for him, but Frank paused to announce, “I think I had one too many.”

“You got that right.” Cooper buckled the older man in, then closed the door securely.

BOOK: Beach Season

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