10 Years Later

by J. Sterling

  I defended my actions, as well as my inactions when it came to getting in touch with her yesterday. After leaving the reunion and working into the early hours of the morning, I’d spent Sunday in a sleep coma, only waking up once to take a piss and get a glass of water.

  “Don’t call there again,” my partner said sternly. “We need to keep a low profile because of this case, okay? Don’t get all head stupid because your heart’s all mushy.”

  Tucker was right, though. I needed to keep a clear head and do whatever was needed to protect our cover. Anything that even remotely hinted at what we were doing could torpedo our whole West Coast operation. We’d have to kiss Los Angeles and this case good-bye.

  “You’re right, man.”

  “I hope you hit star sixty-seven before you called there.”

  I nodded. Dialing that code before I called a phone number meant that my number was blocked from any caller ID systems, and at this point in my career, it had become habit.

  “Good. The last thing we need is some DJ calling you up every morning for the sake of their stupid show,” he pointed out as he sipped at his coffee. “And while we’re at it, make sure you tell your girl not to say your name on the radio. Could you imagine? That’s the last thing we need.”

  I nodded again, making a mental note to talk to Cammie about her job and mine later. “I know, I know, okay. I wasn’t thinking. I’ll talk to her tonight and lay down some ground rules.”

  “Dalton say no talky about me to radio people or girl get it.” Tucker pounded his chest like Tarzan and grunted.

  “You act like I’m going to boss her around instead of have a conversation like two grown adults.”

  “You’re the caveman, not me.”

  • • •

  Once I finished e-mailing out my photos and notes from today’s surveillance to the rest of the squad on both coasts, I typed out a text message to Cammie.

  Dalton: So, about tonight.

  Cammie: I’m listening.

  Dalton: I was thinking about Graziano’s on Fourth.

  Cammie: Do you think we could not do the whole restaurant thing for our first date?

  Dalton: Okay . . . What were you thinking then?

  Cammie: My place. If that’s okay with you.

  Her place? I definitely didn’t mind her place or the idea of being alone with her, but I wanted to do this right and treat her like she deserved. My phone vibrated as another message from her came through.

  Cammie: It’s just that we have a lot of catching up to do, and I’d rather be alone and not worry about people listening in. Is that dumb?

  Dalton: Nothing you want is dumb. I’ll only agree to this on one condition.

  Cammie: I’m all ears.

  Dalton: That you let me bring the food and the wine. Do you like Thai?

  Cammie: I love it.

  Dalton: I’ll see you in an hour. Text me your address.

  After parking my car in the section marked for visitors a little while later, I pulled the bottle of wine and our takeout from the passenger seat, then set out on foot to follow Cammie’s texted directions around the large condo complex. After making a left past a set of stairs, I saw the numbers 234 on a door and I headed for it.

  Knocking quickly, I then shifted the items in my hands as I waited for her to let me in. When the door opened, the first thing I noticed, aside from her hazel eyes, was that her normally dark hair had a bunch of white flecks in it. Flour, maybe? And then the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies wafted at me.

  Definitely flour. God, she was fucking adorable.

  “Hi. Come in.” She smiled before reaching for the wine and reading the label. “This is nice, thank you. Do you hate that I didn’t want to go out?” she asked before heading down the hall.

  I kicked the door closed with the heel of my shoe and followed behind her, drinking in the sight of her dressed casually in a white top and jeans. “I’m just happy to spend time with you, Cammie. I don’t care where we do it.”

  This probably was a better idea, anyway. We still had a lot to talk about, and I had things I wanted to clear up before this went any further. I assumed she had the same thoughts and feelings. It would have been far less comfortable having this conversation in public, especially with constant interruptions by the wait staff.

  When she set the wine on the kitchen counter, I placed our bags of takeout next to it, then reached around her waist and pulled her to me. Leaning down, I placed a kiss on her mouth, resisting the urge to rip off all her clothes and fuck her on the kitchen floor. Maybe I was a damn caveman, but clearly I was a caveman with restraint.

  I reached for her hair, gently tugging at a strand with some white on it. “You have flour in your hair.”

  “I do?” She grabbed the strand from my fingers and looked at it. “That’s embarrassing. I baked earlier. I made us cookies.”

  “I know. I can smell them. I want to eat them all.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Not until after dinner, Mr. Thomas. I’ll be right back. And then I’ll give you the grand tour,” she said with a laugh before she disappeared into what I assumed was the bathroom.

  Scanning the counter, I tried to locate the culprits. As I turned around, I noticed a plate stacked with chocolate chip cookies on the bar. I reached for one and took a giant chocolate-filled bite. It was heaven. My woman knew how to bake a cookie.

  “Okay,” she called out, her voice startling me as I shoved the remaining piece of cookie into my mouth. “Oh my God, Dalton! Did you eat a cookie already?”

  “I’m a grown man, damn it!” I mumbled as I swallowed, embarrassed at being caught. “I didn’t want to wait until after dinner.”

  She laughed as she shook her head and groaned. “You’re such a child.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t eat any cookie dough while you baked them, did you?”

  “What kind of person would I be if I didn’t?”

  “Exactly. So, don’t yell at me,” I said as I stuck my bottom lip out in a pretend pout.

  “You’re in big trouble,” she teased, and I wanted to tell her that it was okay. I was willing to get in all sorts of trouble with her as long as she doled out the punishment.

  “I think you’re the one who’s in trouble,” I teased back, and her cheeks flushed.

  “Let me show you around. It’s pretty spacious, so try not to get lost.” Cammie giggled and I followed behind her, watching her ass swing back and forth in her jeans. “This is the kitchen. And the combination living room/dining room.” She waved her hand to indicate the large main area.

  I glanced around at the space, noting the couch and a single recliner. Artwork on the walls looked like Italian landscapes, and candles were placed tastefully here and there in whatever the hell you called the candleholder shit thing. It wasn’t my thing, but I still found it pretty.

  My gaze landed on an entertainment center that was a man’s dream. A giant flat-screen television sat surrounded by stereo equipment and speakers of all sizes. “How big is your TV? And do you seriously have surround sound in here?”

  Cammie raised an eyebrow at me. “It’s fifty-six inches. And hell yes, I have surround sound. I love my electronics.”

  My heart beat a little faster at her words. I would have married her right now simply based on that statement alone.

  “Come on.” She beckoned for me to follow as she went back down the hallway toward the front door. After making a quick right, she waved her arm. “The bathroom is to the right and straight ahead is my room.”

  I moved past her and entered her most private place without asking—her bedroom. While her condo wasn’t that large, her bedroom was pretty big. “Walk-in closet?” I asked, pointing at the closed door in the corner of the room.

  “Yeah. It’s seriously huge in there. This place is so weird.” She walked over to the door and pulled it open.

  Peering inside, I noticed that the closet looked custom made, with built-in shelving for shoes and whatever othe
r crap you’re supposed to put in those things. “This closet is massive. I could live in there.”

  “You wanna live in my closet?” She was obviously teasing, but her voice cracked a little, and I turned to face her.

  “I’d live anywhere with you,” I said softly before leaning down and planting a kiss on her lips.

  “Stop distracting me,” she said playfully before spinning in the center of her room, her arms extended. “You’ve now seen my whole house.” Suddenly she stopped and stared at me. “Oh, wait! The backyard.”

  “You have a backyard?” I was surprised, because since she was in a condo, I’d assumed she couldn’t possibly have a yard.

  Again I followed her as we walked down the hallway, past the kitchen and toward the sliding glass door. She pulled back the blinds to reveal a fenced-in cement patio.

  “This is pretty cool,” I said, noting the gas grill in the corner and the table-and-chair setup in the center with a giant umbrella.

  “I sit out here a lot,” she said with a huge smile. “I love it.”

  I smiled back as I imagined her enjoying the private space, soaking up the sun. “Not to be a dick or anything, but we’d better eat before the food gets cold.”

  “Geez, Dalton, you’re such a dick.”

  “I know,” I teased back, and it felt so comfortable.

  Being around Cammie was like stepping back into the past, yet still remaining in the present. Nothing about this was like being on a normal first date. I had jitters, but they weren’t the typical first-date jitters. There was no faking who we were, for the most part, because we already knew. I still wanted to impress Cammie, to put my best foot forward, but not the way a guy wanted to impress a stranger. Cammie didn’t need any trickery, or any fakeness. She needed the real Dalton, and that was who she’d get.

  Cammie handed me a corkscrew and two glasses. “Will you open this while I plate the food?”

  “Of course.” I smiled as I reached for the bottle. I poured two glasses as Cammie divided the food and placed it on two large plates, then carried them out of the kitchen and toward the only real table in the place.

  Shit. I meant to bring her flowers. Next time.

  She placed the plates down on opposite sides of the table so we faced each other. I moved to put the wineglasses down as well before sitting as she lit two candles.

  “Thank you so much for the food. And the wine,” she said with a small smile playing on her lips as she settled into her seat.

  “Thank you for the cookie before dinner.” I raised my glass in the air with a smile, and said, “Here’s to eating dessert first, and to new beginnings.”

  “To new beginnings.” She touched her glass to mine, and we both sipped before digging in. “Oh, this is so good,” she said with an appreciative moan after swallowing her first bite. “Where’s it from?”

  “That little shop around the corner.”

  “Where the grocery store is?”

  “Yep. Two doors down, I think.”

  “I definitely don’t eat Thai enough,” she said before taking another bite. “So, how was work today?”

  “Busy. There’s a lot going on with this case. Oh, that reminds me.” I lifted a finger as I swallowed. “Since what I’m working on is rather sensitive—” I started to say before she finished my sentence.

  “You don’t want me to mention your name or what you do on the air, right?” She grinned at me, her eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

  “Exactly. I shouldn’t have even called in this morning. That was careless of me.”

  She looked away from me for a second before meeting my eyes again. “I was glad you called in.”

  “I was too, but my partner gave me a heap of shit after I hung up.”

  She nodded. “That makes sense. I would never mention your name, especially since it’s unique and I’ve never met another Dalton. But I won’t talk about anything that could get you in trouble. And the guys won’t either.”

  “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  She sipped her wine. “Of course. I never want to do anything that affects your job or your safety. But I have to admit that I’m curious. Is there anything you can tell me about what you’re working on?”

  I pondered her question for a minute, thinking about what was technically okay to reveal to her and what wasn’t. The bottom line was that I trusted Cammie, and I’d probably tell her anything she asked.

  “It has to do with a large organized crime family back east.” I shifted in my seat, a little uncomfortable now that I had actually begun talking about it. “One of the guys is out here right now, and so we’re following him around.”

  “Why is he here?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” I said, skirting around the whole truth.

  “So you’re taking pictures and stuff? Like surveillance?”

  “Exactly.” I hesitated, and she definitely sensed it.

  “I have a million more questions, because this is really fascinating,” she said, “but I’ll stop.”

  “I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just that I can’t talk about most of the case, and I haven’t been in this kind of situation”—I waved my hand between the two of us—“in a long time.”

  “You’re not being rude. And it’s okay, I totally get it,” she reassured me, and I wanted to leap over the table and kiss her for being so damn understanding.

  A change of subject was called for, and for whatever reason, a certain memory popped into my head. Making a quick choice, I decided to put it all out there—every misunderstanding, every action or inaction, word not spoken, thought not shared—all of it. I wanted there to be nothing standing between us anymore.

  “You know, I came to your house the night before I left for New York.”

  “You came to my house?” Her brows drew together as she squinted at me.

  “I waited across the street in my car for three hours. I wanted to at least tell you good-bye. You still weren’t speaking to me, but I had to try.”

  “I never saw you.” She shook her head as she refilled her wineglass. “I mean, I don’t remember seeing your car or anything.”

  “You came home with another guy.” I still remember how I felt when she pulled into her driveway and a strange guy jumped out of her passenger seat, laughing and racing her to the front door. The smile on my face had instantly changed into a frown, and that was when I knew it was really over between us.

  “Another guy?” Her eyes narrowed at my words. “But I wasn’t dating anyone. That doesn’t make sense. Are you sure it was me?”

  I barked out a sharp laugh. “Yes, Cammie. It was you. It was your house, your driveway, and your car. But I didn’t know the guy, though. He didn’t look familiar.”

  She tapped the side of her head with her finger. “I’m trying to remember. I don’t even know who it could have been.”

  “Well, I wanted to kill him,” I admitted, and she huffed out a laugh.

  “Oh my God!” Cammie blurted. “I know who it was! It was Kristy’s stupid boyfriend at the time, Glen. He went to the other high school, and he didn’t have a car. I picked him up a lot.”

  “Well, now I wish I would have gotten out of the car and talked to you,” I said, wishing I could kick my eighteen-year-old ass all the way from here to Wisconsin as her gaze dropped to her plate and my heart sank. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No,” she said softly, but I didn’t believe her for a second.

  Prom Nightmare

  Cammie

  We moved our conversation over to the living room after I insisted on cleaning off the table.

  “Please let me do the dishes,” Dalton said, but I swatted him away and shoved him toward the couch.

  “It’s literally two plates and two wineglasses. I think I can handle it.”

  “You’re so damn stubborn,” he said with a whine as he tossed the empty wine bottle into the trash.

  “And you’re bossy,” I shot back, not really
meaning it. The truth was, Dalton wasn’t all that bossy, I just liked having a mouthy comeback. “Do you want some water? Or a soda or something? I don’t have much.” I knew I probably didn’t even have any soda in my fridge, but I offered it anyway and hoped he wouldn’t want one.

  “Water would be great, thanks,” he responded from the couch.

  After putting the dishes in the dishwasher, I pulled out two glasses and filled them with water. I grabbed the plate of cookies and some napkins, balancing the items as I walked toward Dalton. He hopped off the couch and grabbed the drinks from my hand before setting them down on top of the coffee table. The cookies followed close behind, along with a short stack of napkins.

  “Am I allowed to eat these now?” He reached for one of the napkins and placed two cookies on it as I moved to sit down next to him.

  “I should tell you no.”

  “But you won’t.” He put over half of the first cookie in his mouth, moaning as he began to chew, and I had to force myself to look away from the faces he was making as he ate the damn thing. “This is so good,” he said after he swallowed, then popped the rest of it in his mouth and chewed it slowly as he closed his eyes.

  “I can tell you like it.” I reached for my own cookie before breaking off a small piece. After swallowing it, I yawned. I couldn’t help it, but I knew Dalton was going to comment on it if I didn’t stop. It wasn’t my first yawn of the evening.

  “Am I boring you?” he teased.

  I knew it. “No. I just get really tired at night. I usually wake up around three thirty every morning since I need to be at work so early, so by the time evening rolls around, I feel like a zombie.”

  His eyes widened a little and he leaned forward, as if to get up. “Do you want me to go?”

  I tensed at the thought of him leaving and quickly said, “No. Not yet,” because I wanted to power through this night.

  To be honest, I never wanted it to end. Getting clarification on everything that happened when we were kids was helping me tremendously. Even now, after all this time, hearing certain things helped to set my mind at ease, not to mention my heart. As much as I tried to believe that Dalton and what happened between us was firmly in the past, having him here and talking about us made it abundantly clear that I was still affected by him.