With a Southern Touch: AdamA Night in ParadiseGarden Cop

by Jennifer Blake

  “And that’s my fault?”

  “Yes. I thought a few hours, but…it’s after ten o’clock.”

  “Time flies when you’re having fun, right?”

  She was tempted to slap him again. She didn’t really intend to, but the threat must have been in her eyes, because his fingers wound in a light grip around her right wrist. “Oh, no. I might have deserved the first one, but I won’t take the blame for it a second time.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” she said with dignity.

  “That’s not what your eyes said.”

  “You don’t know how to read my eyes.”

  “You’re the most readable woman I’ve ever come across.”

  “If you can read me so easily, why aren’t you running away? I have a black belt in karate, and what I really wanted was to break a few bones.”

  Ignoring that, he asked, “What the hell does the time matter?”

  “I had a rehearsal tonight.”

  “At your theater?”

  “Of course. What else?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe there’s some other guy you think you should torment with a made-up story.”

  His fingers were still around her wrist. No pressure, no pain. But it was a hold she didn’t think she should take lightly.

  “Look,” he said impatiently, “I’m sure the rehearsal went fine without you.”

  He was probably right, but…

  “I’ll take you home,” he said.

  “I can call a cab.”

  “You really want to wait here for half an hour or more?”

  He was too familiar with Paradise.

  “Fine. Just take me home. But don’t talk to me.”

  “Ms. Beck, I won’t touch you, talk to you or even look at you.”

  She stared at him. “Your fingers are around my wrist right now.”

  He let go of her as if he were holding fire, turned and started for his car. His strides were longer than hers, and the passenger door was already open when she reached the vehicle. She gave him another stiff, “Thank you.”

  He didn’t speak as they started out. She did.

  “My grandmother and your grandfather love each other very much. You have no right to cause any problems with this wedding.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “I’m sorry. I thought I wasn’t supposed to speak to you.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  “I am?”

  He looked her way, a brow arched high. The way he looked at her…

  He was impossible. She hated him. Hated the way that just seeing his face could make her remember those few minutes when they were together on the sand. When his lips touched hers.

  She turned to look straight ahead. “You should get to know Mary. Don’t dislike her because of me.”

  He didn’t answer again. She dared to look back his way. He was watching the road, but a slight smile seemed to be curving his lips.

  “If Mike wants to marry your grandmother and they really love each other, I’ll be happy to dance at their wedding.”

  She eased back into the seat, expelling a soft breath. “Which is soon. They want to get married—”

  “Thursday. The day after tomorrow. I know.”

  They pulled into Aurora’s driveway. She was ready to exit the car with the speed of lightning and run into the house.

  But she stopped, her hand on the door, staring at the front of the house. Angie was there.

  She wasn’t surprised to see Angie. It was closer to eleven now than it was to ten, and rehearsal would have been over by ten-thirty, at the latest. What dismayed her was that her daughter was sitting on the porch with a wine bottle at her side, smoking.

  She had always tried to be a good parent, but she had realized long ago that the only way to have her daughter’s confidence was to live in the real world. She didn’t smoke; she knew that Angie did, though the house was off-limits. She just had to pray that her daughter, who was eighteen and legally able to leave home at anytime, would one day decide for herself that she should quit. As to the wine, the legal drinking age in Florida was twenty-one, but Angie was welcome to a glass of wine at dinner. Kids were going to drink, and Aurora knew it. Aurora had an agreement with her daughter. If her daughter was going to drink, she should drink at home. And if she went out where the kids were drinking, she was to phone home for a ride. There would be nothing said. She knew she couldn’t stop teenagers from drinking, but she could certainly try to stop them from driving afterward.

  She didn’t realize she had groaned aloud until Max asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “That wretched boy,” Aurora murmured.

  “What?”

  “He was supposed to see her, but he probably didn’t show up, and now she’s…oh, she’s an idiot, on top of everything else. She’s the most beautiful kid in the world, not perfect, but really wonderful, and I’ve told her a million times to forget him and move on, or at least not to call him, not to just be there all the time…not to just….” She trailed off and stared at him. “Why am I telling you all this? I’m sorry. I’ll just get out and…well, I’ll see you at the wedding.”

  “Hey!” He caught her arm when she would have flown out of the car. “Maybe I can help.”

  “You don’t even know her.”

  “Maybe that’s why I can help.”

  He got out of the car. As Aurora watched, he walked up to the porch. She hesitated, staring after him for a moment, then followed.

  “Hi, Mom,” Angie said. She’d been crying but she tried to smile. “I went to rehearsal. John Smith had everything under control. Everything was cool. I even remembered to bring the new act with me. Of course, everyone wants the end of the script, even if this is just the weekly show for the people at Paradise.” She was talking too quickly. She’d had more than a glass of wine. “Honestly, everything is great.”

  “Except that Josh didn’t show,” Aurora said softly.

  Angie shrugged, then looked as if she were going to cry again. “Want to have a glass of wine with me?” she asked.

  “I think I had too much wine tonight already,” Aurora said. “Angie, you should come in.”

  Angie shook her head stubbornly. “I just need a few more minutes.”

  “I’ll have a glass of wine with you,” Max said.

  To Aurora’s amazement, Angie brightened. “Really?”

  “Sure.” Max looked at Aurora. Amazingly, the look assured her.

  Aurora had gone through this with Angie before. She’d tried to tell her just to let Josh go, that if he cared enough about her, he would be back. He would quit treating her like a yo-yo.

  “How about it?” Max asked. “Hey, I’m nearly your step-uncle, or something like that.”

  Angie started to giggle. “So you know Mom isn’t marrying Mike?”

  “Yeah. I know. How about that glass?”

  Aurora lifted an eyebrow. Max was looking at her. She didn’t know why—maybe she was just too damned tired or at a loss for a better way—but she threw up her hands and went into the house, then came back a minute later with a large paper cup. That was the best he was getting for the porch.

  He and Angie were already deep in conversation when she came to them. Max was seated by her side on the porch, saying, “Thanks. And I’d love to have some coffee when we go in.”

  Aurora wanted to tell him that there was a twenty-four-hour doughnut shop just a few blocks down, but somehow, she refrained. She walked back into the house, closed the door and began to pace the living room floor.

  She was crazy.

  She’d only met him that morning, and a part of her wanted to do him some serious bodily harm. Yet she was trusting him with her psychologically fragile daughter.

  The odd thing was that she did trust him.

  It felt as if she had known him a very long time.

  Angie had indulged in quite a bit to drink. Far more than she had let on to her mother. Now she was ready to tal
k, at least to a stranger. So far, she’d explained about Josh and that she didn’t want to feel the way she did about him. She knew her mother was right. But feelings and logic had very little to do with each other, and her mother didn’t understand the way she felt.

  “She doesn’t understand,” Angie said. “She hasn’t been out on a date since my father died, and that’s been…” She paused, trying to think. The wine did her in. She waved a hand in the air and finished with, “Years. Not that she has many men to choose from in Paradise. The guys in the theater…well, a lot of the time, they’ve made other life choices, if you know what I mean. They’re great guys…just gay. And then, well, what? She’s going to find a guy at the old age home? Whoops!” Angie actually laughed. “That’s right—you thought she was going to marry your grandfather. But that’s my point. She has no life. She’s forgotten what it’s like to be in love. To need somebody. To want to be with somebody. She just doesn’t remember. So she doesn’t understand me. I don’t want to feel this way. I don’t want to make a fool out of myself. I don’t even know what it is about him. He isn’t the best looking guy who ever drew breath. And he certainly isn’t always nice. In fact, he can be a real spoiled brat, probably because his parents have money, or because he’s an only child, or… I don’t know. But I want to be with him. And I don’t find anyone else attractive. I’ll never find another guy.”

  “Angie, you’re young, you’ve got years ahead of you, and there will be other men in your life.”

  She waved her glass at him, the wine sloshing dangerously. “Now you sound like Mom.”

  “Because what we’re both saying is the truth. Take it from me. You really can’t call this guy anymore. He has to come to you. Even if he’s been around and behaving great, let him call you.”

  “You mean…when he’s told me how much he cares, then leaves and says ‘Call me’…don’t?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. Angie, you say that one minute things are great. Then he doesn’t call, so you call him, and he says that you fight too much, that it’s not worth it, and then you wind up crying. So don’t call the guy.”

  “Why do I keep caring?” she asked forlornly.

  Max smiled. “If I give you some advice, will you take it?”

  “If it’s good.”

  “It will be. I swear it. And I’ll even explain every word.”

  “Shoot.”

  “The kid is being an asshole. A total asshole.”

  “You don’t even know him.”

  “I know myself. And trust me, I’ve been a total asshole at times in my life. He cares about you. He just thinks he has you down pat, just where he wants you. He knows how you feel about him. You’re far too honest. He’s wonderful, he’s great, he adores you. Then his buddies come in from college, and he wants to fool around. He picks a fight and goes out, because he knows you’ll be waiting. Don’t call him. Whatever you do, don’t call him. And when he calls you—”

  “What if he doesn’t?” she interrupted.

  “Then he really doesn’t care, and you’ll have to get over it. I’m willing to bet that he’ll call. But you’ve got to be firm. You can’t wait around while he outgrows being an asshole. Seriously. Make him get over it now. And if he can’t, then you have to. That’s life. No matter how hard. But things will be far easier for you in the long run if you quit going through this over and over again.”

  She stared at him, her beautiful blue eyes red-rimmed. “Do you think I had too much wine?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  She grinned. Then her grin faded. “I’m going to be sick.”

  “Bushes are right there.”

  Max had to admit, it had been a hell of a long time since he’d helped a drunk throw up.

  Thankfully Angie had good aim. She even had tissues in her pocket. He helped her wipe her face.

  “Will you get me some water?”

  “How about I help you in, let your mom get you to bed and bring you some water?”

  She nodded.

  He slipped an arm around her. They went into the house. Aurora had been sitting on the couch. She jumped up.

  “Angie is ready for bed,” he said.

  “All right,” Aurora said.

  “If you point the way, I’ll help her.”

  Aurora lifted a finger and pointed. He walked into Angie’s room, a pretty place with more sophistication than frills. A few posters were on the wall. Angie had her own phone, television and stereo, and a comfortable quilt thrown over the bed. Aurora pulled back the quilt and the covers. He set Angie on the bed, and Aurora took off her shoes, then started to leave the room. As he did, he heard Angie tell her mother, “I’m not calling Josh again. Max explained. Men can be assholes. Max knows. He was one.”

  Aurora shot him a surprised glance. He slipped out of the room and went to sit on the couch. Then he smelled the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, so he went into the kitchen and poured himself a cup. Black. Once upon a time, he’d liked it light. But theatrical assistants, sent out to retrieve coffee, never got it right. He’d given up. Now he liked it black.

  He was sipping the hot coffee when Aurora came into the kitchen. She watched him strangely, and for a moment he thought he’d made her even angrier, stepping in where he really had no business.

  “Thank you,” she said after a minute. She walked to the coffeepot, still looking at him, and poured herself coffee. She drank it black, too, he noticed. She leaned against the counter, her eyes still on him.

  “I’ve talked until I’m blue in the face. I can’t begin to imagine what you said to her.”

  He shrugged. “I can do something that you can’t.”

  “And that is…?”

  “Explain guys. Because I am one. You’re not.”

  “It’s that simple?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I hope it works.” She was reflective, staring at the kitchen floor. Then she looked up at him again suddenly. “By the way, my daughter and I are not customarily…winos.”

  He laughed. “I didn’t think you were.” He finished the last of his coffee, set the cup in the sink and started out. “Well, I’ll leave you to some peace and quiet.”

  She followed him out to the living room, where he paused at the front door. “By the way, your scripts are good.”

  She smiled slowly. Like her daughter, she was beautiful when she smiled.

  “Thanks.”

  He opened the door.

  “By the way…” she said.

  He paused.

  She blushed. “You’re not a complete asshole.”

  “Wow. Thanks.”

  He closed the door behind him as he left.

  Five

  Max wasn’t sure why he was at Aurora’s door the following morning. He didn’t really feel apologetic for stringing her along the night before. After all, it had been exactly what she had intended to do to him, whether he deserved it or not. He had decided to come over, he told himself, purely to see that peace was kept in the new almost-family.

  It was Angie who opened the door. She had apparently been sleeping, since she was clad in a huge, knee-length sleep shirt with a cartoon character that depicted yawning on the front. She smiled sheepishly when she saw him.

  “Hey.”

  “Do you always open the door to anyone who knocks, young lady?” he asked her.

  “Peephole. I checked you out first,” she assured him.

  “How are you doing this morning?”

  “Fine.”

  “That’s too bad. You deserve a hangover.”

  She grinned. “Sorry. And thanks. I guess I was off the deep end a bit.”

  “You were fine.”

  As he spoke, the phone began to ring. Angie indicated that he should come in as she left the front door and went to the phone. She didn’t pick up the receiver, just stared at the caller ID.

  A moment later, after Aurora’s message, a young male voice came on. “Angie, it’s me. Josh. Pick up. Hey, listen, I’m sorry about be
ing a no-show. Give me a call. Soon.”

  Angie reached toward the receiver, then drew her hand back.

  “It’s the asshole,” she said gravely.

  “And you didn’t pick up. And you’re not going to call back,” he reminded her.

  She gave him a broad smile. “Right.” Then she said, “Oh! Mom’s not here. Actually, I think she was going to stop by your place before going over to the home. She was trying to work earlier… I mean really earlier. Then she got annoyed and said something about it all being your fault, so she was going to get you and take off for Paradise.” Angie wrinkled her nose.

  “Looks like she missed me. What was she working on?”

  “Just a little skit. She can usually whip something like that out in an afternoon. And she loves to do the fairy-tale thing, but we do a lot of improvisation when we do the shows at the home. Actually it’s turned into quite an event. To make up what Gran’s insurance doesn’t quite cover, she entertains there on Fridays. Which is cool, because right now it’s the off-season down here.”

  He pointed across the room to a desk. “Is that where she works?”

  Angie nodded.

  “Think she’d mind if I took a look?”

  “Yes,” Angie said with a grin. “But I think you should go right ahead.” She swept a hand in the direction of the computer. “How about some coffee?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll only be here a minute, though. I just want to take a quick peek.”

  In a small town like Paradise, there were bound to be good things and bad things, Aurora thought.

  A good thing was the fact that she knew the owner of the inn, and he not only walked her along to Max’s place, but—when Max didn’t answer right away—let her in.

  Due to the fact that she was nearly kin, of course.

  The bad thing—though that would be only if you were Max—was that the owner let her right in to what should have been his private domain.

  “The man is probably out walking on the beach,” Ned told her. “Can’t have you just waiting outside in the heat, though. Today is going to be a scorcher.”

  She was amazed herself to find out just how pleasant the place was. Beautiful, really. And Max couldn’t have been too concerned about his belongings, because he had left the back door open. Aurora walked through the room. Nice. The bed faced the open windows and the sea breeze, the sand, and the blue glory of the day beyond. Beyond the bed was a counter, with a little kitchenette. The maid had been in, so the place was spotless.