by Natalie Ann
But here was Blake looking at her all proud of himself because he thought to bring her a dessert. The last thing she wanted to tell him was she didn’t want it.
That she’d been eighty pounds heavier and was terrified of going back to it.
Though she knew that she really shouldn’t or couldn’t avoid it her whole life. That maybe she should dip her toe back in and have a nibble.
Just a half, maybe a quarter. Yeah, she was pretty stuffed from dinner and a quarter of that monster cupcake would fill her up anyway.
“Which one do you want?” he asked.
“I’ll take the vanilla,” she said, knowing chocolate was tempting her more.
“Where are you going?” he asked when she stood up.
“To get a knife and fork. I couldn’t possibly eat that whole thing. It’s huge.”
“I guess you’re right. I’m going to eat the whole thing though because I’m twice your size.”
She came back with two plates and her silverware, then cut less than half of the cupcake and started to eat it with her fork. It was delicious and brought back all sorts of memories and though she wanted to eat the whole thing, she didn’t.
And she was damn proud of herself.
“It looks like it pains you to eat that. Do you not like sweets?” he asked. “Don’t feel like I’m forcing you. I know a lot of people who aren’t fans of sweets.”
“Oh, I like them. I liked them too much at one point,” she said, laughing. “Now I just eat them in small portions. This was more than enough.”
“Whatever you do works on you. You’re in great shape.”
“Thanks. I try.”
“Why do you try so hard? I get the feeling there is more going on than you want to say. What’s the big deal?”
She shrugged. “I was overweight at one point. I just don’t want to get that way again.” She hoped that was enough for now. He didn’t need to know that she was fifty pounds overweight in college. Then put another thirty on by the time she graduated.
Or that she had high cholesterol and was borderline diabetic months ago.
That even though those should have been enough reason for her to make a change in life it wasn’t.
Nope. It was the asshole Ryan from work that started the ball rolling. That was nice to her and flirted with her. That made her believe he liked her for who she was.
Then she’d overheard him talking to someone in the staff lunchroom that fat chicks were great in bed and he was just biding his time.
She’d been so hurt but didn’t want him to know. She didn’t want anyone to know how mortified she was. She’d just started to avoid him after that and never let him know she heard what he’d said.
Then she started to lose weight and had the courage to go to the gym the first time. She’d dropped thirty pounds and was so excited for herself. The first guy that hit on her made her feel wonderful.
Until she found out he was after the same thing. That he didn’t want anything else other than to pick someone up and sleep with them. He didn’t care she was overweight. He wasn’t even looking at her for that reason. He was just looking to sleep with as many women in the gym as possible.
Well, it wasn’t going to be her.
“I doubt you could. You are one of the most disciplined women I’ve met. Heck, even more disciplined than most men I know.”
“Thank you. How are you still single?” she asked.
He looked shocked by her question, then hesitated to answer. “Why do you ask that?”
“We’ve established you’ve got a soft side that you try to hide. You brought me on a nice romantic date. You helped me cook tonight and you always clean up with me. You’re fun to be around and we’ve got so much in common. And you’re a real treat on the eyes.”
She had no idea where her boldness was coming from, but when he started to slowly smile and his eyes lit up, then moved from her head to chest and back to her eyes, she knew he liked what she was saying.
“I’m single because I don’t have a real high opinion of relationships. They never seem to work the way I want even though I’ve wished they did. Maybe I’m just too fussy.”
Not what she wanted to hear. “Or maybe the timing wasn’t right?” she asked, pushing some more bravery at him. She was liking this side of herself.
“Maybe,” he said and reached his hand over to lay it on hers.
The Right Direction
They were sitting on the deck now just watching the sunset. Blake was content in a way he hadn’t been before.
When Gemma asked him why he was still single the last thing he wanted to do was admit how much he wished he weren’t.
She’d thought he was this man’s man. And well, he’d always thought he was too, but he liked having another side to him that he thought would appeal to women. He’d just never found a woman that it did. At least until now.
And though they’d only been on three dates, he was finding he couldn’t wait for more. Not just getting his hands on her more, but more time spent with her.
“It’s getting buggy out here,” she said. “Do you want to go in? Or do you need to leave soon anyway? I know you’ve got to work tomorrow and I’ve got nothing planned.”
“Sure, rub it in. We can go to the living room and relax. I’ve got some time yet unless you want to kick me out.”
“No, we can turn the TV on. I’m sure there is something on you’d want to watch. Probably baseball or something. This time of year baseball was always playing in our house. My father and brother are diehard Yankees fans.”
“I’m more of a Mets fan myself, but they are pretty depressing to watch at times too.”
“We can turn it on and just relax,” she said, walking into the house and then to the remote on the counter. She found the channel the game was on and sat on the couch.
He sat right next to her and pulled her into his arms. She went willingly and he liked that he was able to hold her like that.
Then he leaned down and started to kiss her. Soft and gentle, then deeper and harder.
Her hands were moving over his shoulders and letting him know she wanted a little bit more action than he’d been giving her and that was just fine for him. He’d known he’d have to take it slow with her, but liked that she seemed to be warming up.
When he slid his hand down around her waist and under her shirt, she inched in closer and gave him better access.
Her skin was so soft and smooth. Warm, causing his fingers to tingle. Or maybe that was just in his head because he’d been dying to touch and taste more of her. Waking up in a cold sweat and reaching for her at night, knowing he was alone and wishing he wasn’t.
His hand slid under her bra and over her pebbled nipple, his mouth catching the groan that escaped her lips. She was pressing against him and he was pretty sure things were moving in the right direction. At least they were in his pants.
But then his phone went off. “Shit.” He reached for it on the coffee table where he’d laid it when they came in. He saw the number of the barracks and answered. “Wilson.”
“Hey, a body was just found on the shore. We need you.”
“Text me the location. I’m leaving now.” He turned to her and saw her wide eyes staring at him, arousal glazing over the green irises, and wanted to swear over the rotten timing. “Sorry. I’ve got to go.”
“Everything okay?” she asked.
He normally didn’t talk about his work, but figured she wouldn’t tell anyone. “They found a body and I need to head over there. I’m sure it’s going to be a long night. I’ll talk to you again when I can.”
“A body,” she said, shivering. “Is it dangerous? Should I be worried?”
Again, no one had ever worried about him and his work before. “I doubt it right now. I don’t have any details. I’m sorry to have to leave this way, but it’s part of the job. It happens.”
“I understand.” She stood up when he did and walked him to the door, then pulled him in for a hug. “Be
careful anyway.”
He leaned down and kissed her quickly, cursing the job he loved so much for the interruption. “I’ll touch base when I can.”
He turned around in her driveway, then looked in the rearview mirror to see her standing there waving at him as he left. Yeah, that was a first in his life and he hoped not the last.
Twenty minutes later he pulled up by the lake and made his way down to the shore. “What do we have here?”
“Looks like a body dump.” His eyes shifted to the woman fully dressed, her body twisted on the shore, her long whitish blond hair spread out around her head. It looked like someone had tried to cover her up with twigs and foliage but didn’t do a good job at it. Probably the same person that beat the shit out of her. Her face was almost unrecognizable.
“I’m going to assume there is no ID on her,” he said to the two troopers standing there.
“Nothing. A few others are knocking on doors to ask if they’d heard anything. Doesn’t look like the body has been here for more than a day. A boater noticed it and came in closer, then freaked out when he realized what it was and called nine-one-one.”
“Looks like she took one hell of a beating. Hope we don’t have some sicko on the loose,” he said and thoughts of Gemma alone in her cabin flickered in his brain.
“Hopefully we’ll know more soon.”
Soon turned out to be about an hour later when some interviews produced information on a young couple renting a house a mile down the road. Many had heard arguing the night before. Broken English and by the sounds of it, maybe French.
“Why didn’t you report the fighting?” Blake asked the older man he was interviewing.
“I didn’t want to get in the middle of it. Besides, some people fight. I didn’t see him touch her at all. They were yelling outside, then took it inside. I didn’t think anything of it after that.”
“Can you describe what the woman looked like to you?” he asked.
“She was too far away. All I remember was really long blond hair. It was almost white, it was so light.”
“Thanks,” he said.
A few more calls and they were talking to the owners of the house that was being rented and had a name of the victim. “I always ask for photo ID when someone rents the house,” the owner said. “I didn’t get one of the husband, just the wife. She said her husband kept forgetting to give her a copy of his and I just let it go. Here you go, they are from Canada.”
“When was the last time you saw them?” Blake asked. There was a good chance the husband was now across the border if he was the assailant, making this even trickier. “Have you talked to them at all? When did they check out?”
“They were supposed to check out yesterday. I went by to see if they left everything the way the contract stated. I have expectations on how renters have to leave the property.”
“What did you find?” he asked.
“It was clean enough. The keys were on the table. I just assumed they left when they said they were.”
Blake and a few colleagues moved around the house and looked for signs of a struggle, but didn’t see much at all. Most likely the fight was taken out of eyesight.
“I have renters coming in in the morning,” the owner said. “Will they be able to stay here?”
“We’re going to spend some time looking around, but if we come up empty then sure. Thanks,” Blake said. “We’ll be in touch if we have any more questions.”
When they were driving away, Blake looked around at some of the camps on the lake. It was a peaceful place and he knew a lot of people liked living here.
His mind was going to Gemma when he got the glimpse of an orange car half hidden from view. If it wasn’t for the bright color catching his eye, and the way it was parked at an odd angle, he might have kept driving.
But the husband and the victim had an orange car the owner of the rental cabin said.
He drove forward a bit more, then pulled to the side, the trooper car behind him doing the same. “What’s going on?” the trooper said.
“Orange car back there. You don’t see too many of them. It was just parked funny. I want to walk back and take a look.”
The trooper got out and the two of them walked back the few houses into the driveway, saw the orange car and noticed the Canadian plates. “I’ll call it in,” the trooper said, then pulled his gun out when Blake did.
The two of them walked up the front porch, Blake rapping his knuckles on the door and calling out, “State Police. Is anyone home?”
There was no answer, so he knocked again. The trooper’s radio called out verifying the plates as that of the victim’s.
Blake moved away from the front door to a window off the porch to look in, noticed signs of a struggle and nodded his head to the door. They knocked and called out one more time, and when there was no answer, Blake kicked the door in.
The two of them moved from room to room in the little cabin and when they got to the back of the house Blake saw a young woman being held captive with a butcher knife to her throat. She looked liked she’d taken a beating on top of it.
“Let her go and no one has to get hurt,” Blake said, his gun aimed at the assailant.
“You know as well as I do that isn’t true,” the man said. His hand was steady with the knife, his eyes just cold. There was no way this guy was backing down.
“Just let the lady go.”
“You’re going to shoot me anyway, so I might as well take her with me.”
“I’ve got no reason to shoot you,” Blake said, hoping that was true. No officer wanted to be in this position.
“I know you found my wife. I should have left while I could, but I needed to sober up and make a plan. Stupid bitch just wouldn’t shut the hell up on me. I fell asleep and too much time had passed.”
“So you thought you’d hide here, for what? A few days?” Blake asked.
“I was going to leave tonight.”
“Then you realized you wouldn’t get very far with us looking for your car.”
“This bitch wouldn’t give me her keys like I asked. Said she couldn’t find them and had been looking for days. I didn’t believe her.”
Talk about rotten luck, Blake thought. The woman had tears running down her swollen and bruised cheeks. She was whimpering and shaking. “This is the last time I’m going to tell you to let her go.”
“It’s not happening,” the man said, then brought his hand in a motion to slice. Blake fired, taking the only shot he had, right between the eyes.
The woman screamed and fell to the ground with the body, then scrambled away.
He’d never killed anyone while he was on the force. In war, yes. A nameless, faceless enemy. But this was different. This was harder.
This was going to be rougher to push away from his nightmares.
Perfectly Adorable
The next morning, Blake sent a text to Gemma apologizing again. She’d told him not to worry and when he got a minute to give her a call.
He did one better and went to see her at lunchtime. He hadn’t told her he was coming and hoped she was home. He needed to see her. He needed to feel her arms around him.
After he’d gotten home early this morning, he’d showered and laid down to try to sleep, but sleep didn’t come and he was wondering if it would.
He’d desperately wanted to call Gemma and tell her what happened, but he didn’t. It was his job and he knew it. He had to accept it.
He’d handed his gun in for processing, he’d been interviewed and expected to be cleared later today to return to work. Until then he just needed to try to clear his head.
He walked forward, rapped his knuckles, then yelled, “Anyone home?” through the door.
“Blake,” she said, pulling the door open. There was a bandana on her head and cleaning gloves on her hands. It took all of ten seconds for her to realize what she looked like and the blush to fill her face. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d surprise y
ou for lunch. I took a risk you’d be here.”
“Yeah. I’m just cleaning. Come on in while I make myself more presentable.”
He laughed but knew it didn’t sound much like one. “You look just fine. Do you know that’s the first I’ve seen you with your hair pulled back from your face? It looks good.”
Her hands reached up fast and she yanked the bandana off her head like he’d caught her stealing it. “Why did you do that?”
Her blush again, spreading across her face and neck like wildfire in the California summer. That innocent response was what he needed after last night. Innocence was something he missed out on in his life.
“My ears stick out. I like to hide them.”
He reached his hand forward and pushed her hair out of the way. “You’re joking, right? They look just fine to me. Perfectly adorable little ears.”
“Well, they used to stick out. I don’t know. I guess when I look at them that is all I see now.”
He realized she had that problem a lot. That she didn’t think too highly of herself. Or more like it was a complete lack of confidence in general. He wondered what happened in her life for her to be that way and suspected it had to do with more than being a few pounds overweight like she’d said.
“I don’t see anything at all. You’re too hard on yourself at times.” He held the bag up in his hand. “I brought lunch for us. A salad for you and a sub and chips for me. I figured you might wrinkle your nose if I brought you a sandwich and chips.”
“I do eat bread,” she said, “but I only have baked chips when I eat them, not fried. Either way, a salad will hit the spot. I lost track of time and didn’t even know it was lunch.”
“I didn’t get home until the wee hours of the morning. Sorry I didn’t have a chance to text you again, but I figured this was better.”
He followed her to the kitchen where she tossed her bright pink plastic cleaning gloves in the sink and washed her hands. She grabbed two bottles of water out of the fridge for each of them and some plates. He liked the homey feel he got just being with her. Something he desperately needed right now.