by Danae Ayusso
Stop it! he scolded himself. This is Vicks’ room still. You loved her, were going to marry her, spend your lives growing old together… But not growing together. He realized the latter just then and it caused his stomach to flip, nearly doubling him over.
Cat stopped and turned to regard him. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Colt looked up at her. “What do you…why did you ask that?”
“You made that little groaning sound under your breath you make when you just realized something that had been staring you in the face the whole time. That’s all.”
He cocked an eyebrow. Apparently she knows me better than I know myself.
“Did you want to talk about it?” she pressed.
“Not really, but since you can’t keep your detective in check either, you’ll figure out a way to get me to tell you.”
She smiled fuller before biting her bottom lip.
That isn’t helping.
“I never really spent any time in here when I got back from the Army,” he said, and looked around the room, trying to look at anything but Cat. “I thought it was because this was where the woman I loved slept, where she dressed, put that rosewater she loved behind her ears… But it wasn’t.”
Cat sat next to him on the bed, and took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. “What do you mean, Fury?”
“Look around this place,” he said before shaking his head. “It looks like something one of her damn students would have lived in, not a grown adult. I hated… I hate the furniture, the décor, the curtains, bedspread, everything. I never came in here because I couldn’t stand to be in here. It reminded me of the guestroom my mother had but never allowed anyone to use. It was her constant reminder to me that she wanted a girl and would never get the chance because of me…don’t ask,” he added with a sigh. “And now, sitting here, watching you process the room, it made me realize that the woman I was going to marry, was going to vow before God and her family and our friends to love and hold, to grow old with…but growing together wasn’t included in that. Vicks and I were two different people. She wanted kids, I didn’t. She wanted a cottage and white picket fence and I…I didn’t know what in the hell I wanted. Maybe that’s why I wanted her to get her degree and get settled into her teaching job before we married. I think I was trying to get her to grow up since she was that same thirteen-year-old girl I first held and I said love you to. That makes me a bad person, doesn’t it?”
Cat squeezed his hand. “Oh yeah, you’re a real sonuvabitch.”
Colt snorted and softly pushed her over. “Thanks, you’re so supportive it’s sickening.”
She laughed. “Did you want me to lie to you?” she countered.
“Maybe.”
“Shut up,” she said and pushed him back. “There’s nothing wrong with coming to grips with life. There’s nothing wrong with just now realizing that your relationship was probably doomed, and divorce would have happened within the first two years. It’s okay. I know you loved her and she was your best friend, but sometimes best friends shouldn’t be in relationships because that familiarity inevitably causes your relationship to go nowhere. With best friends you’ve already grown together, so what is there to achieve...to reach?”
Colt looked at her curiously. “You sound as if you speak from experience,” he said.
Cat smirked. “Reel your detective in, Fury,” she warned then stood up. “One last place to look then we can call it a night and go over my notes if you want.”
He wanted to continue their conversation, especially since it took a turn towards Cat and her past, but the look on her face made it more than clear that she wasn’t going to discuss it further.
Did Cat and Frankie have something more than a partnership and friendship? he wondered.
Colt stood and helped her lift the mattress up. He held it while she ran her hands along the edges, checked under the box spring, under the edge of the bed frame, and behind the head and footboards.
“Someone as juvenile…a grown woman with a daisy bedspread would have…” her words trailed off before she pulled the sheets off of the mattress and smiled. “Not so slick, are you?” she mused and stuck her hand inside the narrow slit in the side of the mattress and pulled out a pink diary. “Look what I found?” she purred.
Colt shook his head, torn between wanting to laugh at her and wanting to smack her upside the head for being a bitch when it pertained to his ex-fiancée. “I’m not even going to attempt to address that. Help me make the bed.”
She gave him a look and slipped the diary and her notebook in her pocket before helping him make the bed up.
Colt gave the room another once over before he shut the bedroom door behind them.
“I think this calls for a drink,” Cat said.
Colt looked at her, slightly amused and slightly irritated. “You haven’t noticed that I don’t drink? How very rookie of you.”
She glared at him. “If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t drink either. But at the moment I don’t think it’d be a good idea to hangout around here. There are too many memories for you and I don’t want to deal with Jimmy’s complaining ass tonight. I know he’ll be back, it’s only a matter of time.”
Colt nodded his agreement; he and James weren’t seeing eye-to-eye at the moment. “How about we go to my place instead? I don’t have electricity or alcohol, but it’s private.”
Cat smirked. “Fury, are you trying to seduce me with promises of rustic living where no one can hear me scream?”
He gave her a look. “Most likely I’ll be the one screaming since you’re always armed. Go pack a bag so you can remove your costume and we’ll go over your notes.”
Her lips twisted into a contemplative pout. “I should say no, but you have my inner detective curious. I need to shower before we go; this bondo requires a hot shower and witch hazel to remove it.”
He nodded and motioned for her to lead the way but his stomach was in knots.
What did I just do?! he internally groaned.
****
The bumpy drive caused Cat’s head to smack into the side passenger window more than once. She laughed at each grumbled apology Colt offered. She didn’t actually think he was serious when he said it was remote, hidden and most likely safer and more secure than the mini-fortress she turned the cabin into, but she was starting to get slightly nervous that he might have been right.
The city disappeared behind them almost immediately. The asphalt road turned to pothole-ridden dirt after less than a mile. The only sound in the Bronco was that of the engine and the occasional chuckle or apology. The hot air blasting through the dash quickly turned it comparable to a sauna, but it had no effect against the chill racing through her.
This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have said yes…especially after I said those rude comments about his ex. I don’t know why I couldn’t real the jealous girlfriend in but…oh that is bad. I’m jealous of a damn dead woman?!? How in the hell did that happen?
Cat looked over at Colt; his back was ridiculously straight, causing the top of his head to hit the roof with every bump they hit, his fingers were gripping onto the steering wheel so tight that his fingers looked as white as the snow they were navigating through, and his jaw was clenched causing the tendons to bulge.
This isn’t awkward in the least. He looks like he’s about to hit me! Obviously I pushed him over the edge with my Nancy Drew-process-his dead fiancée’s bedroom routine. He hardly said anything while I processed, and when he did, there was so much pain and remorse in his voice that I nearly kissed him just to shut him the hell up! I should have kissed him…that isn’t morbid or depressing in the least. Making out with a man in the bedroom of his murdered fiancée?! That’s just great. You can’t reel it in, can you?
“You’re quiet,” Colt said, effectively pulling Cat from her internal arguing as he put the Bronco in park alongside his truck, which was tucked under a doublewide carport hidden in the trees.
“Just thinking,” she sai
d, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible but he noticed the shortness in her tone, tightness in her posture, and flare of her nostrils.
“About the case?”
She chuckled. “You’d think so, huh? But no, I’m not thinking about the case. I was actually thinking about how this is going to end badly for someone, most likely you, and that it isn’t fair. You’ve been through enough already, and you really don’t need some dysfunctional basket case like me fantasying about mounting you, especially in your dead fiancée’s room.”
Cat’s eyes widened when she realized that she said that aloud instead of spouting it off in her head.
Colt sat there looking at her, his face completely expressionless.
“Forget I said anything,” she mumbled under her breath then chewed on her thumb.
He nodded, but made no attempt to get out of the Bronco.
Cat made a face. “So this is it? The Fury Cave?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
That snapped him out it. “The Fury Cave... I’m not a superhero,” he informed her and got out of the Bronco.
Grateful that he wasn’t pressing her slip, Cat followed him but she couldn’t reel it in. “So you’re saying that you don’t have spandex and a cape?” she teased.
Colt watched her as she hurried around the back of the Bronco to join him. “Now I didn’t say that,” he teased in return, which was unlike him but it felt right at the moment.
Cat smiled. “Well then,” she said, and weaved her arm through his, “by all means, give me the tour of the Fury Cave.”
Colt watched as Cat aimlessly wandered around the cabin. It basically was an open loft with lots of woodwork; it reminded Cat of the loft she and Frankie shared in Queens. Heavy black curtains covered the windows, there were no electronics, the kitchen consisted of a fireplace, slab of honed slate as a countertop, some hickory cabinets without doors, country styled sink, and an old fashion pump faucet. The living room had a large fireplace that Colt got going the moment they walked in, but it did little to fight off the thirty-degrees it was inside the cabin. Cat had grabbed one of the folded quilts from the edge of the sofa and wrapped it around her while she waited for the cabin to heat up. Candles and oil lamps were lit and they illuminated the dark interior, exposing darkened corners, and what the soft light revealed did very little to dispel the notion she was arguing internally about: she was feeling a strong attraction towards Colt, which she had prayed that she wasn’t.
Expansive timbers stretched the width of the cabin, making the eight-hundred square foot space appear much larger than it actually was. Bookcases filled an entire wall and books spilled from them, all of the furniture was wood and beautiful, masterfully carved and polished—more than once she took a moment to admire one of the furniture pieces—even the hand scraped wood floors were beautiful, in Cat’s opinion.
“When I was nineteen,” Cat said as her fingers danced along the spines the books displayed in the bookcase she was admiring, “Frankie and I shared a loft in Queens after we graduated the Academy. It was one of the roughest neighborhoods out there, and Padre was livid that I was defying him as always, but it was rent control and had an amazing view. Frankie loved the view, and the fact that it was waterfront was a guaranteed way for him to get laid. But what sold me on it were the moldings and architectural details. It was this old factory that was converted into units. The top floor hadn’t been touched yet and that’s why we got it for a third of the price of the other units. The bathroom only had a hanging sheet to keep it from the rest of the loft space because of the huge hole the ‘artist’ who had called it home before we did put in the wall. We had set up bunkbeds in front of the massive window that overlooked the waterfront so we’d have an amazing view every time we got up and every time we went to bed. It was Frankie’s idea. I really loved that place,” her words trailed off as she struggled to keep the emotion the memories caused to surface from her voice. “The late nineteenth century architectural details were amazing…it embraced the styles of Naughton, Leonard and Debevoise.”
Colt smiled. “I didn’t know you were a fan of architecture.”
She shrugged and absently pulled a book from the shelf and flipped through it to preoccupy her hands. “Yes and no. Padre taught me, when I was young, that you always need to take a moment to appreciate the beauty of what’s around you because life isn’t beautiful in the least. But when you can see the beauty beneath the surface you will see past the ugliness that everyone must experience and it will make it worth it, just for a peek of such beauty makes all of it worth it.”
His smile fell. “Your father sounds like a…actually, that’s really morbid and depressing.”
Cat laughed. “I know. But it made sense to me. I lived in one of the most beautiful places in the U.S.. An urban jungle of architectural wonders and beauty, and cultures spanning the globe were contained within only a few square miles, and millions of people called her home…they were the pulse of her heart. But, just like with everything, the flipside of that beauty was the truth that blood flowed down the streets and the city I loved was built upon the bones of those who had built her, loved her, and in most cases, wanted to run her... Sorry, I’m rambling.”
“No, not at all,” Colt assured her. He loved listening to her talk, especially when she accidentally let her guard down and her accent flared. There was something beautiful and poetic about the way she describes things, especially the city she loves and obviously misses, and her attention for the smallest details was awe-inspiring. “I used to feel the same way about Montana.”
She looked over at him. “As in past-tense? You don’t feel that way about Big Sky Country anymore?”
He shrugged. “I like it, but I don’t love it anymore. I’m starting to realize that as much as I wanted for Vicks to spread her wings and see the world, I was too scared to spread mine.”
Cat made a face. “Realizations are a bitch, huh?”
“To say the least. Did you want the tour?” he asked.
She chuckled. “By all means,” she said and put the book back.
Colt pointed to each. “Kitchen. Library. Living room. Bedroom. Bathroom is through there…no, it isn’t an outhouse. Originally, yes, but that was the first thing I took care of when I came back here. I installed electrical as well but I haven’t flipped the switch since I was content with living without it…that, and I was pissed that I couldn’t get the shop amps where it needed to be so I guess you could say I’ve been pouting ever since.”
“Shop?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Work shop. I’ll show you in the morning because it’s most likely colder out there than it is in here. Are you warming up?”
Was she? Cat hadn’t noticed one way or another. Yes, she could no longer see her breath, and yes, she felt overly warm yet chilled at the same time, but both were due to nerves, she knew.
“Starting to get there,” she said with a shrug. “You don’t watch the tube, don’t listen to music, don’t do anything but work in your shop, read and sleep…” her words trailed off when they settled on the large bed in the corner. Instantly she started towards it, dropping the quilt wrapped around her as she went.
Cat’s eyes widened as she admired the tall hickory posts and the intricate wood detailing at the base of each of the four posts which seamlessly blended into the tall footboard, side-rails and headboard. “Absolutely beautiful,” she whispered, and unable to stop herself, she pulled her gloves off and caressed her trembling fingers over the meticulously carved faces of each angel wrapping around the base of the posts, their furled wings appearing wispy and delicate, as if at any moment they would stretch out from the wood and take flight. The rich golden stain was streaked with mahogany which blended together forming ribbons of honey to reflect the light while the deeper hue absorbed the light, causing lowlights and highlights that made the wooden masterpiece appear to be shimmering.
“It’s beyond beautiful. Where did you get it?” Cat asked, turning to look at Col
t. “It’s even more breathtaking than the one at my place…and, truth is, I was seriously contemplating stealing that one when I left.”
Colt joined her. “When are you leaving?” he demanded.
Cat cocked an eyebrow over his tone.
“Theft is an arrest-able offense,” he reminded her. “And wasn’t it you who scolded Probie that in order to uphold the law you, yourself, have to uphold it with each of your actions?”
“In not so many words,” she agreed, trying to keep from smiling.
A man that pays attention. Sexy, not helpful at the moment, but beyond sexy.
“And wasn’t it you who took an oath to uphold that law no matter what?” he pressed.
And the mirth was stolen and she glared at him. “Excuse me? Why would you assume that?” she demanded and fought the urge to pull her sidearm.
Colt smirked. “Because you are many things but a hypocrite isn’t one of them,” he said instead of showing his hand.
Instantly Cat relaxed; she couldn’t fault him for that. “Not a hypocrite but a coward,” she admitted and turned away from him.
His smirk fell and confusion was more than apparent on his face. Nothing he had read or found out about her hinted at cowardly actions, if anything, she was recklessly brave!
Colt put his hand on her shoulder. “Did you want to talk about it?”
“No, not really,” she huffed. “Where’d you get the bed?”
“I made it.”
She spun around and looked at him with wide eyes. “Che cosa?”
He smiled; she was adorable when shocked.
“My dad taught me woodworking,” Colt explained. “It was the only sense of control that he had in his life…in his home. He once explained that it was a means to create, to have a part in making something so beautiful and functional that one couldn’t help but take pride in boasting that it was a creation from their own hands.”
Cat sat on the edge of the bed and took her boots off before sliding back to the middle and patted the spot next to her. “You miss him, don’t you?”