When A Stranger Calls (New York State Trooper Series Book 7)

by Jen Talty

  “It was meant as a joke.” He glanced over his shoulder. “And you’re smiling, so you obviously took it as intended.” He leaned back in the chair.

  “I’m not a woman you’re trying to have a relationship with.”

  He wanted something with her, he just wasn’t sure how much of what he was feeling was physical or…he didn’t know the or part. “Shall I open the card now?

  “Might as well.” She leaned against the table, arms crossed, staring down at him.

  He ripped the card open in one swoop. “Typical condolence card.”

  “Don’t read the sentiment. Just tell me what she hand wrote, if anything.”

  “Dear Brooke, sorry for your loss. I always liked your grandfather. Don’t you think it’s time we move passed what you did?”

  “Ha! What I did? Crazy bitch.”

  Tristan glanced up.

  “Keep reading, unless that’s it.”

  “I forgive you. It was a long time ago. I hope you’ll pick up the phone and call me. The ball is in your court. All the best, Michelle.”

  “Well, honey, the ball has always been in my court and I did nothing wrong.”

  “Let’s go sit outside with some lunch and you can tell me what the hell went on between you and Wendell’s wife.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m nosey and you mentioned something about a fight with her last night.”

  “Fine.” She titled her head and gave him a fake smile. “I don’t have much in the way of food.”

  “You’ve got plenty.” He stood, standing inches from her, heat radiating from her body to his. They stared at each for another uneasy moment. A million inappropriate things came to mind, but he bit his tongue. Ducking his head inside the fridge, he scanned the contents. A loaf of bread. Some eggs and cheese. Bacon and sausage. OJ, and oddly, a bottle of Champagne. He pulled out a drawer and snagged a nice ripe tomato.

  “BLT’s with mimosas.” He pulled out the ingredients, glad the bacon was pre-cooked and all he’d have to do was zap them in the microwave. Easy, no mess.

  “You drink mimosas?”

  “Some chick I dated drank them all the time. I developed a taste for it.”

  “What happened to the girl?”

  “She dumped me about two months into the relationship.”

  “Why?”

  “Something about me calling her ass fat, among other things.”

  Brooke glared at him again with those orange fiery eyes. She had nice eyes, but only when they were more gold than fire balls of hell.

  “I’m an ass man. I like big butts, so it was meant as a compliment.” He shrugged.

  “Did you use the word fat?”

  His pulse beat a little faster as she reached across him, pulling the toaster out. “I didn’t mean fat as in ugly fat.”

  “Fat implies ugly.”

  “I suppose your right,” he muttered, slicing through the tomato and laying it over a few pieces of lettuce while he waited for the microwave to ding.

  “Here.” She shoved a bottle of soda in front of him. “I’ll pass on the alcohol. I really don’t need a repeat of last night.”

  “Neither do…” he stopped himself, not wanting to imply he didn’t enjoy himself…well, he didn’t enjoy some of last night, but he didn't not enjoy it…Jesus, no wonder he couldn’t keep a girl. “It will be nice to sit and get to know each other.”

  “Well, color me happy. That is what I’m talking about. Say stuff like that, and you’ll be saying ‘I do’ before you know it.”

  The bottle of soda slid through his fingers as he blinked, staring. Fumbling, he caught the bottle, saving it from landing on the floor and splattering about the kitchen.

  “Marriage phobia?” she asked, taking the soda from him and pouring two tall glasses.

  “I wouldn’t say it’s a phobia.” But a concept he’d given up on this past year. Being told you’re not marriage material a million times by various women will make any man gun shy.

  “That might be your problem.”

  “I’m not afraid of getting married,” he snapped. “I actually want to get married. Have kids. The whole nine yards, only it seems impossible because I don’t understand women and I can’t seem to say the right fucking…shit, sorry.”

  She patted his biceps. “It’s less about saying the right thing and more about being either in tune with the woman you’re dating, or more importantly, finding the right woman who finds your flaws adorable.”

  “That’s gibberish to me.” He yanked the bread out of the toaster, smothered the slices with mayo, before tossing on the other ingredients. He no longer wanted to learn how to keep a woman. He wanted to figure out how to get and keep her. “I’m done dealing with my shit now.” He lifted two plates. “Let’s go talk about Michelle and her asshole husband while we eat.”

  “On one condition.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  She laughed. “I’ll tell you the entire ugly story if after I’m done we get pen and paper and make a list of things you want in a woman, things that are deal breakers in a relationship, and what you think are good and bad qualities.” Holding the two drinks in her hands, she headed toward the front door. “Deal?”

  She kicked open the front door and he walked right into her, shoving her down the three steps. She stumbled, but managed to stay upright and didn’t knock over the drinks.

  “I’m so sorry.” He raced to her side. “Are you okay?”

  “Is that thing yours?” She pointed to the Range Rover convertible.

  “Mostly the bank’s.” His white convertible shined under the summer sun. Cars had been the only thing he spent any of his trust fund on. Other than that, he lived inside his current pay scale.

  The jury was still out on whether his parents were proud or concerned for his future. His father had scowled when he bought the car, knowing the money came directly from his trust. His mother tried to enjoy hanging out in a double-wide, but it certainly wasn’t where she envisioned her oldest son living.

  “How does a cop afford that?” She looked between him and the car, her gold eyes wide.

  “I live alone. I have no expenses other than my cell phone. I really can’t afford it on my salary, but I had to have it.” Not really a lie.

  “I take it when you go out on a date, you pick the woman up in that?” She raised one of the glasses before turning, her hips swaying as her bare feet glided across the grass to her makeshift patio smack in the middle of the front yard.

  “In the summer, yes,” he breathed out, trying to keep his thoughts out of the gutter.

  “Where do you go on a date?” She set the glasses down on the small table before adjusting both seats, easing back into one, crossing her legs. Legs that went on forever. Her frayed jean shorts barely covering her tight ass.

  “Different places. Wherever.”

  “Please tell me you take them to a nice restaurant or someplace romantic and not the pub down the street.”

  “What’s wrong with the Mason Jug?”

  “Good grief. There are ways to wine and dine a lady without spending a lot of money.”

  “That’s what Josh says.” Tristan stood there, staring at her like an idiot, holding his plate while she glanced up at him, smiling, then frowned.

  “What?” she questioned.

  “Nothing,” he muttered, moving his chair with his foot before sitting and taking a huge bite of his sandwich, focusing on the aroma of crisp bacon and not the woman who smelled like a big bowl of tropical punch he wanted to go swimming in.

  “You look like you’re disgusted with me or something.”

  His mother always told him to never talk with his mouth full of food, so he chewed and swallowed and drank some soda. “The complete opposite of disgust, but the words would have been totally inappropriate, according to you.”

  “So, something sexual in nature.” She poked him in the shoulder. “Now I’m dying to know what you were thinking, partly because your body language is close
d and if you act this way around women, well, another reason why you’re single.”

  “I’m frustrated because it’s a no-win situation. I say what I was thinking and women act like I’m a pig. I say a tamer version of what I’m thinking and women think I’m only trying to get into their pants.” He squared his shoulders, trying to relax. “So, sometimes I clam up and say nothing and then I’m accused of being emotionally distant.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Okay, but why did you clam up this time? Because of my comment about marriage?”

  “No. Marriage and a family is something I honestly want.” He forced himself to look her in the eye and not stare at her gorgeous long, lean legs. “You’re an attractive woman.”

  “Thank you.”

  He cocked his head.

  “That was an appropriate complement for the moment and not over the top, just nice. Is that what you were thinking?”

  “No. I was staring at your legs thinking about what it would be like to wrap them around my waist, my hands cupping your ass, and my tongue in your mouth.”

  She raised her hand to her face, laughing.

  “At least you’re not calling me a bastard.” He dropped his sandwich on the plate and plucked out the large slice of bacon.

  “I’m sorry, really.” She cleared her throat and the laughing stopped, but she still smiled like the devil. “When you first meet a woman you’re attracted to, is it always about her body and sex?”

  “That’s not the only thing that gets my attention, but it’s the first thing, and yeah, I’m sort of focused on getting first kisses out of the way.”

  “Does being with a woman sexually make you nervous?”

  He choked on a piece of bacon. “Not at all, but I know what I like in the bedroom and when talking to a woman, I try to find out what she likes, and if we’re compatible, well, that gets me in trouble.”

  “That might be a conversation saved for the bedroom during the act.”

  He laughed. “That’s where I do it, but it gets interpreted as dirty talk and then I’m a pig because I like that and I have a need for control.” He needed to shut the fuck up, and now. Who has this conversation with a woman he actually wants to get into bed…eventually.

  “Here’s your tip of the hour. Try to avoid dirty talk early on. There are lots of ways to figure a woman out. You can do things like hold her hand, wink, put your arm around her. Simple things that make her feel appreciated and sexy and then get bolder with your actions, but try to follow her lead and push her at the same time.”

  “You make it sound like I should be coy and play hard to get.”

  “Not at all.” Her lips turned upward and her eyes danced in the sun light. Her black hair curling over her shoulder.

  His fingers twitched, the desire to fist her hair, yanking her head back, exposing her neck so strong he raised his hand, but dropped it quickly. Christ. This woman made him crazy.

  “I’m suggesting that instead of focusing on the way a woman looks, ask probing questions about her job. Family. You’d be surprised by how much you can find out about a woman both emotionally and sexually by engaging in small talk.”

  The noise of a car driving by faded into the background as he stared into her brown pools of passion. His mind wandering off to places he’d never thought of. Long romantic walks on the beach. Floating in his boat under the stars, searching for Orion’s belt.

  A crackling of a twig breaking snapped him out of a trance. He jerked his head to the side as a fox ran across the street.

  “Your turn. Tell me about Michelle and your history with her.” He watched her as she nibbled on her sandwich. Her pink tongue darted out of her mouth, licking her rosy lips. It was impossible not to think about sex in her presence, but he found himself wanting more of her. Wanting all of her.

  “Michelle and I have known each other since grade school. We did everything together. Even went to the same college and were roommates. I introduced her to Wendell.”

  “You and Wendell used to be friends?”

  “No. She’d come with me a lot to visit my grandparents. One night we saw him out in the village and while I slipped away to the bathroom, he swooped in and bought her a drink.”

  “Technically, you didn’t introduce them.”

  She laughed. “You’re right.”

  “But you’re better than being upset with her over who she chose to marry.”

  “Thank you.” She nodded at him with approving eyes.

  He shrugged.

  “I can’t control what she does, but I did warn her that from what I knew he’d been a player, a bit of a drunk, toss in a recreational coke user, and it’s a recipe for relationship disaster.”

  “Wendell is a disaster.”

  She nodded. “When my grandmother died, I came up here for a week and I was a hot mess. I tried to keep it together for my grandpa, but it wasn’t easy. One night, after I put grandpa to bed, I came outside and went for a walk. Wendell was pulling into the manor and stopped. I got in his car and went to the main house. He got me a drink, I cried on his shoulders. I thought he might actually have a decent bone in his body until he tried to feel me up.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Smacked him and let him know I’d be telling Michelle, only he called her that night saying I was all over him and tried to seduce him.”

  “And she believed him?”

  “He got one of his staff to tell her they saw the entire thing, so yeah, she believed him.”

  “That sucks.”

  “It gets worse.” She set her plate on the ground and stared across the street. “A month later, I came up here to help my grandpa. It was after season, so I certainly didn’t expect to see Wendell. Nor did I expect to see him cheating on Michelle.”

  “You saw?”

  “I saw him with his tongue shoved down some other chick’s throat after snorting a line of coke.”

  “He’s a dick.”

  When she turned to face Tristan, a single tear rolled out of the corner of her eye.

  He reached over and wiped it away with his thumb, letting his fingers linger on her cheek.

  “I told Michelle what I saw, and she didn’t believe me. Actually, she told me that Wendell said I threatened to make up stories about him if he didn’t sleep with me.”

  He balled his fist. “That’s nuts.”

  “Well, in the end, she thought I was jealous of her and her happiness. To this day, she believes I wanted Wendell and his millions. But all I wanted was for her to have a good life.”

  “Does he still cheat?”

  “I have no idea and frankly I don’t want to know because I’d feel the need to tell her and not because I want to break them up, but because of what happened to me.”

  He leaned back in his chair, putting his ankle over his knee. “I sense there is more?”

  “You’re perceptive.” She let out a dry chuckle. “The summer between my senior year in high school and my freshman year in college, I spent most of the summer here and dated a guy that worked at Ramsworth Manor. I was young and stupid and we took a bunch of naked selfies together. I didn’t realize I hadn’t deleted them from the cloud, so years later they show up on a fake Facebook account, but tagging my real one, so showing up on my wall. Michelle was the only person who had seen the images, besides my boyfriend at the time, and she had access to my cloud.”

  “That’s a bitch move.”

  “I’m sure it was more a dick move, since I doubt she’d actually do it herself, but she’s the only one who would have given Wendell access, so there is that. I have no proof of anything.” She gripped the armrests of her chair. Her tone growing dark and body rigid. “My grandpa understood I didn’t put them out there, but I will never forget the disappointed look he gave me that day. That look was worse than all the perverts and creepers that came out of the woodwork commenting on the images.”

  Tristan reached out, ready to put a hand over her arm, but he thought better of it when he
r golden eyes glared at him.

  “Were the pictures taken down?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I called Michelle and screamed at her for an hour, threatening legal action. Told her we had an IT expert that could verify the account had been set up using Wendell’s IP address.”

  “Did you?”

  “We were prepared to hire someone. Grandpa wanted to find a way to have him arrested.”

  Tristan glanced down the street. Lush, colorful bushes and trees lined Ramsworth Manor like fortress walls. “I would enjoy slapping handcuffs on that asshole for a third time. What he did is criminal.”

  “My grandpa didn’t like that I dropped it so quickly, but I needed to walk away from them. I’d just gotten the job I was fired from and started dating Larry. I needed to focus on my future, not the crap from the past.” The words made it sound as though she had been over it, but the intensity of her dark tone told another story.

  He knew all too well what it was like to push pain down so deep that it boiled until the pot ran dry and exploded. “I can understand that, but again, what he did is punishable under the law and he should be held accountable.”

  “He’d buy his way out by paying off cops, judges, lawyers, whoever. It’s what all rich people do.”

  Tristan blinked. “Not all rich people are entitled little pricks like Wendell and not all cops would let him get away with it, much less take a bribe.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you.” She hugged herself. “It’s just seeing them again, and knowing Michelle is pregnant…I feel sorry for their kid.”

  “Now I feel bad I made you retell the story.”

  She glanced at him and smiled, though he could tell it was forced by the way the color of her eyes shifted between orange-gold and gold. “I said I would tell you and now it’s your turn.”

  “I was hoping you’d forget.”

  She laughed. “Nope. I’m going to write out a list of questions and you’re going to answer them, bringing them back to me tomorrow when you come and install my security cameras.”

  “I don’t think you should stay here alone, so maybe I should stay with you, or you can crash at my place.”

  The way she tilted her head with a playful arched brow sent his mind reeling to places he didn’t understand. All women affected him. But not like this one. She actually made him want to be a different kind of man and he had no idea why, much less how.