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

by Jen Talty

  “If I were a random call you came out on as a police officer, would you be offering to be my personal bodyguard?”

  “Well, no.” He winked. “But since we already slept together.”

  She laughed. “You on my grandfather’s couch is not sleeping together.”

  “I didn’t sleep there. I slept in the bed…with you.”

  “Stop teasing me.” She waved her hand in the air before bending, collecting their plates. “Oh shit.” She bolted upright and stared at him. “I asked you to stay until I fell asleep, didn’t I?”

  He nodded. “Only I fell asleep shortly after and just stayed.” He couldn’t tell if her narrowed stare came from amusement at the situation, or if he was about to be cut with her razor-sharp tongue. “You drank way too much. You threw up. I was worried it might happen in your sleep.” He tossed his hands in the air. “Honestly, the only reason I stayed.”

  She cocked her head the other way, her lips pursed.

  “I woke up at 4 in the morning and went into the family room and stayed there. Swear to God.” Why he’d opened this can of worms, he had no idea, other than his sense of humor and that of a lady were two entirely different things. “I don’t like the idea of you being here alone without a security system in place, considering three break-ins during a short period of time. Besides, your grandfather would have waggled his finger at me and then scolded me like I was twelve for leaving you alone.”

  She set the dishes on her chair.

  He swallowed as she took two steps and stood in front of him. He braced himself for the slap when she raised her hands, but instead she cupped his cheeks and brushed her lips against his in one very tender, but way too short kiss. “You’re oddly sweet.” She smiled. “Let’s go work on getting you a girlfriend.”

  “Why don’t you be my girlfriend?” he muttered.

  “Ha ha. That’s funny.”

  “I’m being serious.”

  She took his hand, pulling him out of his chair, laughing. “I just broke up with a guy I’d been with for four years, living with for the last two. I haven’t even had the chance to deal with how I feel about that. Pile on my grandfather’s death, the loss of my job. Honestly, I don’t even think I could give you a one-night stand.”

  “I don’t want a one-night stand. I’ve had enough of those and I wasn’t even trying to have them.” He followed her into the house, carrying the empty glasses, staring at the back of her head, not ass, wondering how the hell he would get her to actually go out with him on a real date.

  Better yet, where would he take her?

  He frowned. First dates weren’t the problem. It was every date after that where he crashed and burned.

  Chapter 3

  Brooke peeked her head through the door into the family room. The dim morning sun filtered through the glass, landing on Tristan’s bare chest. The sheet she’d given him pooled at his waist, showing off his tight six-pack abs. She let her gaze linger down the length of him all the way to his toes. He wasn’t broad and his muscles didn’t bulge, but it was obvious he worked out regularly since there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him…at least that she could see. Sexy was the only word that could describe his body. But it was his awkwardness in certain situations that she found herself the most attracted to, though awkward was the wrong word for it, because he truly had a way about himself that the right woman could fall madly in love with.

  She wasn’t that woman, but she’d make it her mission, along with flipping this house, to find him the right person. Best way to get over a broken heart.

  And to control this sudden insanity she’d developed. She hadn’t been the kind of woman who resorted to violence, much less lose control of her emotions.

  Careful not to make too much noise, she made a full pot of coffee before sitting down at the table, pulling out all her financial information. She held up the lease for the apartment she shared with Larry, staring at her signature, knowing she’d have to pay her half of the lease until it was up, or Larry moved in his new girlfriend.

  At this point, she really hoped the lying little bitch moved in so Larry could cheat on her, giving her a taste of her own medicine.

  She jotted down her share of the rent, cable, utilities, along with her car payment and insurance numbers, focusing on the task, not the turmoil that tightened her heart. She took out all the expenses for her grandfather’s house, including estimates for the funeral, and added them to the expense sheet. She multiplied the monthly expenses by three, just in case she didn’t get the money from the estate right away. That reminded her about the estate tax, lowering her bottom line even more.

  When all was tallied, she should have felt some relief. She could live off her savings for the next three months. After that, she’d only have the money her grandfather left her, which she needed to invest back into the house and she was sure that wouldn’t be enough. Of course, there was the lawsuit that had been filed by her ex-assistant, hence the inability to be confident in flipping the house.

  She tossed the pencil across the table and leaned back, gasping as Tristan…bare-chested Tristan…stepped into the kitchen, pulling his T-Shirt over his head.

  “What’s all this?” he asked.

  “Expenses and income.” She told herself she shouldn’t be confiding in Tristan about most things in her life, but the way she reacted to everything these days, it might not be a bad idea to at least work through this stuff with another person. Not only was he easy to talk to, he was a straight shooter and she admired that. “If I want to flip this place, I’ve got to make enough money to cover my immediate expenses for the next three months. If I combine my savings with what my grandfather left me, I might have enough, but my bills are over my head.”

  “May I?” He pointed to the paperwork as he pulled out a chair.

  “Please.”

  There was something odd about having a stranger look over your personal financial situation. At least she thought it should be peculiar, but as she studied his intent eyes and relaxed demeanor, she realized that she trusted him. She knew that was crazy, but it was the truth, considering what few friends she had right now, what could she do.

  If her grandfather liked him enough to tack his business card on the corkboard, it was enough for her.

  “It makes sense for you to live here, but based on this you’ll need to at least get a part-time job and then you’ll need to think about where to live while construction is going on. A friend of mine owns the Heritage Inn. You could probably stay there at a discount. Of course, I have an extra bedroom and I wouldn’t charge you rent.”

  “I’m going to need to get a job regardless.” She ignored the offer to be his roommate and rose to refill her mug, pouring some for him. “Not sure what kind of job I could get here, but I’m sure there could be something in Glens Falls or Saratoga. Not a horrible commute.”

  “I’m sure there’s a lot of sales positions you could get.” He pushed a few of the papers around until he uncovered the official notice that had come in yesterday’s mail. “What’s this?” He unfolded the paper. “Who is Debbie Taggard?”

  “My ex-assistant. She’s suing me, not to mention I was arrested for simple assault. At least the company I worked for only wants me to pay for the damages, which I already pulled from my savings.”

  “Shit.” Tristan rubbed his jaw. “The simple assault, as long as it’s your first offense, it will be plea bargained with no time and possibly nothing on your record, but add the civil lawsuit, well, that really sucks.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.” Brooke sat down and stared into the steam swirling up in the air from her coffee. Closing her eyes, she tried to push the memory of that day out of her mind. Rage had never been an emotion she’d experienced before and it came on so fast she had no idea she’d been in the middle of it until she’d been hauled out of the building in restraints. Now, a couple of weeks later, the fire that burned in the pit of her stomach, scorching up to her eyes as they went blind from the emotio
n that could be recalled in an instant, hadn’t subsided. When it came, all she wanted to do was hurt someone.

  Anyone.

  She inhaled the bitter almond smell from her coffee. If she were being honest with herself, she’d seen the signs of the demise of her relationship during the last year, and she chose to ignore them. That intense wrath was self-directed. Not that she’d brought it on herself, or that Larry’s cheating was her fault, but she wasn’t stupid, and she knew he’d been screwing around for a while.

  A warmth wrapped over her hands.

  “Are you okay?” Tristan asked.

  She blinked her eyes open, feeling the sting of tears. Her hands trembled between her hot mug and his tender fingers.

  “You sort of left the building for a while.” He lowered his head, catching her gaze. “What’s wrong?”

  “Sorry. I’m just annoyed,” she said, not wanting to get into the entire mess with anyone, not even the perfect stranger in her kitchen.

  “From the tension in your body and face, I’d say it’s a hell of a lot more than annoyance.”

  “I’m overwhelmed with my life right now.” She pulled back, removing her hands from his soft grip. It would be easy to curl up in his arms and cry, or take out this aggression on his body in the way of mindless, rough sex. Her body twisted between the need to explode with adrenaline and the desire to disappear into oblivion.

  His rich, dark eyes tore into the deepest part of her mind, tearing down her ability to hide those things she kept from the world. She’d built a successful career by locking up those vulnerabilities that could rise up and cripple her ability to be the ruthless, but fair woman she needed to be in business. Her insides trembled as the heat from her belly simmered through the rest of her body.

  “I’d say you’re more crushed by your life and if you don’t let at least some of it out, you’re going to lash out at the wrong time, getting yourself into more trouble.”

  Her muscles tightened as her lungs burned for air.

  “What’s got you so angry right now?”

  “Drop it,” she said behind gritted teeth. Her hands gripped the side of the table, stopping her from standing, hurling her chair across the room. Or maybe jumping on his lap, straddling him, taking advantage of him a dozen different ways. Her chest heaved up and down. The sound of blood rushing through her body echoed across the room.

  “I’m not going to drop it because something is going to set you off, like it did the day I pulled you over, and you’re going to do something you’ll regret. I’m concerned it will be far worse than hurling a painting at your assistant.”

  “Screw you.” Her chair screeched as she stood. “You’re a cop, not a shrink, so stay the fuck out of my life.”

  “No.” He had the nerve to walk over to her.

  She turned, pressing her hands against the counter, taking in deep breaths, trying to calm down. Up until she’d lost it the day she had been escorted from her place of employment, she’d become a master at controlling her feelings and she wasn’t going to break down now in front of Tristan. All that showed was weakness, and that wasn’t tolerable. The madness over her ex would melt away in time. The pain of her grandfather’s death she’d learn to live with.

  That’s how it worked.

  How it always worked.

  Powerful hands pressed against her shoulders. She shrugged them off, whipping around.

  “You need to leave.” She fisted her hands as her pulse pounded in her throat in one continuous beat.

  “No,” he said, holding his ground.

  Her skin prickled with a combination of fire and ice. Spots floated in various colors across her blurring vision. “I need a moment alone.”

  “You can’t bottle this up. Come on, let it out. You’ll feel better.”

  She shoved him so hard he stumbled back, hitting the table.

  “If that’s how you’ll get it out, keep it coming.” He held up his hands, waggling his fingers, gesturing her to come forward. “You want to hurt someone? Come on, give me your best shot.”

  The blood roaring through her body muted all other noises, including her inner voice. She came at him with every intension of slamming her fist in his face, her arm cocked and ready. But instead, she threw her arms around his shoulders and crash landed her lips against his so hard their teeth clanked as his back collided with the wall.

  With her mouth still tangled up in his, she grabbed him by his shirt, maneuvering him to the family room, propelling him on the sofa as she straddled him. She wanted to feel his bare chest against her skin, but didn’t want to remove her tongue from the inside of his mouth as she swirled it around his.

  She clutched his shirt, trying to rip the fabric apart, but to no avail.

  His hand slid up her back, across her neck, cupping the back of her head, fisting her hair, gently tugging as he pulled his lips from hers.

  She shivered, opening her eyes, searching his for answers. For an awareness of what just happened, because she didn’t understand how she went from pure fury to raw passion in less than what it took to get her convertible from zero to sixty.

  He cupped her cheek, rubbing the wetness away. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying, but the sob that echoed as she sucked in a deep breath gave her pain away.

  She wiggled, trying to get away from him, but he held tight, keeping her gaze in a mesmerizing lock, his hand still holding a clump of her hair, pulling her to his chest as he adjusted his body, stretching out on the sofa, tucking her head in the crook of his shoulder. She shuddered as his arms wrapped protectively around her body.

  The moment his warm lips pressed against her forehead, a guttural groan of sorrow escaped her mouth. She buried her face, her shoulders shook up and down as she did her best to keep the crying to sniffles, but by the way his embrace tightened, she didn’t think she’d been successful.

  There was no way to stop this freight train. The last time she’d cried like this was when her parents died, but it was in the arms of the strongest woman she’d ever known: her grandmother. The woman had a heart of gold, but her skin was tough as nails. Nothing could break her, not even the loss of her only son, though she’d never been quite the same. She constantly told Brooke that the dead didn’t want the living to die. That giving up and burying your head in the sand, dishonored their memory. She told her to grieve. To get it all out. Then make her parents proud.

  Brooke continued to cry. Until a week ago, she was sure they were smiling down at her, but now? All four of them had to be rolling over in their graves at the mess she’d made of her life.

  Tristan didn’t say a word. He just held her close, letting her body expunge all the negative energy she’d been carrying around.

  As soon as she thought the tears were about to stop, they’d start all over again. She had no idea how long she carried on and she supposed it didn’t matter. She’d have to remember to thank Tristan for not taking advantage of her for a second time because she wouldn’t have stopped and that would have not only been embarrassing, but it wouldn’t have helped.

  This actually might.

  She relaxed her body into his, letting out a long sigh, forgetting about the world around her. As she drifted in and out of sleep, she thought of her grandfather and his desire to fix her up with the man who gave her a safe place to grieve.

  ***

  After installing the security cameras next to the two doors as well as one on the front of the house facing the street and one on the back facing the lush trees that separated the property from the Marina, Tristan peeked his head into the master bedroom. Brooke faced the door, hands tucked up under her cheek, knees bent to her waist, still sound asleep.

  Crying for two hours would exhaust anyone.

  At least the puffiness in her eyes subsided and the crinkle in her forehead disappeared. She looked almost peaceful.

  It broke his heart that a woman with so much confidence had to endure so much pain throughout her life, causing her to bottle it so deep, she had
no idea what she was really crying about. The betrayal she’d suffered would have broken most people. But what saddened him even more was that she thought strength came from shying away from the pain versus tackling it head on. He’d made the same mistake when his twin died in his arms and it nearly cost him his future.

  Leaving the door open, he made his way to the kitchen table, sitting down with a soda and her ‘dating’ questionnaire. She’d hounded him earlier to finish it and he did ask for her help. He needed a lot of help because all he could think about was her and that made him an asshole considering all she’d been through.

  He unfolded the paper and stared at the first question.

  What physical qualities do you desire in a woman?

  “That’s easy.” He wrote: Athletic.

  After you’re attracted to a woman, what about her makes you want to go out on a second date.

  He tapped the pen to his temple. He promised himself he’d be honest with his answers.

  Sense of humor, doesn’t take herself too seriously, independent, intelligent, and isn’t phony. Basically, someone like you. Nope. You.

  He leaned in, glancing into the bedroom at sleeping beauty. He needed to erase that answer. Dumb ass.

  She stirred, stretching her legs out, her eyes blinking open. “Tristan?” she whispered.

  “Right here.” He raced from the kitchen to the master and sat on the edge of the bed, careful to keep his hands to himself. He’d always had trouble deciphering attraction and real feelings when it came to women. But with her, his confusion delved deeper. The attraction was undeniable and he was sure he liked her. He figured he liked her before he’d even met her through all the stories her grandfather told. Over the course of the last year, he really hoped he would get the chance to at least have dinner with her.