by Joya Fields
She turned to stare out her window and sighed. “I called my grandfather.”
He glanced at her and waited. She didn’t answer the boyfriend question. Not that he cared, he told himself. Oh yes, he cared. He wanted her not to have a boyfriend.
“My parents died two years ago. An earthquake in Egypt,” she said. She cast her gaze down and twisted her hands on her lap.
“I’m sorry,” he said. He reached out to cover one of her hands with his. In spite of the air of confidence that surrounded her, he sensed vulnerability, something that made him want to comfort her. Without understanding it, he knew for certain that he wanted to be the one who could make her feel better. “It’s tough losing a parent.”
She glanced up. “Your parents?”
He nodded and then squeezed her hand for a second. He relished her soft, warm skin and the way her pulse beat fast under his hand. He made himself pull away, but missed her the moment his hand left hers. “I lost my father five years ago.”
He knew she stared at him, but he continued to look through the windshield.
“I’m sorry.”
He cleared his throat. “Diego got to the scene of the accident first.”
She sucked in a breath.
“My father had a heart attack while driving down A1A. My mother jumped into the driver’s seat to steer the car to the shoulder.”
He glanced at her and her eyes were wet. Again he cleared his throat. This wasn’t something he usually shared with people. He focused his gaze through the windshield. His heart fisted in his chest at Brooke’s reaction. She knew how hard it was to lose a parent.
“Diego took care of my mother while the paramedics tried to resuscitate Dad. He called me…my mother was too shaken to talk. When I got there, he’d made sure she had coffee and a blanket…” He looked at Brooke again, “Took good care of her.”
He sighed, glad to be finished with the story.
“I’m so sorry. Must have been horrible for your mother, for your whole family.”
“It was.”
“Sounds like Diego goes above and beyond his duty.”
“Yeah,” Garrett said as he drove along A1A and glanced at the ocean, calmed by gentle surf.
“I noticed a limp.” Brooke frowned. “Did Diego get hurt?”
“He’s on desk duty now. Temporarily. Got shot during a drug bust six months ago.”
“His leg?”
He glanced at her concerned face. She knew all about leg injuries. He smiled and shook his head. “The butt,” he chuckled. “It wasn’t funny when it happened, but we ride him about it now.”
Brooke rested her palms on her thighs and smiled back at him. Her eyes shined with unshed tears, but at least Garrett had managed to get a smile out of her.
He focused on the evening traffic. Again, he could feel her stare. He glanced at her, caught her squinting at him as if trying to figure something out. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, then looked out her window.
“Do the police consider me a suspect?” She stared to the side with her chin slightly raised as if she would stand up to anyone who dared consider her a criminal.
“Why do you ask?” he asked, focusing on the road again.
She swallowed hard and shook her head. “One of the deputies—Deputy Fisher—got technical when he asked me about loading the oxygen. I don’t know…it just seemed like he thought I might have done something.”
“They have to rule everything out. The police, Coast Guard, and sheriff’s office are all working together. Boyfriends, husbands…” he turned to look at her. “Best friends…they all have to be ruled out. Don’t worry about Hal Fisher.” She continued to stare. “No…I don’t think you did it.”
She narrowed her eyes and leaned closer to him. He liked the closer-to-him-part. “How did you know that was what I was thinking?”
The small space between them suddenly grew smaller. He almost forgot the question. “You didn’t kidnap and drug yourself did you?”
She leaned back and rested her head against the seat. “Who would want to hurt Linda and Jeff and drug me? Who the hell is that old man?” She turned to face him. “Someone’s desperate to keep us from finding that box.”
His gut clenched. “I think so too.”
****
Garrett steered the pickup into the parking lot and Brooke admired the scenery. The sun painted the sky shades of pink and yellow, saying its last goodbye to the day. The colors accented the bright orange ball as it worked its way down the horizon.
The truck tires crunched over gravel until Garrett pulled to a parking spot near a palm tree and shut off the engine.
“Want to know what I think?” Brooke stared out the windshield at the base of the majestic tree.
She faced him and her stomach did a funny flop. He had a way of looking at her, staring into her eyes—just as he’d done the first time she saw him yesterday—that made her wonder if he could read her mind.
“Yep,” he said.
“I think if it’s human hair coming out of that box, then whoever put her down there is doing everything they can to keep us away.” She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the intensity of his stare. She stretched her legs in front of her and pushed aside a quick yearning to wear sandals instead of white sneakers. “I think we should set a trap—I could sit on a boat alone again—he might come after me. And the police could catch him this time.”
“You’d be the bait?” He practically spat the question at her.
She looked into his fiery eyes. “You want to find your cousin and I want to find out who hurt Linda and Jeff. Why would it be a problem?”
“Uh-uh,” he said. “Too dangerous. Not gonna happen.”
She’d been alone and afraid yesterday, and he’d shown up at just the right time to make her feel less lost. Why did her pulse race like crazy when Garrett was near? But she didn’t need protecting. He had to understand that.
“I think it’s a good idea.”
“No,” Garrett said. “We’re not using you as bait.”
“The police might—”
“You know what? My mother taught me not to make decisions on an empty stomach.” He winked, but the words sounded forced.
Fine. If he didn’t want to discuss it, she’d bring it up with the police later.
He smiled a crooked smile that made her muscles tremble, then snatched the key from the ignition. “Ready for the best pizza in Flagler?”
She smiled back, unable to keep her eyes off the dimple that dented his left cheek.
“Okay. Let’s eat.”
She didn’t have to tell him about her plans to meet with the police.
Brooke inhaled slowly and savored the smell of garlic and yeast even though she was still outside. Her mouth started watering.
With a hand on the small of her back, Garrett steered her into the crowded dining room. Her stomach growled so loud, that if the place hadn’t been noisy with chatter and Top Forty music, everyone in the cozy-sized pizzeria would have heard it. This morning’s muffins were the last thing she’d eaten.
Garrett waved to customers like they were old friends as they passed crowded tables. Young tanned girls in bathing suit tops and denim shorts, senior citizens in loud colorful shirts and flip flops, and families all greeted him from various tables as he maneuvered her to a spot at the long black counter under a sign that read CARRY OUT.
He helped her to a red vinyl stool, lifted a hinged section of the countertop, and went to the other side. “Drink?” he asked.
“Anything with caffeine.” She leaned her elbows on the counter and enjoyed the smells and the happy chatter around her. She appreciated the contrast of this room to the solemn hospital and the nerve-racking boat excursion.
Scenes from Italy sprang to life as murals on the walls—Italian fountains with water so real she could almost hear their splash, regal cathedrals, the Italian Riviera and a busy marketplace.
She glanced around the restaurant and spotte
d pizza in various forms—everything from standard pepperoni to what looked like macaroni and cheese on a pizza. As Garrett placed a soda in front of her, the only thing stronger than her hunger pangs was the heat of his hand when he touched her arm.
She blinked and caught her breath. Garrett epitomized masculinity. Everything he did—driving the Amigo, riding a motorcycle, building his own deck. Yet he couldn’t have looked sexier than he did right now as he carried two bowls of salad.
He lifted the countertop, then plopped down beside her, leaning close so she could hear him through all the noise. “I hope you like the house dressing.”
She barely heard his words. Her body reacted to the clean scent of his soap, the fresh cotton smell of his t-shirt, and the alarming way her hunger for food disappeared and hunger for him started to grow.
She forced herself to concentrate on the soda bubbles rising to the top of the red plastic cup and refocused on the smells around her. Her stomach growled one last loud time before she picked up a fork and speared a huge unladylike bite of greens with honey-mustard dressing.
She closed her eyes and savored the spicy taste. “Umm. Delicious.”
He forked a cucumber and slid a menu toward her. “You’re the guest. You get to pick the pizza.”
With another bite of salad inside her happy stomach, she glanced at the pizza and topping choices. She sipped from the straw, enjoying the way the soda bubbles tickled her tongue and throat.
“Oh my gosh.” Pizza never sounded so complicated. “Wow. How does anyone ever pick?” She scanned down an almost never-ending list of options. Feta-spinach pizza, steak and potato pizza, peanut butter and jelly pizza. And yes…macaroni and cheese pizza. Even pizza for dessert—a cookie crust with ice cream on top.
“Mom’s in the back. Said to tell you if you don’t find what you like, she’d be happy to make you whatever you want,” Garrett said. An elderly man wearing a bright orange shirt and shorts walked behind them and banged Garrett on the back and he pretended to wince in pain.
“Good to see you, Garrett,” the guy said.
“You too.” Garrett smiled as the fellow and his family made their way out the door.
“Let’s get the pizza to go. We’ll eat it upstairs on the deck.”
She looked around the crowded restaurant. Every table was occupied. Saturday night was a popular time for couples and families to enjoy a pizza dinner.
She glanced at the menu again and tried to narrow down their choices. Before she could decide, a woman with salt and pepper hair pulled back in a low pony tail sporting a white apron adorned with a giant red tomato approached them.
She had the same deep brown eyes as Garrett, and Brooke knew instantly that this was his mother.
Brooke’s heart skipped a beat when she noticed that the woman standing in front of her—Garrett’s mother—was missing most of her right arm. A short white sleeve covered the stump, but there was no mistaking that the lower half of the woman’s arm was gone.
“Brooke, this is my mom, Katie. Mom, this is Brooke.”
Garrett’s mom stuck out her left hand and a giant smile split the older woman’s face. “Nice to meet you, Brooke. Sorry it’s so busy tonight.”
Brooke took the woman’s left hand in her own left hand. “Nice to meet you too.” She hoped she’d caught herself before she stared at the woman too long.
“Sorry to hear about your friend. I hope everything works out,” Katie said.
Brooke couldn’t believe she’d been so rude. Brooke of all people knew about those long, impolite stares…had been on the receiving end of many of them.
Katie waved good-bye to a family who hollered and headed for the exit. With a sigh, she rested her hip against the counter and leaned toward Brooke.
“Did you decide what to order?” She winked. “It’s tough the first time, isn’t it? My husband thought it would confuse customers—he just wanted good ole’ tomato sauce and cheese pizzas. Being different helped us get a following around here.” A soft shadow crossed Katie’s eyes at the mention of her husband.
“Tell you what! Y’all like spicy?” Katie stood and drummed her five fingers on the counter.
Brooke nodded. “There isn’t much I don’t like.”
Katie squinted and studied Brooke for a moment. “Okay. I’m gonna surprise you.” She slapped her hand on the counter and wiggled her dark brows.
Brooke’s earlier embarrassment disappeared as Katie flashed her another smile. Brooke laughed and closed the menu in front of her. “Deal! Am I drooling?” She laughed, grabbing a napkin from a nearby dispenser and dabbing her mouth. “’Cause the smells in here are making me salivate.”
Katie laughed again, a soft, happy sound. Then she reached over and squeezed Brooke’s hand and glanced at Garrett. “I like her, Garrett.” She winked and added, “You two go ahead upstairs. I’ll have one of the waiters bring your pizza.” Then she turned, headed back to the kitchen, hollering orders to the staff in her raspy voice.
They carried their salads and drinks up a flight of sturdy wooden steps in the back of the restaurant. When they crested the top, Brooke’s jaw went slack. Solid wooden picnic tables dotted the flat roof of the restaurant, providing a breathtaking view of the ocean. The three-quarter moon hung low in the sky, its light cascading over the ocean, illuminating the water, turning it into millions of tiny sparkles.
Lights from boats in the distance decorated the sea and reflected the colors on the water—blue, red, green and white.
She blinked, realizing Garrett was studying her. He hitched his head toward an empty table by the railing.
“This is incredible.” She stared at the ocean and followed him. First the view at Garrett’s house, now the view at his family’s restaurant. It was enough to make her want to move to Flagler County.
He followed her gaze and nodded. “Quite a view, huh?”
She looked around at the tables and a few scattered couples and families eating their pizza on the deck. “It looks new.”
He nodded. “Just finished it a few weeks ago.”
“What? You did this?” She looked around, impressed and awed anew by his ability to build structures that not only blended into their surroundings, but welcomed and offered comfort as well. “It’s incredible. You do great work. How do you find time to do all this construction work and keep the good citizens of Flagler safe?”
He took a drink of his soda and stared at her through dark eyes. He lifted a shoulder and said, “Don’t need much sleep. I work twelve-hour shifts, three days on, three days off. Big chunks of down time except when I get SWAT calls.”
“You’re SWAT too?” Brooke asked.
He nodded, but didn’t expand.
“You could have warned me, you know.” She lifted a cherry tomato dripping with honey mustard dressing to her mouth.
He raised a brow. “Warned you that I was SWAT?”
“No.” She lowered her fork and licked her lips. “Your mother’s arm. I made a fool of myself staring at her.” She leaned forward and chewed her bottom lip. “What happened?”
He heaved a sigh and leaned forward. “Sorry. I don’t think of it as a big deal, so I didn’t think to mention it. She lost it in a dune buggy accident—the buggy flipped over and crushed her arm when she was fifteen.”
Brooke frowned and squeezed her eyes shut. The woman lost her limb at fifteen—as an adolescent, a time when looks really matter. Brooke had lost her leg at twenty-four, and that was tough. Losing a limb as a teenager? Kids could be so cruel.
“She used to wear a prosthesis. But she decided it was too much trouble and adapted to doing everything one-armed.” He chuckled. “She even won first place in the pizza throwing contest last year.”
Brooke loved the pride in his voice for his mother. No wonder he had offered the motorcycle ride even after finding out about her leg. In his mind, an amputee could do anything an able-bodied person could.
“That must be something to see.” Brooke smiled and picture
d his mom throwing a pizza in the air.
They finished their salads in relative silence, both hungry and comfortable enough in each other’s presence to let silence reign.
A smiling waitress brought the pizza to their table and Brooke had never smelled anything so good in her life. Generous portions of blackened chicken, spicy beans, onions, tomatoes, peppers and sharp cheddar cheese covered a crispy crust with olive oil sauce.
She took a small bite, savoring the flavors. “Oh my God,” she said. A hint of warm garlic and spices blended together with fresh tomatoes and cheese as if a symphony.
She took a bigger second bite.
Garrett laughed, and the skin around his eyes crinkled.
Within ten minutes, they finished the entire pizza.
“Room for dessert?” he asked, stretching. The motion pulled his black t-shirt tight against his chest, revealing a strong, athletic upper body.
Brooke tugged her gaze from him and sat back in her chair, trying to use the ocean view to chase away thoughts of him shirtless and sweaty.
He’d been right about one thing. This was such a perfect way to recharge. “Nope. No room for dessert,” she said.
“We’ll come back another time. My sister Alisha makes the desserts.”
Her heart pounded hard in her chest. Come back another time. With him? She’d like that a lot.
She felt a twinge of guilt, but ignored it. She needed to make Linda her priority.
After thanking and complimenting Katie, they weaved their way to the exit of the still-busy restaurant. Brooke spotted a picture of a beautiful red-headed freckle-faced girl on a poster by the door. She squinted, noticing the girl wore the same earrings Brooke had purchased a few days ago from a local market. Then her eyes scanned to the writing.
MISSING.
She turned around, caught the anguished look on Garrett’s face as he, too, studied the photo. He blinked several times and the corners of his mouth drew down. Pain painted his face like a shot to the gut.
He glanced from the poster and answered her unvoiced question.
“My cousin Tessa,” he said, his voice cracking.