King of the Friend Zone (Power of the Matchmaker)

by Pratt, Sheralyn

  It probably isn’t cold in Santa Cruz, he thought as he started toward his truck.

  Tonight was laundry night. It might be time to grab some of his winter jackets out of the back of his closet and give them a wash. No point in getting sick at the beginning of the season when he could avoid it just as easily by keeping warm.

  Or he could transfer to Santa Cruz.

  It was warm down there with zero chance of random run-ins with Esme when he went out at night…showing up out of nowhere, looking like a dream, and planting ideas in his head that had kept him up all night resurrecting daydreams from his childhood. Fantasies of Esme being surrounded by a group of guys trying to get her attention and her reaching for his hand instead and saying, “Sorry, guys. I’m with Hunter.” Dreams where he was the one who got the kiss, and other guys were the ones who got the punches to the arm when saying hello.

  Last night, one question had looped and haunted him until the sun came up: If he had kissed Esme in the bar after she asked him to choose her, would she have kissed him back?

  Hunter hated that the simple hope that she might have could crumble his resolve to stay strong. It would have only been a kiss, for crying out loud. He’d had thousands of those in his lifetime, yet he’d be lying if he denied the fact that he’d always wished to feel a very specific pair of lips against his own—that he’d dreamed of it as recently as last night.

  Man, he was weak.

  Giving serious thought to the idea of escaping to Santa Cruz, Hunter fished his key out of his bag as he moved through the first row of cars in the parking lot. Once he got to the row his truck was on, he had to blink when he saw the blonde he was kissing in his mind leaning against his fender.

  For a moment he thought his imagination was getting away from him, but no. That was Esme leaning against his truck, eyeing him as he approached. He refused to flinch and kept his head high until he was in speaking range.

  “Ez,” he said, singling out his ignition key. “Are you a stalker now?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Good to know,” he said, walking past her to the driver’s side door.

  “Or maybe a little lady with a cookie cart told me to be here at this particular moment.”

  “Miss Pearl? And you listened to her?” Hunter asked, although his feet did slow. Miss Pearl had told Esme to be here? What was her angle?

  Esme shrugged. “She said that if the two of us were going to be stupid with the each other, the least we could do is introduce two friends who are meant to be. Then she told me where to be.” She glanced at the clock on her phone. “I’m right on time—as are you, coincidentally enough. She said to meet you by your truck at the gym at 7:02 pm.”

  Hunter checked his own phone. 7:02. “That woman is so weird.”

  “Eccentric, perhaps, but she has yet to be inaccurate. She called what would happen with me and Jon after one cookie.”

  After two cookies, Hunter corrected in his head. The first with Jon and the second with me. But it didn’t matter. Esme was right. Miss Pearl was an oddity in the first degree, but her fortune cookie wisdom always seemed strangely on point.

  “So what are we supposed to do?” he asked.

  Esme shrugged. “I don’t know. She just told me to be here. So I’m here.”

  “She didn’t give you a cookie or something to open when you got here to give us a clue?”

  He saw a tug pull at the corner of Esme’s lips. “Nope. Sorry.”

  Hunter shook his head. “That woman…I swear playing with our brains is her version of fun.”

  Esme pushed away from his truck, turning to face him. “Well, I’m willing to see if she’s right about tonight if you are. Maybe the answer lies with you. Where were you planning on heading next?”

  “Nowhere,” Hunter confessed, even though he wanted to claim he had a hot date. “Laundry night.”

  “Okay,” she said with a little smile. “Maybe we start there.”

  “In a laundry room? Yeah, I don’t think we’ll be finding any of our friends at my place.”

  “Well, then, what do you—”

  “Hunter!” a male voice called out from across the parking lot.

  Only the parking lot was lit so the voice must have come from the sidewalk area, but it definitely had the sound of someone running towards him. Out of instinct, Hunter stepped in front of Esme and eyed the direction the voice had come from until he saw a familiar face run into view. “Kenny?”

  “Yeah,” the kid said, still sprinting. “Don’t leave. Hold up!”

  Apparently satisfied that Hunter knew the person running at them, Esme stepped out from Hunter’s protection and stood next to him as the teen approached. Kenny faltered when he saw her and Hunter was about to warn the kid that lewd looks and comments weren’t allowed, but Kenny didn’t even give Esme a once-over. He looked right at Hunter.

  Something was wrong.

  “I’m here, Kenny,” Hunter said. “What’s up? It’s not our night to train.”

  “I know.”

  As the teen approached, Esme glanced at Hunter. “Do you need me to leave you two alone?”

  Hunter shook his head. “Actually, he and I aren’t allowed to be alone. I need you to stay.”

  Hunter’s mind jumped to Miss Pearl for a split second, wondering if by some force of magical woowoo she’d foreseen Kenny’s arrival in the parking lot and known that they’d need a chaperone. But that was stupid. There was no way Miss Pearl could have known that he’d need a chaperone to talk to Kenny in this moment. This was nothing more than a lucky break.

  “What’s going on?” Hunter asked when the kid stopped in front of him. He’d clearly been running, and Hunter knew exactly how fit Kenny was. If he was heaving like currently was, he’d been running fast and hard for a while.

  For a moment Kenny focused on breathing while sending nervous looks at Esme. “Who’s she?”

  “Someone you’re going to respect,” Hunter said.

  Kenny still looked wary. “Can she be trusted?”

  “More than you or me,” Hunter replied, surprised when the kid nodded and appeared to take the answer at face value. “So, Kenny, want to tell me why you sprinted a 10K to get here?”

  Again, the guy hesitated—looking at Hunter, looking at Esme, then looking back at Hunter. “I need to tell you something, but you’re going to be mad at me.”

  “Okay,” Hunter prompted.

  Kenny kept his eyes on the asphalt, clearly hesitant to make eye contact. “I’ll probably get in trouble. Maybe big trouble. Tried as an adult kind of trouble.”

  Hunter saw the intrigued tilt of Esme’s head from the corner of his eye before replying. “Sounds like something you should definitely tell me then.”

  Kenny stayed silent and Esme sent Hunter a glance that said, Make him talk. He’s serious.

  “Are you going to tell me?” Hunter said in his usual coach tone.

  “I’m debating whether or not you’ll believe me,” Kenny said, glancing up. “It’s not worth getting in trouble if you’re not going to believe me.”

  “If you’re lying, I’ll know it,” Hunter said, adjusting his gym bag on his shoulder as he jabbed a thumb in Esme’s direction. “And if I don’t, she will. This lady eats liars alive for a living, so don’t lie and we’ll believe you.”

  Kenny nodded, eyes reassessing Esme and not appearing to doubt Hunter’s claim. “Remember a few weeks ago, when Miss Weekes’ boyfriend got all dramatic at the gym.”

  “Of course,” Hunter said.

  The kid took a slow breath. “After seeing that, I found out more about him. I’ve kind of been following him.”

  Hunter fought the surprise from showing on his face and limited the outraged responses playing out in his mind to a calm, “Okay.”

  “It’s like we said. He’s bad news.” Kenny looked up, anger filling his eyes. “He’s going to hurt her, Hunter.”

  Hunter’s mind raced as he searched for a response, but ultimately he ende
d up looking at Esme for her reaction. Her lips were pressed together in a flat line as she sent a quick nod Hunter’s direction. She believed Kenny.

  “I mean, really hurt her,” Kenny added, getting Hunter to look back his way. “I know his type. I know what they do. And…”

  “And?” Hunter prompted.

  Kenny’s jaw flexed a couple of times before deciding to answer. “He owns a gun. Unregistered.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I…looked at it,” Kenny confessed. “The serial number is filed off. He probably got it on the street. He keeps it in his nightstand.”

  Holy crap. Yes, Kenny could get into all sorts of trouble based on what he was telling Hunter. Breaking and entering? Stalking his social worker? He could definitely go to jail.

  “Did you touch the gun?” Hunter asked, and Kenny looked as surprised as Hunter felt that it was his first follow-up question.

  “I’m not stupid.”

  Of course he wasn’t. “Okay. Good.”

  Kenny tilted his head, probably surprised he wasn’t being yelled at yet. But Hunter was a fireman, not a cop. He had no obligation to cuff the kid. What’s more, he cared about Shauna and there must have been a massive red flag somewhere for a kid like Kenny to step forward and incriminate himself in multiple felonies.

  “So what do you think Aaron’s going to do?” Hunter asked.

  Kenny clearly wasn’t expecting the follow-up question because he blinked in surprise. When he answered this time, it was with more confidence. “The dude kind of lost it last night. I mean, he’s been getting worse each day, but last night was like a tipping point. I saw it. He’s at that place where they switch from words to actions. And he was screaming at her last night. I think she broke up with him, and he was yelling and yelling. Then he went home and loaded his gun and put it in the glove box of his car. He didn’t leave again last night, but if it’s in his glove box, he’s thinking something.”

  Hunter grew still. “And you’re sure it’s still in his car?”

  Kenny nodded. “Totally sure. I’ve been obsessing about it all day and telling myself I can take care of it, and I don’t need to tell anyone. I can handle the dude. But you kept coming to mind, and I kept remembering all those sessions with you where I thought all I had to do was race in and give it my all to win. But you took me down so easily every time. It made me think that maybe it would be the same if I tried to handle this alone. Because I know I’m tough. I could beat this guy with fists, but I’m not tougher than a bullet.”

  “None of us are, Kenny,” Hunter said, as he thought over what the kid had said.

  “Do you know Aaron’s full name?” Esme asked from next to him, and part of Hunter calmed down a bit as she took some control. Esme understood crisis. She understood escalation and she knew how to stop it while still moving things forward. If Hunter could pick a single person on the planet to be standing next to him right then, it would be her.

  “Aaron Sarvo,” Kenny said.

  “Do you know his license plate?” she asked, her voice oddly soothing.

  Kenny nodded, being surprisingly unguarded. “I took a picture.”

  Hunter nodded and pulled out his own phone, knowing who he wanted to call.

  While Kenny fished his phone out of his pocket and scrolled to the image of a Mercedes, Hunter pulled up a contact on his own phone. “I’m going to make a call and I need you to trust me, okay, Kenny?”

  Kenny looked from him to Esme. When she nodded in agreement with Hunter, the kid shrugged. “Whatever.”

  Hunter searched his contacts for Officer Flynn’s number and selected it. Four rings later, the cop picked up.

  “What’s up, Chase?” Officer Flynn said. “On duty. Can’t talk.”

  “This is actually an on-duty call,” Hunter said, taking Kenny’s phone from him. “I have information to throw your way, but I don’t know what you can do with it.”

  “Okay,” Flynn said, his light tone shifting even as Kenny started stress-pacing across from him.

  “I have it from a pretty reliable source that a guy bought an illegal gun off the street and is driving around with it in his glove box with intent. If I gave you his name and license plate number, is there anything you can do with that information?”

  “I dunno. How reliable is this source, Chase?”

  “It’s a street source,” Hunter said, watching Kenny as he started biting his nails. “A street-smart kid feels like this guy is going to do something bad.”

  “Since when do street kids care what people do with guns bought on the black market?” Flynn challenged.

  “Since they think the target is a woman who helps street kids.”

  “I…see,” Flynn said. “Give me the info. I’ll see if I can find a reason to pull this guy over.”

  “That would be much appreciated,” Hunter said before repeating the name and giving him the license plate number. When Flynn hung up, Hunter handed Kenny’s phone back to him.

  “You called the cops?” Kenny balked, taking his phone back. “That’s all you’re going to do? They’re not going to do anything.”

  “It’s the right place to start,” Hunter said calmly. “This is one of those areas where there are rules, Kenny. And some rules can be bent and a few can be broken, but the majority of them will protect you and you need to follow them.”

  “Well, I don’t care about me right now,” Kenny snapped. “I’ve dealt with men like Aaron Sarvo my entire life. I know his type. I know how they operate. I know what they do, and I’m telling you that he’s ready to blow and he has a gun in his glove box. Now I may not know exactly what to do about that, but I’m not going to stand around here and do nothing.”

  “Did I say that’s all we were going to do?” Hunter said, pulling up Shauna’s number in his phone as Esme watched. “Putting Aaron on the police’s radar was step one. Now we’re going to talk to Shauna.”

  That calmed Kenny down a bit. “Yeah? Can I come with you?”

  “I said talk,” Hunter said, wiggling his phone. “Based on what Shauna has to say, we’ll decide what to do next. If she says she and Aaron have a date to go to a gun range tonight, maybe we back off. If she says something else, maybe we don’t. Remember, Kenny, there are only three reasons people fight. What are they?”

  “Pride, practice, and protection,” the kid said like he’d said it a hundred times. Because he had.

  “And what are the only acceptable reasons we can fight?” he asked.

  “Practice and protection,” Kenny recited, still annoyed.

  “And if Aaron is really going to hurt Miss Weekes tonight, why is he fighting?”

  “Pride,” the kid spat.

  “That’s right,” Hunter said, feeling Esme’s eyes watching him closely even as he avoided looking back. He had to stay strong and keep his eyes on Kenny. “And that’s what makes us different than him. We practice fighting so we can protect. But if we start a fight out of pride, we’re no different that Aaron. Do you see that?”

  “I guess,” the kid grumbled.

  “And do you want to be like Aaron?”

  That earned Hunter a glare. “Obviously not. Now can we save the after-school special here? The clock is ticking.”

  “I know,” Hunter said. “I’m calling Miss Weekes now, okay?”

  Kenny nodded. “Okay.” He started pacing under the lamplight again. “Okay.”

  A gut feeling had Hunter hesitating before pressing send on his phone. What if Aaron was with her and saw his name on the phone? He couldn’t imagine that would help the situation. He glanced at Esme and held out his hand. “Switch me phones?”

  She nodded, not asking questions as he looked the number on his phone and tried to type it in, but his stress level was impacting his dyslexia so he handed his phone to Esme.

  “Read her number to me.”

  She understood the situation without being told and waited until he was ready to hear Shauna’s number. Once it was keyed in, Hunter pressed sen
d and put the call on speaker. He wanted Esme to hear whatever happened, and Kenny deserved to hear it too.

  He sent the kid a warning look. “Say nothing.”

  “For sure.”

  The phone rang and rang until it went to voice mail and Kenny swore.

  “It’s too late,” he hissed. “I got here too late.”

  “You don’t know that,” Hunter said, even as his own heart started pounding nervously.

  He hit redial, once again putting it on speaker.

  This time Shauna answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

  “Hi there, Shauna,” Hunter said as Kenny drew closer. “Is this a good time?”

  “Oh, hi there,” she replied as if she hadn’t heard his question. “I’m not alone. Can I call you later?”

  Her voice sounded high and overly polite, and when Hunter glanced at Esme her jaw was set and she was shaking her head. Something was off.

  “I just need to know if everything’s okay, Shauna. Are you safe?”

  “Not at all,” she said cordially. “What do you need?”

  Tension washed through Hunter’s body. “Is Aaron with you?”

  “Yeah,” she said, her voice still perma-happy.

  Hunter glanced up at Kenny who had his hand in the shape of a gun and was gesturing madly. “And does he have a gun?”

  “Sure thing,” Shauna said, still perky before adding. “Hey, mind if I put you on speaker phone. I’m cooking right now and need my hands.”

  Next to him, Esme reached her hand out demanding the phone as she shook her head emphatically. I talk to her, she mouthed. You call 9-1-1.

  Hunter nodded and handed over the phone. Esme took it off speaker before pressing it to her ear and handing Hunter’s phone back to him. Then she turned to Kenny and mouthed, What’s her job?

  “She’s my social worker,” Kenny whispered as Hunter dialed 9-1-1.

  “Yep,” Esme said into the phone in a tone Hunter wasn’t used to hearing from her. She didn’t sound like a dumb blonde, but definitely like a perky one. “I can totally hear you. I know it’s way after hours, and I’m so sorry to have to call you about this. Did I catch you at home?”