“Got in trouble. Lots of it. Partly to try to help my mom and partly because I was mad as hell. At everything and everyone.”
“Did you go to jail too?” Her voice didn’t waver and held no disgust or fear.
He shifted to put his arm around her and brought their faces close. “Would it change things if I have been in jail?”
“No. Someone a little bit older and wiser told me that we’ve both had lives before this. Anyway, I can see that whatever you did drives you crazy with regret.”
He laid his forehead against hers. “I’ve never been in jail, even though I should have been arrested. Instead, I got a second chance.”
“I’m glad. I feel like I got a second chance too.” She linked their hands. Somehow he knew she wasn’t talking about getting her degree or working at Fournette Designs. She was talking about him. Them.
Something reassembled itself inside of him, something that had been broken for so long he didn’t remember what it felt like or what to do with it.
“Earlier today I got a text from an old friend,” he said. “The man who took a chance on me and taught me how to be a man died.”
“Oh no, I’m sorry.” She brushed her nose next to his and barely touched her lips to his. “And so close to the holidays, too. Will you go back?”
“He’s been buried. Apparently he left me something in his will. Crazy, right?” He chuffed.
“He must have loved you.”
“Me? Some punk kid that worked for him for a few years?”
Her soft smile made her look infinitely wiser than him. “You’re not a punk kid anymore, Jeremy, and I have a feeling you haven’t been for a long time. A punk kid wouldn’t have stepped up to protect two women he didn’t even know. A punk kid wouldn’t be Cade and Sawyer’s right-hand man at work. They trust you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I trust you.”
He didn’t trust himself to speak. Too much wanted to pour out of him. Feelings he’d kept dammed up for as long as he could remember. Not just the awe and gratefulness that a woman like her was on his couch and, God willing, would be in his bed again later, but the anger he carried for so long toward his mother and fate seeped away. A veil that had always darkened his world lifted, and everything felt lighter and brighter.
He slipped a hand under the hem of her skirt and pressed her backward until he was on top of her, one of his legs between hers. “Movies are overrated.”
“Are they?” Her eyes were half-closed, her hips already moving against him.
“There are much more fun things we can do in the dark.”
He fumbled with the remote, turned off the TV, and proceeded to demonstrate.
Four
What do you want for Christmas? If you don’t tell me, you might get underwear.”
Jeremy was equal parts annoyed and hopeful at Kayla’s pressuring. On the one hand, he hated Christmas. Hated the songs, the fake Santas, the commercialization. On the other hand, the little kid that hadn’t been able to squash the leap of excitement every Christmas morning still lived inside of him. Even when that same little kid had been disappointed every year.
“Don’t get me anything. I’m serious.” Jeremy worked the wrench, but kept his gaze on her. Anyway, he had the best present he’d never dared wish for. The force of her smile was directed at him. He made her happy. Or, at least, that’s what she’d claimed last night in his bed after she’d rocked his world—again.
“If I can’t get you something, then you can’t get me anything.” Tease lightened her voice.
“I wasn’t planning to.” As soon as the words ejected out of his mouth, he knew he’d jumped without a parachute.
“Okay, fine. We’ll pretend Christmas doesn’t exist.” She took two steps before whirling back. “By the way, I told Mom I’d have dinner with her tonight, so I’ll see you later.”
She stalked off and whipped the door to Cade’s office open. Something slapped the back of his head and he jerked around. Sawyer stood there with a rolled up magazine. “I know you don’t have shit for brains, so what was that about?”
“What? Is it illegal for a man not to celebrate Christmas?”
“You are like the Grinch to Kayla’s Cindy-Lou-Who. That girl loves Christmas. You saw what she did to the break room.”
The mini tree and string of multi-colored lights had been a hit along with the Secret Santa gift exchange she’d organized. He’d chosen to abstain. “What do you think I should do?”
“Get her a present, you dumbass. The invite to Cade’s Christmas Eve party stands. Bring Kayla. Find some mistletoe and try to be romantic. Basically, you need to suck it up to make her happy. That’s what you want, right?”
Jeremy strung together a few curses and ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, dammit. I want to make her happy.”
Sawyer aw-ed. “I think your heart just grew three sizes.”
Jeremy swatted with the wrench, but Sawyer jumped to the side and continued his retreat to the break room, trailing laughter. No way could Jeremy smile and laugh with a bunch of dopey Christmas-sweater-wearing party-goers. Anyway, he wasn’t part of Cade and Sawyer’s family. Not really. But, he might be able to manage something decently romantic if not particularly Christmas-y.
It was the day before Christmas Eve and the last day of work before Fournette Designs shut down until the New Year. After a shower in the locker room, he made his way into the break room where Kayla poured the last of the hot spiced tea into Cade’s coffee mug from the electric kettle.
Wrapping both hands around the mug, Cade took a sip. “Reminds me of church potlucks at Christmas when I was a kid.”
Her smile dampened when she spotted Jeremy. The realization was like a million papercuts to his heart. Sawyer was right, he needed to suck it up.
They murmured typical seasonal greetings before Cade disappeared toward his office. Kayla turned her back to him to wash up the kettle.
“You’re busy with your mom tonight, so how about I take you somewhere tomorrow night?”
She half-turned, her tone suspicious. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve.”
“Weather’s supposed to be nice. Thought we could take a ride on the motorcycle and watch the sunset.”
She was silent so long, his palms began to sweat. “That sounds nice.”
If a mirror was handy, he was pretty sure he would have looked like a grinning idiot. “I’ll pick you up around four-thirty?”
“Come a few minutes early so you can meet my mom.” Her eyebrows rose, the challenge in her voice unmistakable.
His smile faltered, but he didn’t balk. “Looking forward to it. Are we good?”
She walked into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Better than good.”
“See you tomorrow night, then.” He returned the embrace, lifting her off the ground. Her giggles were as warm and comforting as the spiced tea.
He woke up the next morning with a clear mission—buy Kayla a present. The only problem was the last time he’d bought anyone anything he’d been in elementary school. He was thinking Kayla would appreciate something a little more upscale than a candy ring.
He crossed the river, parked on the Mississippi side of Cottonbloom, and headed toward Abagail’s Boutique. A handwritten sign on the door read Closing at Noon. Have a Merry Xmas! A tinkling bell announced his entrance, and a rich, spicy scent made his nose twitch. Damn, the place even smelled expensive.
Racks of clothing stretched to the walls, a few well-placed mannequins highlighting fancy party dresses. Intimidated, he fingered the fabric of the shirt hanging closest to him. He stared at the price tag for a long moment sure that his brain was transposing numbers.
“Hi! Can I help you?”
He dropped the tag and stuck his hands into this back pockets feeling like his touch would somehow sully the expensive clothes. A pretty woman with ashy-blond hair smiled a couple of racks over.
“I think I made a mistake.” He took a step backward.
“Nonsense.
Are you looking for a Christmas present for someone?”
“Maybe.” Why was he being evasive? Shopping wasn’t a crime. “Yes. I need to get my… girlfriend something.” Putting a label on their relationship felt oddly right.
“How sweet. What size is she?” The woman weaved to him. She looked like a walking advertisement for the boutique, wearing heels, a flowy skirt, and the same shirt with the astronomical price tag.
“I have no clue. Normal?”
“Normal is a relative term.” The woman’s laugh was throaty and wild in contrast with her Southern-belle appearance. “I’m Sutton, by the way.”
He nodded, not sure if their introduction merited a handshake. She decided for them, sticking her hand out. Her grip was firm.
“We’ve only been going out a few weeks. I’m not even sure what’s appropriate.”
She made a knowing sound and nodded. “Come back here.”
He followed her through the racks to a display table in the back. It was covered in little tree-like structures with jewelry hanging from some branches and scarves from others. He poked at the curtain of necklaces, overwhelmed by the magnitude of choices. Sutton circled the case so they were standing across from each other.
“What’s your girlfriend like?” she asked.
He stared at a paisley-printed scarf until the pattern blurred and he pictured her in his bed, her arms open and a smile on her face. “Amazing. Forgiving. Beautiful,” he whispered, each word coming a little quieter.
The jangle of a lock brought him back to the moment. Sutton was squatting and sorting through items inside the case. She came up with two boxes. One small white box displayed a simple silver chain bracelet. The other was filled with mini figurines.
“How about a charm bracelet? Affordable, yet meaningful.”
“How does it work?”
“I would suggest you buy the bracelet and one charm today. Then, as the years pass, you add to the bracelet. Holidays, life events… You know, marriage, children, whatever.”
The mention of marriage and children was enough to make him grab the counter, his head swimming; he didn’t want to imagine the “whatever.” He checked the price of the chain. Seemed doable. “Which charm should I pick?”
“There’s the obvious”—a mini heart lay in her palm—“or, since it’s Christmas…” She set out a tree, a Santa hat, and a candy cane, leaned in, and propped her chin on a hand, her half-smile sassy.
He stared at the mini heart. It implied more than he was willing to admit. The candy cane on the other hand was perfect. He picked it up, tiny red-and-white stones glittering under the store lights. She loved candy canes and had even stashed some at his place. The nights she hadn’t spent with him over the past week, he’d found himself unwrapping one, the minty scent forever associated with her now.
“The candy cane. Could you slap some Christmas paper on it for me?” He pulled out his wallet.
While she wrapped, Sutton kept up a steady stream of chatter and questions. He told her his plans for the evening and after she let out an exaggerated sigh, she said, “So romantic. You should get her mother a little something too.”
“I should? Like flowers?”
“A poinsettia is traditional this time of year. Lasts longer too.” She handed over a bag with the charm bracelet that was fancy enough to stand in for the wrapping itself.
He stopped with his hand on the door, the bells tinkling. “Thanks. I really appreciate the help.”
“I expect you to be back soon for another charm.” Sutton winked and nerves made him fumble the bag.
He paced the floor the rest of the day, eyeing the beautifully wrapped present sitting on the mantle like an unexploded bomb. The night took on an importance he hadn’t anticipated. Sure, they’d slept together, but he was meeting her mother, for Christ’s sake. He dressed in jeans and a blue-and-red plaid button down. The closest thing he had to Christmas colors.
He stowed an extra leather jacket and helmet and rode the few streets over to her house with the suggested poinsettia for her mother between his legs. He rolled to a stop and pulled his helmet off. The blooms had survived minus a couple of torn red petals.
On his walk to the front door, he gave himself a mental pep talk. He wasn’t scummy gum on the bottom of people’s shoes anymore. A porch swing hung from the rafters, a homemade shell wind chime circled in the gulf-warmed breeze. The door swept open before his finger made contact with the doorbell.
Kayla’s tight black pants were tucked into calf-high leather boots, her red-and-green sweater festive. She smiled. “Come on in.”
He followed her from the small foyer into a den covered in family pictures. The closest featured a gap-toothed, grinning Kayla fishing with a cane pole. Her happiness burst through the static pose. She was close to the same age as he’d been in the picture on his mantle. Instead of feeling resentment at the differences as he once might have done, he wanted to thank the fates for giving Kayla what he hadn’t had—a happy childhood.
“Mama, this is Jeremy Whitehurst.”
“Nice to meet you.” He stepped forward and held the plant out as if making a sacrifice to the gods.
Mrs. Redmond was an attractive woman even though her face was worn from hard work. Her hair was the same dark wavy mass as Kayla’s, but her smile was guarded with memories of past betrayals.
She didn’t trust Jeremy. Fair enough.
“Thank you for the plant. Kayla said you’re taking her out on your motorcycle tonight.” Behind her lukewarm welcome was disapproval.
“Yes, ma’am. I have an extra jacket and helmet. There’s a warm breeze coming up from the gulf for this time of year.”
Mrs. Redmond chuffed and launched into a series of getting-to-know-you questions that he answered as honestly but as vaguely as possible.
“Geez, Mom, we’ll miss the sunset at this rate.” Kayla tugged on the arm of his jacket, herding him to the door. She stopped to give her mom a one-armed hug and whisper something in her ear. She skipped down the steps and some of her energy infected him. The hard part was over.
“How’d I do?” He pulled the jacket out of the under-seat storage.
“Great.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “Bringing the poinsettia was a stroke of genius.”
He sent mental thanks to Sutton of Abagail’s Boutique.
“You have someplace in mind for our sunset watching?” she asked.
“There’s an overlook close to the garage. Not sure how much we’ll see because of the trees, though.”
“I know someplace better. We used to sneak over in high school. Want to get a little wild?”
He’d tried to bury his wild ways, but he couldn’t deny the flash of excitement in her eyes. “Sure, why not?”
Kayla zipped up the jacket, pulled the helmet on, and struck a pose, hands on her jutted hips. If they were available, he’d take her no-doubt smiling lips in a kiss no matter that the rustling of the curtains in the front window signaled her mother was watching.
He mounted first and started the engine. Her body curved around his back, her legs tucked behind his. The tangible feel of her anchored him in the moment. He put his hand on her thigh and squeezed. In turn, she tightened her arms around his chest.
He got them moving, being careful not to drive too fast, taking the turns as she pointed them out. Once he made the turn toward the Cottonbloom Country Club, trepidation zinged up his spine. A gravel side road took them up a long hill, and he stopped the bike at the crest.
She slipped off. He pulled his helmet off and joined her at the drop-off. Laid out in front of them was the manicured grass of the golf course. The setting sun sparked off the winding ribbon of the river. In the far distance lay fallow cotton fields. The sun had an unimpeded fall to the horizon, and purples and oranges already streaked the sky.
Their hands found one another and knitted themselves together. Neither of them spoke as the sun inched its way west and out of sight. Mother Nature had taken them to church.
“I forgot for a while how beautiful the world can be,” she whispered. “Thanks for helping me see again.”
He pulled her backward until he was leaning sideways against the cool leather of his bike and settled her between his legs, his hands resting on her hips. “We’ve both been through some rough times, haven’t we?”
She ran her hands up his arms until her fingers played in his hair at his nape, but her gaze stayed on his chest. “Mine were self-inflicted.”
He tipped her chin up, not speaking until she raised her eyes. “You forget that I know what happened, and I call bullshit.”
“But—”
“Nope. You went a little wild to test your boundaries. Now you know them, right?”
Her laugh signaled her surrender. “I guess so. What about you?”
Inky darkness swallowed the last of the sun’s rays. The chains that bound him to his past had eased, not severed entirely, but his life, his future spread out like the fields to the horizon. He didn’t know what awaited him—them—but he wanted to find out. And for once, he wouldn’t assume it would be tragic.
He took a deep breath and shifted to reach into the under-seat storage area for her present. An eerily familiar sight and sound stilled him. Blue lights flashed in the darkness, and gravel crunched under a sleek black police cruiser. A siren cut through the quiet only once like a warning shot.
The cruiser blocked them in. Jeremy straightened and instinct had him pushing Kayla behind him. The glaring headlights caught them like a net. A dark laugh threatened as a sense of inevitability came over him. Karma turning to take another piece of flesh. When would his debt to the universe be paid?
“Ohmigod, should we make a run for it?” Kayla tugged on the back of his jacket, adrenaline sailing her voice into the stratosphere.
“You want to get shot?”
“They wouldn’t!”
“They might.” He stayed where he was and kept his hands visible. “Your mama’s going to kill me if the cops don’t throw me in jail.”
Christmas in the Cop Car (Sweet Home Alabama Book 4) Page 5