Summer's Moon

by Lacey Baker

  “And I did,” was his response.

  “And we made a baby,” she said simply. “I’m pregnant with your child, Parker.”

  There, she’d told him. Then she held her breath, waiting for his response. Instead the ladies’ room door opened and in came none other than Louisa Kirk. Without a word, she raised her arm and slapped Parker over the shoulder with her purse.

  “You haven’t changed a bit, Parker Cantrell. Still chasing girls into whatever dark corner you can get them in to do your deeds. Shame on you!” she yelled.

  Chapter 4

  Drew was emotional and moody and speeding as she took the curve off Duncan to Old Towne Road on what felt like only her right-side tires. There was a screeching sound, rubber disagreeing with its intense contact with concrete, she was sure, but she didn’t really care. She just wanted to get home, to find something to eat that wouldn’t make a command performance that landed her face-to-face with the toilet once more, to take a hot shower and climb into bed to watch a great old black-and-white movie. That’s what she really wanted.

  What she didn’t want was to have Parker Cantrell feeling any sort of pity for her or the baby she was carrying. She definitely did not want Louisa Kirk spreading rumors about her hooking up with Parker in the bathroom at Amore. And she almost certainly did not want to be pulled over by a cop. Not tonight, please not tonight.

  As usual, her prayers went unanswered. Drew sighed heavily as she pulled her car over to the curb in acquiescence to the flashing lights on the police cruiser that pulled in right behind her. They were about a block away from her house, a very short block because Main Street had lots of breaks for quaint little alleyways that boasted antique benches, lovely trellises flanked with ivy, and other spaces that Drew considered cubbyholes for the seagulls once they’d found their meal at the dock. They made the town feel even smaller and just a bit more eclectic. A big city would never keep this type of space untouched, not for long, anyway. But here in Sweetland, the townspeople liked everything the way it had been the first day they were born, or so it seemed.

  She sat in her car staring straight ahead and could see the swinging post sign in the shape of a clock, with TIMELESS ANTIQUES scribed over its face. As if she’d had no clue as to why she was stopped there, Drew jumped at the knock on her window. With another sigh—because what else was she going to do?—she pressed the button that operated the window and watched as it descended. Deputy Carl Farraway stood on the other side, his oily black hair curling around the edges of his hat and dark eyes assessing her a little too closely.

  “Evenin’, Drew,” he said in a slow drawl.

  When she’d first met him, she’d thought maybe he was from the South or maybe his parents were—which was strange, because his father was Sheriff Kyle Farraway and he didn’t have any type of accent. Then, after a few months in town and a few times seeing him talking to the guys at The Crab Pot and at Charlie’s, she’d realized Carl spoke that way only when he was talking to a female—correction, females in his age range. He spent a lot of time rolling his eyes and repeating “Yes, ma’am” and “No, ma’am” to Louisa and Marabelle.

  “Hi, Carl,” she said, unable to hide the lack of enthusiasm in her voice. Her stomach was doing some weird revolt thing that she’d never felt before, and her temples throbbed as if someone were poking spikes in them. In other words, she really needed to hurry up and get this over with. “I was speeding, I know. Can you just give me my ticket so I can go?”

  He looked a little shocked at her words, so Drew tried to smile, or at least she moved her lips and hoped the action resulted in a smile.

  “Well, I wasn’t sure I was going to give you a ticket. Thought we’d talk a little about what had you speeding down the street in the first place. Is something wrong? Someone chasing you?”

  Did he really just ask her if someone was chasing her? They lived in Sweetland, the land of the perpetual slow and relaxed mood. Nobody would ever chase her here, unlike what she’d gone through in Stratford.

  “I’m fine,” she replied quickly before memories had a chance to settle in, shifting her already dismal mood to the possible suicidal range. And yes, she was damn tired of telling people that she was “fine” tonight. “Just in a hurry.”

  But Carl was not.

  He leaned over, resting his arm on the hood of her car, pushing his face through the half-open area of her window. Carl had a big head, literally and figuratively. It fit through the window she’d only partially opened, but it filled the space completely, as though it might even get stuck.

  “In a hurry to get home? Why? Is someone there waiting for you?” he continued.

  She shook her head, unable to reply since she’d been thinking about the unusual size of his head and wasn’t sure what might actually come out of her mouth.

  “I could give you an escort,” he offered.

  “Or you can just give me a warning about speeding and let me be on my way,” she countered, since he seemed to be in a giving mood.

  “Or he can get back into his cruiser and pretend like he never pulled you over,” another male voice countered.

  A male voice she’d never wanted to hear again. Okay, not that serious, she just didn’t really want to hear it again tonight, but unfortunately …

  Carl moved back from the car to stare at Parker. Carl was a couple of inches taller than Parker, who was easily more than six feet tall. They stood glaring at each other as if it were a face-off instead of a simple traffic stop, and Drew found herself getting out of her car instead of pulling off as she probably should have done.

  She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it so fast and hard that her teeth chattered. She’d been about to tell Parker she was fine and that he could stand down from this Mr. Protector role she assumed he was trying to pull. He hadn’t said another word since his comment to Carl, but his partially spread legs, clenched fists at his sides, and that chest—why, oh why, was it so broad and so muscled and so tempting, even in this uncomfortable situation?—spoke volumes.

  “She was speeding, almost turned her car over when she took that corner,” Carl told Parker. “And last time I checked, I wore the badge in this town.”

  Parker was a cop, a detective, if she remembered correctly. He worked for the Baltimore City Police Department and had been there since he’d left Sweetland after graduating from high school. Word around town was that he was some sort of big shot in the city, a high-profile crime fighter just like his twin, Preston, who used to be a defense attorney in the city. These days, Preston was spending more time working on the additions to his little blue house than he was in the courtroom. Three weeks ago, when Dale Connor was rear-ended just off I-33, Preston had been the first person he’d called. Drew and a lot of others around town figured it wouldn’t be long before Preston officially opened his own firm in Sweetland.

  As for Parker, well, as Carl had stated so clearly, he wore the badge in this town.

  “That car weighs about as much as she does,” Parker told Carl, clearly not giving a damn who wore what around here. “If she goes over thirty, she’s liable to tip the damned thing over.”

  “She was doing well over thirty,” was Carl’s comeback as he took a step closer to Parker.

  Parker didn’t move. “You clock her?”

  Carl didn’t flinch. “I know when someone’s speeding in my town.”

  Parker smiled. No, he smirked. “And that’s the most action you’ve seen in this town, is that about right, Deputy?”

  “Speeding ticket or a warning, whatever, but I’d like to get on with it before I’m too old to drive again,” Drew finally interrupted.

  Both men turned their heads quickly in her direction, as if for the first time realizing she was standing there. The brilliant day had turned into a sultry evening, the streetlights shining bright along the stretch and back around Olde Towne Square. Lightning bugs buzzed around blinking, mosquitoes were on the prowl, and in the center of the street two grown men stood toe-to-to
e like high school rivals. Drew wondered if there was some history between Carl and Parker she’d never heard about, then quickly dismissed the notion. She didn’t care what was going on between them, she wanted to go home.

  “You’re not getting a ticket. Get back in the car,” Parker instructed her.

  Not to be outdone, Carl quickly added, “She is getting a ticket for driving too fast and almost flipping her car over.”

  “There’s no ordinance for almost flipping a car over, Farraway,” Parker told him.

  Drew suspected he’d purposely switched from calling him “Deputy” to calling him by his last name. The frown on Carl’s face said her suspicion was most likely true.

  Now it was Carl’s turn to smile, or smirk, or whatever. The action wasn’t nearly as arousing on him as it had been on Parker. “It’s called reckless driving, Cantrell. I’d think you big-city cops would know your law a little better,” Carl said with obvious satisfaction.

  And because Parker was not to be outdone, he replied, “I’m a detective, not a traffic cop.”

  Another second, another couple of words, and Drew figured these two would come to blows. Her money was on Parker, but Carl looked madder than a swarm of bees, so she stepped forward until she was between them, facing Carl.

  “Just write the ticket, Carl. I won’t contest it,” she told him.

  “He doesn’t have to issue a ticket. He can let you go with a warning,” Parker said from behind her.

  His hard body had pressed against her back, much closer than she thought when she’d originally come between the two men. Her pulse raced as if on cue, and she swallowed slowly.

  “He’s right, I was speeding.” Although she couldn’t recall her exact driving speed, she figured it had to be at least as fast as her heart was beating at this moment. And it was hotter out here. She could feel heat rising right up her spine, settling at the nape of her neck. “I’ll just take that ticket now.”

  “Let her go, Farraway,” Parker spoke again.

  “Right after I write her ticket,” Carl tossed at him before going to his cruiser to get his ticket book.

  He hadn’t brought the book with him when he’d first come to her window, which made Drew realize he hadn’t intended to give her a ticket until Parker had showed up.

  “Why are you here?” she asked, whirling around to face him. “He was going to let me go before you showed up, getting all in his face like some overgrown bully.”

  “He was going to let you go if you let him follow you home,” he replied dryly. “Is that what you wanted?”

  “No, it’s not what I—” Her words were cut short as Carl returned, tearing a ticket from the pad and handing it to her.

  Parker intercepted it. “I’ll take care of this,” he said to Carl, whose lips instantly tightened into a thin line.

  His eyebrows drew close, and Drew thought he was going to spit fire out of his flaring nostrils. Good grief, there must have been some serious feud between these two.

  “You got thirty days to pay it, Cantrell. Be sure to do so before you skip town.”

  Carl didn’t stay for another round but turned on his heel and headed to his car. Parker glared at him the entire time, until the police cruiser pulled away from the curb, made a U-turn, and headed back down toward Olde Town Square. While he wasn’t paying attention, Drew reached up and snatched the ticket from his hand.

  “I’ll take care of my own tickets, thank you very much.” It was her turn not to wait for a response as she jumped into her car and sped off, praying desperately for mercy.

  But when she looked in her rearview mirror, she mumbled a curse. Parker was right behind her on that infamous motorcycle of his, following her like a stalker.

  No, not like that. Not again.

  Still, he was following her, and she didn’t like it.

  * * *

  “There are laws against stalking, Parker,” Drew told him after she’d parked and gotten out of her car.

  She’d waited while he’d pulled his bike up to park alongside the driver’s side before getting out and saying what she’d thought would be her good-bye to him. But, as he suspected, Drew Sidney didn’t know him well at all.

  “We need to talk,” he said simply.

  Although she looked resigned to his statement, she replied, “I’m really not up for this tonight. I don’t feel well. It’s hot and I’m hungry and I’m just way too irritated to talk right now.”

  “Then I’ll see you inside, fix you something cool to drink, maybe get you something to eat,” he suggested, knowing she was already searching for another excuse.

  She sighed. “You don’t have to do this, Parker,” she told him. “I didn’t tell you about the baby to put any pressure on you. I can handle this on my own.”

  “Give me your key,” he said simply. She looked surprised, as if she were waiting for another response. Of course she was. She hadn’t anticipated he’d follow her home from the festival, hadn’t assumed he’d give a damn about what she’d just told him. He was Parker Cantrell, after all, the reckless and impulsive Cantrell, the one the members of this town had never expected to amount to anything. For those exact reasons and a few more of his own, Parker stood in Drew’s backyard, inhaling the undeniable scent of flowers, lots of flowers, and getting mosquito bites on the backs of his legs. He held his hand out and didn’t say another word until she sighed once more and handed him the keys, her house key already singled out.

  Parker unlocked the back door and stood to the side to let her go in first. When the door was closed behind him, he followed her up the stairs in what soon became a very familiar trek to her apartment. The last time he’d been here, it had been a hot night just like tonight. The stairway was narrow, so they had to travel single file. At the end of the flight of stairs, there would be two turnoffs. Drew made a right turn, and he followed.

  She switched on a lamp and he had to blink to keep his focus. Drew Sidney liked something else as much as she liked flowers—colors. He remembered the walls in the flower shop were some shade of purple, light but still girly. This room was her living room, as evidenced by the futon propped against the far wall with its rainbow array of pillows. There was what he guessed served as her coffee table, sitting in front of the yellow futon. The table was a polar bear lying on its back, its legs holding up a thick slab of stained glass. There was a fluffy yellow-and-white rug on the floor, which was in stark contrast with the red-painted walls. Knickknacks were a popular feature along with shelf after shelf full of DVDs and CDs.

  “Do you want something to drink?”

  Her voice cut through his perusal of her house, and he nodded. “Sure, whatever you’re having will be fine.”

  “You don’t have to take a beer hiatus on my account. I know you like to drink,” she told him before she disappeared through another doorway.

  Parker used that moment to move to one of the shelves, running his finger along the spines of a section of DVDs. He wasn’t a movie buff by any stretch. That would be his younger sister Raine’s department. But he recognized some of the names he saw, a couple of the titles, and smiled because he couldn’t recollect ever actually watching any of these movies in his lifetime. He preferred watching movies in color and wondered why Drew didn’t, considering her decorating tastes. There were pictures on her wall, black-and-white shots of the major city skylines.

  “We can talk now if you want,” she said, and Parker turned around to see her moving pillows from the futon to sit down.

  A quick glance around the room showed him the only other probable seats were a huge black beanbag chair and another black chair with no arms that resembled a rocking horse instead of a piece of furniture. He moved to sit beside her on the futon, being careful not to crowd her because she looked as if she’d had about all she could take for one day.

  He was trying to respect that, trying not to push, which was usually his way when he wanted something. At the moment, he wasn’t sure why he was taking this route with Drew when he
’d never done this with anyone else in his life, but he figured it was the right thing to do regardless.

  She handed him a beer, and Parker took a deep swallow.

  “That night we were together,” he started, then stopped. He really didn’t know what to say to her. One would think a thirty-three-year-old man who was not a stranger to women would know how to sit on a couch and talk to one, but right now he was kind of coming up blank. No, that wasn’t it. He had things he wanted to say, he just didn’t know how to say them or how Drew would react if or when he did.

  “I didn’t plan to sleep with you, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not trying to trap you,” she said.

  Shocked at her words, Parker looked over to her. With both hands, she was holding a glass of water filled with ice cubes. Thin wisps of hair were matted to her forehead where she’d begun to sweat from the heat, while the rest of the dark brown strands hung down her back, still twisted in some fashion. Her skin looked creamy, if a bit damp. She stared down at the glass, but from the side he could see her long lashes as she blinked, the tip of her pert nose, the soft curve of her lips.

  “I pursued you, Drew, so I know you weren’t trying to trap me.” He took a deep breath. “And for the record, what I was going to say was that I apologize for not protecting you. I never forget. Ever. But that night.”

  She began to nod. “I know. I don’t usually forget. I mean, I don’t do what we did often, but when I do, I don’t forget. Ever.”

  Parker took another drink of his beer, wondering how his mouth could get so dry so quickly. “I take care of my responsibilities,” he said solemnly.

  “You don’t have to do me any favors,” she snapped.

  He watched her lean forward and place her glass on the table. Never in his wildest dreams would he have expected her to say that.

  “Look, Parker, I’m well aware of who you are and of the type of man you are. I know you have a life in Baltimore and that you were only in town for your grandmother’s funeral. I don’t plan to ask you for anything for this baby.”