“You’d think the man didn’t have a decent pair of working legs or two good hands. Can’t get a bloody thing for himself. All I do is wait on him night and day,” Gram muttered through a forced smile.
Wow. Where did that come from?
“I’ll get it, Gram. I need to use the bathroom anyway.” Cherry stood, walked over to her gramps, and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll be right back with your drink, Gramps. Give me a couple of minutes.”
As she walked into the spotless kitchen, the scent of lemon tickled her nose. Taking her time, she walked through to the living room, where a survey of the cozy space gave her a sense of comfort. A book on her gramps’s chair caught her attention. She’d probably kick herself, but she had to look. She lifted the book and looked at the cover—an old farmhouse graced the front. Her gramps was reading the Farmer’s Almanac.
No brain bleach needed today.
She thrust the book back onto the chair, continuing on her way to the bathroom. Once there, she closed and locked the door. The bath was as neat as the rest of the house, everything in its place. Never had a day gone by where her gram didn’t clean the house, making sure every scrap of paper, every piece of clothing, every dish and whatever else was put in its proper location. Every day her gram would run a quick dust cloth across all the surfaces and vacuum. There was never a moment when unexpected company could show up and embarrass Kathryn Ryan.
Cherry took a deep breath and prepared to totally invade her grandparents’ privacy. So wrong. What other choice was there? She’d asked and they wouldn’t tell her anything. One peek. She’d probably find a new medication for high blood pressure or something that would explain everything, and then Cherry could find some kind of peace of mind.
She took a deep breath and opened the cabinet door. Out fell a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs.
Handcuffs?
Who keeps handcuffs in their medicine cabinet? Wait. Why were there pink fuzzy handcuffs in her grandparents’ bathroom? Whoa, didn’t see that coming. Way to go, Gram.
Shaking her head, she studied the ultra-organized shelves. Her gram obviously had a touch of OCD and she’d never realized it until now. Explained a lot. Boxes were lined up by size and content, as were bottles. Reaching for the prescription bottles first, she read one of the labels. Boniva, a medicine for osteoporosis, which stated it caused drowsiness.
“Mystery solved. Now I can relax,” she said to no one as she put it back, a sudden relief washing over her. Gram would be fine—well, if she didn’t kill Gramps and end up in prison.
Closing the cabinet, she turned to go, but curiosity got the better of her. She hadn’t looked at the second bottle, was actually afraid based on her gramps’s previous comments. Reaching up, she grabbed it and rolled her eyes. The notorious little blue pills. Viagra. Quickly she put the bottle back and caught sight of two tall, skinny bottles, one blue and the other purple. Turning them around so the labels faced her, she stared. No longer surprised, she smiled. The label for K-Y Yours + Mine stared back at her.
“Dear God! No wonder she’s so tired, my grandparents are reliving their youth.” As she hurried back to the kitchen for her gramps’s lemonade, she wondered if they sold brain bleach in five-gallon containers, because this was definitely a moment she’d like to erase from her memory.
Gram had almost caught her when she’d walked into the kitchen and overheard Cherry muttering, “I’ll never snoop again.” Thankfully, she was able to brush it off. She left her grandparents’ house feeling relieved, disturbed, and guilty. At least now, she could shut down the million and one horrid thoughts running through her mind and stop wondering what awful disease would sweep in and steal her grandmother away.
Instead her mind zeroed in on the wise lady’s words: Don’t close yourself off to the possibilities. Look what’s standing right in front of you. She’d seen what was standing in front of her and she’d admit he was sexy as hell. Tempting too. If he’d come clean at the beginning of their first date, things would be different. For one, she wouldn’t be having this battle with herself on should she or shouldn’t she jump the hot guy. If she were a short-term kind of woman, she’d say who cares. Short-term meant fun and games, no commitments, no complications, no soul-baring moments, and no exchanges of unconditional trust.
There were other factors to consider, like her baggage. Who could forget that? The media had had a field day with Ari’s accusations. No one bothered to check the facts before printing his lies. Seriously, if she’d had a boyfriend at home, she would have stayed home.
She’d thought all of that was behind her, until Ford showed up at the rec center asking personal questions. Jason had his own business to think about. While she didn’t commit the sins Ari accused her of, in the end, it only mattered what the public’s perception of her was—a liar and a cheat. She didn’t need to drag someone else down with her, and it looked like Ford and Stan wanted to do exactly that.
Better to stay single than to repeat the mistakes of the past.
Sunset arrived at last. As the orb sank below the horizon, Cherry dug her hands deeper into her fleece jacket pockets. Slashes of pink, gray, and orange streaked across the sky. She’d have loved nothing better than to be sitting on a lone beach right then with a glass of wine and soft music playing. Instead she’d been walking the streets of Federal Hill for the past hour or so, passing time, too keyed up to sit around and wait for her meeting with Jason.
She’d chosen his place so the dogs could play outside while they talked about business and the night before. It was also private, with no prying eyes of the press or disgruntled ex-committee members lurking around. She couldn’t help that it was also intimate, and no, her fantasies had nothing to do with the choice. Him, her, a soft rug in front of a roaring fire. Wait, did he have a fireplace? Nope, the truth was they needed to talk.
Night threw a blanket over the neighborhood, allowing Cherry to disappear as she and Tucker made their way down the street. It probably helped that she’d dressed in black jeans and a T-shirt topped with her black jacket, and pulled her hair up in a twist that she tucked under a beret slouch hat. Not “date” clothes, more like a casual “see, you don’t affect me” outfit.
At the corner of Jason’s backyard, Tucker sprinted into the alley, pulling Cherry along. The dog frantically sniffed the fence line, running back and forth, whining.
“Tucker, come on. You can take care of business on the other side of the fence.” Scanning the dark, creepy area, she pulled on the leash and stepped back toward the lighted sidewalk. “Come on, boy. Let’s get out of the spooky alley. Don’t you know this is always where the dumb chick bites it in the movies?”
Tucker ignored her and sniffed some more before he finally lifted his leg and marked the territory. Satisfied, he happily trotted toward the walkway.
“Don’t move.”
She started to turn around, freezing when a hard object pushed into her back. Her stomach dropped out from under her. Tucker—her faithful companion and bodyguard—sat at her feet, tail wagging.
Dog, you are so fired.
“Don’t move. The police are on the way. Getting braver, aren’t you? Hitting the place before midnight. I’ve been watching for you.”
Watching for me? What the hell is he talking about? Relief washed through at the mention of the cops. At least he wasn’t going to mug her or worse. Shaking her head, Cherry turned her head. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.”
The gun or whatever he had pushed harder into her back. “I know exactly who you are. The Midnight Burglar. You’ve been breaking into houses all around here for weeks. Well, this time you messed with the wrong house, because I’ve been waiting and now I’ll get the reward.”
Wonderful. A whack-a-doo, and she was going to be that girl. The one from the movie who ran into the woods/basement/dark alley and got chopped to pieces. “What midnight burglar? I live a couple of streets over and haven’t heard anything about any break-ins. Plus, it’s not midnight, it’s
seven, and I’m not a burglar.”
“Then what are you doing lurking around here in the dark?” He pushed the sharp object harder into her back.
“My dog had to pee.”
Faint sirens headed her way. Great. Twenty-eight years of never getting into trouble, and now this. Pathetically embarrassing. If she had to have a record and a mug shot, surely she could have picked a better crime. Bank robbery? No, too clichéd. Stalking Joe Manganiello? Now, that held some appeal.
Barking and a man’s voice in the distance gave her hope. The voice was rough and soothed her trembling nerves. Jason coming to her rescue, again. Never had she heard a sweeter sound. Bam hit the other side of the fence with a fierce impact, snarling and growling, clawing at the wood. Cherry jumped, not expecting the protective behavior.
“Hey, girl, how are you doing?” Cherry asked in a soft voice. The dog’s growls changed to whines.
“What is it, girl? A crazed squirrel?” Jason asked.
Bam continued to whine and paw at the fence until Jason commanded her to sit. His voice sent warmth through Cherry’s chilled body.
“That’s my friend. He’ll explain to you I’m not your midnight thief.” Cherry prayed he’d hurry up; her arms were cramping from holding them up over her head.
The gate squeaked as Jason opened it and stepped into the space in front of her. Cherry’s captor shifted his flashlight and she could see her would-be knight. Gorgeous blue-green eyes looked down at her. Little crinkles formed at the corners as if he were smiling. Great, she was being held hostage by a crazy man, and Jason found humor in it. Cherry flashed her pageant smile and gave a little finger wave.
“What’s going on, Dail?” Jason asked.
“Caught the Midnight Burglar trying to break into your place. Police are on their way, should be here any second now.”
Sure enough, blue and red lights flashed through the night sky, the sirens now making it hard to hear.
“Jason, could you please tell your neighbor I’m not who he thinks I am so I can put my hands down?”
The latch clicked on the gate as Jason stepped fully into the alley. “Stay.” At first Cherry thought he meant her, and then she realized he was talking to the dog. He caught her gaze before letting his drift down, taking in her appearance. A grin spread across his face. He reached up and scratched his chin, head cocked to the side.
“Jason?” the neighbor asked.
He walked around her in a full circle, coming to a stop in front of her. “She is dressed all in black. I thought Old Man Waters said the thief was six feet tall. She’s kind of short, don’t you think?”
Cherry couldn’t see what Dail was doing, but she knew one thing. He hadn’t removed whatever he had poking into her back. “Jason, stop it,” she ordered. “Tell him who I am, please. If I get arrested my one phone call is going to be to George, so laugh it up now because you won’t be laughing when he finds out you let me get hauled off to the slammer.”
A chuckle escaped his lips. “Dail, you can put that thing away. She’s not your thief. This is a friend of mine.”
The pressure on Cherry’s back disappeared. Slowly she dropped her arms; every ache and pain made itself be known as the pins shot through her system while blood flowed back into her limbs. Cherry turned around to face her accuser, slipping the beret off her head.
“I have to admit you are too pretty to be a thief. My apologies.” Dail started shaking his head. “I’m never going to hear the end of this from my wife. Wait, I know you. You’re that woman from the TV show. Oh, my wife is a huge fan, she’s going to be thrilled. Hang on a second. I gotta call her and tell her to come down and meet you.”
Why? Why did she ever go on that stupid, stinking show? Would there ever be a time when it wouldn’t come back to bite her in the butt? She could see it now. This little innocent incident would spread like wildfire across social media. That was how it worked. The world forgot about you until something embarrassing happened. And did Cherry really feel like meeting fans right now? Heck no. Pain shot through her shoulders and back. If she didn’t hit a bathroom soon, she’d be doing the happy dance. What she really wanted was to go home, soak in a hot, soapy tub, and forget this moment.
Minutes later, Dail hung up his phone. “Never mind. Look, I’m real sorry about mistaking you for a thief, but you can’t be too careful these days.”
“Your wife doesn’t want to come down?” Jason asked.
Dail had the graciousness to look away when he answered. “Seems I spoke out of turn. She’s a fan of the show—”
“Not of me.” Cherry finished for him. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it. Ari had stolen the hearts of viewers of all ages, and her refusing to tell her side had only added fuel to his fire. Still, it wouldn’t stop his wife from hitting those sites and spreading the news. “It’s okay, Dail, on both accounts.”
No one had a chance to say or do anything further as a patrol car pulled up in front of them, blinding everyone with their lights. For the next thirty minutes Cherry got to explain first to one officer and then to his partner why she was in the alley dressed by Burglars“R”Us. Once they were satisfied with her story and Jason’s, they gave her a lecture about safety and let them go.
Settled on Jason’s plush couch, she accepted the glass of wine he handed her before he sat down next to her. Things couldn’t have gone more wrong if she’d planned it herself. Almost getting arrested. Playing the damsel in distress. Waiting for her white knight to save her. So not how she had foreseen tonight going down. Not quite the image of the cool, sophisticated businesswoman she’d been shooting for. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“You owe your freedom to Bam. If she hadn’t made a fuss about going outside, I would have thought you blew me off and you would have been hauled down to cop central.”
Cherry set her wine down, wrapped her arms around the dog and kissed her on the head and praised her for being a smart girl. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “I know we were supposed to talk about the center, but I’m just not in the mood. I should go, let you have your weekend.” She stood to leave.
Tucker—the dirty rotten traitor—curled up into a tight ball in front of the fireplace.
Jason reached up, took her hand, and pulled her back down on the couch.
“Sit, drink, relax. I stopped and got you a cannoli.”
“Is that a euphemism?”
Laughter, deep and rich, rolled through the air. “No, but it can be if you want.”
She playfully smacked him in the leg. “Thanks, but I’m on a diet.”
“What for? You’re fine the way you are.” His fingers lightly skimmed up and down her arm. His brows furrowed, so serious when he’d answered her.
Maybe she’d break her ban on sweets after all, because this guy was seriously tempting. It was the perfect answer, one she needed to hear, even if she didn’t believe it one bit.
“You handled the situation with Dail gracefully, although I could tell you were uncomfortable when he recognized you.”
The wine in her glass was a rich burgundy color, capturing her attention for several minutes. Somewhere between sharing pad thai and throwing popcorn at aliens they had become friends, so it was only natural for Jason to be curious. Full disclosure? So not happening. “What’s on your mind?” she asked.
“What happened on the show?” Jason’s voice came out a notch above a whisper, as if he didn’t want to spoil the mood.
Somehow, right here, with him, her hackles didn’t stand on edge. She didn’t bristle at the question like she normally did. She’d only talked to three people about what happened with Ari, leaving out anything to do with Jake: her grandparents and Tawny. With everyone else, her guard went up faster than the Secret Service taking one for the president.
“They introduced me to twenty-five amazing guys, well, twenty-four, as I knew instantly one needed to leave.”
“What was wrong with the one?”
“Billy Wallace? Tipsy
when he arrived, drunk before the day was over, and had a serious case of roving hands. The others were all great, intelligent, funny, incredible men. From the first night, Ari stood out. He got the first one-on-one date. When he was around the other guys, he came across as friendly with all of them. A happy, easy-going guy. When we were alone, he’d sing to me. Silly little songs he made up. Sweet, romantic ballads.” She took a sip of her wine, staring at the flames as they leapt in the fireplace.
Those were the good days, when she thought all her dreams were about to come true. When anything and everything seemed possible. Days when she woke up on cloud nine and lived like a princess. Only Ari wasn’t the prince of her dream, Jake was.
Jason gave her other hand a small squeeze of encouragement.
“I fell head over heels for this guy. By the fifth week, I was just going through the motions with the others. I knew who I wanted to be with and he said he loved me too. Toward the end, when there are only three suitors left, you have the option of an overnight date. It doesn’t mean sex.” Well, that’s the public line anyway.
Tears silently rolled down her cheeks. Bands clenched around her chest, trapping the air in her lungs. Jason’s hand rubbed firm circles on her back until she could breathe again. She turned to face him. Gently he wiped the tears away with his thumbs while cupping her face.
“If it’s too painful, you don’t have to tell me. I didn’t watch the show and I don’t believe what was in the tabloids. You’re not the person they described.”
She reached up and held on to his arms. “Thank you. I want you to know. You should know the truth.” She couldn’t tell him the full truth, it was too personal, too embarrassing, but she could tell him the story she’d told her family.
She settled back on the couch. “I went on the overnight dates with the other two guys, Jake and Zak. I needed to make sure I wasn’t making a mistake with Ari. Nothing happened. In the end, I picked the guy my heart said to choose. When the show aired and we were brought back on the reunion show, he spun this story of how I’d slept with both guys. He told all of America I’d gone on the show with a boyfriend back home, who backed his story, all for fortune and fame. Apparently, I wanted to break into showbiz. The truth was he used me to springboard his singing career. It worked. America loves an underdog, and now he’s a country music sensation—or he was until his latest record came out.”
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