Fletch’s heart constricted as he met her pleading gaze. This wasn’t about him or his issues or a past he couldn’t change; it wasn’t about what he needed at all. This was about Charlie and her desire to fix what she thought she’d broken. “Agreed.” He held out his hand and waited for Charlie to take it. “Now, are you going to tell me how your meeting went with your teacher?”
“Oh, we don’t want to interrupt—” Paige said, but Fletch shook his head.
“You’re not. And besides, I think Deputy Matt and I need a piece of this cake.”
“I heard that.” Matt jumped to his feet and headed for the makeshift kitchen they kept on the side table.
“I’m afraid Charlie and I have to get back to the diner. I’m up for the lunch rush.”
“I can bring her back if that’s okay,” Fletch said. “After she has some cake. That okay with you, Charlie?”
“Uh-huh.” Charlie nodded so hard she rocked back on her heels. “We can take Cash for a w-a-l-k, too. But I won’t go anywhere alone. Especially the beach. I promise.”
“It’s fine with me, if it’s all right with Fletch.” Paige looked more than halfway convinced. “I’ll see you a bit later, then. Matt, glad you’re back. Everything okay with Kyle?”
“What is it you and Charlie say?” Matt asked. “Five by five? Boy’s doing well.”
“Nice to hear. Charlie, behave please.”
“I will, Mom.” Fletch smiled as the little girl’s eyes landed on the cake. “May I have a small piece?”
“I think that sounds like a good idea.” Fletch took the knife from Matt and cut a chunk of lopsided cake. He cut a larger piece for Matt, then felt like a heel when he couldn’t give any to Cash, who looked more than offended. “Chocolate isn’t good for dogs,” he told Charlie when she leaned against his leg.
“I know. Poor Cash. Maybe we can give him a treat later.”
Cash’s ears perked.
“This looks amazing, Charlie.” Fletch took a healthy forkful, the unusual biting flavor exploding in his mouth. He glanced over at Matt, who gobbled his piece appreciatively.
“Um, Charlie?” Fletch reached for his coffee after swallowing hard. “What flavor cake is this?”
“Banana. Mom has a special recipe.” Charlie shot him a chocolate-coated grin. “You like it? Did I do a good job? Someday I want to bake as good as she does.”
He nodded, feeling the prickly heat work its way down his neck. “It’s great. Good job.” He took another bite, forced himself to chew as the itching erupted under his shirt.
“Oh, before I forget. Simon’s doing this project for school.” Charlie dug out a folded set of papers and placed them on his desk. “Would you mind answering some questions for us?”
“Us? You’re helping him?” Thankful for an excuse to set the cake aside, Fletch focused on the questions. He tugged at the collar, swallowed again. “What kind of pet did I have growing up? What’s my favorite dinner? What’s my ideal night out? Seems like strange questions for school.”
Charlie shrugged. “They’re weird, but very important. I’m done.” She dumped her plate in the trash, wiped her face and turned her attention to Cash. “May I take him outside? I promise I’ll stay in the parking lot where you can see me.”
“Yeah, good,” Fletch choked, his eyes watering. “Go ahead.” The heat was moving its way up the sides of his neck.
The second Charlie and Cash were gone, Fletch dived for the bathroom.
“What on earth is the matter with you?” Matt stood in the doorway as Fletch frantically searched the medicine cabinet for the antihistamine.
“Bananas,” Fletch gasped as he looked in the mirror. The hives were taking over, working their way up his face, under his hairline. He felt as if a hill of fire ants were eating him alive. “I’m allergic.” He downed two pills and gripped the sink.
“Oh, man.” Matt’s laughter might have pulled a smile out of Fletch if he’d had the ability. “You’re allergic to bananas and you still ate the cake? You have it bad for those two.”
No doubt about it, Fletch agreed with a painful nod.
He certainly had it bad.
CHAPTER NINE
“AH, PAIGE. I was just thinking about you.” Mrs. Hastings opened her door and stood back to let her in. For the first time in a while, Paige was grateful to leave the dinner rush, such as it was, to Ursula and Twyla and have an evening to herself. Given she’d have both Simon and Charlie over the weekend after their secret-mission-sleepover Friday at Abby’s, she’d take what downtime she could get.
“As promised.” Paige hefted up the cardboard take-out box from the diner and carried it into the kitchen. “Club sandwich made especially by Ursula for you. She added extra tomatoes just the way you like.”
“Lovely, just lovely.” Mrs. Hastings trailed behind and got a plate out of the cabinet. “Goodness.” She flipped open the box and gasped. “This will take me days to eat. I’d forgotten how big these are.”
“Then we’ll know you’re eating well.” Paige shrugged out of her jacket and bent down to retie her sneakers. “I wore my grubbiest clothes so I can make the biggest dent in those weeds of yours. Do you have the key to your garden shed?”
“Oh, well.” Mrs. Hastings sounded more sheepish than she looked. “I’m afraid I have a confession to make, my dear. I have someone already working in the backyard.”
Paige was surprised at how disappointed she was. She’d been looking forward to the mind-cleansing activity of attacking a runaway yard. “I hope they aren’t charging you very much. I was happy to do it for you.”
“I know, dear, but it’s such a big job. And I misspoke. I asked someone to come and help you. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Of course not. It’s your yard.” Paige eyed the bottles of medications on the counter.
“It’s getting so I can read your mind, young lady. I have my pills already by my chair in the parlor. My game show is about to start, so you run on and weed away. I’ll bring out a pitcher of lemonade in a bit.”
“You’re the best, Mrs. Hastings.” Because she felt like it, she walked over and kissed the old woman’s cheek. “Thank you for giving my baby her first job.”
“If that girl’s anything like you, she’ll be running the world in no time. Now, off you go. Don’t keep your helper waiting.” Mrs. Hastings went back to puttering around the kitchen, her orthopedic shoes squeaking against the aged, yellowing linoleum.
Paige could just imagine which unsuspecting teen Mrs. Hastings had roped into being her yard assistant for the afternoon. She exited the back door with more than a hop in her step. If she was lucky, she’d be out of here in a few hours and she could take a care package over to Willa before heading out to mark a few of Jasper’s potential hiding places. Perfect night-biking weather if the last couple of days had been any indication. The more she’d mapped out her plan of exploration, the more confident she became that she’d find Jasper—and talk to him—before Fletch got his cuffs on him.
“Hello!” Paige called as she crunched through the thigh-high weeds. At this level of decay, they should be easier to pull out and get rid of than she expected. She could hear the hack-hack-hacking of a hoe chopping through debris, or was that a shovel? Well, whatever tools might be waiting for her, she’d make the best use of them. “I’ll be over to help in just a...” She peered around the back of the house and stopped. “Fletch!”
“Hey, Paige.” He stood up, leaned a filthy arm over the top of the shovel and grinned at her. Sweat glistened on his face. Mud and dirt stained his dark T-shirt, and browned thistle-like spheres clung to his jeans. He was huffing a bit, but he looked...happy. “Mrs. Hastings called me this morning. She thought you could use a hand.”
“She called, did she?” Paige kicked out a hip and crossed her arms. “And you jus
t came running?”
“I’m the interim sheriff.” His grin grew wider. “It’s my job to help where I can. I’m not one to ignore a damsel in distress’s call.”
“Is that what I am?”
“No, dear, I’m the damsel,” Mrs. Hastings called from the back porch. “And I’m more than happy to lay claim to the title. I’ve put the lemonade out here so it’s nice and cold. Now stop gabbing and get to work.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Fletch blinked innocently at Paige. “See? And for the record—” Paige stopped with her back to him “—the last thing I’d ever consider you is a damsel in distress. Now, how about you grab that rake and get to helping?”
Grumbling, Paige whacked her way to the toolshed and retrieved the metal-pronged rake, along with a pair of clippers and garden gloves. For as much effort as she’d put into keeping her distance and doing her best not to like him, she was failing miserably. And Paige did not like to fail. She tugged on the gloves. At anything.
By the time they’d cleared more than half the space, Paige dropped the rake, pressed her hands against the base of her spine and arched her back. “Okay, I need to take a few minutes.” She groaned. “When did I get old?”
“About ten minutes after I did.” Fletch leaned his shovel against the wall and motioned her around the house to the back stairs. She dropped onto the bottom one as he poured them each a glass of lemonade. “Here you go.”
“Mmm. Thanks.” She rolled the glass across her forehead before drinking. “I can’t remember the last time I did yard work.”
“Not many yards where you’re from?” Fletch took a seat above her, turned and leaned his back against the railing. Because he’d closed his eyes, she knew he couldn’t see the flash of panic she knew crossed her face.
“Um, no. Not many.” Aside from a rooftop garden Mrs. Brennan and some of her neighbors had maintained during the summer. “It’s one of those things where the idea of it is more appealing than the actual doing.”
“Copy that. My grandfather turned his yard over to me once we moved here.” He drank down half the glass’s contents before resting it on his thigh. “He called it good mental therapy.”
“It is that.” Cleared the mind, opened the pores and definitely made her want to dive headfirst into the ocean. “Holly said you moved here in high school.”
“Mmm-hmm. Just before freshman year.”
“Where did you live before that?” Paige could have bitten her tongue. Her brain must be fried to venture into a conversation that in all likelihood would require a reciprocal response.
“Florida. Orlando area.”
“Ah. Hot in the summer.” Small talk. Paige cringed. She was actually talking with him about the weather.
“Humid and hot.” He rolled his head against the railing, opened his eyes and looked at her. “What about you? Where did you grow up?”
“Back east.” It was as close to the truth as he was going to get. “Different area from you.” She ducked her head, but not before noticing the angry splotches on his bare arms and running up the sides of his neck and face. Poor guy must be having an allergic reaction to some of the plants. “You don’t think there’s poison oak or ivy in here, do you?” She set her glass down and jumped to her feet to examine the plants around them. As if she knew what to look for.
“Nope, we’re good.”
She reached up and pulled her ponytail tighter on the top of her head. “Are you sure? It looks like you’ve got some kind of rash—”
“It’s nothing.” He pushed to his feet, refilled his glass and drank, giving Paige the chance to move closer and look at his skin.
“It’s not nothing—it’s an allergic reaction.” She grabbed his arm and pulled herself up beside him, pressed her fingers against the side of his neck. “It looks miserable.”
“Paige, I told you—”
“Quiet.” She’d seen this on her training rotations. Clearly allergies. And a mean one. Not serious enough to warrant an EpiPen, but awful just the same. “You’re as bad as Mrs. Hastings. Where’s your medication?”
He sighed, set his glass down and pushed her hands away. “I took it already.”
“You did not. I’ve been with you the last couple of hours and you haven’t stopped long enough to go inside.” Although now that she could see the blotches up close, they did look less red than she would have expected.
“Let’s get back to work, okay?” He tried to slip past her, but she stepped in front of him, stretched out her hands and gripped both railings, blocking him in. “Paige, has anyone ever told you you’re incredibly exasperating?”
“More people than either of us can count.” She narrowed her eyes, tried to lock onto his, but he was a master at avoidance. “How long ago did this start?”
“It started this morning.” He grabbed hold of her arms and set her back so he could pass. “It’ll be clear by tomorrow, Nurse Cooper.”
Her heart skipped a beat at the title she’d come so close to earning. The dream career she’d had to abandon. “Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” Darn it, she hated mysteries and secrets. The irony, funny enough, was not lost on her.
“I’m not the one making a big deal out of this, you are.” He yanked the rake up and glared at her. “And if you must know, I’m allergic to bananas.”
“Bananas?” He couldn’t have surprised her any more than if he’d smacked her in the face with a banana peel. “Oh, Fletch.” She covered her mouth with dirt-caked hands, uncertain whether to laugh or cry. “And Charlie insisted on making you my famous banana cake. Wait.” One bite wouldn’t have done this much damage. “You ate it? Even after you knew what it was?”
“Of course I ate it.” He looked at her as if she’d tried to shoot him. “Charlie made it for me.”
Something shifted inside Paige. In that instant, she didn’t see a cop who could blow apart her life; she didn’t see a man she needed to avoid at all costs. What she did see was a man who was so crazy about her kid he was willing to poison himself to avoid hurting Charlie’s feelings. Tears burned the back of her throat.
She couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something so...kind. Stupid, but kind. “You really are a nice guy, aren’t you?”
Before she could stop herself, Paige walked across the yard and grabbed hold of his arms; solid, muscular arms that tensed at her touch. Looking up at him, memorizing every inch of his handsome face, from that slight twitch as he fought a grin to the amused glint in his sea-green eyes, she stopped thinking. Without breathing, without worrying, Paige stretched up on her toes and very softly, very carefully, pressed her lips to his.
What she’d thought was an expression of gratitude shifted in the blink of an eye, in the flex of his fingers. She held on to him even as his hands moved and settled lightly on her hips. He didn’t take, he didn’t demand. He let her lead wherever she wanted to take them.
Until she realized she couldn’t go where she wanted.
She gasped, the sound catching in her throat as she dropped down and broke contact.
Fletch looked at her, his hands still where they were, the tension in his fingers evidence that he wasn’t sure what to do next. “Well.” He cleared his throat as she stared up at him, wide-eyed. “If I knew that’s what it would take to get to kiss you, I’d have bought my own banana tree.”
She laughed.
“If you two are done canoodling out there, it’s time to get back to work. Fletcher!”
“Ma’am?” Fletcher called over Paige’s head without breaking eye contact.
“You heard me, young man. You, too, Paige. Plenty of time for socializing once you’ve finished.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Paige stepped back. “Um, so, you want to keep raking or should—”
“Paige—”
“Don’t.” Paige sh
ook her head. “You made a little girl over-the-moon happy, and for that I thank you. But that’s all that was.” Even as she said the words, she wanted things to be different. “Gratitude.”
In that moment she realized the mistakes she’d made in New York hadn’t only destroyed the life she’d struggled to build for herself and put her child at risk. She’d managed to destroy any future she might have had with a man like Fletch.
Any future with Fletch himself.
“Let’s get this finished, okay?” She held up her hand and stopped the question she suspected lay poised behind his lips. Lips she’d only just kissed. Lips that carried a hint of happiness mingled with disappointment. But she couldn’t think about that.
And she wouldn’t. Think about it. Ever again.
* * *
“WE MAKE A pretty good team.” Fletch pushed open the front gate and waited for Paige to wheel her bike out of Mrs. Hastings’s front yard. The good kind of exhaustion began to creep over him, but along with that came a good dose of exhilaration, no doubt caused by that surprising and—most welcome—kiss. “Have to admit I didn’t think we could get it all cleared out in one evening.”
“Determination breeds success?” She hiked her leg over the seat. “You heading back to the station?”
Fletch rolled his shoulders to stave off sore muscles. “Going to go home first to shower and change.” He hesitated. “I thought I’d drop in and see Willa and Nina in a bit. Maybe you’d like to come along? Make sure I don’t browbeat them or anything.”
Her lips twitched. “I never said you were browbeating anyone.”
“That’s not the way I heard it. Look, Paige.” He moved in front of her to stop her from pedaling off. “When it comes down to it, we both want the same thing. We want to stop whoever is behind these break-ins before someone gets hurt.”
“Someone’s already hurt,” Paige argued. “Jasper.”
“Yeah, well, we won’t know that for sure until we actually find him.” They could agree to disagree on the level of the boy’s involvement. For him, an easy solution meant his meeting with the mayor in the morning would go more smoothly. He wanted Luke—and the sheriff’s office—out of the political line of fire. “Doesn’t it make sense for us to work together?”
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