Sweet & Sassy Anthology: Stormy Kisses

by Rebecca Rode

  “Broken arm and all.”

  “Yep.”

  I grinned at him. “Thank you. You’ve always been there for me.”

  “And I always will.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Celeste. I could see that she was finishing up a live report as her cameraman took the camera from his shoulder. Celeste immediately started over, her eyes fixed on Jeremy.

  I groaned.

  “Don’t you trust me?”

  I smiled ruefully and said, "Yes."

  “Then don't worry about her.” Jeremy winked.

  “Jeremy,” Celeste said. “I've been totally worried about you. I didn't see them bring you out. Or I’d have been here sooner.” Her eyes flicked toward me.

  “I’m only here on business. I won’t be back for a long time.” Disappointment fell across her face, and she had to resign herself that there was nothing between them.

  “Now, my colleague and I need to be going.” And we turned away.

  “I have questions. The police have some questions."

  “Listen, Celeste, I better not see any mention of us anywhere in any paper.” He put on his commanding voice.

  “You can't order me around.” Celeste stomped her heeled foot.

  Somehow he stood even fuller and taller, and she seemed to shrink away. "Nothing in the papers or I know where to come."

  “Okay. Okay. No need to get all special ops with me. But I do have some questions.” We turned and walked toward the crowds.

  “The police have some questions!” she called after us.

  We melted into the crowd.

  As we walked, Jeremy put his good arm around me. I leaned into him and said, “Maybe we need to give up the idea of a romantic retreat.”

  “You may be right. I don't think it’s really our thing.”

  “Apparently our thing is catching bad guys and saving the day.”

  “I guess we should stick with that.”

  “As long as I can sneak a few kisses in between gunshots.”

  “I think that can be arranged.” Again his lips fell on mine, and I never wanted this sappy moment to end.

  Check out these other books by Cindy M. Hogan

  Audio, Print, and eBook

  Snag Cindy’s newsletter here*and get a FREE eBook just for joining. *Know everything before everyone else, get sneak peeks, and free stuff

  Watched Trilogy

  Watched

  Protected

  Created

  Christy Spy Novels: Spin off of the Watched trilogy

  Adrenaline Rush

  Hotwire

  Fatal Exchange

  Code of Silence trilogy

  Kate Unmasked

  Kate Concealed

  Kate Unleashed

  Gravediggers

  Sweet and Sour Kisses

  Novellas

  The Royal Guard

  Secrets in the Sand

  Dangerous Truth

  The Descension

  About Cindy M. Hogan

  Cindy M. Hogan graduated in secondary education at BYU and is inspired by the unpredictable teenagers she teaches. More than anything, she loves the time she has with her own teenager daughters and wishes she could freeze them at this fun age. If she’s not reading or writing, you’ll find her snuggled up to the love of her life, watching a great movie, or planning their next party.

  She is the bestselling and award winning author of the Watched Trilogy and Christy Spy Novel series. She has since branched off to write a mystery, Gravediggers, that won best YA novel of 2013, a contemporary romance, Sweet and Sour Kisses and the ever popular Code of Silence Series as well as many novellas like the Royal Guard.

  Back to You

  by Jo Noelle

  copyright © 2016 by Jo Noelle

  Zara Hollis never thought that at twenty-three, she’d trade in her passion for hiking and spelunking to run a mortuary and care for her mother, who has advanced Alzheimer’s. When Trevor Cooley, all grown up and gorgeous, moves back to town, Zara is drawn to the quiet man who used to be her childhood friend, but now in a much-more-than-friendly way.

  Trev wants to pull Zara, as fun-loving and beautiful as ever, back into his life and hopefully, into his arms. But there’s a problem. He’s only in Colorado for a short time on a stint as an undercover boss. He and his company can’t afford distractions, especially when this particular distraction may jeopardize not only his plans, but also his heart.

  1

  Zara Hollis

  THE SHRILL BUZZING OF THE phone rattles me out of a deep sleep. One eye blinks open to barely a slit. There’s no sunlight coming through the blinds. It was just a stupid dream. My fuzzy brain thinks, Wrong number, and settles back toward sleep. When I hear it again, I reach over to the nightstand and paw for my phone with my eyes still closed. Why is someone calling so late? My phone slips from my fingers to the floor, and before I can find it, it stops ringing again.

  Gah. Leave it there. Go to sleep, I order myself—and whoever is calling. I’m tired, it’s not morning, and sleep is good. I roll over and snuggle back into the blankets.

  The buzzing happens again, louder this time to my now-alert ears. I’m awake enough to realize it’s not the phone—it’s the door. Who climbs the stairs to an apartment at the back of a mortuary? My chest tightens as I answer that question myself. Only someone who knows I live here.

  It’s never good news at this time of the night. I sit straight up in bed, then bolt to my mom’s room, adjusting my tank top as I go. Being upright hasn’t caught up with my movement, and I sway against the doorjamb.

  Please let her be there. I almost reason that if she’s still in bed, that means her Alzheimer’s isn’t progressing.

  Panic grabs my throat, and I can’t breathe. She’s gone.

  I flip on her light to be sure. Gone. My pulse thuds and bangs in every vein as I run to the front door, where someone is now pounding.

  “Open the door, Zara.”

  I fling it open—warm, humid July air hitting my face, and see Mom standing between two men, holding one’s arm like he’s her prom date. That would freak me out except that my friend Officer Aiden Thomas stands on Mom’s other side. Her eyes sparkle as she leans into Mystery Man, both hands wrapped around his bicep. It would be funny if this was a prank, but it’s not.

  There’s something familiar about the guy, a man with a broad, white smile and a sharp edge to his perfect Greek nose. His wavy brown hair peeking out beneath a knit skullcap would give him an impish look if not for the two-day growth on his face—definitely more sexy than impish. With that thought, I shake my head internally and drag my focus away from him.

  My fear melts. Relief wars with frustration. I’m so glad she’s home, but I’m worried about how to keep her from wandering off again.

  “Zara, I’d like you to meet…” Mom’s voice is nearly a giggle.

  Mystery Man helps her fill in the blank. “My name’s Trevor, Mrs. Hollis.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” She pats his arm with her hand, her face showing brief confusion. “He has such cute dimples when he talks. I’m a sucker for a man with dimples.”

  Trevor blushes at that, his glance dropping to his shoes.

  Mom doesn’t miss a beat. “See what I mean, Zara. You should find a man with dimples. Not Trevor—he’s my date.” Mom sighs, then looks toward Aiden. “And this is his friend…”

  “Officer Thomas,” Aiden adds.

  I want to remind Mom that I already know Aiden, and that we went to school together. But she’s grinning, bright-eyed as if it weren’t the middle of the night. I’m glad he plays along.

  She, Aiden, and the other man, Trevor, step over the threshold. I’m looking her over—no scrapes. She’s basically fine. Mom’s wearing Aiden’s dark-blue police hat and coat, and her gold house slippers.

  Glancing back to Mystery Man, I try to be sly so he doesn’t think I’m staring—which I completely am. Who is he? I can’t place him. I gaze a little too lon
g at his angular cheeks, topaz-colored eyes, and general gorgeousness. He must have the kind of face people think they know. Or the kind I’d like to get to know.

  “Would you like a drink, Officer? Trevor?” Mother asks them both. Before they answer, she turns to me. “Zara, please get our guests some water.”

  She leads them both over to the sofa as I grab water bottles from the kitchen, calming my heart down after the panic of three minutes ago.

  Mom’s voice calls out, “Bring us all some chocolate ice cream. That would be nice.”

  Walking back to the living room, I run right into Aiden and ask in a hushed tone, “Where did you find her?”

  “At the end of the block,” he answers. “I don’t think she’d been out long. Maybe a minute or two, tops. Her hands weren’t even cold.” He looks down at the bottles in my hand. “We’re fine without the water, Zara.”

  “Hey, I meant to ask. I saw you and Kelsey in town the other day. Are you two getting serious?”

  “Nice try but don’t change the subject. You and I need to talk about your mom. I know you know this, but she can’t be free to roam around at night. She’s not...right...in her right mind...and it’s not safe.”

  I whisper, “I know,” and walk back to the kitchen, returning the water to the fridge while Aiden leans on the doorframe. I hear Trevor from the other room. “Good night, Mrs. Hollis. I’m glad to see you again too.”

  The adrenaline that threw me out of bed leaves a shaky aftershock, and I take a steadying breath before walking back to the front room, where Trevor is sitting alone.

  “Your mom said that she apologizes, but she’s tired and going to bed.” He gestures to the stairs leading to the third floor.

  “Thanks for being so sweet to her. I’m sorry if she embarrassed you,” I reply, then say to Aiden, “I know I have to do more. I know every time you bring her home. I installed another deadbolt this week.” I point to the door. “Crap—she must have taken my keys to get out.”

  Trevor stands and pulls them from his coat pocket. “Are these yours?” He steps closer to me with his arm out. My keys and the bright pink coffin fob sit in the middle of his palm.

  “Thanks again.” My fingers brush his, and a jolt zings up my arm. I grab the keys away, but not before I notice the surprise in his eyes. Did he feel that? Or did he just notice me freaking out? Okay, I should stop staring at him anytime now. And maybe look somewhere else.

  I look down at the keys in my hand. She came in my room and got the keys to let herself out. She probably even though she didn’t want to wake me. The guilt of not waking up when Mom left leaves me feeling weak.

  Aiden gives my shoulder a comforting squeeze, and I return to the conversation. “I don’t know what more to do about it right now.” He starts to say something, but I cut him off. “She’s not always like this. Sometimes she’s very lucid.” The last time was weeks ago though. “How do I explain to her that I’m keeping her safe when she doesn’t remember that she doesn’t remember?” My heart aches for Mom. Early-onset Alzheimer’s strikes when a person should be in their prime instead of the end of life. “It’s hard to keep tabs on a forty-eight-year-old woman. She has a strong body. She knows how to get around and unlock doors. Alzheimer’s hasn’t taken that away from her. She’s an adult who wants to go outside, and no matter how many times I explain it, she thinks she can do what she wants to do. Why should she listen to me? I’m the daughter.”

  My head knows everything is okay now, but my heart doesn’t. It’s pumping like I’m in a marathon. “How’d you find her? You don’t look like you’ve been out on patrol.”

  “We were driving from my house, and she was standing on the corner at the end of your block. You know, one day…well, I don’t have to say it. You know.”

  I can only nod. What if Aiden hadn’t seen her? Ice water races through my veins. I have to be sure she won’t wander off again. “I’ll make a new plan.”

  “Maybe it’s time…”

  “No.” I cut him off again, not willing to hear him say it aloud. I already know where that’s going. “I’ll figure it out. But thanks again, Aiden. I owe you.”

  Aiden moves to the door. “You do. Send fudge.” I kiss his cheek as he opens the door and walks through. Trevor begins to follow him out.

  “Trevor. Trev Cooley?” His name suddenly comes back to me. “You moved away in junior high, right?”

  He stops in the threshold. “Yeah. It’s good to see you again, Zara.” His voice is soft, and the smile on his lips is mesmerizing.

  My first memory of Trev was the day after he moved in. We were both five. He lived in the house behind ours. There was a huge lilac bush between our houses, and he climbed right inside it to my secret hide out, bringing two Nerf guns and plenty of ammunition to harass the birds in both our yards all afternoon. When I first saw him, I thought he was nice, but I learned he was a deadly shot with a Nerf. Over the next nine years, he and I were inseparable, roaming around Peak City.

  Quiet and reserved, he seems to be the same shy boy I used to hang out with, but in a bionic body.

  “It’s good to see you too.” He even sounds nothing like he used to. “I like your hair long. It suits you.” Dang! And I will make a point to see you again and again! I also love the three-day beard. I don’t mention it because there’s only one reason men let that grow—to kiss women on the shoulder and make them tingle all the way to their toes. Still, it’s a little strange to see him old enough for facial hair. “Hey, that means we’re already friends. Let’s hang out.”

  His lips stretch and his cheeks round a bit, but he shuts it down before it becomes a full smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  Although his answer might sound dismissive, I can see his head nodding a yes. “I’m sure I’ll see you around then,” I say.

  “See ya.” The guys head down the stairs, then get into Aiden’s car.

  I close the door, relock all three deadbolts, then click off the foyer lights. A familiar weight settles in my chest as I trudge up the stairs to bed. Tonight could have ended in a terribly different way—I’m grateful it didn’t. I check in on Mom—who’s already sound asleep—before lumbering back into my own room.

  I lie down, staring up at the dark ceiling, trying to calm myself enough to go back to sleep. All my thoughts turn sour as I imagine the coming months and years Mom and I will have. I worry about how quickly her Alzheimer’s has progressed over the last three years, or how long we have together.

  She too young for this. Every time we talk with the doctor, he reminds me that it’s rare. I think it’s cruel. I want Mom to have every memory back. I want her to make new memories. Maybe that’s unrealistic, but still I want it.

  A nagging thought keeps pulling on me that Mom isn’t safe here, and I can’t be her main caretaker any longer. I thrust it away, feeling guilty. I can’t give up on her and put her in one of those homes. But how can I keep her safe?

  A month ago, she had one lucid moment. We were sitting out on the patio having lemonade and watching the neighborhood kids ride their bikes up and down the block, and laughing together, when she turned to me and really saw me.

  “I remember teaching you to ride a bike.” She smiled and took another sip.

  I felt like I was seeing my mom after a long absence. I scooted closer, eager to share this memory with her. “I was excited to have my training wheels off.” I wanted to keep her talking, like she was herself again, not lost in the vacant cell that erased the real her.

  “You were adorable. You didn’t understand how to use the brakes, and kept running into parked cars to stop. That’s when we lived in the brick house, but I like living with you.”

  She stopped for a moment, and I noticed unshed tears in her eyes. “I know the doctor told you I should live in a nursing home, but thank you for letting me live here with you.” She patted my leg. “We can take care of each other.”

  For a long moment, we didn’t talk. I was so thankful to hear her making sense and remembering
my childhood. I reached over and squeezed her hand. “I like having you here with me too, Mom.”

  She looked away from the kids back toward me as tears rolled down her cheeks and asked, “Who are you?” Her eyes weren’t focused anymore, and she seemed almost scared.

  Surprise stole my ability to answer. She had just known me and then, instantly, I was gone from her mind. This poignant reminder that I was being deleted from her life kicked around in my gut.

  That was the moment when I finally accepted that Mom wasn’t going to beat this, that the doctors hadn’t made a mistake, and that I’d lose her before either of us was ready for that.

  I sit up now in bed and adjust the pillows behind my back, knowing that I’m not going to sleep any time soon. I’m trying everything I can think of to keep her safe. A healthcare aide stays with her while I’m at work and if I have a viewing at night. Mom’s best friend, Ruth, is with her one night a week and if I go out with friends. I’m not sure what more I can do to keep her in the house—everything has locks, and I keep the keys away from her. But I guess tonight shows that I don’t do a good enough job of that.

  I pull out my laptop and do a search for a GPS tracker that could work for Mom. After a bit of scrolling, I find a few with apps that will put a blinking dot right on a map I could follow. I choose one that looks like a bracelet and buy two.

  We’ve always lived in Peak City. I used to hate that fact, wanting to leave and see the world, but with Mom’s illness, I’ve reconsidered.

  When Dad died, there were so many people who knew him or my family in general and helped in more ways than I can count. Now that Mom is sick, there are people looking out for her as well, like tonight. I don’t know what I’d do if Aiden hadn’t known she shouldn’t be out, or hadn’t cared enough to stop and bring her home.

  Perhaps he’s right, though. Maybe she needs more than I can offer, and I’ll have to break my promise and put her in a nursing home.

  I check Mom’s bed one more time, making sure she’s still there, taking a deep breath of relief that she’s snoring softly.