by Morgan Blaze
Ethan’s face flushed a dull red. He yanked his hand free and stepped back, his features twitching as he glared for a long moment. Finally, he turned and stalked away, with his flunkies following like dogs commanded to heel.
Adam waited until the man was out of sight before he turned to Winter with a sigh. “Don’t pay any attention to Ethan,” he said. “He’s got a problem with authority.”
She stared at him, her mouth slightly open. “He was going to hit you,” she said. “I mean, actually punch you.”
“Well, he tried, anyway.” A rueful laugh escaped him. “It’s not the first time he’s tried.”
“But he’s a firefighter. One of yours.”
Adam nodded. “And he’s good at his job,” he said. “But like I said, he doesn’t play well with others.”
“I can see that.”
He held back another laugh. She sounded so prim and proper—and he was getting the sense that she had no idea how she came across. Actually, he found it downright adorable.
But he had to follow his own warning. Not here, not now.
“Hey, there’s our drinks,” he said, gesturing toward the bar where Matt was returning with two bottles and a glass of…something. “Uh. What the hell is that?”
Matt grinned and set the drinks down. “It’s a Mai Tai.”
“It’s…fruity.” Adam stared suspiciously at the alleged cocktail. The glass was almost the size of a fishbowl, and looked to contain an entire fruit salad with rum poured over it. Wedges of orange and lime clung limply to the rim, and not one, but two tropical umbrellas anchored with pineapple chunks decorated the mess. A bright green Krazy Straw added the final touch.
“Festive,” Matt said. “The word you’re looking for is festive.”
“No, I think there’s a different word I’m looking for.”
Winter gave a slight cough and smiled bravely. “It looks delightful,” she said. “Thank you…Mark?”
“Matt. And you’re welcome.” The bartender sent Adam a look of mock triumph. “Besides, it doesn’t matter what it looks like. It tastes awesome.”
“If you say so,” Adam muttered, passing the monster drink carefully to Winter. “Good luck with that. Maybe you should get a spoon or something.”
“I think I’ll manage.” She sipped cautiously through the straw—and then gave a genuine smile. “It does taste awesome.”
“Told you,” Matt said.
Adam laughed as he passed Dom’s twenty to Matt and grabbed the beer bottles. “I’ll be back to spend the rest of that,” he said. “Thanks, man.”
“Any time.”
“Okay,” he said to Winter. “Ready to meet the clowns?”
“Sure.”
He smiled as he led her back to the party room. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be completely terrible, after all.
Chapter 5
When they returned to the room where the party was being held, Adam headed for a pool table where Dom, the firefighter Winter had met earlier, was playing a round with a pretty brunette. At least she remembered his name.
And with the way he looked at her, as if he’d enjoy strangling her to death right here and now, she wasn’t likely to forget.
If Adam noticed that his friend was angry, he didn’t acknowledge it. He handed the man one of the beer bottles and said, “You already know Dom. This is Sean Fletcher. She’s been with us—what, three years now?”
“Four. But who’s counting?” The brunette smiled and leaned her pool stick against the table. “You didn’t tell us you had a date, Adam.”
“She’s a fire marshal.” Dom knocked the cap from his bottle with a practiced flick against the edge of the table and gave her a cool stare. “Isn’t that right, Miss Solomon?”
She cleared her throat, hoping her blush didn’t show. “It’s Winter,” she said.
“Oh, we’re on a first-name basis now. I feel privileged.”
“Dom.” There was a sharp warning in Adam’s tone, and the other man backed down. A little.
Sean rolled her eyes. “Anybody ever tell you guys that you’re weird?” she said. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Winter. I’m always glad to see another woman in the profession, you know?”
“Yes, well, I’m not—” she stammered, and then stopped herself. Maybe now wasn’t the best time to debate semantics. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” she said.
The ensuing silence stretched toward awkward territory, until Adam finally said, “Well, I promised you’d get to meet the guest of honor. Why don’t we do that?”
“Yes,” Winter said, trying to keep the relief from her voice. Small talk was not her strong suit, especially in a casual setting. This was why she didn’t socialize with subjects. “I’d like to meet him.”
Goodbyes were exchanged—Dom’s offered with a good-riddance vibe he didn’t bother to disguise. Winter made a mental note to look into him carefully during the investigation. He didn’t even know her, so his levels of bitterness and resentment put him into the suspicious category.
And unfortunately, if he and Adam were as close friends as they appeared, it made Adam seem guilty by association.
She tried to clear those thoughts from her mind as she followed him across the room, sipping at her drink. Business was not supposed to be her goal here—at least, not primarily. Soon they came to a small, round table filled with chatter and laughter, where Adam waved to get the attention of an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a full, meticulously trimmed moustache.
The man looked up and smiled, his faded blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Adam,” he said. “Thanks for putting all this together. Best funeral a man could want.”
“Well, let’s not put you in the ground just yet,” Adam said with a grin. “I wanted you to meet someone, if you have a minute.”
“Apparently I’ve got all the time in the world.” The man’s smile flagged for an instant, but it returned full-force as he pushed back from the table and stood to approach them. His gaze settled on Winter, and the warmth in it reminded her of Teddy. She liked him instantly. “Hello there,” he said. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?”
Before she could stammer something lame, Adam came to her rescue. “Ben Schaeffer, this is Winter Solomon,” he said. “She’s here from the fire marshal’s office.”
“Really.” Ben smiled and held a hand out. “What a beautiful name,” he said. “Delighted to meet you.”
“Thank you.” She removed one hand carefully from the glass, hoping it wouldn’t spill, and shook. His hand was big and warm, rough yet comforting. “Congratulations on your retirement,” she said.
His eyes flashed briefly and settled. “Well now, I wasn’t exactly ready for it,” he said.
“Oh,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s just fine, Miss Solomon, and it’s certainly not your fault. There are advantages I’m looking forward to,” he said with a wink. “Eight hours of sleep in a row, for one. Haven’t had that in years.”
She nodded, at a loss for words. She had no idea this was a forced retirement. At least now she understood a few things, like the funeral comment and the strained way Adam had said it was “supposed to be” a party.
“So, you aren’t the fire marshal, am I right?” Ben said. “Pretty sure that honor still belongs to old Teddy Jones.”
Her face lit up despite herself. “You know him?” she said.
“Oh, you bet. He’s a tough bastard—but fair, with a lot of heart. Best in the business.”
“He’s a great man,” she said. “A great friend. Kind of pushy, though.”
Ben let out a roar of laughter. “Your friend here’s got the gift of understatement,” he said, nodding toward Adam. “Kind of pushy? Teddy Jones could talk the Queen of England into seeing a strip show, if he felt like it. The man gets what he wants. Thing is, though, what he wants is usually for the best.”
“I suppose,” Winter said with fond exasperation, thinking of the vacation—and immediately deciding not
to think about that.
“So, what do you do for Teddy?”
“I’m an insurance investigator,” she said. “Right now I’m—”
“Adam? Hey, Adam!” A near-panicked male voice cut her off as a very young-looking man rushed toward them. “Oh man, I can’t find the plates for the cake,” he said. “I had ’em right there, and then…oh. Er.” He trailed off as he noticed first Ben, and then Winter. His face flushed suddenly. “Um…I’m sorry. Can I just borrow him for a second?”
“It’s okay, Luke,” Adam said. “By the way, this is Winter Solomon. Winter, Luke Aldridge.”
Luke muttered something that might have been hello.
“Are you two okay here for a minute?” Adam said with a slight smirk. “Seems like you’re getting along fine. I won’t be long.”
“Go on. I’ll take good care of her,” Ben said.
“Be right back.”
Winter watched him go for a minute, until Ben said, “That boy’s real good at putting out fires. All kinds of ’em.”
“Yes, he seems to be.” She smiled a bit, remembering the way he’d defused the explosive situation with Ethan Goddard. A lot of men would’ve fought first and talked later.
“Listen, Miss Solomon.” Ben spoke in a low voice, and his features were troubled. The drastic shift in his mood alarmed her. “I have to make this quick, before somebody overhears.”
Her heart stopped beating. “What—”
“I know what you’re looking into, and I have information you’re going to need.” His voice lowered even further, until it was almost a whisper. “There’s a diner in town, Pete’s. Can you meet me there tomorrow night, say around ten?”
She gave a startled blink. “Well…yes, I suppose. But, Mr. Schaeffer—”
“That Teddy, he’s a real card,” Ben said louder than necessary. “You tell him I said hey, and he should get his butt down here sometime, have a drink with an old friend.”
A chill moved through her. She wanted to ask again what this was about, but then she noticed what Ben must’ve already seen. Ethan Goddard stood not ten feet away, glaring at both of them. Apparently he hadn’t left after all.
“All right,” she said to Ben. “I’ll be sure to tell him.” She thought about winking or something, to let him know she would definitely meet him tomorrow—but she’d look stupid, and conspicuous. Hopefully he’d infer that she agreed.
The man’s easy smile was back, as though the conversation never took place. “So,” he said. “What about you and Adam?”
“Pardon me?” she blurted without thought.
Ben laughed. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I guess I figured…well, you must be involved with someone. If you’ll pardon a compliment from an old man, you’re far too charming to be single.”
“Well, I—” She decided it would be best not to discuss the subject at all. “Thank you,” she said. “And you’re not old.”
“Sure. I bet you tell Teddy the same thing.”
She grinned. “No, he’s definitely old. And cranky.”
Ben’s laughter was infectious, and this time she joined him.
“Okay, what’d I miss?”
Winter half-turned to find Adam watching them with bemused interest. “Not much,” she said. “Did you find the plates?”
“Plates? Oh, right. We’re a go for cake.” He nodded at Ben. “Whenever you’re ready, you get to make the ceremonial first cut.”
“Thought that was a birthday thing.”
“Well, make a wish anyway. You never know.” Adam regarded her with a hesitant smile. “Care for some cake?”
She started to nod agreement, but the strange conversation with Ben that had been lurking in the back of her mind was pushing to the front. Whatever was going on in the Covendale fire department, it was bigger than she thought—maybe much bigger. She wanted to go over the files she had again, and make a few changes to the interview questions she had planned for tomorrow.
“Thank you, but I should go,” she finally said, not without regret. “I appreciate the invitation, though.”
He nodded. “I’m glad you came,” he said. “Here, let me walk you out.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“No, it’s not,” he said. “But I’d like to all the same, if you don’t mind.”
She held back a sigh. Be polite, she told herself firmly. He was only being a good host. “All right,” she said. “Before I go, what should I do with…um, this?” She nodded at the massive drink in her hands, which she hadn’t even gotten halfway through.
“Oh, right. That.” He smirked and took it from her gently. “We’ll just leave it here,” he said, setting the glass on a nearby table. “I’ll make sure it’s gone. Wouldn’t want to hurt Mike’s feelings.”
“Good idea. Thank you.”
She followed him back through the room, into the main part of the bar, and soon they were out on the sidewalk in perfect summer-night air. Aside from the muffled sounds behind the closed doors of the Klinker, hardly anything stirred out here—as if the rest of the town had already gone to bed for the night. It was a dramatic difference from the city, but she found the silence oddly comforting, almost refreshing.
This must be the relaxing part Teddy had mentioned.
“What’s on your mind?”
Adam’s soft words startled her, though she managed not to jump. “Home, I guess,” she said. “It’s so different here.”
“Where’s home for you?”
It was a natural question, and probably innocent. But for some reason she didn’t want to answer. The night they’d spent together—well, he hadn’t known her. And the more he knew, the less he’d like her. She didn’t want to taint the memory. “I really have to go,” she said. “Thank you for seeing me out.”
He flashed a sardonic smile. “There she is.”
“Who?”
“The mystery woman I met on a beach once.” He stepped toward her, and his gaze was so intense that she wanted to shrink back, maybe disappear. “You’re too late, Winter. I already know your name.”
“Yes, and that’s quite enough.” Her heart leapt into her throat. She couldn’t stop staring at his lips, remembering what it had been like to kiss them, taste him. “I’m not—”
“Not what?”
Your type. Once again, she reminded herself, she didn’t actually know what his type was. And she didn’t want to know…because it wasn’t her. “Not here to be your friend,” she finally said. “I’m here on business.”
The hurt look in his eyes made her wince. “I see,” he said. “Then I suppose I’d better mind my own. Goodnight, Miss Solomon.”
Before she could pull herself together enough to respond, he turned and walked back into the bar.
She stood there a moment, mentally kicking herself. That hadn’t been the best way to handle the situation. In fact, just about any other way would’ve been better. But maybe there was a bright side. At least now she was free to focus on her job, without worrying about whether she’d end up sleeping with Adam Rhodes again. After this, he probably wouldn’t even speak to her.
If only the idea didn’t hurt so much.
* * * *
Having yet another beer wasn’t a great idea at this point, but Adam decided he didn’t care. He could always walk home and grab his car in the morning. Right now, the most important thing was drowning Winter Solomon from his mind.
After all this time searching for the woman he’d fallen for a year ago, she’d shown up practically at his doorstep—and he still hadn’t found her. In fact, he was half convinced she had an evil twin. Nothing else could explain such a dramatic difference.
The bar was hopping, and he managed to snag a fresh beer without having to chit-chat. He decided to take it out to the back parking lot, to clear his head a little before he returned to the party. No sense ruining Ben’s night, such as it was, with his sour attitude.
He’d just have to let everything go and accept the truth. His mystery wo
man no longer existed.
There were plenty of cars in the back lot, Ben’s ancient, rust-colored El Camino among them in the row closest to the bar, but no people. That suited him just fine right now. This spot was a favorite for Covendale’s casual drug crowd—they’d come out here to pass a joint or a bowl around, with half an eye on the back door in case one of the sheriff’s deputies came poking. But even if the law descended on them, most of the time the offenders were let off with a warning.
In this town, the heavy users kept it private—something Adam knew firsthand.
He leaned against the wall, beneath the night shadows of the eaves, and drank slowly. As much as he wanted to forget about Winter completely, he couldn’t just yet. She was still here on business that concerned him. Of course, her so-called investigation was a joke, but at least she’d admitted that it was probably an honest mistake.
Hopefully she’d find whatever transposed numbers she was looking for quickly. The sooner she left Covendale, the faster he could get her out of his life. For good this time.
When the back door opened, Adam didn’t pay any attention, since it was probably someone headed for their car. But then he sensed a figure approaching him and tensed, until he made out who it was. “Hey, Ben,” he said, half-lifting his bottle in salute. “Not leaving your own party, are you?”
“Nah. Still waiting for the strippers to show up.” Grinning, Ben raised his own bottle and clinked it with Adam’s. “So how’s your old man doing?” he said. “Haven’t seen him around much since—well, last summer,” he finished awkwardly.
Adam offered a faint smile. “It’s all right to say it,” he said. “You mean since Mom died.”
“Yes. Since then.” Ben took a quick swig of his beer and looked away. “Not wanting to speak ill of the dead, but I got the feeling he didn’t take it too hard.”
“You’re right. He didn’t.” His mother had been a true addict—heroin and crack were her drugs of choice. Over the years, there’d been plenty of fights between his parents, and between one or both of them and his younger sister, Janie. For as long as he could remember, Adam had played peacemaker, putting out endless fuses on vicious, explosive fights before they could end in bloodshed. Eventually Janie had followed in her mother’s drug-fueled footsteps, and the two of them moved to an oceanside community the next state over.