07 It Had to Be You

by Jill Shalvis

“Sure? Because I don’t think you have to worry about the bowling team these days. You’re not in bad shape.”

  “I’m not getting involved.” How many times was he going to have to say that? He’d come to Lucky Harbor to lose himself for a little while. Not to share the place with a woman who made him ache like crazy and had the singular ability to make him want to both howl at the moon and run like hell.

  The phone rang, and Luke stared at it like it was a striking cobra.

  “You going to get that?” Jack asked.

  “Fuck no.”

  The machine clicked on, and a woman’s voice said, “Ali-gator? Just checking in on you—”

  “You still have an actual answering machine?” Jack asked. “Man, it might be time to upgrade the place from the 1980s…”

  Luke strode to the machine and picked up the phone. “Ali’s in the shower, Mrs. Winters.”

  “Luke!” She sounded pleased to hear his voice. “You were going to call me Mimi, remember?”

  He let out a breath. “Right. Mimi…”

  Jack went brows up again. Luke ignored him. “I’ll have her call you,” he said to Mimi.

  “You’re a sweetheart, Luke. Thank you.”

  “Wow,” Jack said when he’d hung up. “Look at you, not getting involved.”

  Luke flipped him off and snatched the remote from Jack’s hand.

  “Figured you’d want the 4-1-1,” Jack said. “If you kick me out now, you won’t get to hear it. But hey, if you’re not getting involved…”

  “Tell me.”

  Jack grinned. “Lucky for you, I work with a bunch of little girls.”

  “You work with a bunch of firefighters.”

  “Who all gossip like girls. The money’s still missing, as you know, and actually there’s a reward going out on it, but Ali isn’t the only one they hauled in. They questioned Ted Marshall further. And also Melissa Mann. You remember her, right? She said—”

  “That Marshall was screwing her and he can’t remember if he locked the drawer with the money,” Luke said.

  “Damn, you stole my thunder. Seems Golden Boy’s keeping secrets. Melissa said the police searched the office and came up with a woman’s toe ring deep in the couch that doesn’t belong to her.”

  “Or Ali,” Luke said.

  “Okay,” Jack said, irritated now. “If you already know everything, why did you ask?”

  “Because gossip is usually based in fact,” Luke said. “Got anything else? Maybe something on the admin, Aubrey?”

  “Nothing on Aubrey. But Melissa did say she believed that Teddy and Ali were just roommates. Which means Ted had a good thing going. They’re going to question everyone who was in the office on the night of the auction, but there’s a few problems.”

  “Like?”

  “Teddy isn’t talking about any other possible indiscretions. And apparently that whole wing of the building was a revolving door. Several people were back there using the quiet hallway for phone calls, and people were going through on bathroom runs. The janitor had a thing with the caterer in the treasurer’s office, one door down from Marshall’s office. Reportedly even the mayor’s wife was seen slipping out of the hallway storage closet just past the bathroom. Go Mr. Mayor.”

  Luke stared at him. “Are you telling me that place saw more action than the rest of us saw all year?”

  “Speak for yourself.” But Jack’s grin faded. “The fact is Ali’s the one who got caught with evidence. And there’s a lot of pressure on Sawyer to make an arrest. She’s also the only one with an obvious motive.”

  “Circumstantial evidence,” Luke said. “And people don’t need a motive to steal cash.”

  “She stole a ceramic pot because she’d made it for her boyfriend who’d just dumped her by text,” Jack pointed out. “Hello motive.”

  “She didn’t know there was evidence to a crime in it.”

  “We both know that’s weak, Luke.”

  “I know. And I know something else too, it’s not Marshall either. Yeah, he’s into politics, but he’s a piggybacker, not a big-plan sort of guy. He doesn’t have the stones for this.”

  “So…what? He was framed?”

  “I’d bet on it,” Luke said. “And somehow Ali got caught in the middle—” He broke off at the sound of bare feet padding down the hall.

  Ali appeared. She’d showered and changed faster than any woman Luke had ever known. She was in sweats and makeup-free, wet hair piled up on top of her head, with wavy tendrils framing her face. She headed straight to the kitchen and headed back with a carton of ice cream from Lance’s shop.

  Luke felt a small smile play around his mouth as she ate right out of the container with a wooden spoon. Ali Winters might be down, but she wasn’t out for the count.

  She scooped another big bite, and her expression finally relaxed. Until she saw the mess of the house. That wiped the smile right off her face. “Oh no. Oh Luke, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s seen worse.”

  “This is true.” Jack rose off the couch. “Way worse. We were what you might call wayward teenagers.”

  Jack had the same height as Luke, but more bulk to his muscle tone. Of the two of them, Jack also possessed the charm, which had gotten him out of more trouble than Luke had ever managed to get into. Jack flashed all one thousand watts of that charm at Ali now.

  “Jack Harper. I’ve seen you around, but we’ve never been introduced,” he said, holding out his hand to Ali, smiling his “reassuring” smile. It was number three in his arsenal, behind his “you can’t resist me” and “I want you” smiles. “I’m the best friend, by the way. The better-looking, far more fascinating one, I should add.”

  “Ali Winters,” she said, looking a little dazzled, which made Luke roll his eyes. “Nice to meet you.” She glanced at the mess again, but Luke stepped in her way.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Jack said.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, glancing at Luke. “I can’t say the same.”

  “Not surprised,” Jack said. “Luke’s not exactly a big talker.”

  “No,” Ali said faintly, a slight blush coming to her cheeks. “He’s not.”

  There was nothing in Ali’s tone to suggest that they’d spent some time in Luke’s truck kissing like their lives had depended on it, but Jack knew him better than anyone else on the planet. Proving it, his gaze shifted from Ali to Luke. “Also, he can never find his keys and he snores,” Jack said.

  “Thanks, man,” Luke said.

  Jack smiled at Ali. “Hope you’re hungry; I brought Chinese. Ben, my cousin and the third musketeer, would’ve brought a loaded pizza. He’s on government assignment right now, and I’m just superstitious enough that I won’t eat a pizza until he’s home. You need anything else?”

  Clearly surprised to be asked, Ali blinked. “No, thank you.” Her voice sounded funny and gave Luke a very bad feeling.

  Jack didn’t miss it either. Jack didn’t miss much. “All right, I’ll get plates,” he said very gently, waiting until he was behind her and out of her peripheral vision to send Luke a steely look.

  One thing the two of them had always shared was a hatred of seeing anyone mistreated or taken advantage of. Jack loved Luke, but the message was clear—don’t hurt her more than she’s already been hurt.

  When Jack vanished into the kitchen, Ali moved to the couch, head averted. There might even have been a muffled sniffle.

  Oh, Christ. Luke had faced down countless gangbangers, armed felons, and drugged-up perps. He’d faced the worst humanity had to offer, but he’d never gotten the hang of dealing with a woman’s tears. Sucking it up, he sat next to her.

  She stiffened.

  Ignoring that, he reached for her ice cream, thinking to set it down for her, but she surprised him with an elbow to the gut.

  “What the hell?”

  She hugged the ice cream to her chest. “I told you not to be nice to me right now!”

  �
��I’m not nice. I’m never nice. And Jesus, remind me to never try to separate you from your ice cream again.”

  Jack reappeared, paper plates and napkins in hand as he took in the scene. “Bad time?”

  “Yes,” Luke said.

  “No,” Ali said, and glared at Luke.

  Jack nodded in approval. “Keeping him in line. That’s good. He needs that.”

  Luke shot Jack a look, which Jack ignored as he plopped down on the couch right between them. The big oaf actually bounced Ali nearly to the floor and half sat on Luke as he settled in. He took the ice cream from Ali—and didn’t get elbowed, Luke couldn’t help but notice—and then handed out plates. They divided up the food, with Jack taking the last eggroll.

  “Hey,” Luke said.

  “It’d go straight to your ass,” Jack said, and popped the eggroll into his mouth. “No one wants to see that.”

  Luke ignored this. They were both fit, but extremely competitive. Maybe Jack could kick his ass on a run, but Luke totally had him on the water and the boards.

  When Ali finished her food, she pushed her plate away. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  “Hear what?” Luke asked.

  “Whatever information you two have that I don’t.”

  Jack sent Luke a look, and Luke turned to Ali. “Look, at this point it’s all really just speculation…”

  “I’m not some dainty flower, Luke. Spit it out.”

  Jack grinned at her. “We’re going to be great friends, you and I.”

  “As my friend then, tell me,” she said. “Tell me what I’m missing.”

  “It’s about Marshall and his office,” Luke said carefully. At the first sign of tears, he’d shut the hell up. “And what else might have occurred there that night.”

  “I already know what happened,” Ali said. “He screwed Melissa on the couch and then screwed me by claiming I stole the money.”

  “Yes,” Luke said. “But the toe ring tells me that in all likelihood, Teddy had more than one woman in his office. And maybe one of those women got greedy. Problem is, the sheriff’s department is getting a lot of pressure to make an arrest. Hard to do when the hallway outside his office was Grand Central Station that night.” And then he told her about the comings and goings.

  Ali stood and paced the room, stepping around the mess of things all over the floor. “So are they checking out Gus, and the caterer, and everyone else, including Mr. and Mrs. Fancy Mayor?” she asked.

  Luke nodded. “Yes.”

  “But I’m the only one who got caught with any sort of evidence,” she said quietly.

  Luke rose and made his way to her. “We’re going to figure this out.”

  Jack gave him a look at the “we.”

  “How?” Ali asked.

  “We put the evening together like a puzzle,” Luke said. “One piece at a time.”

  “There’s a lot of pieces,” Ali said, and crouched down to begin picking up.

  Luke pulled her upright. “I’ll get the mess later,” he said. “As for the pieces of the puzzle, we’ll figure it out.”

  Her expression showed her doubt and gave him a pang right in his gut.

  Apparently in Jack’s too, because he stood as well. “No one’s going to leave you to fry for something you didn’t do,” he said quite intensely.

  Ali managed a small smile. “Thanks. I owe you both.”

  “No, you don’t,” Jack said, and kissed her on the cheek. “’Night.”

  Luke followed him to the door.

  “Don’t sleep with her,” Jack said quietly. “She needs comfort and a friend. And—” he continued before Luke could utter a word, “don’t give me any bullshit like you’re not her friend because you’re not getting involved. You’re as involved as I’ve ever seen you.”

  Chapter 10

  The next morning, the sky was dark and mottled, the clouds tumbling against each other, threatening rain. Instead of putting himself out on the water on a board to be bait for a bolt of lightning, Luke put on his running shoes.

  It started to sprinkle as he ran along the rocky beach, but he didn’t mind. It kept him cool. The air was salty from the ocean and also scented with pine from the trees. And in spite of the weather, the mountain chickadees were still out singing in force, “cheeseburger, cheeseburger,” sounding like The Chipmunks on crack.

  It made him hungry.

  On the way back, he slowed at the Schmidts’ summer beach house, remembering his promise to the Geriatric Gang to locate Roger Barrett’s GTO. He walked around the front of the house and took a look through the glass panel across the top of one of the two garage doors.

  Yep. There was the ’67 GTO.

  With a shake of his head, he knocked on the front door.

  No answer.

  He knocked harder.

  Two minutes later, the door was opened by Phillip Schmidt’s twenty-two-year-old grandson. Mikey was wearing a bright Hawaiian-print shirt with red and green parrots on it, unbuttoned over a pair of sunshine-yellow boxers. His sun-kissed blond hair hit his shoulders, and he had on small, round, purple-lensed John Lennon sunglasses, a laid-back, surfer-dude smile, and held an unlit joint pinched between his fingers. “Oh shit,” he said at the sight of Luke and turned to run.

  Luke reached out and grabbed him by the back of his shirt. Mikey, as thin as a pipe cleaner with eyes, ran in the air for a few beats before Luke gave him a little shake and dropped him back to his feet.

  “Dude,” Mike said, rolling his shoulders, “I have rights.”

  “Yes, but smoking pot isn’t one of them.”

  “It’s called Maritime Law, man. They can’t tell you what to do in the ocean.”

  “You’re not in the ocean, and I don’t give a shit about your pot. I’m here about the GTO in the garage.”

  “My grandpa won it in a poker game. Sweet, right?”

  “Very. But it’s not yours.”

  “Says who?” Mikey asked.

  “Roger Barrett.”

  “Aw, man, that guy’s a hundred and something years old. He can’t see past his own nose, and anyway, he’s a little cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.” For emphasis, Mikey made the crazy sign, twirling a finger by his ear.

  “He’s seventy and sharp as a piranha’s eyetooth,” Luke said. “Plus he had Lasik surgery. Roger can see better than both of us put together. And he’s got one finger on his ‘oops I’ve fallen and can’t get up button’ to report the GTO as stolen. Get it back to him today.”

  “Can’t. I have, like, plans.”

  “Cancel them,” Luke said.

  “No can do. Candy James is coming over today. I’m going to get laid, man. She is one hot piece.”

  “If you don’t return the car, you’re going to be the hot piece, Mikey. In prison.”

  Mikey sighed. “Harshing my buzz, dude.”

  Luke held out his hand. “Keys.”

  Mikey mopily grabbed a set of keys on the foyer bench and slapped them into Luke’s palm. “It’s on empty.”

  Of course it was. Luke started to walk out, then turned back. “You work for that cleaning company that takes care of Town Hall, right? The night shift?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “You ever see anyone there in the offices late at night?”

  “Sometimes. People are, like, working hard to keep their jobs, man.”

  “How about recently?” Luke asked.

  “You mean as recently as when your girlfriend stole the money from Ted Marshall’s office?”

  “Ali isn’t my girlfriend, and she didn’t steal the money.”

  “Ted Marshall’s a pretty good guy, man. He wouldn’t lie.”

  “Have you seen anything helpful? Anyone else in the office with him, for instance?”

  “Maybe I don’t feel like telling you.”

  “You feel like going to jail?”

  Mikey let out a dramatic sigh. “The cops already asked me this. I told them I didn’t see anything.”

  Luke crossed his arms ove
r his chest and eyed Mikey over the tops of his sunglasses.

  After all of three seconds, Mikey broke eye contact. “If I get fired from another job, my dad’s gonna gut me.”

  “You keep stealing cars, and your dad is the least of your worries. Talk to me, Mikey.”

  “Okay, so normally when I go in, everyone’s gone. Twice this past week, Marshall was working late. Only he wasn’t working, you know what I mean?”

  “No.”

  Mikey hesitated. “I don’t think I should say, man. He’s never snitched on me. I don’t want to snitch on him.”

  “You’re not snitching. You’re helping me solve a crime so that an innocent woman doesn’t get blamed for it.”

  Mikey sighed. “He was in his office, in his chair, with some hot chick bouncing on him.”

  “You know her?” Luke asked.

  “Hello, she was naked, man. Hot as hell. My eyes never got higher than her ass. But maybe she had blonde hair. Maybe. I dunno. She was a real screamer though, if that helps. She kept going ‘harder, baby, harder,’ which didn’t make sense, because she was on top and—”

  “Have you seen him working late since?” He was grasping at straws here, and knew it.

  “If that was ‘working’ then I want his job,” Mikey said.

  When Luke just looked at him, he let out a breath. “No, I haven’t seen him”—Mikey used air quotes—“working late since.”

  “Thanks.” Luke turned to go.

  “If you let me keep the car, maybe I’ll remember something else.”

  “How about this,” Luke said. “If you remember something else, you tell me. Fast and quiet. And then—”

  “You’ll get me the car back?”

  “No. But I’ll let you live.”

  Mikey blew out another breath, and Luke left. He filled up the GTO, and because it was dirty and the interior reeked like weed, he also drove it through the car wash and got a pine tree air freshener to dangle from the rearview mirror. Thirty minutes later, he was handing the keys over to Roger Barrett. “Good as new,” he said.

  Roger couldn’t wait to sit in it. Gleeful as a kid in a candy shop, he made Luke join him and cranked up the music.

  Neil Sedaka.

  They sat there, the windows rattling with “Breaking Up Is Hard to Do,” sipping sodas. Just when Luke was thinking he needed a sharp stick with which to poke out one of his eyeballs, Roger turned to him. “About your girlfriend, that cutie patootie from White Center.”