Forty Candles

by Virginia Nelson

  He nodded, looking all big and adorably helpless. “If that’s what you want.”

  Straightening her shoulders, she found resolve. “It’s what I want. No one ever knows.”

  “You know I keep your secrets, Chloe. Even when I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  He would. He was right. And that was why she could never let herself love him. This she could survive. Jack?

  That might break her.

  Shaking off the dregs of the past, she wiped at tears she hadn’t even realized she’d shed. She was going to have a nice night with her friends and put this all behind her. Even if she also had to accept that she was old, unattractive, and couldn’t even manage friends with benefits, apparently.

  ***

  Stark came up out of the pond, wet and smelling like fish, a log in his mouth. The dog quickly abandoned the log when he saw the golf club in Jack’s hands.

  “Mr. Wilkerson’s gonna be pissed if you fill his pond with golf balls.” Dylan leaned on the truck, eyes trained on Harper, not Jack and his dog.

  “Not the kind I use. Talked to him about it. They’re water soluble. They dissolve if I can’t retrieve them…which hasn’t been a problem since I met Stark, here.”

  “That so?”

  Jack couldn’t help grinning. “Yeah. Watch this shit.”

  Hitting the ball with a satisfying thwack, it sailed into the air. The dog’s head arched back, following the tiny white dot into the sky. Entire body shaking in excitement, in a second, he was off, into the water.

  Swimming like a large black seal, the dog was halfway into the pond before the ball hit with a plop and splash.

  Catching it in his mouth, he headed back with the ball.

  “So you’ve got a golf caddy and a dog.” Dylan now grinned, too.

  “Helluva dog.”

  Jack forced himself not to turn when he heard the engine sound that signified Chloe made it to the picnic spot.

  “Before she gets out, and while my wife is distracted with the tennis racket, you want to tell me how the ‘plan’ is going?”

  Not turning to Dylan, Jack ruffled the dog’s wet fur and got his ball back. Preparing to hit it again, he answered. “Well, she jumped me yesterday.”

  “Define jumped,” Dylan ordered.

  “I’m not detailing my sex life for you. If you’re already bored with Harper…”

  Jack expected the swift hit to the back of his head and, laughing, dodged the next punch.

  ***

  Country music filtered out of one of the boys’ trucks, the smell of burgers frying in the boat house filtered on the breeze, and bugs zipped across the water.

  As the guys laughed, low and rumbling, and began to tussle, the dog’s barking added to the melee, and all of it seemed like the soundtrack to her youth.

  Chloe sat for a moment in the car, windows down and soaked it in. It felt good.

  Especially since nothing else in her life made sense right now. She had to accept the fact that she was old. Unattractive.

  Then again, when she was with Jack, she felt neither. She felt lovely. She felt irresistible. She always had felt beautiful when he had his big calloused hands on her. Blowing out a breath, and wishing she could banish the thoughts of him with it, she opened the car door, snagging the small cooler off her front seat and trudging up the dock to Harper.

  Harper waved a hot pink tennis racket and squealed when she made it to her side. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Wasp!” Harper shrieked.

  “And you’re trying to take it out with a tennis racket? Ever heard of Raid?” No sooner did she finish speaking than Harper made contact with the bug with a snapping and show of sparks.

  “Ha! Got him.”

  “Harper Dean, what the hell is that?” Chloe moved closer to inspect the now zapping racket.

  “Got it up at Wally World. It’s a bug zapper tennis racket. Pretty cool, right?”

  Chloe looked at the now electrocuted bug and at her best friend. “I guess?”

  “Wait, watch this.”

  Moving to the edge of the deck, Harper leaned the tennis racket over and shook the dead insect into the water. Fish immediately swarmed and gobbled it up.

  “Fish like fresh fried bugs.”

  “Aha.”

  The sound of thundering footsteps along with the shifting of the dock announced the men joining them at the boat house. Chloe didn’t look at them, instead setting the small cooler down and tugging off her tee shirt.

  “Harp, why am I friends with this asshole?” Dylan asked.

  “Because you’re just as big of a jerk,” Harper answered.

  Glancing back, Chloe watched Dylan, the golden boy, scoop up her best friend by her elbows and kiss her stupid. “You were saying, wife?”

  “Love you.”

  Rolling her eyes since they were about to go saccharine enough to rot teeth, but smiling because it was good to see Harper happy, Chloe stepped out of her shorts and laid them next to her flip flops and tee shirt.

  “Goin’ for a swim, Chloe?”

  Looking up at Jack, standing next to a wet and happy looking dog, Chloe bit her lip. She was safe, she decided. He was still wearing jeans and a tee shirt.

  “Thinking about it later, after I get some sun.”

  “How ’bout now?”

  “Jack, don’t—”

  The words weren’t out before water closed over her head. She should’ve known. His hands still caught her waist. He could have just pitched her into the pond but, no, he’d taken them both into the fish smelling water. Banking on him not throwing them in the water because he was still dressed apparently was an epic fail on her part.

  Coming up sputtering, not because she swam there, but because he shoved her above the surface, she smacked him on his bald head. “Dylan’s right. You’re an ass.”

  Laughing, he swam away from her. “You’re it.”

  “I’m not playing water tag with you. We’re adults.”

  “So what you’re saying is you can’t catch me.”

  Shoving her hair back out of her face, she considered her options for a moment. She could ignore him. Be the mature one and just float calmly in the water which felt delicious against her skin after the hot day. Or she could kick his ass in the water, the one place where she outclassed him by a long shot.

  She didn’t want to be mature. She already felt old. Why not play and feel good for a minute? Slicing under the water, she moved fast and invisible. Catching the wet denim of his leg she grabbed him, pulled him under, pinched his ass and then streaked away. Coming up a few yards away, she glanced back to him, just coming up sputtering where she’d tagged him.

  “You’re it,” she called, laughing, before she dived again.

  ***

  The sun setting over the trees lit everything in gold and red light, making it almost surreal in its beauty.

  Reclined in a folding chair, dog at his feet, Jack figured this was happiness.

  Then again, the view improved if he turned his head just a little…

  Hell yeah.

  Chloe and Harper shared a sheet on the dock, lying on their backs and talking like the teenage girls they’d once been. Chloe’s hands moved almost as fast as her lips, animated in her conversation. He didn’t pay much attention to what they were talking about, more the sound of their voices breaking into synchronized laughter and the way the light grazed Chloe’s stomach as she rolled to her side to reach for her purse.

  A man must have invented bikinis. They drew the eye to just the right parts of a woman’s body and Chloe’s body always got his motor running.

  “Chloe told Harper she got that swimsuit from Fredrick’s. You know they made swimsuits?”

  Smacking one hand down hard on his best friend’s chest, Jack gave him a dirty look. “Don’t look at her damn bikini.”

  “Ouch, fucker. I wasn’t. I was merely noting the direction of your gaze and making an observation.”

  Jack grunted and leane
d back again.

  “But it’s hard not to notice—” Dylan laughed when Jack came after him, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. “Seriously, just razzing you, man. Pretty damn funny, really.”

  “Hilarious.”

  “Many a bar fight started because of your daft need to defend a woman who didn’t need defending,” Dylan noted, only a small shift of his head to indicate which woman he referred to.

  “She does need defending. She just doesn’t want to need it. I think that’s always been something I liked about her. She thinks she is such a hard ass but, under it all, she is one hundred percent lady.”

  “Uh huh. She has you twitterpated good, doesn’t she?”

  “Bambi? Really?”

  Dylan shrugged, giving Jack a pat as he wandered by. “If the pretty little Disney movie fits…”

  “You’re a jerk.”

  “Are we doing the name calling again?”

  “They’re talking about us, too, you know,” Jack pointed out.

  “They’ve been talking about us. Chloe keeps glancing over here. She never can resist, not when she’s talking about you.”

  “She came onto me in the water.” Jack leaned back, took a sip of his beer even if the damn thing tasted warm.

  “And you’re still here why?”

  Shooting a glare at Dylan, Jack pointed out to the water. “I told you, I’m in for the long game this time. I’m not her rebound. She’s feeling unattractive for some dumbass reason. I’m not a band aid.”

  “You wanna be a band aid. You wanna be whatever you can get.”

  “Yup.”

  “Great self-control.”

  “Nope.” Not hardly. I’m pretty sure I’m getting a callous on my right hand.

  “So what are you gonna do next?”

  “She agreed to go on a date with me, so I’m still waiting.” Jack grinned to himself.

  “How long you think you can last at that? The waiting. Especially if you’re on a date, romance is in the air…all that junk?” Dylan stood and stretched.

  Looking at her breasts in that tiny little bikini, the way her ass curved as she lay on the dock, Jack leaned back and closed his eyes. “Not long. Don’t tell her that, though.”

  ***

  Stark made a pretty good cop dog. Sure, he couldn’t sniff for bombs and he was more likely to lick a drug dealer than find the drugs, but he liked drive-thru’s and ate all the crunchy French fries that Jack didn’t want so, all in all, best partner Jack ever had in his cruiser.

  Tonight, silence stretched across Jefferson. Not atypical, really. Most nights the sidewalks practically rolled themselves up at nine PM and Jack spent his routine patrol hours cruising around and looking at empty streets.

  Made him wish he had a radio in the cruiser.

  Ruffling his dog’s fur, he caught a movement in the shadows off Main and turned into the alley between the barber shop and the flower place to see what it was.

  Probably a ’coon.

  Instead of a raccoon rummaging in the alley, he saw a golf cart.

  Since the golf course was over a mile away and it was late, by Jefferson standards, the fact the golf cart was manned, swerving, and in the alley was beyond weird.

  Flicking on his lights, he followed the cart.

  Slowly.

  The cart didn’t slow, continuing its meandering progress over to the all night convenience store where a man got out, dropped a beer bottle, burped, and headed into the store.

  Jack called it into dispatch before getting out of the cruiser and following the man into the store.

  Blond hair hung in long, lank curls around an unshaved face and the man wore a golf shirt, shorts, and a pair of golf shoes. Seeing him considering the beer selection, Jack bit back a laugh.

  “Need any help, sir?”

  “Yeah. I do. Do I want the cheap beer in a can or the good stuff in a bottle? I mean, really, can I taste the difference at this point?” Slurring his words, the man waved at the refrigerator.

  “I prefer bottles, myself. If you’re going to indulge, after all…”

  “Exactly! You understand. Here, you hold one six pack for me, kay, bro?”

  The man passed Jack a six pack and then got another. Almost tripping and falling, he made his way to the register. “I’m a need you to figure out how much change I get back. Not seeing straight, exactly.”

  The woman behind the counter looked at Jack, then the man, before taking the entire wallet the man proffered to her.

  “Keep a nice little tip for yourself, too, lady.”

  “Uh.” The teller took out the money, didn’t keep a tip, and passed the wallet. The man shoved it back in his pocket and said, “C’mon, bro. Let’s blow this posssickle stand.”

  Following the man out, he let him put the beer in the golf cart then cuffed him.

  “Bro! What you doin?”

  “You’re drunk driving. Gonna have to take you into the station. Bro.” He added the last as an afterthought.

  “Seriously? It’s a golf cart, dude.”

  “It’s a motorized vehicle, sir. It’s drunk driving.”

  “What am I gonna kill? Snails? Turtles? What moves slower than a golf cart?”

  Shrugging, Jack helped the man into the patrol car. “Sorry, guy. This is the way it’s gotta go down.”

  “This sucks.”

  “Yup.”

  “Can I have a beer for the drive to the cop house place?” The hopeful note in the man’s voice made Jack want to chuckle again, but he kept his cool as Stark tried to sniff the back seat.

  Getting to the jail, he offloaded the man and talked for a moment to another officer. This one had an Amish couple in for towing a motorized fishing boat with a horse drawn carriage.

  Just another night in the country.

  Back in his car, he glanced at Stark. “We have a date tomorrow, buddy. A date with a very beautiful woman who may be your mommy one day.” Although that might be putting the cart before the proverbial horse, he couldn’t help hoping.

  Stark slurped his fingers, looking like he would rather eat fries than discuss relationships.

  Pulling out, he decided to tell the dog the whole story. “You know how you meet someone and you don’t know they are going to change the rest of your life? That was Chloe, Stark. She moved here and I wanted nothing more outta life than a good football scholarship and maybe a nice cold six pack. Simple stuff, really, but that is the stuff that counts at the end of the day. Well, she moved here and she was more, you know? She was from a city and she had this way of talking, all slick and cool, and I had to ruffle her preened feathers. Gave me endless amusement. She made me want to be a better man. Do something special. Make a difference and all that girly shit. Well, years later and I still find myself pushing a little harder to be something better. Maybe I’m only a small town cop and maybe some days are just taking in drunk golf cart drivers, but there are other days…days where I help people. She is gonna realize, too, that she wants more than just a life by herself. No one wants that, not really. She might not want me but, buddy, she wants to be loved. She deserves it, regardless of what her parents did or didn’t do.”

  The dog listened. Dogs were good like that.

  “Plus, she is killer in the sack.”

  Stark seemed to be falling asleep.

  “Guess you don’t want to hear about human sex. Probably pretty boring for a dog.”

  But the thought of her wasn’t boring to Jack.

  Not boring at all.

  “Stark, I don’t think she told anyone that Gary was going to leave her. She’s kept that little secret all these years and I let her. That kind of woman, she’s got more pride than she wants to admit. I think she blames herself, doesn’t think she’s a relationship kind of woman. She’s not, to be honest. Mostly because I messed up. I’m not going to, again. Relationships can work…if you’re both in it for the long haul. For her, I’d wait forever. Want to hear a ghost story, boy?”

  The dog snored a li
ttle and he dug his fingers into the warm fur, enjoying the companionship. It’d been a long wait for Chloe, and he got lonely sometimes. “I’ll tell you another time, then, Stark.”

  Maybe, finally, that wait was over.

  If he smiled through the rest of his shift just because he knew he was going to see her tomorrow, well, no one knew.

  No one but Stark, and he wasn’t telling.

  Chapter Six

  Sitting in the diner with Harper, Chloe tried to pretend an appetite.

  Since, under normal circumstances, she horked down more than her fair share of breakfast when they met for food, Harper would know something was up if she picked at the food. Even if it was as tempting as sawdust. “So, when is the blessed event?”

  Harper added more cream to her coffee before answering. “Two weeks. This sure has been a busy summer for weddings. Anyway, Lucy said the bachelorette party is this Friday night.”

  “Do you really want to go see a bunch of strange men stripping down to their shining silver thongs?” Chloe poked at an egg yolk and tilted her head at Harper.

  “No. I mean, I have Dylan at home. Who needs strippers?” Harper giggled, happiness written on every inch of her face.

  “Everyone needs strippers, dear.” Mrs. Miller, walking past their table with her husband, paused to interrupt their chat. “Strippers make the world just a little more fun.”

  Chloe covered her smile. “Seen a lot of strippers, Mrs. Miller?”

  Mr. Miller caught his wife’s arm before she could answer, inserting, “She not only saw them. Tell the girls about the time you bit one in the behind, hon.”

  “You bit a stripper on the ass?” Chloe didn’t cover her jaw drop.

  “Don’t be crass, dear. And before you ask, yes, alcohol was involved.”

  “But you guys are happily married and—”

  Mrs. Miller cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Happily is the key word there, Chloe. We don’t lie to one another and to pretend that we can’t find beauty in a well-made body of the opposite sex is little more than a lie. I like to look at pretty men. Mr. Miller, here, likes to look at a well put together woman. Nothing wrong with that. That part is nature. Love is coming home to the one that matters, even when their skin starts to sag and their hair starts to gray. You know that, though.”