by Dee Lagasse
As she mouths “I’m sorry” as she looks in between me and Cole, Davis bursts out laughing.
“Nothing like throwing a guy right to the wolves, Kin,” he manages to get out in between his laughter.
“It’s fine,” I tell them, shaking it off. “I’ll be the buffer in between two beautiful women any day.”
As we clear the dinner dishes, Cole’s father, who insists I call him, “Patrick, because Mr. Christian is his dad,” and Cole’s mom, who joins her husband putting me on a first name basis with the senator, take turns asking me questions about my job and my family until Helen drops the bomb I knew was bound to come around at some point.
“Your mother says you agreed to stay in Abbott Hills for six months,” she says, hanging back in the kitchen while Kinley rinses the dinner dishes, handing them to Cole to put in the dishwasher. “What happens when those six months are over? Where does that leave you and Nicole?”
“Mom!” Cole gasps at the audacity of her mother’s questioning. Helen Christian shrugs unapologetically.
“I wouldn’t have come to dinner tonight if I planned on going anywhere, ma’am,” I say in response to Helen’s question while looking directly at Cole.
“Good answer,” Patrick says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Come on. Why don’t you join me and Davis in the office for a drink?”
Taking Patrick’s “get out of jail free “card, we take the stairs down to a finished basement. An open space full of work out equipment is to our immediate right, an open door leading to a closed off room to the left.
Bending down to open the small black mini-fridge, Patrick names off a few beers, handing me a bottle of Sam Adams’ Octoberfest before fixing two Jack and Cokes.
“How do you like working for Lorenzo Capparelli?” Patrick asks as he hands me a bottle opener from the little cart full of liquor. “He treating you good?”
“I actually haven’t even met him yet,” I answer honestly, knowing damn well the question had been a set-up. I remember from Cole’s rundown in the car the night of our date that Lorenzo is Davis’s father. “I’ve been placed on Tucker Merrimack’s crew. I like it though. It’s honest work that pays well, more than I was making doing the same exact thing down in Nashua, so that’s a plus.”
Exchanging a glance, Davis and Patrick both smirk knowingly.
“You know, don’t you?” Davis asks, taking a sip of his drink as he sits down in one of the leather burgundy office chairs.
“That my boss’s boss is your dad?” I question, letting out a chuckle. “Yeah, I know.”
Taking a seat behind the desk, Patrick shrugs. “Well, then, I guess the man upstairs is answering your prayers, because that’s all I had to work with. You already answered everything my wife rapid fired at you during dinner, like a champ, I might add.” Nodding to Davis, he continues, “You should have been here the night Kinley brought this one home. Tripping over his words, stuttering. Hell, the boy thought I was really offering him a beer five minutes after meeting him. He was sixteen, driving for a few months max, taking my daughter out to the movies.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Davis says, holding up his hand. “In my defense, I didn’t have a buffer, telling me not to take the beer like this guy did.”
“You were sixteen!” Patrick bursts out in a hearty laugh. “You shouldn’t have needed a damn buffer.”
Before Davis can give a counterargument, Cole’s voice floats down to the office from the top of the staircase.
“Dessert!”
After we eat our weight in cookies and cream trifle, Cole tells her parents that though I’d “never say anything about needing to get home to get some sleep, Pax has an early morning.”
After grabbing the bags of food Helen put together for Cole to take home with one hand, I shake hands with Davis and Patrick. Offering my hand to Helen, I’m surprised when she pulls me into a hug, Kinley following suit right after her mother.
“We’ll be in DC for the next couple weeks,” Helen starts, walking us to the door. “But I expect you at family dinner when we come back, Pax.”
Realizing she called me “Pax” instead of Paxton for the first time, I break out in a smile.
“I’ll be here.”
Chapter Twenty
Cole
It had been easy to get coverage for tonight. Too easy. Both of my available DJs wanted it. So they decided they would both work it, splitting the entertainment fee instead of one of them having to sit it out at home.
I would have offered to pay them both in full if it meant getting to be the reason Pax smiled the way he did when I told him I could go to his mom’s for dinner.
Since there was construction being done in the office, Kinley and I chose to work remotely from her living room today. And by “work remotely” I mean, watch the Fast and Furious movies in preparation for tonight.
After dinner with his mom and sisters, Pax wanted to stop by and see some of his friends. Which, I was totally fine with. I mean, how could I not be? He’s already met all my friends. Well, that was until I found out they all drive fast cars and their version of hanging out is more like an informal car show, which often ends with someone racing.
“Don’t worry,” he had assured me. “Those days are behind me. But I’ve been friends with some of these guys since elementary school. We’re kind of like family.”
I get it. I’ve been hanging with the same people since I moved to Abbott Hills. My friends’ families became an extension of my own. Meeting new people doesn’t scare me the way it does some people. Thanks to my profession, I meet new people every single day. It’s my job to be charming, witty, and to make people feel comfortable in my presence. I am more intimidated by the fact I know next to nothing about cars. Hell, I can’t even drive manual.
“Can you drive manual?” I ask my sister as she pauses the movie to get a snack.
“No, though, I’ve never tried.” She shrugs. “Want anything from the kitchen?”
Looking down at my phone, I shake my head. “I’m probably going to head out. Pax gets off work in a couple hours. I should probably go home and get ready.”
“Wait!” she calls from the kitchen. Returning with a bowl of cantaloupe, she places it on the coffee table. “Just wait.”
Disappearing upstairs, she returns with the cutest leather jacket.
“Hollis convinced me to buy one when she was getting hers. I don’t think I’ve ever worn it,” she says, handing it to me. “But with a pair of boots, a pair of skinny jeans, and a cute top, you’ll look so damn cute none of the guys will care you don’t know a damn thing about any of the cars.”
“Best sister, ever,” I say with my hand on the door to leave. “Thanks for the marathon today.”
“Hey, you don’t have to convince me to spend hours on hours with Dominic Toretto,” she says, referring to Vin Diesel’s character. “Call me tomorrow and let me know how it went and good luck with his mom and sisters. You know how sisters can be.”
Laughing, she plops down on the couch, bowl of cantaloupe resting on her little baby bump. Reaching for the remote, the movie begins to play again.
“Love youuuuu,” she says, popping a piece of cantaloupe in her mouth before turning her attention to the television.
“Love you back,” I tell her, closing the door behind me.
Placing the leather jacket on the passenger seat, I find the station that plays 90s hip-hop throwback jams and put my car in reverse pulling out of my sister’s driveway and into the cul-de-sac.
As I make my way out, Hollis’s Jeep pulls onto the street. Slowing down just long enough to give me a wave, she passes me pulling into her driveway right next door to my sister’s condo.
Taking a right out of their little condo community, I turn onto the main road that leads me to my apartment complex. Nine miles. That’s all that’s between my sister’s condo and my apartment.
I don’t know if it was Tupac rapping about California or some form of inspiration from watching hours of ra
cing movies with my sister, but with less than a mile left, I find myself pulled over on the side of the road, blue flashing lights behind me. There will be no bullshitting the officer. No getting out of this one. I was definitely speeding, no doubt about that.
Turning down the music, I reach for the registration in the glovebox, setting it on my lap. At the sound of the door shutting behind me, I roll down my window while unzipping my wallet to pull out my license.
“Afternoon, miss,” says a familiar voice. “My name is Officer Lindsey and I have to let you know that right now we’re currently being recorded. Do you know why I pulled you over today?”
Travis.
“I might have been speeding, a little.” I shrug sheepishly, embarrassed more than anything at this point.
“I clocked you at fifty-six in a thirty,” he says, his voice flat and emotionless. “Do you have your registration and license?”
Handing it to him, he looks it over, inspecting it like he has no idea who I am.
“Alright, hang tight,” he says, taking them both with him into the SUV that only he uses. As Abbott Hills’s only K-9 officer, there’s no reason for anyone else to ever use it. As minutes pass, I wonder what the hell he’s doing back there. There’s no reason for him to run my license or my registration. He knows exactly who I am.
Ten minutes later, he finally emerges from the SUV, holding my license, registration, and another sheet of paper in his hand.
“Alright ma’am,” he starts, handing me my license and registration first. “Unfortunately, since you were going almost double the speed limit, I’m going to have to give you a ticket today.”
Passing the yellow sheet of paper into the window, I take it out of his hand, looking down, gasping when I see that there’s a two-hundred and fifty dollar fine.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Travis?” I spit out. I shouldn’t have been speeding, that’s for damn sure. But everything about this feels intentional.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Christian,” he sighs. “I suggest following the speed limit. As someone who has lived in Abbott Hills since she was six, you should know the speed limit by now.”
“As someone who has known me since I was six, you’re acting like a complete dickhead.” I roll my eyes, not caring at this point that I’m being recorded, I look up at him. I just want to smack the smugness right off his damn face. “It’s nice to know I could only reap the benefits of you being a cop when I was fucking you.”
There were never any benefits of us sleeping together. Not as far as his job is concerned. And I know it’s petty. I shouldn’t be lying, especially when I know someone at the station is probably watching this as it happens. But damn it, I’m pissed.
It’s not even about the speeding ticket. I was speeding. I’ll own that. It’s how he handled it. It was so impersonal. Like I was just any other person and not someone he’s known since he was six.
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” he says, lowering his voice, not bothering to hide the sudden emotion in his tone.
“What part, Travis?” I ask, slamming the glove box shut. “The fact that you’re punishing me for the fact I put an end to whatever the hell was going on with us?”
“You. Were. Fucking. Speeding!” he yells. “I didn’t put your foot on the damn gas pedal.”
“Okay, sure, whatever you say, Officer Lindsey,” I sigh. “I’ll pay the ticket. Can I go now?”
“I don’t care what you do anymore, Cole,” he sighs, turning away, walking back to his SUV.
Moments later, he pulls out on the main road, driving away from me.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” I yell to the empty air in my car, tipping my head back on the headrest. Giving myself a second to collect my thoughts, I close my eyes and count to ten. When I’m calm enough, I pull out onto the main road, driving the quarter of a mile between where I was pulled over and my apartment building.
When I put my car in park, I grab the leather jacket, deciding right in this moment I wasn’t about to let Travis fucking Lindsey and his revenge ticket ruin my night. Instead, I walk into the building and up the stairs to my apartment on a fucking mission.
Dropping my things on my chair, I head right to the bathroom, turning the curling wand on, pulling out the oversized basket of makeup out from the closet that Ellis tells me I can use “whenever.”
Grays and blacks create a dramatic smoky eye, the pink blush accentuating my naturally high cheekbones, and the dramatic red lip stain on my lips give them a pop that screams, “kiss me.”
Just as I’m taking the last chunk of hair out of the wand, my phone rings from the living room. Sprinting out to catch it in time, I sigh when I see my brother-in-law’s name on the caller ID. as a sergeant and Travis’s immediate superior, I had no doubt that he would be calling me eventually. If not to lecture me, but to check on me.
Knowing I can’t avoid him forever, and it’s better to deal with it now when he’s at work than him trying to not be obvious he’s pulling me aside in front of Kinley, I press accept.
“Hey, Davis,” I say, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible.
“You tear up that ticket, okay?” the concern in his voice startles me. “Consider it a warning.”
“It’s okay, Davis,” I sigh. “I was speeding. I deserve the ticket. It wasn’t about the ticket.”
“I know it wasn’t. For either of you,” he says. “Which is why I’m telling you, not as a police officer, but as your brother-in-law and Travis’s cousin, just tear up the ticket. Have a good night with Pax, sis. Just, maybe let him drive?”
“Ha, ha, ha,” I retort dryly. “Very funny.”
“But really, have a good night, Cole,” he says. “And don’t worry. Your secret is safe here. Love you, little sister.”
There are only three months between us, but shortly after he started dating Kinley, I got the “little sister” title and it’s stuck.
“Love you too, big brother,” I say before hanging up the phone.
With the whole Travis situation temporarily defused, again, I make sure everything is turned off and unplugged in the bathroom before making my way into my bedroom. Thanks to my sister’s suggestions, I didn’t need any help picking my outfit tonight. Opting for the tightest pair of ripped jeans I have, my black thigh-high boots, a plain black fitted long-sleeve t-shirt, I finished off the outfit with Kinley’s leather jacket.
My plan to keep it both appropriate for family dinner and sexy enough that Pax will want me on his arm around all his friends seemed to work out in my favor. Snapping a selfie in the full-length mirror, I send it to my sister, saying out loud as I text the caption, “I might not know much about cars, but I need to know if this outfit will get the attention of the hot guy in the Subaru.”
“I’d say yes.” The masculine voice from my doorway causes me to jump.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Pax laughs as I turn around. “Ellis let me in before she remembered she left something down in her car. I know we said four thirty, but I didn’t want to wait any longer than I absolutely had to. I can go back over to my apartment if you’re not ready though.”
Closing the space between us, I wrap my arms around his neck, a wave of relief washing over me as he slides his hands down my hips before joining them behind my back.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I sigh happily. Any thoughts of Travis Lindsey and the ticket long forgotten. “I’m ready if you are.”
Leaving the softest kiss on my nose, he pulls away, backing up out of my room into the hallway.
“But the answer is yes,” he says again as he offers me his hand. “You absolutely have the complete attention of the guy in the Subaru.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Pax
There’s something different about Cole tonight. She’s quiet, too quiet. Her happy, sunshiny disposition just seems so cloudy today. On the drive down to my mother’s, I thought it was nerves. Until I remembered our drive to see Phantom when she wouldn’t stop talking beca
use she was nervous.
When we first got here, she seemed a little more herself. Approximately twenty seconds after we walked through the door, my nieces pulled her down into the basement that now serves as their dance studio when they’re at Grammy’s. Neither of them could believe they were in the presence of a real Patriots cheerleader.
My sisters, who had both cheered growing up, made excuses to go downstairs too. I hadn’t planned on just throwing her to the wolves, so to speak, but from the text I just got from my sister that said, “We love her already” I would imagine things are going well down there.
After a half hour of silence, I decide to head down there and check myself. My nieces are rolling around on the tumbling mats while my sisters and Cole sit with their backs against the wall. In between both of my sisters, Cole looks perfectly comfortable. Like they’re old friends, just hanging out.
“You know, there’s a Junior Patriots Cheerleader program,” Cole tells them. “It’s super cute. There’s a clinic, the girls learn a whole routine, get to perform it at a Patriots’ event and then participate in appearances throughout the season with the Patriots Cheerleaders. The Junior Program was my favorite part about being a Pats Cheerleader.”
“Sophia would love that,” my sister Kennedy says, talking about my eight-year-old niece. “Jack and Milo did a football camp with Julian Edelman last summer, which was a lot of fun, but it was just a one-day thing.”
“I think Lennon would too,” my sister Reagan adds. “But I don’t know, man, this pre-teen phase is a scary one.”
On the outside, my sisters and Cole look like night and day. Both of my sisters have brown hair so dark it’s almost black with matching eyes they get from our mom. Kennedy’s hair is cut in a sleek bob. The only style she says she can keep up with as a full-time working mom of two. Reagan’s hair is thrown up in a messy bun and she’ll probably tell you it hasn’t been washed in three days, since “showers and time for yourself are out of the question when you’re a stay-at-home mom.” Their fair skin and perfect complexion earned them both the nickname “Dollie” from our dad.