by Penny Reid
“I have no answer for you, just what Cletus told me. But listen, from the pattern of banks hit, it looks like Ms. Ezra is moving toward the city.” The “city” meant Knoxville, and they had their own city police force, which meant the banks in Knoxville were not in county jurisdiction.
“Nothing she’s doing is technically illegal, Flo.”
“Yes, I know that, Deputy James. But if the pattern made it onto our radar . . .”
She had a point. Once Raquel started withdrawing money at banks in Knoxville, things might get messy for her with the city PD. At the very least, they’d stop her and question her because who goes to ten ATMs instead of walking inside to withdraw a lump sum?
An easily recognizable movie star with odd logic, that’s who.
Even on a sunny day traveling with five friends, being stopped and questioned by law enforcement could be scary for most people, which I’d always considered a bit ironic—since our job was to protect and serve—but, hey, I definitely understood.
I’d seen enough panicked looks and frightened expressions to last me a lifetime. My father impressed this fact on all his people, telling us to approach every single citizen, no matter the reason, with compassion first and foremost.
“Anyway.” I heard her heave a sigh. “I asked the sheriff if we should do something or just—you know.”
“You know” meant a worst-case scenario of allowing Raquel to be arrested by Knoxville PD, then maybe someone would alert the press once they realized who they’d arrested, then maybe let Raquel’s lawyers clear up the confusion while her publicity people dealt with the fallout. Something like that.
“The way people read only the headlines these days, I can see the papers now.” Florence’s dry comment was followed by a snort. “‘Raquel Ezra caught on video, arrested for fraud. Still sexy as hell, even in jail!’” Florence cackled at her rhyme of jail and hell. I didn’t point out that those two words only rhymed when spoken with our accent.
I pressed my lips together, trying not to laugh, despite the situation. I’d known Florence my whole life. She and her longtime girlfriend both had a little crush on Raquel Ezra, even though they were old enough to be her mother. I’d discovered this fact one of the times I’d dragged my former fake fiancée—and good friend—to a Raquel Ezra movie on opening night.
Which was why I’d been so surprised when Florence had been cold to Raquel at the station last week. Upon consideration, I’d chalked it up to how protective everyone was of Charlotte Mitchell. Ever since Charlotte and I had started dating, every other woman in Green Valley had given me a wide berth. Charlotte was certainly beloved.
But more than that, after how her no-good husband had treated her, I worried she was pitied too.
Starting the engine, I flipped on the wipers. “What was her last known location?”
“Wait, don’t you want to know what the sheriff said? How he wants to proceed?”
“You can tell me after you text me the address.” I couldn’t decide if I wanted to see her or not. Last night had been embarrassing on a number of levels. But mostly it had been torture, the bad kind and the good kind.
How many times over the last five and a half years had I thought about having just another five minutes with her? What exactly I thought I’d gain, I had no idea. But I’d craved it—her—anyway.
Florence chuckled. “I’ll radio Monroe, ask him to cover your area.”
“Thanks, Flo.”
“Also, I heard about you and Charlotte.”
About to pull into traffic, I paused, frowning out the wet windshield. “Excuse me?”
“Charlotte told Simmons’s sister at the school, and Chris told everyone here. When did it happen?”
I hissed out a breath through my teeth, rolling my eyes to the ceiling of the car. “Y’all are a bunch of gossips.”
“No.” Flo sniffed, sounding affronted by the label. “We were all rooting for you two and so we’re disappointed, is all. What happened?”
. . . You deserve to be crazy about someone.
“We wanted two different things. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out.”
“Is it true that she was the one to call things off with you or—”
“I got to go, Flo. Text me the address. Driving now. Bye.” I hung up, turning the cruiser toward Knoxville and what would certainly be another tortuous experience. But at least I was getting my wish, another five minutes with Raquel Ezra.
Hell, maybe this time there’d be a miracle and I’d get a chance to kiss her goodbye.
Chapter 9
*Raquel*
“Save a boyfriend for a rainy day—and another, in case it doesn’t rain.”
Mae West
I pulled into the parking lot of the next—and last—bank on my list after circling the building once. No drive-up ATM that I could see, and a line three people deep waiting to use the machine by the front door, meant I could either wait in the Mustang or in the rain.
I chose the Mustang. Obviously.
Engine off, I wiped a fat drop of water from my forehead, residual moisture from the three times I’d been forced to leave the car prior to now, glad I hadn’t put any makeup on. By now I would’ve looked like that creepy girl from The Ring.
The day had been quite an adventure, taking this beautiful vintage muscle car on the twisty mountain roads, encountering only three or four stop-and-go lights, following the downloaded map on my phone.
My only source of frustration was the heavy rain. A light, mild rainfall would’ve been fine. But this had been a deluge, all day, heavier in the valley than in the hills. Most of the banks were in the valleys. I didn’t mind how my clothes stuck to my body, the inescapable humidity, or getting wet every time I left the Mustang.
I minded the lack of visibility. I’d wanted scenery, dammit!
Beautiful summer vistas of green trees threaded with mist, blue skies kissing the horizon, a sunset painting the heavens shades of pink, purple, and orange—views I’d been promised in the Great Smoky Mountains brochure I’d discovered on a bookshelf at the carriage house earlier in the week.
I’d been given mist, cloudy skies, and no color other than gray. Oh, the humanity.
But! It was fine. Driving the car had been fun. I’d filled “her” with premium, as requested. My journey neared its end, just a few hundred away from the $5000 I planned to leave in the glove compartment tomorrow for the Winstons as a thank you, and I felt content.
FYI, $5000 all in tens and twenties looks like a crazy amount of money. It’s a big pile of money. I almost felt compelled to cry myself to sleep on the big pile of money just to be able to say I had done so at one point in my life.
The person at the front of the line finished their business with the ATM and the second person, holding an umbrella, stepped up and under the awning. From where I sat, the awning appeared to have space for only one customer at a time. I didn’t have an umbrella. I’d assumed all the ATMs would be drive-throughs. Waiting in the car meant I couldn’t hold a spot, so I hoped no one else would show up and make the line longer.
But even if someone else did arrive and made the line longer, it wasn’t a big deal. I would simply wait, enjoying my last few hours as the master of my own destiny.
My spur-of-the-moment vacation had been a success. Yes, I’d ignored everyone and everything from home, and I’d probably have a ton of catching up to do when I touched down tomorrow, but I felt so much more relaxed. Sienna had been right, I’d needed time around fun people, nice people, who had no expectations. And I’d needed privacy.
I’d texted Sasha last night and told her to send a car to LAX along with a security detail to meet me at the checkpoint past the gates, which was where the paparazzi usually lurked. She’d responded with a snarky text, which after two weeks of being Sasha-free, had really rubbed me the wrong way. I’d have to reacclimate to her personality at some point. Tomorrow, it would be back to my mansion-bunker in the hills, with all my employees.
And no frie
nds.
I bit my lip, absentmindedly twirling a long lock of my wet hair around a finger, asking myself what it would’ve taken for me to stay in Green Valley for the whole summer. Sienna had offered multiple times and the answer eluded me now just as it had every time she’d asked. Maybe if she let me pay rent?
But no. He was here, Deputy Dreamy, living his adorable, picturesque small-town life with his adorable, statuesque small-town girlfriend. Even now, a week and a day after seeing him at the station and then unexpectedly at the restaurant, I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t like how I still wanted him. It made me feel shitty about myself. I knew he was with someone else, someone awesome, and yet I wanted.
Not that it mattered that she was awesome, he was with someone else, and that was that. I didn’t want to run into them again, which—if last week had been any indication—I definitely would if I stayed with Sienna for the summer.
Whatever. I needed to get back to LA. My real life was there, even if no friends were. Green Valley, as restful and restorative and private as it had been, was not my real life, and—
A sudden knuckle rap on the passenger window had me jumping in my seat. My head hit the ceiling as a loud scream ripped from my throat.
“Raquel.” A face lowered to peer in the window, the sight giving me another shock. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” he said. “It’s—it’s Deputy James.”
“Oh my God.” I pressed my hand flat over my chest against my thundering heart, a relieved and self-conscious laugh bubbling out of me. My wits were completely scattered. “Oh my God, you scared me.”
“Apologies,” came his muted reply. “Do you mind if I . . .” He motioned to the door.
Wordlessly, I sprang into action, reaching to unlock the door and push it open. He held an umbrella—which he closed carefully before sliding in—and wore a wide-brimmed tan hat. And that’s when I realized he was in his deputy costume.
No. Not costume, Rae. His official uniform.
I had no time for the sardonic voice in my head, I was too busy looking my fill and storing this sight of Deputy Dreamy all decked out in his law enforcement regalia . . . for reasons.
He shut the door, muffling the sound of the heavy rain, and turned toward me. His mouth was open like words were on the tip of his tongue, like he had a statement prepared. But once his eyes met mine, they seemed to soften, widen, and warm—just like they’d done at the station, and just like they’d done at the restaurant.
I’d reflected often over the last week that the way he looked at me was completely and utterly intoxicating. Partly because his eyes rarely seemed to stray from my face. Partly because it was him, my dreamy deputy.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I said. A tremor of nervous excitement—that I immediately felt guilty about—pulsed through my body. And it was the guilt that had me lowering my eyes from his handsome face and clearing my throat.
You are a mess, Rae. But you’re not a terrible person. You’re a good person. And you don’t make moony eyes at someone else’s boyfriend.
“What’s—why are you here?” I studied the stick shift. Reeeeaaaally looked at it.
I heard him expel a loud breath. “I’m here for you.”
My head snapped up. “What? You are?”
“Yes.” His eyes moved between mine. “You see—”
“I want to apologize,” I said, the words bursting out of me.
He flinched, rearing just an inch back, and frowned. “Apologize? For what?”
“For coming to the station last week and bringing you that pie. I’d promised you—if you recall, but totally fine if you don’t remember—that I wouldn’t bother you after that night, that night we, uh, the night we were together. I said no strings.”
He stared at me, and his chest rose and fell a few times before he replied on a rasp, “I remember.”
The cadence of his two-word answer paired with how he was presently looking at me made goose bumps prickle along my neck and chest. No. Bad body. Bad involuntary reaction!
“Anyway.” I crossed my arms, hating and therefore ignoring the way my stomach twisted and coiled, because now I really felt shitty about myself. “I said I’d leave you alone, and that’s what I should’ve done. It was inconsiderate to show up at your place of work, and I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry.”
“Regardless, I am.”
His expression seemed to soften further, and I felt myself melting beneath his gaze. “I wish you wouldn’t—”
“You have a girlfriend!” I tore my eyes from his, angry with myself and with him. Why was he here?
“Uh, I—”
“Having a former one-night stand show up at your work must’ve been awful. I’m sorry if I made things difficult for you or caused a scene.” My words were clipped and edged with anger. I held on to my indignation with both hands, wanting to make it a wall between us.
“You . . .”
I waited for him to finish the thought. When he didn’t, I peeked at him. He stared at me for a long moment, his gaze inscrutable, and then he shook his head. “You’re not making things difficult for me.”
“I had no idea you have a girlfriend. I would never, ever have talked to you at all if I’d known.”
“Raquel.” He lifted his hands. “It’s okay. Please. Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s really not.” How could he not see that? Then again, he didn’t know I’d gone there to proposition him. But still. “I just show up at your job and bring you pie and—who does that? Who—”
“Charlotte and I split up,” he blurted, lifting his voice to speak over my deluge of guilt mongering and shame peddling.
Now I flinched. And I blinked. And my mind blanked.
“Please.” He pulled off his hat, running his long fingers through the thick tuft of hair on top of his head. “Don’t trouble yourself. You did nothing wrong.”
“You broke up with Charlotte?” I liked Charlotte.
“Last week. And I didn’t break up with her. She was the one to call it off.” A small, dry smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, like his thoughts were occupied by something both funny and not funny.
“I’m—I’m sorry.” I was . . . actually . . . a little sorry.
I hadn’t talked to Charlotte for very long, but she seemed awesome and funny and vivacious. Seeing Jackson with her, and that he’d chosen someone so great, made me feel like I’d been right about him all along. His legend status had been more firmly cemented.
But on the other hand, how awesome could Charlotte possibly be if she’d let Deputy Dreamy go? Was she insane?
“It’s fine, I’m fine.” He waved away my concern. “It wasn’t meant to be. I wish her well.”
I couldn’t tell if he was telling the truth about being fine and wishing her well, or if he simply had exceptionally good manners and control over his emotions. After some internal debate, I assumed it was the latter.
He must’ve read the doubt on my face because his earlier smile spread, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “You don’t believe me.”
“Sienna said you’d been together for months.”
“We had.” He nodded, his eyes dropping to his hat. “But we’ve been friends since we were kids. I saw more of Charlotte when we were just friends than when we were . . .” Deputy D—I mean, Jackson—breathed out an audible sigh, and when he glanced up his eyes were clear, free of post-breakup pain. “Anyway. Like I said, it wasn’t meant to be, and it was never going to work. We want two different things.”
“What do you want?” The thoughtless, invasive query burst from my mouth like a projectile.
He stared at me like my question had caught him completely off guard, like he felt caught, or put on the spot.
I rushed to correct my thoughtlessness. “You don’t have to answer—”
“No, it’s fine.” He cleared his throat before saying softly, “I want to settle down, for good. I want someone who is ready to put the effort
into a relationship in order to make it work in the long term. I want someone who is dedicated to seeing things through, no matter how difficult.”
Effort. Work. Dedicated. Difficult.
My nose wrinkled. “Why do you—” I paused to consider what question I wanted to ask first, and opted for, “Why does it have to be difficult?”
His eyebrows lifted. “Pardon?”
“You make it sound like long-term relationships are akin to climbing Mount Everest.”
“Aren’t they?”
I honestly didn’t know. I’d never settled down because I’d never been in love, not how people described it or portrayed it in books or the movies. But I wanted to think, with the right person, it wouldn’t be all effort, work, dedication, and difficulty.
“Yes, there will be some work involved. But shouldn’t it also be—” I moved my hands in front of me as I searched for the right word “—fun?”
“Fun?”
“Yes. Fun. I think being in love should be fun. And then wouldn’t dedication also be easy? With the right person.”
Jackson’s eyelids lowered by half, his expression losing some of its softness, as did his voice. “Is that what it’s like between you and Harrison Copeland? Fun?”
My lips parted as realization slowly dawned, and I felt more than a little idiotic. Jackson thought Harrison and I were together, because as far as the whole world was concerned, Harrison and I were engaged.
Jackson’s lips twisted into a smile that didn’t look very friendly. “Does dedication come easy to Harrison, do you think?”
Oh. Wow.
I knew exactly what Jackson meant by that, and his meanness was completely unexpected. The fact that my engagement was fake might’ve been a secret, but Harrison’s supposed cheating wasn’t. Maybe Domino was right, maybe Harrison’s exploits did make me look pathetic.
Hearing this suspicion confirmed by my dreamy deputy sliced deep.
I must’ve made some sort of face, or maybe my silence betrayed me, but not a split second later, the deputy closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “I’m sorry. That was rude.”