Lifetime Risk (Pelican Bay Security Book 7)

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  “I hope I get to see a million more of these with you, Josie.” Nate glances across the table smiling sweetly.

  I look down, not sure to how respond, but take his hand when he reaches for mine. “Me too.” We’re moving so fast, something I never expected to happen, but I’m full of feelings I didn’t believe I’d experience. There’s no way to turn off what I feel or slow down our relationship. I’m no longer driving the bus.

  The sun falls further in the sky behind us and I breathe in the ocean air, letting it relax me as I work to remember every piece of this moment.

  Samantha clears her throat and I’m jostled back to reality as our waitress sets down the dessert plate on the table between us. “If you need anything else, please let me know,” she says, also placing down two waters that we didn’t order but I’m glad she brought.

  The yoke of one of my eggs pops, the gooey yellow substance running over and sizzling in the pan.

  Screw it.

  Breakfast just became scrambled eggs.

  Emma squeals in the living room as Nate chases her around wielding a hairbrush like a sword and I chop up the egg into pieces pretending like they were scrambled all along.

  The toaster pops, and before I can turn around to grab the warm bread to slather it in butter, Nate is there taking out the four pieces.

  “I got it,” he says, grabbing a butter knife from the drawer.

  “Did you talk Emma out of wearing the dress?” I ask. They don’t care if she wears dresses at daycare but want them to have shorts on underneath. It sounded like a simple enough request, but Emma hates wearing shorts — a fact I didn’t learn until recently when she kept pulling them off halfway through the day and her daycare kept sending me texts about it. Like I could somehow make her keep them on from my desk in Clearwater.

  He nods and cuts a piece of toast in half before sprinkling pepper over a small portion of the eggs off to one side.

  “Hey! Emma can’t have pepper.”

  “Just separate them,” he says bumping me with his hip and stealing my position in front of the stove, which forces me to step to the side. “We’ll cook this half away from her half.” He uses the spatula to divide the two eggs, slipping the peppered eggs to the side of the pan.

  Nate is cute, good with the baby, and he cooks. How did I win the man lottery?

  At times like this, I wonder if he hit me with his truck a little harder than I realized and I’m in a coma in the hospital and this is all a dream. One day I’ll wake up and five years will have gone by where I lay in the hospital bed dreaming up the perfect man.

  Nate isn’t distracted daydreaming in the middle of the kitchen. He grabs two juice glasses and set them on the counter before filling each up with orange juice.

  “Here I’ll take them to the table,” I say, trying to be a little helpful.

  I give Emma a small plate of eggs and she claps her hands twice, smiling. We both know where these eggs are going, and for most of them it won’t be her mouth. She’s wearing a black pair of leggings and an oversized purple shirt with Disney’s little mermaid screen-printed on the front. Something isn’t right, and it takes me a moment to put my finger on what’s off. Nate’s new ability to coordinate the outfit doesn’t catch me off my guard. It’s the fact Emma’s hair looks…

  Normal.

  Two little pigtails, both containing almost the same amount of hair, stick out evenly from the sides of her head.

  “Did you do Emma’s hair?” I ask thinking maybe in my morning frazzlesness I forgot I put them in this morning.

  Nate stops by the table with one hand on his hip admiring his work. “I did. Only took six tries, but look at how even they are.”

  I nod. Six tries isn’t that bad. Some days it’s taken me more, especially if she’s feeling wiggly.

  “You did great, Nate.” I tap the knuckle of my index finger on the table before sitting down to eat breakfast.

  Then sitting at the table with Nate across from me and Emma to my side, each of us eating our own plate of eggs, it hits me. It’s a Monday morning. It’s my first day back to work, which means Nate is also going to work and Emma will go back into daycare.

  It’s a day I’ve lived many times before. Well, never with Nate here, but breakfast with Emma before daycare is a scene I should be used to at this point.

  But for some reason I don’t want to send my rambunctious toddler back to a daycare center with thirty-five other children. I want to be at home with her. It’s quiet as we eat, no one noticing the life-changing freak-out happening in my brain. Everything I’ve said and believed since the divorce doesn’t sound as sane as it did days ago.

  I meant it when I told Nate I never want to find myself in the same position Barry left me in with the divorce. At first the job search had been so stressful I didn’t think I’d make it, but I enjoy working. Bank accounts in my name and making my own decisions helped me gain confidence. The last year was hard, but also satisfying. Would it be so horrible if I found another person, a man like Nate, to put my trust in at some point? Could I love that way again?

  I thought I had my life all planned out, but fate had a different plan for me. Barry might have been an ass, but his actions didn’t reflect on me. I wish I had caught him cheating sooner, but there’s nothing to be done about it now.

  Even going to work this morning I’m happier now than when I was married. I’ve smiled more and enjoyed life more with Nate and Emma these last few weeks than in the last few years.

  Nate’s hand flies into the air and he catches the first bit of eggs before they hit the wall. Emma laughs, but from the look on her face she doesn’t plan to give up on her mission to redecorate anytime soon.

  He gets her to eat a forkful of egg pretending it’s an airplane — I don’t understand how the trick works on her — and she happily chews them as he smiles with pride.

  It is almost too perfect. I worry what will happen if I enjoy myself too much. Will God come and take something away? Seems to happen with my life. If I get too happy, the barrel of my good luck will tip over and spill out.

  “What are you doing at work today?” I ask, forgetting Nate doesn’t have a normal job in my quest to move on from the sobering topic happening in my brain. “Never mind,” I finish when I remember he can’t tell me.

  He laughs. “Today I will be manning the cameras in the office.”

  My eyes widened. “Really? No secret spy business today?”

  He shakes his head. “Although, some days interesting things go down on cameras.” The way he says it has me narrow in my eyes as if I stare at him long enough maybe I can see what he means. I suspect it has to do with the tiny incident involving the storage unit visit. Or Emma’s adventure with chocolate.

  “Why are you on camera duty?” I don’t know what Nate normally does, but it seems like a downgrade going from spying on the motorcycle club to watching a bunch of cameras for a day. How many cameras could there be for him to watch?

  He shrugs. “Spencer’s dog ate some carpet and needs surgery.”

  “Carpet?”

  Nate shakes his head. “Not the weirdest thing the dog has ingested, believe it or not, but I guess this time it was like half the living room or something.”

  “This time?” Pictures of a living room with half the carpet missing and a trail hanging from the dog’s mouth make me reconsider getting pets. Maybe I just became a fish person.

  “Oh shit.” I say checking my watch. “I’m going to be late.”

  My eyes fall to Emma as I calculate how long it will take me to get her all the way to daycare and then get back to the office in Clearwater. I haven’t made the drive lately and have forgotten how far it is. There isn’t much traffic in this area, but when there is, it’s a bitch.

  “Hurry, Emma, we’ve got to go.”

  Nate grabs my plate and empty glass of orange juice after I finished sucking down the last gulp and takes them to the kitchen. “I can take Emma to daycare. It’s practically on the way.�
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  Her daycare is only a mile down the road, but with morning traffic it takes at least fifteen minutes to do a drop off. Especially if I talk to any of the workers. If I let Nate do it, it would cut out a serious portion of my morning drive.

  I reluctantly disagree. Emma is my responsibility, and I can’t pass her off on him whenever I need a little help, but Nate’s not having any of it.

  “If you don’t want me to, I won’t. I was just trying to be nice and help you out.”

  I stare into his deep eyes and laugh at myself for being selfish. “It’s not that I don’t trust you or anything. I just want to say goodbye to on her first day back to daycare, but it’s fine.”

  Satisfied with my answer, he grabs Emma from her high chair and I give her three more kisses as I buckle her into the car seat in the back of my car. I won’t let Nate drive her in his pickup truck, so he asked to drive my car. I’m sure the guys at his office will give him crap, but the fact he’s willing to sit in my tiny little car means the world.

  Without my boot — I haven’t worn it in the last two days — I’m ready to go back to work. I’ll miss Emma and Nate, but I’m ready to get back to my outside life and contribute to the world.

  Nate and Emma turn one direction out of the parking lot and I go the opposite way. Without them in Nate’s truck, I can turn the radio station up as loudly as I want, and I like my music loud. The windows shake as I drive the twenty minutes to work. My office is in the center of Clearwater, and while it’s a small town, it does have two stop lights and a four-way blinking light. More than Pelican Bay has even considered.

  I make sure and turn the music down before I pull into the parking lot. I wouldn’t want anyone in my job to realize I like my music a little sweary. The door to the community offices is open as I step inside putting my mostly empty briefcase over my shoulder. My ankle, without the protective boot or crutches, makes jumping from the truck an adventure, but I manage without falling on my ass.

  It isn’t until I hit the sidewalk that my nerves spike. I’ve missed weeks of work and have no idea what is waiting for me inside, probably a mound of paperwork. I should have checked in more, but the few emails I tried to send to my boss were all met with reminders that working while out on a sick leave was against the rules.

  Regardless of how much paperwork awaits me, I’m ready to get back to work and have a little normality in my life.

  Except there’s a problem because when I get to my desk at the far back room in the hallway, someone else is sitting there. She’s cute, short blonde hair with the brightest blue eyes. She looks up at me and I can tell the moment she figures out who I am because her body freezes and she hesitates before growing fearful like she’s a turtle about to climb into her shell and hide.

  “You’re Josie,” she says, her voice shaking.

  I nod. “And who are you?”

  Her eyes fall to an area next to the desk and mine travel with them. On the floor in one corner there’s a box with a few possessions in it. My possessions. The picture of Emma and me at our first day in Pelican Bay we stopped by the beach to count the seagulls. And the frame of finger painting she made during her first week of daycare. My items, possessions, things I brought to this job are tucked away in a box beside the desk.

  What the hell?

  “Um....” She plays with her hair, not making eye contact. “I think you should talk to Janet.”

  Janet? My boss. An inkling of what’s happening here settles in and I get cranky. “Fine, I’ll do that.”

  Did they hire someone new and there weren’t any other offices they could stick her in? Where am I going to work? Why didn’t someone mention this in one of the many emails I sent that they barely responded to over the last few weeks?

  Janet’s office is three doors down and I don’t bother knocking when I turn the handle and let myself in. Her eyes widen when she sees me and she gets off her phone call.

  “Josie, we didn’t expect you today. Why don’t you sit down?” she says, motioning to the chair in front of her desk.

  I do, but only because I don’t want to seem rude by turning down the invitation.

  “What’s going on here, Janet?” They actually were expecting me today. I told them in my last e-mail.

  To her credit she looks upset for a moment before she begins talking. “Josie, when you didn’t know when you were coming back, we had to hire someone to do your job and she’s worked out well.”

  “Okay and…” I don’t finish my sentence waiting for her to do it.

  “We’ve decided we’re going to keep Stephanie and let you go. It’s nothing personal. You did a great job, but Stephanie doesn’t have the same time constraints.”

  I hesitate for a second letting my brain works through what she said. “You’re letting me go? But I had a doctor’s note.”

  Janet nods her head. “Yes, but you didn’t work here long enough for that to mean anything. You’re still in the six-month probationary period and you missed weeks of work. We had to do something. Stephanie is the mayor’s niece, and she jumped right into the opening. I hope you understand.”

  I most certainly do not. This was my job. My job.

  My eyes blink rapidly as I sit in the chair unmoving. I understand what she’s saying, but I don’t understand it either. What will I do now? How will I provide for Emma? Where will we live?

  I swallow hard, refusing to cry in front of her. I don’t care if I end up living back in my mother’s house listening to her tell me “I told you so” every day for the rest of my life. I refuse to let anyone else see me cry.

  Without another word to Janet, I nod my head and stand. Screw her.

  “If you need a reference, Josie, you know I’ll give you a good one,” she yells after me as I walk out of her doorway, nodding like I’m okay with everything that has gone down in the last hour.

  I stop in my old office and grab my box of stuff, not talking to Stephanie, who doesn’t give me the same reassurances of a good reference. Screw her too.

  The walk to my car and drive back to Pelican Bay happen in silence, and when I get to my apartment building, I keep driving. I’m not sure where I’m headed, but I know I can’t go back and sit in an empty living room today. I need something to help get me through.

  Something chocolate.

  12

  Chocolate and Nate would be best, but I can’t bother him while he’s at work. I refuse to be that helpless in my life. The money I received in the divorce, which I planned to supplement my income for the next sixteen years while Emma is living at home, has dwindled down to nearly nothing. Before I realized it, needing a job became a serious concern. Expenses kept piling up when I wasn’t looking.

  I drive down Main Street in Pelican Bay, intending to head to the beach and clear my thoughts by listening to the waves crash against the shore, but the smell of fresh baked bread forces my car to pull over into a space in front of the bakery.

  I walk in the front doors not talking to anyone, but Anessa takes one look at me and pulls a chocolate cupcake from her display case. The frosting is white with black specks and it’s easy to figure out the flavor with the circular Oreo placed on top standing straight up in the frosting.

  “You look like you need this,” she says, handing me the cupcake.

  I take it without complaint and sit down on the opposite side of the little table that usually houses Pearl. “Thanks.” I take off the Oreo and nibble at the sides, hoping I can make the chocolate last as long as I need it.

  A lifetime.

  My phone rings, and even though I don’t want to, I reach into my bag I brought in with me and pull it out. Nate’s name is on the screen and I answer. Hopefully, hearing his voice will help.

  “Josie, what’s wrong,” he asks, frantically. “Is everything okay with Emma?”

  I hesitate before answering. “What do you mean what’s wrong?”

  “You look distraught. Do you need help?” Nate says into the phone.

  “How d
o you know what I look like?” I ask, and Anessa looks at me smiling, her eyes moving to the corner of the room.

  It’s quiet on the line for a moment and then he speaks. “Because the bakery is lined with cameras. You know this. I’m on camera duty today.”

  “You’re watching those cameras?” When he said he was on cameras, I thought he’d be watching people’s homes or something, not the bakery. Ridge has somebody watching the bakery at all times? That’s weird as hell. I thought they were being sarcastic or dramatic. I try to think back to all the things I’ve done while in the bakery but can’t remember anything I’ve done to make a fool of myself that one of them might relay back to him. What if they keep copies of stupid stuff like one of those video-clip shows?

  “Do you guys save these videos?” Are there any of me? Do you get together with a bucket of popcorn and re-watch them for fun on Friday nights?

  “That’s unimportant, babe. Tell me what’s wrong.” He doesn’t say no to reassure me they aren’t saved.

  “I lost my job,” I choke out as quietly as possible, fearful if I say anything more I will cry.

  Nate sighs on the other end. “That sucks, babe. But it’ll be okay.”

  “I don’t see how it will be okay. How will I make rent this month, or next, or the one after? Or buy food?”

  Anessa’s eyes widen behind the counter and she brings me out another cupcake, placing it next to the one I’d set down to answer the phone.

  “I’ll take care of you,” Nate says.

  But what he doesn’t understand is I don’t want a man to care for me. It sounds nice, but I want to make my own money, buy my own stuff, and be a grown up. Why is that a bad thing?

  “I liked that job,” I lie. Janet always had that look on her face. The one that said to watch your back, but it was good pay for part-time hours.