Searching for Always

by Jennifer Probst

  Her instincts screamed for her to back off. He wasn't ready for a bigger truth. And, dear God, neither was she. "Nothing," she said lightly. They were almost there, and she had a sudden urge to jump out of the car before anything more passed between them. Arilyn had learned that a physical connection was difficult to fight, but an emotional one would destroy them both. "Oh, there's a spot."

  He remained silent, maybe sifting through her odd answer to his speech. She regretted diving in when neither of them was ready. He pulled into the parking space and turned to face her.

  "Thanks so much for the lift, I appreciate it," she said. "See you tomorrow."

  Her hand never reached the latch.

  He moved so deadly fast, she didn't even sense his movement. His fingers closed around her wrist, holding firm. The controlled grip did something weird to her belly, as if she was helpless under his command.

  "Not yet."

  She refused to look at him, keeping her head down. "Umm, I'll take a rain check, I really have to go."

  "I'll be quick. Look at me."

  His voice deepened, slowed. An explosion of heat and want slithered in her blood. She turned and met his gaze.

  Lust.

  No. Not possible.

  She caught her breath at the naked desire on his face, in his eyes, as he looked at her. For a second she was caught up in a tidal wave of pure feeling, her usual logic and calm, serene thoughts like a crystal lake suddenly turning into a tsunami of choppy waves and tidal flooding. Her body shook in response to the primitive male need in his eyes. This was nothing but pure hunger at its elemental level.

  "You promised an answer to one question."

  Arilyn managed a nod. The words were stuck at the back of her throat, trapped there under his blistering male power.

  "What's his name?"

  She blinked. Her voice came out rusty. "Whose?"

  "The man who fucked you up. The man who broke your heart. The man who pretended to transcend the physical and lied. Give me a name."

  She opened her mouth to tell him to go to hell. He'd tricked her with his own Jedi mind tricks, forcing her to give up the most private, vulnerable part of her soul. Her friends and family barely knew his name. How he knew a man had done something to her was beyond her understanding, but somehow she realized he had the same type of instinct that she did, and she had walked right into his trap.

  She almost jerked herself out of his grip and left without another word. Until his voice softened and he spoke so gently, she felt wrapped up in a cocoon of protection and warmth. "Tell me, little one."

  His endearment touched something deep inside, a yearning of such vastness she fought the trembling that wracked her body. If he had kept pushing, she could've fought him. But his tenderness broke her resolve.

  "Jacob."

  She didn't wait for a response. She yanked free of his grip, dove for the handle, and stumbled out of the car.

  Arilyn refused to look back, but she already knew it was too late. Like a wizard casting a spell and obtaining a lock of hair, Stone now held her rare secret. With information came great power. The only way out was to make sure she obtained more on him to balance the scales. She ignored the flicker of guilt about violating her ethical responsibility as a counselor and reminded herself it was a good thing to probe Stone's past. For his own good.

  Not hers.

  She headed past the Swan Pastry shop, walked into Ray's Billiards, and found Poppy waiting for her. The place had stained, worn carpet, four pool tables, a full bar, and wood-paneled walls filled with weird mirrors and classic art like dogs playing cards. Straight from the seventies, Ray's catered to the hard-core crowd that came to gamble, downed shots of whiskey, and smelled of smoke and must. Cigars? They'd gotten busted for not adhering to the no-smoking laws, and her neighbor Mrs. Blackfire called the cops on them weekly. The fines must be in the double digits now, yet Ray stayed open every day.

  He slid off the stool, called a good-bye to Ray, and gave her a hug. "How was your day, sweetheart?"

  She hugged him back and craved to tell him the truth. Her pain-in-the-butt police officer was not only driving her crazy but starting to turn her on. Horror. Instead, she sighed. "Fine. How about you?"

  "Won twenty bucks. Helped Ray with the lunch crowd. Did you talk to the center about trying to jail me?"

  "I will, Poppy, promise. I'll set it up so they allow you to walk to Ray's when you want. You just have to make sure someone calls or texts me so I know where you are. Deal?

  "Deal."

  "Let's go home for dinner."

  "'Kay. Listen, can you also tell them to do something about their chef? He sucks. Yesterday I wanted a cheeseburger with a Coke. They gave me grilled chicken with an Ensure. Do they think I have one foot in the grave? Ensure tastes like powdered chalk."

  "If you have a burger craving, I'll bring you one. You can call."

  "You're not my babysitter, Arilyn. You also try to sneak me a veggie burger, and there is a difference, kiddo." His voice softened with a twinge of sadness. "You already spend too much time with me. You need a man to settle down with and marry, not an old coot who keeps you running back and forth."

  "I like your company, so stop. If you really hate it there, move in with me."

  He shook his head. "No way. I'll never get any babies from you if you can't even date. Maybe I'll sign up for the bus trip to the city. They're going to see a play on Broadway."

  Guilt coursed through her, but she swore to make the situation work. She knew the center was the best place for him. If only he could make a friend. Maybe with more time. "That sounds like fun. What play?"

  Gray bushy brows snapped down. "Mamma Mia! Ugh, I hate Abba. I voted for Chicago. Hot women in prison. They shot it down. But I'll try."

  Her lips twitched. "Come on. I'll let you have a real burger tonight after I make sure your insulin is okay."

  "No Ensure?"

  "Not tonight."

  "And fries."

  "I'll roast some sweet potatoes instead."

  "I love you, A."

  Damned if those ridiculous tears didn't sting again. "Love you, too, Poppy."

  She linked arms and led him down the street. She'd just need to work harder and be more organized to get everything done. When she returned to the house with Poppy, she realized things weren't getting any easier.

  The neighbor from hell had struck.

  A large truck parked next to her house proudly claimed Rusty's Tree Service. Two bulky men wrapped up in ropes were hoisted on some type of contraption, calling orders back and forth to each other. A large buzz saw lay by their feet. Pine needles exploded everywhere, and the tree shook as if calling out to her in a plea for help. Mrs. Blackfire stood at her porch, arms crossed in front of her, watching the scene with a mad glee.

  "Oh my God," Arilyn whispered. "She is evil."

  "Who?" Poppy asked. "You cutting down that tree, sweetie?"

  She launched herself toward the men. The loud buzzing screamed in her ears, and she waved her hands frantically, jumping up and down. The blond spotted her and turned off the machinery. "Hey, lady, you gotta get back. This is dangerous."

  "No!" she yelled. "It's a mistake! You cannot cut down this tree!"

  The other guy strolled over with a frown. "We already got paid. Now move aside."

  And once again her temper snapped. The beautiful peace and harmony of her morning drifted away in a trail of smoke, leaving a mess of writhing emotions that flooded out. "This is my house, and I demand you back away from this tree!"

  The two men shared a glance. "You live here?"

  "Of course I live here! You took a job from a neighbor who has no right to cut down this tree. If you touch one more pine needle, I'll sue you!"

  Mrs. Blackfire shouted from next door. "Don't listen to her! She's crazy. She believes in auras and crystals and refuses to even use a dryer!" She made motions toward the clothesline, which held all of Arilyn's linens and organic cottons to air-dry naturall
y.

  "I'm trying to save the environment," she shot back. "Now back off or I'll call the police!"

  "I paid you already to do this job," her neighbor called out. "Ignore her and cut down that tree."

  "If you move any closer, I'll sue both of you," Arilyn warned.

  Mrs. Blackfire snapped her mouth closed and glared.

  "Please pack up your stuff and leave," she told the men.

  They nodded. "Sorry lady. It won't happen again."

  They gathered their equipment, got back in the truck, and pulled away. Shaking with fury, Arilyn tried to breathe, couldn't, then gave up altogether. She marched next door and stopped at the bottom step. "You lied to me," she said.

  "I'm afraid for my life," she hissed. "When that tree falls on my roof and crushes me in my sleep, it will be too late."

  Arilyn tried not to roll her eyes. "It's not even close to your roof," she pointed out. "You would've gotten me in big trouble with Genevieve."

  "I need to protect myself. Besides, what are you doing in there?" She squinted over her glasses with suspicion. "I see that strange altar. Do you sacrifice things? Are you into witchcraft?"

  Her body trembled with pent-up frustration. She had no time for this. "No, Mrs. Blackfire, I meditate. And you shouldn't be spying."

  "I'm looking out for the neighborhood. I'm the one who caught the vandalizer over the summer. You should be grateful."

  "I'm sure Gen is. I have to go." She turned and almost bumped into Poppy. "Ready, Poppy?"

  Her grandfather didn't move. Just stared at her neighbor. "Who are you?" he finally asked.

  "Joan Blackfire." She peered over her glasses. "Who are you?"

  Poppy smiled and held out his hand as if he were asking the queen to dance. "Patrick Flynn. Arilyn's grandfather. Why are you cutting down her tree?"

  Her neighbor muttered something under her breath, staring at his outstretched hand as though it were a bomb. She slowly took it and gave it a short shake. "Because it's diseased. Are you living here now?"

  "Tree looks fine to me. Does bend to the right a bit, though. I'm visiting. I live at the Best Friends Senior Citizen Center. Do you know it?"

  She gave a grunt. "Place makes poisonous Jell-O and serves Ensure with every meal. Plus, their road trips are stupid."

  Arilyn's grandfather beamed. "I totally agree. Hey, want to come over for dinner? I'm a great cook and promise no Jell-O. Or fake shakes. We're having burgers and sweet potatoes. Arilyn doesn't eat meat, so there's veggie burgers there if you want."

  Arilyn blinked. Huh?

  Mrs. Blackfire snapped her gaze around. "What's wrong with meat? God put animals on the earth so we'd eat them."

  Arilyn bristled. "We've evolved since then. No reason to ingest bad animal karma into the body."

  "Ridiculous. The body needs protein to function. What do you eat?"

  "I eat from the earth," Arilyn said stiffly. "I also use soy protein as a substitute."

  Poppy shook his head sorrowfully. "It tastes really bad, but she's free to make her own choices."

  "What about sugar?" Mrs. Blackfire frowned. "Everyone needs sugar."

  It was confirmed. She'd stepped into the Syfy Zone and would soon be involved in the zombie apocalypse. Her neighbor from hell was questioning her food choices after trying to cut down her tree illegally. "I avoid refined sugar and keep to natural ingredients. Dried and fresh fruit. Dark chocolate. Whole grains in cereals."

  "So who drinks all the wine you take out to the curb?" Mrs. Blackfire asked. "You don't drink alcohol?"

  Her grandfather spoke up. "Oh, no, she drinks plenty of alcohol."

  Arilyn fought off a blush. "Red wine helps the heart," she said.

  Poppy tilted her head. "You like those cosmos and martinis," he pointed out. "And lots of white wine, too."

  Mrs. Blackfire gave a knowing humph. "Knew it. The recyclables never lie."

  Okay, she'd had enough. She tugged at her grandfather's arm. "Umm, we'd better go in."

  "Are you joining us for dinner, then?" he directed toward her neighbor. "Maybe we can sort out this tree problem. Neighbors should get along." Arilyn held her breath, heart beating madly, praying for just one tiny, itty-bitty break in her crappy week. Of course, Mrs. Blackfire would never agree. Her neighbor hated her, and Kate, and her whole crew. Lenny and Mike would probably howl as if they'd seen a ghost, sensing her dark, innate evilness.

  "Yes, I'll be over in a minute. Just need to lock up."

  "We have dogs!" Arilyn burst out. "Lenny and Mike are very misbehaved. Puppies. They're still learning, and I know how you dislike dogs."

  "Why wouldn't Joan like dogs?" Poppy asked with confusion.

  "I never said I hate dogs," her neighbor snapped. "I don't like them doing their business on my property and ruining my roses. I'm fine with dogs."

  No. No, no, no, no . . .

  Poppy lit up, looking ten years younger. "Wonderful. Looking forward to getting to know each other better. Let's go, Arilyn."

  Arilyn's mouth fell open.

  He walked away, and she followed in a fog. Then he patted her arm. "I'm quite disappointed in you. Not inviting your next-door neighbor over is horribly rude. Why don't we open that bottle of champagne you've been saving? It's a special occasion." With a light step, he walked inside, humming under his breath.

  A shudder broke through her. She gripped the turquoise crystal around her neck and tried to absorb some of its healthy, clearing energy. Why was this happening to her? What had she possibly done in her previous life to deserve a neighbor from hell, a broken relationship, and an annoying, sexy cop?

  Arilyn sighed and prepped herself for the long night ahead.

  STONE CAREFULLY SCREWED THE caps back on the two Coke bottles and breathed a sigh of relief. Perfect. It had been way too long since he last attempted such a classic practical joke with soda and Mentos, and even had to YouTube the steps, but now he was in business. He headed over to McCoy's desk first, placing the bottle on the right-hand side and quickly tossing out the half-empty one.

  "Whatcha up to, Petty? Aren't you still on suspension?"

  He turned around. Sergeant Tim Dunn was nicknamed Make It Work Dunn, in honor of Project Runway's host. Of course, this drove him apeshit because the host's name was really Gunn. To Stone and the others, it was close enough. Dunn gave him a suspicious look. And well he should. Stone slouched and sneered. "Just looking for McCoy. Wanted him to check on a speeder. He's going to court in my place. Here, want this? I'm ready to piss like a racehorse, I've had so much Coke."

  He shoved it in Tim's hand like he didn't give a crap. Tim took it. "I'm a Pepsi man, but sure. Thanks. Hey, we're having some problems with the rookie."

  Stone lifted a brow. "Patterson? What's up?"

  Tim rolled his eyes. With his cropped blond hair and Irish red cheeks, he was the scrappy sort, with a mean hook that could knock a guy on his ass in two seconds flat. "He's got a stick up his ass. OCD sort. Organizes his locker, paperwork, desk. Don't care if he keeps it to himself, but he's starting to piss everyone off. Trying to get Jessica to alphabetize the callins by last name and shit. Then told McCoy his paperwork wasn't up to snuff."

  The dispatcher, Jessica, didn't like anyone to tell her how to run her desk. When she got pissed, the department felt the heat. And criticizing a higher-ranking officer was just not done. Stone shook his head. "Bad news. What do you want to do?"

  Tim grunted. "He likes his locker so damn much, let's move it where he can see it easier. Like outside."

  A juvenile glee zipped through Stone. There might be only about seven people working in the department, but they were tight. Newbies needed to learn when they went off course, and the right practical joke put them in their place and made the point crystal clear. "Let's do it. He's on night shift, right?"

  "Yep."

  "Good. We'll put it by his car. Upside down, of course."

  "Of course."

  They both chuckled. "I'll stop back. Heading to the g
ym. See ya."

  "Later, dude."

  His hand had just pushed open the door when the sound of Dunn shouting and cursing hit his ears. Guess he had opened up his bottle early to a total explosion. Grinning, Stone walked faster. Yeah, the classic jokes were the best.

  He was in a good mood the whole way to the gym. Changing into his shorts and tank, Stone headed toward the weight room and started with the bench press. When his shoulders revolted a bit as he pushed up, he was reminded of the hellish Salutation to the Whatever routine Arilyn was always putting him through. Unbelievable. Who would've thought yoga could be such a workout? He made a note to see when the next Pilates class was. Time to stretch out so he could stop embarrassing himself in front of her. She seemed wickedly satisfied every time she caught him trying to hide a wince.

  Stone settled into reps, working each core muscle until it ached. He'd learned when he was a skinny, too-tall delinquent that knowing how to fight and defend himself was key to survival. From both the streets and his father. He'd kept up a strict routine of lifting and running, so he'd always be able to either flee first or do damage to his opponents. When he'd met Ellen, that part of his past fascinated her in a dark, shocking way. She used to shiver and tell him a bit of violence was sexy.

  Yeah, real sexy. Sure, the testosterone was a rush, but waking up in a blur of pain and blood just wasn't that hot. Even if you were the one putting the other guy there.

  Stone gritted his teeth and began on squats. If he was honest with himself, he'd admit Ellen's background was also a turn-on. She was so different from him, all classic elegance begging to be messed up, and boasted an easy childhood with no ghosts. Since she worked as an executive assistant to a banker, she wore conservative suits and high heels and perfect makeup. She was gorgeous and confident. Attracted to her flirtatious manner and fun sense of humor, he'd dived headlong into an affair, and on impulse, he asked her to marry him. Surprisingly, she said yes. Had they even exchanged deep "I love yous"? Talked about the future and children? No. They'd both figured everything would work out, because neither of them was a planner or too interested in analyzing tomorrow. In a way, they were too alike ever to make it.

  Maybe that's why they ended up married and engaged so fast. The first hit of something new and fresh probably turned them both on. Of course, after the fun ended and his work ate him up and spit him back out, she wasn't as turned on by that side of him.