THE STARLIGHT HILL COMPLETE COLLECTION: 1-8

by Bell, Heatherly

  Cold shower time. He kicked the covers off and headed to the bathroom.

  The shower water was the shock that he needed, and he stayed under the stream until his thoughts ran back to the job. Fallon was right in that no matter what he said on the subject, he couldn’t help acting and thinking like a cop. Regardless, it wouldn’t change facts. He wouldn’t go back and that was final. Since he’d been promoted to homicide a few years ago his world had turned dark and sinister. Finished off what little had been left of his marriage. He couldn’t shake the work off at the end of the day because the days didn’t end. And while he realized that all folks lived in the same world in which people hurt the ones they loved in indescribable ways, not everyone got to see the damage up close and personal. Memory cells were cruel. That last case had done him in. A kid.

  He wanted to forget.

  Fallon wanted to know why, and he wanted to tell her. He would tell her. He just didn’t want to tell her in a way that would bring his dark former world into hers. He wanted this trip to relax her, anyway, not wind her up even tighter. He got that she was a single mother, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t still enjoy her life. She was beautiful and young and deserved to have some fun. With or without him.

  He got out of the shower and toweled off, gratified to find her still asleep. It gave him time to get dressed and find coffee. The hotel had a continental breakfast spread downstairs, and he loaded up on muffins, cereal, and two coffees. He had no idea how Fallon took her coffee, so he shoved creamers and sugars into his pockets.

  “Are you and your wife enjoying your stay?” the same delusional attendant said from behind the counter as he walked past on his way to the elevator.

  “She’s not—yes. We’re having a great time.”

  They certainly would be, were she actually his wife. When he let himself back in the room, balancing everything, Fallon sat on the edge of the bed rubbing her eyes.

  “Hey, sleepyhead.”

  “Coffee,” she mumbled.

  He wasn’t sure if that was an observation or a request. Trying not to smile at the bed hair, he handed over a coffee cup and pulled cream and sugar packets out of his pockets. “I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee.”

  “Cream.”

  One word sentences, and with Fallon’s proclivity for words he would have to go out on a limb and guess she was not a morning person. “Here you go. You sleep alright?”

  “Uh-huh.” She poured cream into her coffee.

  At least one of them had. He sat on the edge of his bed and drank his own black coffee, then took a bite of a muffin. Fallon looked a little scary in the morning, but funny how he still wanted to kiss that sleepy mouth.

  He cleared his throat. “We should get going as soon as you’re ready.”

  She didn’t say anything, but coffee in hand, staggered toward the bathroom. He heard the shower go on and resigned himself to the fact that he would not be invited to join her in there. That’s not what this gig was about. This was fake. Pretend. It wasn’t as if he was looking to knock boots with someone, but he could see he’d be the wrong guy for Fallon. At least for the next week, though, he would be the right guy. The right fake guy.

  And enjoy the hell out of it.

  * * *

  Fallon had guessed right. One glance at Jack in the morning, and he appeared just as breath taking as he did in the middle of the day. Probably a morning person, while she could barely form a coherent thought before her first cup of coffee. He’d brought her coffee and cream, even a muffin. Kind of nice.

  Thankfully the car was ready when they arrived, and by nine they were on the road again. They would make good time from Pismo Beach, and should arrive in Starlight Hill well before dark. Which meant she had to tell Jack about the name thing. She hadn’t been looking forward to it.

  “I think I’ll start calling you Bud,” she said. “Because you’ve been a real bud.”

  She couldn’t see what his eyes were doing under his dark sunglasses, but his lips turned up in a half smirk. “Yeah, don’t.”

  “Didn’t anyone ever call you by a fun nickname?”

  “Not sure about fun, but Jack is a nickname.”

  Confession time. “All right, here’s the thing. I may have accidentally told my mother that my boyfriend’s name is Bud.”

  “Why? Because it’s such a great name?”

  “No. And you should just be grateful I wasn’t drinking imported beer at the time.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Well, she had me on the ropes. I’d stalled for so long about my fake boyfriend that she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’d already told her you were tall, dark and handsome. Very important job. Vague-city. Finally, one day she told me that I’d probably been under too much stress working with entitled celebrities, and she didn’t believe there really was a guy. She wouldn’t give up until I gave her a name.”

  “Why did you lie about having a boyfriend anyway?”

  “She wanted to fix me up. Her best friend Trudy has a nephew living in Encino. I didn’t want to be rude so I just threw it out there. My mother makes me nervous.” Understatement.

  “You could have just said you broke up before the wedding.”

  “Sure, and she’d have suggested that I bring her best friend’s nephew as my date to the wedding. He’s a doctor. A gynecologist.”

  Jack’s chest shook a little, as though he were suspiciously restraining a laugh. “Fine. We’ll say Bud is a nickname I hate and now you’re no longer calling me that.”

  “Think she’ll fall for it?”

  “Oh, I’ll make sure of it.” He gave her a tight lipped smile.

  She’d been pushing boundaries and pushing her luck. Like the almost-peeking thing. And then the asking-about-the-job thing, when he clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Did we ever decide on your occupation?” she said.

  “You seem convinced I should be a cop.”

  “It’s believable.”

  “Great. I’m a cop again. That was a quick retirement. But we won’t say I’m a detective. People ask too many questions I don’t want to answer.”

  “Gotcha.” She paused for a beat and then took her chances. “But why, exactly?”

  His only response was to quirk a brow.

  “Right, right. We’re not talking about it. Yet.”

  Fallon’s phone rang and caller ID read, Little Man.

  “Hi, honey!”

  “Where are you? I thought you were going to be here today.”

  “I’m on my way. The car broke down, but I’ll be there this afternoon.”

  “Grandma said you shouldn’t be driving from L.A. It’s dangerous and you’re irresponsible.” He took a breath. “But Mom, did you know that a regulation baseball has one hundred and eight stitches?”

  “No, I didn’t know that.” Fallon frowned.

  Sometimes it was good to have a nine-year-old who flitted from one subject to another, but it still hurt that Fallon’s own mother was trash talking her to David. Every time she thought she’d made progress on that front, someone moved the goal line. If it wasn’t Ted moving the line, it was often her mother. She told herself that it didn’t seem to matter much to David, because he still loved her and was always happy to see her. But how much longer would it be before he stopped having confidence in her abilities, too? She’d guess not much longer, since he was four years away from being a teenager.

  A few more minutes of conversation about random baseball facts and what David wanted for Christmas, and Fallon hung up with her son. A familiar tug of longing settled in her heart, followed by the uncomfortable sensation of impending doom. It was always this way when she came home for a visit. Her heart expanded and her throat constricted. She was usually in a hurry to get home right up until the plane landed at San Francisco International Airport. Then she’d have to get Kailey on the phone and have her talk her through the rest of the way with cheery can-do affirmations. The truth was that she only wanted David, but that
was never possible. Coming home meant she had to deal with some of the small minded people in town who’d decided her three failed marriages meant she was the town’s joke. It meant seeing Ted. A wedding meant she would also see her former in-laws. Truthfully, she sometimes felt safer on the streets of L.A.

  “Was that your kid?” Jack asked now.

  She tried to smile but it felt tight, much like her narrowing throat. “Yeah, that was David.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said, lying through her teeth.

  “Try again.”

  “Really, Jack, where is your trusty flashlight? Shouldn’t you be shining it in my eyes right about now?”

  “We don’t do that anymore.” He scowled. “And it’s not an interrogation.”

  Then he just stopped talking. Not another word. She’d forgotten to put on the baseball cap and even with a ponytail, the wind whipped through her hair, filling all the spaces between them. She grew uncomfortable with the loud and stretching silence.

  The man was a genius.

  “Okay, I’m suddenly not looking forward to being home again. Some…people talk about me behind my back. And I haven’t always had the best support from my mother. And certainly not from my ex.”

  “Why not? You’re David’s mother and you deserve respect for that alone.”

  “Let’s just say that some people don’t see it that way.”

  “Then maybe it’s up to me, as your fake lover, to help them see it like that.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard.

  He probably had no clue what he’d said nearly short-circuited her heart.

  Once in a while, Fallon managed to make a good choice despite all odds. The greatest of which had been giving birth to David. Another good decision had been furthering her education in cosmetology by moving down to Los Angeles, then working like a fiend for two years to save every dollar for her own salon.

  And agreeing to go on a road trip with Jack Cooper, aka Santa Claus.

  9

  Predictably, the closer they got to San Francisco, the more Fallon needed a pep talk. Jack had been mostly quiet on the trip, appeared simply to enjoy the drive, and had asked her to let him know when and if she wanted to stop. The temperature had lowered with every mile as the skylight darkened to gray and overcast, and when Fallon’s teeth began to chatter, Jack pulled over in Palo Alto at a service station. He put the top up and pumped some gas.

  “All set,” he said as he pulled out of the station.

  They were approximately one hour and forty-four minutes from home now, according to her GPS. Nice time for a diversion. “Let’s go to Fisherman’s Wharf when we get to San Francisco.”

  “Thought we were in a hurry.”

  “We’ve made good time, and I would hate for you to miss San Francisco. Maybe just a quick stop to see the bay. There’s nothing like it.”

  He gave her one of his gorgeous smiles which were starting to affect her far more than she’d wanted. “Now you’re talking.”

  After all, she didn’t want to ruin Jack’s road trip any more than it already had been. Having wasted one valuable night due to the car and tree fiasco, he’d seemed to understand and accept that he couldn’t make any more unscheduled stops. She appreciated that, and she wanted to get home. Delaying the inevitable wasn’t going to help, and she desperately wanted to see David. Too bad that didn’t stop the churning in her gut.

  A couple of hours later she’d walked the length of Pier 39 with Jack and shared a bread bowl of Clam Chowder. Fallon grabbed a couple of stocking stuffers for David at one of the gift shops, and Jack loaded more photos into his phone. When he showed Fallon the photo he’d taken of the two of them cuddled on the pier, she thought it looked pretty damned convincing. Then she flipped through a couple of other photos Jack had taken. One of them had her hair whipping in the wind, as she stood overlooking the bay. Another was of her laughing and pointing at a seagull who’d grabbed someone’s bread bowl.

  She sent some of the photos to her phone and then handed it back to him. “I didn’t notice when you took these other photos of me.”

  “I think they’re pretty good.” He glanced at the photo she’d left up and then slipped the phone in his pocket. “Anyway, it’s convincing.”

  It was late afternoon when they rolled into Starlight Hill and straight through Main Street. The town always went all out for the holidays, with white fairy lights on every tree, and signs on almost every corner announcing the Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony tonight. Of course, she’d be there, along with everyone else she’d ever known. Hopefully people would have forgotten about the last time she’d visited—when Stephan, the self-appointed town gossip, had spread an ugly rumor that she’d left town pregnant with Billy Turlock’s baby. That one had hurt her almost as much as it had hurt Billy and Brooke. None of it was true, of course, not that Stephan cared. Billy had barely given her a second look after retiring from baseball and coming back to town several years ago and reconnecting with Brooke. But small town gossip never took a holiday, often fueled by Stephan, who had too much free time on his hands.

  “What do you think?” she asked Jack as they drove through town. Since Starlight Hill was on the valley’s wine trail, there were storefront tasting rooms on every corner.

  “I’m more of a beer guy,” he said.

  “You’re in luck. I heard a microbrewery opened recently. And there’s a new tap room, too. Fifty-four different types.”

  Fallon gave Jack directions to her mother’s house, in a middle-class residential area of town. When he pulled up in front of the gray and blue split-level and shut off the car, Fallon froze. This was, by far, the worst idea she’d ever had. Mom would see right through her scheme, her superior German nose for bullshit always in prime form. Then Fallon would have to explain why she didn’t want to go out with Trudy’s nephew the gynecologist.

  She turned to Jack. “Maybe…we should re-think this.”

  “No way.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, then kissed it. “Having too much fun.”

  “But—”

  “She’s looking through the window,” he said. “Kiss me.”

  “W-what?”

  But he didn’t ask again, just pulled her until she was nearly in his lap and proceeded to kiss the living daylights out of her. It went on for several seconds or minutes or hours, Fallon didn’t know which. She’d somehow lost track of time. He was a solid wall of heat and she could have leaned on him for hours. His lips were soft and hard at the same time and his tongue tasted like the salt water taffy he’d bought at the pier.

  He ended the kiss and then tucked a hair behind her ear. “You need to act like that happens every day.”

  “Um…yeah.”

  While she was still trying to recover from the onslaught of blazing heat and chemistry, Jack had come around to her side of the door. “Thanks for waiting. She’s still looking.”

  “Of course she is.” Not a comforting thought. It told her that Mom had suspicions. All the vague information and naming her boyfriend after a beer probably hadn’t helped her case.

  Jack threaded his fingers through hers and together they walked up to her mother’s front door and rang the doorbell. Once. Twice.

  “You’re sure she was looking through the window?” Fallon asked.

  “She live alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then oh, yeah.”

  The door finally opened, and Beverly McQueen cried out, “Fallon! Bud!”

  Oh God. She should probably go ahead and end this charade now.

  “Hi, Mom. Here’s the thing, he actually doesn’t—”

  “What Fallon is trying to say is that not everyone calls me Bud anymore, but of course, you can.” He smiled and put out his hand.

  “I’m sorry, young man, but I’m a hugger!” Mom pulled Jack into a hug.

  Of good looking men she should have added, but Fallon smiled anyway and officially introduced ‘Bud’ Cooper. “We’ve had a long
drive. Maybe we can just haul my luggage up into my old bedroom and I can go get Ja—Bud a motel room. Then I’m going to go see David.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! I can’t have Bud staying at a motel room. You’ll both stay here in your bedroom.” She tapped Jack’s shoulder. “My daughter thinks I’m a prude. I might be sixty-seven, but I’m a hip grandma I want you to know. I’m sure that you two sleep together and you’re certainly old enough to do it under my roof if you’d like.”

  Fallon couldn’t speak for a moment. This house had three bedrooms, and one of them was always set up for David. Should she call Mom’s bluff? She had to be bluffing.

  “Wow, thanks. I’m sure we both appreciate that,” Fallon said.

  “Thank you,” Jack said.

  “I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt in one of Fallon’s crazy schemes. Driving up the highway when she had to be here for a wedding? Did you see that in a movie once or read it in a romance novel? What gave you that hair-brained idea?” Mom turned to Fallon.

  “Actually, it was my idea.” Jack said. “It was kind of a bucket list thing.”

  “Oh.” Mom cleared her throat. “I was sure there had to be a good reason.”

  Fallon helped Jack with the luggage and together they hauled it up to the second story and her small former bedroom with the single double bed. Mom had changed very little about the room and it still had the same yellow daisies wallpaper she’d grown up with on the walls.

  Jack brought the last suitcase in and shut the door with his back. “Hip grandma?”

  “She suspects something.”

  Jack cocked his head. “Don’t think so. Maybe she’s just trying to make you happy?”

  She scoffed. “Not a chance.”