by Jen Talty
“Ouch.”
“Tell me about it.”
“How long were you together?”
“A little over a year. After she admitted she didn’t love me, I tried to stay with her, thinking I could somehow make her love me back, but I was miserable. A few months later, she started dating my college advisor. They got married right before she want to law school and now they have a kid with another one on the way. I opted not to go on with my education and went into the State Police Academy.” He let out a long sigh. He’d always wanted Brenda to be happy and didn’t have any ill-will toward her or her husband. However, that didn’t change the fact she’d broken his heart.
“How long before you started dating again?”
“I don’t know, maybe six months or so. A couple of girls I’ve dated I’ve really liked, but either I’d say something so stupid and that was it, or my ‘lukewarm-ness’ put an end to it.”
“I have a hard time believing anyone would call you lukewarm.” She twirled her dark hair around her finger. “You’re very attentive.”
“Some of the women I dated said I was distant and hid behind humor.”
“I might buy the latter,” Brook said. “Are you sure you loved Brenda?”
“Are you sure you loved Larry?” He arched a brow.
“Touché,” she said, tipping her head. “Did you ever think that you say and do dumb things around women because it got you the one you loved?”
He opened his mouth, then slammed it shut. She had a point.
“You could also be sabotaging yourself because you’re afraid you’re not loveable.”
“I’m loveable. My mother even says so.” He winked. “The family dog adores me.”
She shook her head. “And there is the humor you hid behind.”
“I don’t think I’m hiding. I’ve always been a bit sarcastic. It’s part of my charm.”
“You are charming, but you’re afraid of getting hurt, so you’ve built up some powerful mechanisms to protect yourself.”
“Now who is full of psycho-babble shit.” He drew his hand down his face, bringing his forefinger and thumb together at his chin. “You could be right.”
“What about girlfriends before Brenda? How’d those relationships go?”
“I didn’t date much before I meet Brenda. After Tamara died, I was a mess and girls really didn’t want to go out with me. I had maybe four relationships before Brenda, but that was it. Now that I’m about to turn thirty and my best friend is getting married soon, I’m thinking I want to settle down and have a family.” He smiled. “Thanks. That was insightful.”
“Wow. You took being told you have deep seated fears quite well.”
He shrugged. “If it’s preventing me from finding someone to share my life with, then I’m willing to look at it.”
“Well color me something. You are a sweet man.” She raised her mug.
“You’re turn.” He smiled as he clanked her mug.
“I didn't like Larry when I first met him. I thought he was an arrogant, pompous ass.”
“So, why’d you go out with him?”
She tossed her head back and laughed. “I worked with him, well, more like for him and God, what a horrible boss. I kept bitching to my girlfriend about him and she decided a blind date would be the best way to make me feel better and her fiancé’s best friend just happened to be available.”
“Larry was your blind date?”
She nodded. “I took one look at him and nearly turned around and left, but he stood, and pulled out my chair. Greeted me with kindness. It was like he was an entirely different man.”
“You had a good time on the date?”
“He was charismatic and charming. I was stunned. We had lunch the next day and found out we had so much in common.”
“What happened when you went back to work?” Tristan had seen his share of Jekyll and Hide men, and it was never pretty for the women involved with them.
“He remained an asshole. He’d text me an apology, saying he couldn’t afford to treat me differently at work and we kept our relationship a secret for a year.”
“From everyone? Or just work?”
“Just work. We’re both ambitious. I wanted his job, and he wanted to be V.P. of Product Development. Even when we made our relationship public knowledge, we kept a safe distance from each other at the office.”
“Sounds awkward and uncomfortable.”
“I thought it worked for us. When we were at work, we were focused on our own careers and advancement. At home, we had romantic dinners, watched television, and went on long walks. I had no idea he’d been unhappy.” She picked at her fingernail. “That’s not entirely true. Once we moved in together, he became distant. At first, I thought it was because I pushed marriage, so I backed off. But he started working late at the office during the week. Later than usual. I knew he was pushing for another promotion, so I thought he was just dedicated. I had no idea he’d been doing the nasty with my assistant for six months.”
“Why did he stay with you?”
She ran her fingers across the top of her head, gathering her wavy hair and shaking it out. “I never asked him. Haven’t talked with him since I moved out.” She pushed her phone across the table. “He’s been texting me for the past few days, offering his condolences and wanting to know if there is anything he can do to help. He also says he misses me.”
“You haven’t responded?” He glanced at the phone, but decided he didn’t want to look at the texts. He’d heard enough.
“Hell no.” She pulled one knee up to her chest, resting her foot on the chair next to her butt. “I don’t want to hear his excuses, rationalizations, or anything else. Cheating is a deal breaker for me, so I have no problem saying good-bye.”
“Good for you. But it’s still got to be hard. You obviously loved him.”
“I loved the idea of him.” She tilted her chin and her gold eyes locked with his. “If I’m being honest, my outburst in the office had more to do with being angry at myself for ignoring the signs that he’d been cheating. After I was arrested, I didn’t really focus on the loss of him as much as the loss of my job and not having a place to live. When I got the call about my grandpa, I will admit that the grief for both losses overwhelmed me, but I’m starting to see that maybe I didn’t love Larry like I thought I did.”
“Do you mean that? Or are you pushing things down again?”
She smiled, which sent a warmth across his entire a body.
“I mean it. I’m more upset about losing my job than him. I’m not saying I didn’t love him, because I did, but I knew it was over before it was over and I just didn’t want to let it go.”
“Had you dumped him when you realized that, you wouldn’t have gotten arrested, lost your job—”
“Thanks for the reminder.” She smiled, picking up the paper and tossed it at his face. Luckily, he had good reflexes and snagged it from the air before it had a chance to take his eye out.
“You’re welcome.” He pulled the newspaper out of its plastic bag and went searching for anything printed regarding Richie Rayburn, a man wanted for questioning in an open murder investigation. The all-points-bulletin had gone out a few days ago and was of the highest priority since the man was considered armed and dangerous. As he flipped the pages open, he peered over the top, checking out Brooke’s ass as she rose and moved about the kitchen.
She glanced over her shoulder, and he quickly diverted his gaze to top article. He coughed, staring at her mug shot. The headline read: Long standing resident’s family name shamed.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“What?”
He sucked in a deep breath as she made her way around the table until she stood behind him, hands resting on his shoulder for a brief moment until she yanked the paper from him.
“What the…this happened a little over three weeks ago? Why are they doing this now?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised—”
Ding Dong!
“Oh, well…” Mrs. Ramsworth and her grandson, Wendell stood at the front door. “Um, excuse me. Is Miss Fowler here?”
Had it just been the old lady, Tristan wouldn’t think to mess with her. But Wendell? Life was too short not to make that man squirm in his shoes.
“Hey babe?” he called over his shoulder. “Bring me my shirt.” He smiled at the woman who looked like she might have a heart attack. Perhaps she’d never seen a bare-chested man.
Be nice, Tristan Jordan Reid. His mother’s voice boomed between his ears.
“The Ramsworth’s are here to see you, hon.”
“May we come in?” Mrs. Ramsworth asked.
“Not my house, so I’ll let Brooke make that call.”
“Tell them to go away,” Brooke yelled from the other room. “It’s too early for company.”
Tristan fisted his hands as Wendell moved closer to the front door, the newspaper pinched under his arm.
“We need to talk to her about something important.” Wendell lifted the paper, showing Brooke’s not so attractive mug shot.
“That has nothing to do with you.” Tristan rested his hands on his hips.
Wendell tapped the newspaper so hard he poked a hole in it. “She’s wearing my great-mother’s necklace, which was stolen years ago. We’d like it back.”
Tristan leaned in, looking at the necklace in the picture. “My mother has a necklace that is similar. I’m sure it’s not—”
“It’s a one of a kind handmade heirloom.” Mrs. Ramsworth fanned her eyes. “I don’t like to speak ill of the dead, but it went missing when Ashley Fowler was our employee.”
The floor boards rattled.
“What?” Brooke let out a huge puff of air right in Tristan’s ear.
It didn’t calm him down, but it certainly had a different effect on his body and he no longer wanted to throttle Wendell. Just slam the door in his face and do a few unspeakable things to Brooke.
“Are you accusing my grandmother of stealing?” She tried to shove past Tristan, but he looped his arm around her, keeping her from lurching toward Wendell.
“That….” Mrs. Ramsworth pointed to the pendant dangling around Brooke’s neck… “is my mother’s. We reported it missing years ago. Please, give it back.”
“She will do no such thing.” Tristan moved his arm in front of Brooke, pressing his hand against the door frame, ignoring her glare.
“Look at this picture.” Mrs. Ramsworth shoved an old black and white picture in front of Brooke’s face. “That necklace is identical to my mother’s.”
Tristan took the picture and glanced between it and the locket that Brooke gripped between her fingers. “Looks similar, but until you have some kind of proof—”
“You’re an officer of the law. I demand you do something.” Mrs. Ramsworth yanked the picture.
“There’s nothing to do. If you want to persue this, I suggest you hire a lawyer, dig out the last appraisal on the item, find the original police report, and go from there.”
Mrs. Ramsworth drew her lips into a tight line, eyes narrowed. “That’s my family’s property. I’m going to get it back.”
“Go to the car, grandmama,” Wendell said, resting his hands on the woman’s shoulder and turning her toward the street.
Tristan looped his arm over Brooke’s shoulder, getting her attention. Her eyes turned a fiery orange. Not a good sign. He leaned in, kissing her temple. “Relax. Let me do the talking,” he whispered. He squeezed her shoulder when Wendell turned his attention back toward them.
“We’d thought that necklace was gone forever.” Wendell planted his hands on his hips. “It was meant to travel through the family from wives and daughters. It now belongs to my wife and soon my daughter. I’m going to do whatever it takes to get it back.” He waggled his finger in front of Brooke. “Anything.”
“I wouldn’t threaten her if I were you.” Tristan would like nothing better than to egg Wendell on, giving him any excuse to arrest the asshole again. “If there is nothing else, please leave.”
“You haven’t heard the last of this.” Wendell stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. “You’ll be hearing from our attorney.” He turned on his heels, but then paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Good luck getting a job.”
“Asshole,” Brooke muttered, shaking out her hands. “I bet he handed that article to the local paper.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him.” Tristan cupped her face, searching her whiskey-colored eyes. “He’s still looking at us.”
“So?” Her hands slid up his hips to the bare skin of his lower back.
“Just thought a little public display of affection might be in order.”
“I’m beginning to think you’re an exhibitionist.”
He smiled. “It bothers me the way he looks at you and not just because he’s married.”
She leaned into him, her chest heaving with labored breath. “Are you jealous?”
“God no,” he said, his fingers gliding down the side of her neck, tracing a path to the locket dangling between her breasts. “And this has nothing to do with them. I’ve been thinking about kissing you since I walked into the kitchen this morning.” Not wanting her to react, he licked his lips, then brushed them against her like the soft stroke of an artist’s paint brush on a canvas, creating a masterpiece.
Her lips parted, giving him full access to her hot mouth. Her tongue swirled around his in a tender dance as her hands pressed harder against the small of his back.
The roar of an engine echoed in the background. Part of him enjoyed the idea that Wendell and his family believed that he and Brooke were an item. The other part wanted Brooke to be in his life in a girlfriend kind of way.
He continued to thumb the locket with one hand, the other cupped the back of her neck, desperately trying to keep the kiss controlled. He could easily lift her into his arms and carry her to bed. Sex had always been the easy part.
Maybe too easy.
Pulling back, he glanced down at the necklace in his fingertips. “What’s inside?”
Her fingers split open the sliver trinket and exposed two wedding pictures. Both black and white. The same ones that hung in the family room above the sofa.
“They’ve never seen you wear this?”
“I really don’t know. I almost never take it off, so one would think so, it’s possible they haven’t seen it on me. Not like I spend a lot of time with them.” Her eyelids fluttered as she lifted her gaze. “You don’t believe them, do you?”
He swallowed. There was no mistaking the hurt in her eyes. “No. But considering the break-ins, we need to get this appraised and take it to a specialty jeweler and see if we can find anything out about it. My mom has a really good one. I can ask her for the name.”
“I appreciate that, but it sounds like you think I should be worried.”
“Not worried, but you need to protect yourself.” He dropped the pendant, letting it bounce off her skin between her luscious breasts. “Go on a date with me.”
“What!?”
“You heard me” He shook his head. “Go on a date with me. Dinner and a movie.”
“I don’t do teen sex flicks.” She laughed, stepping back.
“Now you’re the one hiding behind humor.”
“You can’t be serious?” She titled her head.
“I think the way I kiss you should be hint enough of how serious I am.”
She waved her hand. “Come on. You do that to fuck with Wendell.”
“I will admit that’s fun.” He inched closer, lifting her chin with his fingers. “But they aren’t looking now.”
Her lips parted and he took that as an invitation. Pressing his mouth against hers, he slipped his tongue inside her mouth in a slow, controlled kiss.
She pulled away. “T
his isn’t a good idea.”
“It’s the best idea I’ve had in a long while.” He kissed her cheek. “You are going to go on a date with me.”
She cocked her head. “Let me get through my grandfather’s funeral and then I’ll think about it.”
“Deal.”
5
Brooke pulled into the packed parking lot of the Boardwalk restaurant in the village of Lake George. Saturday nights were always happening at this place in the summer, and tonight was no exception. At first, she’d turned Tristan down for dinner, not wanting him to think it was a date, because she’d decided that was never going to happen, no matter how much she liked him. She had too much to deal with and getting involved with him would just complicate her life.
But after spending the day on the phone, she decided it would be good to get out of the house. Besides, she had one last thing to take care of for her grandfather’s funeral in the morning, and after careful consideration, Tristan was the only logical choice.
After closing the top on her convertible, she glanced around, looking for Tristan’s car, but no luck. She glanced at her watch. He’d said seven and it was seven fifteen.
“Over here,” Tristan’s voice echoed over the noise of the blended sounds of people deep in conversation. He leaned against the fence, holding open the patio door. A man of medium height and slender build stood next to him.
She clicked her car locked and dumped the keys in her purse, trying not to admire the man she wished she’d seen more of over the course of the last two days. Sure, he stopped by when he wasn’t working, but now that her security system was completely on-line, he’d stopped spending the night on her sofa.
“Where’s your car?”
He drew her in for a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, before escorting her across the crowded patio. “I rode in with my boss this morning because we both had a court appearance. I was hoping you could drive me home.”
“I don’t know. It’s such an inconvenience to turn that corner.”