Mosquito Chase (5 page)

“Nice tattoo.”

His eyes snapped up, meeting mine for a moment before refocusing on his plate of eggs and his phone. He didn’t answer.

I shrugged my shoulders and said, “It looks like I’m going to be here awhile. I might as well be friendly.”

“
Friendly
is fine.
Friends
is not.”

I rolled my eyes. “So, I have to actually be friends with you in order for you to explain your tattoo to me?”

He put down his phone and scooped up the last of his eggs. After he swallowed, he said, “To be honest, I’ve never even explained it to Paul. So, if my own brother doesn’t get an explanation, I don’t think you will.”

He pushed himself away from the table and walked over to the sink. He stood against the dark wooden cabinets surrounding him. After all these years, Caleb Harris was still a mystery; louder than his brother, but no sign of emotions on his sleeve. He reached for a sponge and I stared at his back as the muscles flexed beneath his shirt. It was a shame I hated him. I enjoyed the view. His broad shoulders drew my eye down to the cone tattoo. A tiny flutter pulled in the depths of my stomach. My eyes roamed up his back, landing on his blond hair. A strange lust pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth as ancient memories sped up the subtle beats of my heart. A vibrating buzz pulled me out of my hormonal stupor. I shook my head as I peered back down to my plate of unfulfilling eggs. I hadn’t felt a pull like that since Simon. I wouldn’t allow that to happen again. He was hot. I would leave it at that.

His phone moved across the table, vibrating loudly. He left his plate in the sink to answer it. I looked everywhere but in the direction of his eyes. With his crazy intuition, he’d probably know that I was checking him out. Not that it mattered. He was still an asshole.

“Harris.” He held the phone up to his ear, gruffly dominant.

His eyes stared aimlessly out the kitchen window, the open blinds giving a wide view of the grey mountains. The hazy sky above them sent a cold chill down my spine. He shifted his weight, turned away from the window, and walked by me, all business. “Be there in thirty.”

Caleb vanished down the hall, closing himself in the bedroom. A chill spread through my body. I stood up, leaving my eggs untouched, and moved into the living room. The warmth of the fire drew me in. I stared into the flames, mesmerized by the way they danced. Silence filled the room, except for the crackle of the logs under duress. I remembered the fire in Simon’s eyes as he dared those men to make a move.

Why were you so calm?

Why didn’t you run?

What point were you trying to prove?

My vision blurred with tears as I asked these questions to the ghost in my head. A loud bang shook me from this melancholy state, the fire filling my vision. I shook my head, clearing the fog of my past as Caleb’s footsteps echoed down the hall.

“I have to run to the station,” he said, stepping into the living room.

I wiped away a single, traitorous tear and turned just in time to see him buckling his belt over his jeans. His hands stopped fumbling, and my eyes shifted up to meet his. His face dropped as I stared into his dark blues.
Damn him!
I didn’t want pity. I just needed seclusion and safety. I pursed my lips. He cleared his throat.

“I’m on call today. You sit tight for now. Later tonight, I’ll bring you in to meet with the sheriff.”

I stood up. “Why would I want to do something like that?”

“So, we can find the men who killed your fiancé.”

His eyes bore through my defensive exterior. I sighed and nodded in reply. He opened a closet door just inside the hallway and reached inside, slinging on a shoulder holster. He took his pistol from the top shelf, and secured it in his holster. The black ink of his tattoo taunted me again. Maybe I’d play stealthy one day and find out what the big secret was. He reached inside the closet again to retrieve a leather jacket, pulling it over a black police t-shirt. His boots clunked against the hardwood as he crossed the living room.

Reaching the door, he turned to me. “Are you gonna be okay, Angie?”

I breathed deep and nodded again, eyes locking with his. He needed to quit acting like he actually cared. We both knew that was bullshit.

He took a couple of steps toward me and stopped. He raised his arm toward the flat screen and said, “I have a lot of channels and some movies in the cabinet below. Help yourself to any book on the shelf.” He lowered his arm as we studied each other. The word
awkward
didn’t begin to describe what was going on here. Nice and friendly wasn’t a game either of us was used to. “Most of the books are mysteries, but there might be a few romances mixed in somewhere.”

“Oh, I think I’m done with romance, Caleb,” I said matter-of-factly. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be fine.”

His jaw clenched, and he turned around, the door slamming with his departure. I blew out a breath and took my seat in front of the fire, resting my hands on my stomach. If it wasn’t for this little one … well, I’d probably be dead. So, I would have to endure my new living situation for the time being.

I studied my surroundings. For a bachelor, he was surprisingly clean. Caleb was a couple of years older than I was, but men matured at a much slower pace. I read that somewhere, and in my experience, it seemed like a legitimate fact. Last night’s excursions with the bimbo bar duo proved my point. However, the number of books he owned made me think better of him. There was just something about men and books that was surprisingly sexy. I stared into the fire, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling at my eyelids.

“Come here.”

I casted a glance to the other side of the sofa, to Simon with his open book laid face down on the armrest. I lifted my feet from his lap and scooted over to him, sliding my arm between his back and the cushion. His arm wrapped around my shoulder, my head rested against his heart. The steady beat soothed me like a fire on the cold winter night. He pressed his chin to the top of my head and breathed deeply.

“Will you marry me one day?”

I didn’t move. I kept my eyes on the burning embers of the fireplace. My lips twitched, trying to contain the giddy smile that wanted to blaze across my face.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

He squeezed me closer. I draped my other arm across his stomach, resting my hand close to my face. His chest rose and fell with each breath, and soon my breathing fell into sync with his. The thought of being married to Simon was incredible, but I didn’t need a ring on my finger to tell me he was mine. He wasn’t like Lance or Tom … I knew he wanted a forever. I knew he’d never hurt me. A stripper and her boss: a match made in heaven. I believed it with all my heart. And I felt it in his.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered into the night.

Tears blurred my view of the fire, but I didn’t close my eyes. I wanted to see it all. I wanted to remember every second. He shifted slightly beside me and settled again.

“Angie?”

His Irish accent came out thick when he said my name; I loved how it rolled off his tongue. I moved my head and rested my chin on his shoulder. His warm chocolate eyes were the happiest I’d ever seen them. He raised his hand, and pinched between his index finger and thumb was a thin band with a diamond anchored to the top. I stared at its brilliance as the fire gleamed from its edges.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you share your life with me?”

My eyes shifted from the immaculate ring to the beautiful face of the man who loved me with all of his heart. The corners of my lips pressed into my cheeks. “Why would you wanna be with a girl like me?”

He shook his head and whispered, “I’m the luckiest damn man alive.”

My lips crashed to his, sealing our future.

BANG!

I startled, and my eyes blinked open. The fire had dissipated to burning ambers. A dull light shone through the windows; the dream of that warm night in his arms long gone. I never knew anything could hurt this badly. It felt as if the ache in my chest would never go away, that I would never grow numb to this onslaught of reality. I missed him so much.

“Angie?”

The drawl of my name snapped me back to reality. I lowered my head into my hands. My cheeks were damp from tears. I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying.

“Angie, are you okay?”

I lifted my head. Caleb crouched down in front of me.

“I’ve been gone for four hours. Your breakfast is still on the table. Have you eaten anything?”

I shook my head slowly. Damn him and his pity. I pushed up from the sofa and moved away from him.

“Look, Caleb. I don’t know what you’re doing, but you’ve gotta stop. You’re a cop. I get that you have the urge to protect people.” The tears came, unwanted. “But I just need you to catch the people who killed him. That’s all. And then I’ll be gone. I hope you never have to see me ever again. Just get the men who ruined me.”

I stormed toward the kitchen, heading for some sort of solitude.

“Angie, I don’t think Simon’s murderers are the only men who’ve ruined you.”

I turned around, wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. “Well, you’re right about that. Just about every friend you’ve got played a part in ruining me.”

“You know I’m not talking about Tom and Lance, or even Steven.”

I rushed him before I even knew what I was doing. My hands pressed against his chest, pushing him with all the strength I could manage.

“You do not get to talk about
him
. You didn’t even know him.”

He grabbed my shoulders, stopping my attack. “You’re not ruined, Angie. You’re not.”

I pulled out of his grasp and hurried down the hall. Maybe it was true. I wasn’t actually ruined. Maybe I was already dead.

The engine cut with a turn of the key. I stared up at the clouds, the sun barely shining through. It still hadn’t snowed yet, but this recent blast of cold weather heralded the end of fall and winter’s arrival. I climbed out of the cruiser, zipped up my brown leather jacket over my khaki uniform, and crossed Main Street to the station, centrally located amongst the few small businesses that made up the town. I lowered my cap and shoved my bare hands into my jacket as I hustled out of the chill. When I approached the stone facade, I pulled open one side of the double glass doors and stared into the lobby. Wreathes and garland lined the wooden dispatch desk, a half decorated tree sat off to the right. I swore I heard a hint of Neil Diamond singing carols.

“Devon!” I barked when I entered.

Footsteps ran up the hallway. From behind the desk, a bright-eyed Devon appeared, wearing a Christmas sweater and holding a ball of twinkling lights. His eyes met mine and his shoulders sagged. “You don’t like it?”

My eyes narrowed on him. “It’s not even Thanksgiving yet.”

“But that’s in a few days, and I took off on Friday to go to Boone with Parker. His parents actually want me to spend Thanksgiving with them. I think that’s progress!” He ignored my displeasure as he started to untangle the lights on his way to the tree. He began to chuckle. “You better not stand there too long, Caleb.”

I followed his gaze up above my head, tilting my head back to find mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

“We wouldn’t want to make Parker jealous.” He held back more laughter.

I shook my head as I moved around the desk. “Where is your boyfriend?”

“Back in the break room.” Devon resumed the task of decorating.

I headed down the hall with Neil Diamond still crooning.

“No Christmas music, Devon!”

The song stopped almost immediately. I followed the pungent stench of burned coffee and knew I’d have to go out in the cold for a decent cup. I found Parker resting his elbows on the table, studying the contents of a folder. He’d been my best friend since we were kids, along with Steven who was no longer our friend; however, back when we
were
friends – early on in high school – Parker had admitted he was gay. We both accepted it readily. After all, he was our friend and a great running back for our football team. He’d become a cop just like me, and now we were partners.