Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
April’s hands trembled on the wheel as she guided the Jeep down the dark stretch of highway, headlights bouncing off the gravel shoulder. She still couldn’t believe they’d let her go.
She didn’t know whether to credit Claire’s cool-headed bluff or the jailbait comment—but more than likely, it was the offer that had swayed them. The second Claire had said she’d play poker—with terms —the brothers’ eyes had lit up like it was Christmas morning.
Claire had looked stunning—confident, composed. And April had seen the way the men had looked at her, like they were already counting their winnings.
They’d practically shoved April out the door, giving Claire barely enough time to whisper the plan. Drive straight to town. Call the sheriff. Don’t look back.
April pressed harder on the gas. Her stomach twisted as she pictured Claire—alone with those two men, one of them drunk and furious. Sure, Claire was smart, but they were strong. And Claire didn’t exactly have layers to lose in a game of strip poker.
Shoving the thought aside, April focused on the road. The gas station at the edge of town appeared like a beacon, and she pulled in fast, barely braking before she jumped out and hurried inside.
The attendant, a guy in his twenties with shaggy hair and earbuds, barely looked up. She ignored him and headed straight for the landline behind the counter.
“Hey—” he started, but she waved him off. “Emergency.”
She fumbled the number twice before getting it right.
“Dispatch. State your emergency.”
The calm, professional voice steadied her—just enough to make her realize she couldn’t tell them the truth. Not the whole truth. She’d be in so much trouble.
“I was driving by the Nordstrom place on Bluff Road,” she said, forcing calm into her voice. “The family’s out of town, and I saw a strange car in the driveway. It looked like someone was trying to break in.”
“We’ll send someone right out. May I get your name?”
April slammed the receiver down, heart thudding so hard it hurt. Claire had told her to call the sheriff. She hadn’t said how.
Still, April had done it her own way. Now all she could do was hope someone got there in time.
And that Claire knew how to play poker.
* * *
“Are you sure you gave her the right address?”
Larry Babcock checked his watch again, and Tony resisted the urge to do the same.
He’d already looked—five minutes ago. Claire was now more than an hour late.
They’d finally caved and ordered after Larry’s stomach growled so loudly the waitress had struggled to keep a straight face.
Tony took a bite of his salad and tried to ignore the glances exchanged between Larry and his wife. This looked bad—for him, for Claire.
If she were just running late, wouldn’t she have called? Even a quick text?
I’ll be there… unless something better comes along.
The words had been a joke—Claire teasing, not serious. She knew how important tonight was. She’d promised.
He swallowed another bite of tasteless lettuce, chasing it with iced tea that did nothing to soothe his rising unease.
There had to be a reason. A good one.
There had to be.
* * *
“Read ’em and weep.” Claire laid down her cards with a dazzling smile. “Four aces.”
Wayne cursed, flinging his cards across the table. He yanked his T-shirt over his head and tossed it aside with a scowl.
Jay gave a low whistle, reaching for the zipper of his shorts. “For once, I’m glad I haven’t given up wearing underwear.”
The game had gone exactly as planned. Poker was her father’s game, and not only had he taught her everything he knew, he’d passed on a few tricks. Tricks that, under normal circumstances, would border on cheating. Tonight, they were survival.
Claire had lost just two hands—ones she’d thrown deliberately. Her shoes had gone first, then the sheer nylon hosiery. Jay had retrieved them and draped them around his neck like a trophy lei.
But if the sheriff didn’t show up soon, she’d be forced to lose again—just to keep it believable. And frankly, she was running out of things she could afford to lose.
She took a small sip of beer—purely for show. The bottle was still more than half full.
“Deal the cards, Wayne,” she said breezily, lifting her bottle like a toast. “I’ve got a feeling this is my night.”
“What in the name of?—”
The voice at the doorway cut through the music, half-muffled by the pounding bass line.
Jay rose and strolled to the stereo, cutting it off with the push of a button. “There. That’s better.”
He turned toward the uniformed figure in the doorway and lifted his bottle with calm indifference. “To what do we owe the honor, Sheriff?”
The officer’s eyes swept the room—Jay in boxer briefs and Claire’s nylons around his neck, Wayne shirtless and surly, Claire seated at the table in her silk dress and pearls with a beer in hand.
Claire couldn’t even imagine what the man must be thinking.
“We got a report of a break-in,” the sheriff said, eyes narrowing. “I knocked, but no one answered. The door was open, so I stepped inside.”
Thank you, God.
Jay grinned. “No break-in, Sheriff. Just a friendly game of strip poker. Nothing illegal about that… right?”
The sheriff’s gaze lingered on Claire, and she could feel the weight of his judgment. She knew he recognized her. Knew he went to church.
“No,” the sheriff said slowly. “Nothing illegal.”
“There you have it,” Wayne muttered, reaching for the deck. “Now if you’ll excuse us…”
“Gladly.” The sheriff turned to go.
Claire stood quickly. “Sheriff?”
He paused, brows lifting.
“Would you mind giving me a ride back to town?”
He studied her for a long beat. “Sure.”
Claire scooped her nylons from Jay’s neck and retrieved her shoes. “Thanks for the game, boys.”
Jay’s smile faltered. “You’re leaving? We were just getting started.”
“That’s the thing,” Claire said, slipping into her heels. “It’s already over.”
* * *
Outside, the sheriff kept his gaze straight ahead until they were settled in the cruiser. Only then did he speak.
“You want to tell me what was really going on back there?”
Claire stared out the window. “How did you happen to show up?”
“Dispatch got a call. Anonymous. Said there was suspicious activity out at the Nordstrom place.” He slid on his mirrored sunglasses. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“Me?” Claire offered a short laugh. “Why would I call?”
“You tell me. Female caller. You seemed pretty eager to get out of there.”
“I was getting bored.” She gave a careless shrug.
“How long have you known Jay Nordstrom?”
“Is this an interrogation?” she asked mildly. “Am I under arrest?”
“What would I charge you with?” the sheriff said. “You’re over twenty-one. You can drink and play strip poker if you want. Though I doubt Pastor Karelli would approve.”
Claire’s jaw tightened, but her reply was even. “That’s between him and me.”
The sheriff didn’t push, but his silence spoke volumes. Claire turned back to the window.
The ten miles into town felt endless. She could feel his eyes on her the entire way, and she didn’t blame him for wondering.
Her gaze dropped to the time on the cruiser’s dashboard: 7:30. Too late for Des Moines.
She pictured Tony’s face, his quiet anxiety earlier. He’d been so worried she’d let him down.
And now you have.
No, a calmer voice inside reminded her. You didn’t let him down. You did what he would have done. You saved a friend.
Whatever came next—Tony’s disappointment, explanations, misunderstandings—she would face it. But right now, all she could feel was relief.
And maybe, just a little pride.
She’d won. On every level.
* * *
April sat on the porch steps, watching as the sheriff’s cruiser pulled into the drive. She had to force herself not to jump up and run to Claire. She wasn’t sure what Claire had told Deputy Crouse, and until she knew, it seemed smarter to play it cool.
Thank goodness it was Crouse who’d gotten the call. He might be newer to Millville, but everyone said he took his job seriously. April just hoped that also meant he knew how to keep his mouth shut.
She narrowed her gaze. Claire looked… fine. Calm, even. But April had learned by now that looks could be deceiving. Take Wayne and Jay, for example.
A wave of unease washed over her. The more she thought about it, the more she questioned herself. Had she overreacted? Neither guy had actually threatened her—not with words, anyway.
“You want to go inside?” Claire asked.
April had spent the last hour imagining this conversation, wondering what she’d say. Now, with Claire in front of her, her tongue felt thick and her stomach churned.
“Sure. I could make some lemonade, if you want,” she offered.
Claire wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think beer and lemonade mix very well.”
“You drank with them?” April blinked, startled.
“I am over twenty-one,” Claire said with a laugh.
Relief surged through April. If Claire could still laugh, then maybe it hadn’t been as bad as she feared.
“Besides,” Claire added, “I only drank half a bottle. Just enough to convince them I was one of the guys. But even that left a bad taste in my mouth.”
“I can get you a glass of water. Or tea, if that’s better?”
Claire’s expression softened. She reached out and gave April’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You were right to call me.”
April didn’t answer. She followed Claire into the house, letting the screen door creak and bang behind her.
“I’m not so sure,” she mumbled.
Claire stopped and turned. Her eyes were sharp, her voice firmer now. “April, you didn’t know what they were going to do. They were older. They were bigger. And there were two of them.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Claire said. “You were in over your head, and you called for help. That was the right thing to do.”
April dropped her gaze to the tiled floor. She knew Claire was right. Still, the shame lingered.
“What I don’t understand,” Claire said, her tone lighter but still pointed, “is what you were doing out there in the first place.”
She said it casually, but April could tell Claire expected an answer.
April glanced around the kitchen, noting the spotless counters and the quiet hum of the dishwasher. “Looks like someone already cleaned up dinner.”
“April,” Claire said warningly.
“Okay, okay.” April sank into one of the kitchen chairs, motioning for Claire to sit across from her. “I went to the lake, but my blind date never showed. Then everyone paired off, and I was left standing there like a complete loser. Even Matt had someone.”
Claire raised a brow. “Matt?”
“Matt Cuckoo,” April said, then rolled her eyes. “Coukle. My ex.”
Recognition sparked in Claire’s eyes. “Oh, right. Mr. Smooth. I remember now.”
“Anyway,” April said, dragging a hand through her hair, “Wayne showed up, and I was ticked off and impulsive. When he invited me to meet his brother, I said sure. I didn’t know his parents were out of town.”
Claire didn’t say anything, just listened. That made it worse somehow.
“It wasn’t until we were halfway there that I realized Wayne had been drinking.” April glanced up, bracing for judgment. “I know. I should’ve said something. But I didn’t want to go back.”
“Because of Matt?” Claire asked gently.
April nodded. “I didn’t want to watch him with that sleazeball Dana. And Wayne said Jay was some kind of big shot. I thought maybe it would be fun.”
Claire was quiet a beat. “What happened when you got there?”
“Wayne kept drinking. Jay did, too. Beer and shots. I got nervous and said I wanted to leave, and that’s when Wayne got all weird and said I couldn’t. So I called you.”
April blinked back the sting in her eyes. “I’m really sorry, Claire. I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”
Claire opened her mouth, but April pushed forward.
“I mean, you were dressed up to go out, and this was supposed to be your big night—” April stopped cold. The realization hit her like a truck. “Your dinner in Des Moines. Tony was waiting for you.”
Claire’s smile was faint. “It wasn’t that fancy.”
She gave the name Des Moines a dramatic flair, and April let out a small laugh. But her amusement faded as quickly as it came.
“Tony was expecting you.”
“Yes, he was.” Claire’s voice was quiet now. “But I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“You’re going to tell him what happened?” April’s stomach dropped.
“I have to.” Claire looked her in the eye. “I don’t want any secrets between us.”
“But… you won’t tell anyone else, right?” April’s voice caught. “Promise me, Claire. Promise me you won’t tell anyone else.”