Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
C ole Carter’s REVISED Review
Sarah Sloan: 3 stars
After reassessment, I may have been hasty with the one star review. Yes, Sarah likes making trouble, creating mischief and generally infuriating me, however there is far more to her. There is a goodness under the strength, intelligence, boldness and bravery. Requires further exploration.
What was he doing? The question echoed in Cole’s mind once and then a dozen times, as he watched his boss and new teammate from feet away. His own behavior had been far from typical.
Why had he volunteered to take Sarah to the festival?
Why had he wanted her as his teammate?
Why was he more intrigued than frustrated at the confounding woman?
For as long as he could remember, he’d had a complicated relationship with Sarah. They bickered over her behavior and his response, but other times they just connected. They had never truly been enemies or friends, yet their relationship had a depth that transcended both. Of course, there was that one night the day before he left. That night had never felt like a mistake.
Leaving had.
But now he was back, and he honestly didn’t know how he felt. So many of the same feelings had arisen, the frustration, the possessiveness, the desire. He now remembered why he’d tried so hard to protect her. She might act all rough and tough, but there was a kindness in her, a goodness no criminal act could diminish. With her silky black hair and creamy skin, she was beautiful on the outside, but on the inside, she was stunning.
He wanted that. Wanted her.
Intermingled with the desire to protect her, something stronger lurked, something far more powerful and compelling. Could he build a relationship with her? After their history, was such a thing possible?
Now she was ignoring him, after so adorably trying and failing to escape him earlier. He’d been telling himself he only wanted to find out the truth to make sure she deserved her badge, but perhaps something else was driving his behavior. Maybe it wasn’t impossible to imagine something between them. Something that deserved to be explored.
“Our first event is the water balloon toss.” Sarah retook his attention, looking up from the festival pamphlet as they walked from the sign-in booth. “It’s like catch with water balloons, and the team that breaks the fewest wins.”
“Sounds fun.” With their athletic backgrounds, it should be easy. They set off toward the open field with the big banner “Water Balloons Toss” in the center. By the time they arrived, festival volunteers were already arranging the teams into two lines, the men on one side and the women on the other, with teammates facing each other. They put enough distance between the lines to make it a challenge, but most tosses should reach their targets.
With so many events planned for the day, the organizers didn’t waste any time. Once the dozen or so teams were set up, Carl Rivers, Harmony Creek High’s football coach, addressed them, “Each contestant has a bucket of water balloons. The ladies will go first by grabbing a balloon and tossing it to her teammate. The guys will then toss them back. If the balloon breaks, take another. In the end we’ll count how many balloons are left in your buckets, and the team with fewest broken balloons wins.” He winked. “We also have a special prize for the team that breaks the most balloons.”
That wasn’t going to be them. Cole was an expert marksman, and no doubt Sarah was as well. He stretched his arms and legs, then held his hands in a ready position. The coach lifted a timer. “You have five minutes. Keep tossing the entire time. Ready, set, go!”
Cole locked eyes with Sarah. She held a plump yellow balloon, wobbling with water. She hesitated for a sliver of a second, pulled it back and gave a huge thrust.
It was his only warning.
The balloon hit him in the stomach, about a foot under his hands. Not enough to hurt him, but more than enough to douse him in frigid water. He stared at her.
The corners of her lips slowly rose. Then…
She smiled.
So that’s how she wanted to play? Game on.
Shaking the water droplets from his soaked shirt, he grabbed a balloon. He juggled the bright red globe, filled so full its skin was taut and streaky. Sarah squatted, holding up her hands, but it didn’t matter. With a controlled toss, it burst into a splash on her shoulder.
She was quicker than he anticipated. Two seconds later, a balloon burst on his lower stomach. He copied her strategy and sent one flying immediately.
She almost caught it, but it managed to hit her thighs.
She narrowed her eyes.
He narrowed his.
He dropped down at attention, like a football player ready to intercept a ball meant for the other team. This time, he managed to get his hands right to where the pregnant purple balloon flew. The sphere met his hands, but it was simply too fast for how full it was. Water splashed all over his arms.
And there it progressed, back and forth, tit for tat, each of them getting wetter and wetter. They lobbed them too hard for the other to actually catch, but never hard enough to injure. When Sarah ran out of balloons halfway into the exercise, he made the mistake of looking at the other contestants, most of whom had full buckets. The next second a balloon was gently tossed on top of his head, spilling water all over his hair and face. Shaking his head from the icy water, he blinked at Sarah’s full bucket of balloons. She must’ve gotten a replacement. Thirty seconds later, so did he.
Just as he was about to throw his last balloon, the judge blew the whistle. Sarah turned away, and Cole took the opportunity he’d been waiting for all game. He tossed his last balloon at her very adorable derriere. She gasped and sputtered, speared him with a look that said she was ready to arrest him then and there.
He couldn’t have asked for a better reaction.
“Great game, everyone!” the judge called from up front. “Let’s see how everyone did.”
As the volunteers spent a few moments counting the remaining balloons, the men and women reunited. Sarah glared as she joined him. “Did you see where that last balloon landed?” she demanded.
He couldn’t stop a wide smile. “Oh yeah.”
She flushed even deeper. “I assume it was on purpose?”
“I have excellent marksman skills.” Cole grinned wolfishly. “I never miss.”
She crossed her arms, most certainly not realizing it lifted her chest to distracting proportions. He didn’t see the need to mention it. “I thought we were keeping things professional,” she sniffed.
Her insistence on keeping things professional made him want to do anything but. “If I recall, you’re the one who started it. I was ready to play when you threw the first balloon a foot below my hands. You can’t start something without expecting me to finish it.” He stepped so close he could see her heart beating in her neck. He barely restrained himself from delving even closer.
“Two teams tied for first,” the judge spoke before Cole could test the strength of his willpower. He tilted his head, but stayed close, as the announcer continued, “Congratulations to Leonard and Joan and Suzanne and Sam with only two broken balloons. You guys get five points going into the next round. James and Tina get four points for three broken balloons, and Ali and Chris get three for breaking only four. Almost everyone else was close, so you each get a point for participation. Great job!”
Everyone clapped, but before they could disperse, the coach gestured for them to stay. He walked forward, splitting the space between Sarah and Cole. “Hold on. I said almost everyone was close. All teams lost seven or fewer balloons, except for you guys. Sarah and Cole, do you know how many balloons you broke?”
As the crowd watched him, Cole watched Sarah. She was once again turning that shade of pink he found so appealing. “Eight?” he ventured.
“Good try,” the judge announced. “But actually, it was forty-eight. That’s right, forty-eight. I may be mistaken, but it appeared as if you were trying to hit each other.”
“Really?” Cole put a hand on his chest in mock astonishment, drawing laughter from the crowd. Sarah remained glaring.
Magnificent.
“That’s right,” the coach affirmed, “and because of it, you’ve more than earned our special award. We picked the perfect prize for the team that wasn’t quite attuned with each other. In the time before the next event, you and Sarah will have the pleasure of attending a couples’ massage class. Everyone give them a hand!”
As the crowd cheered, Cole smiled. But Sarah? She opened her mouth and said a single word. It was not pretty. It was not eloquent. In fact, in some places (pretty much everywhere) it would be considered inappropriate public language.
Cole just managed to restrain his laughter. He moved closer, spoke lowly so only she could hear. “Technically, I could arrest you for speaking like that in public.”
“Don’t even think about it,” she growled.
“Are you excited about your prize?” the beaming judge broke in. “As you know, Eric Simmons offers couples’ massage instruction, and he’s giving mini sessions all day. As the least coordinated couple in the balloon toss, you guys go first. But don’t worry, it’ll be strictly professional.”
“Thank you, but we’d–”
“Love to do it,” Cole broke in. “As public servants, we always support our local businesses.” He lifted his head at Sarah, daring her to contradict him.
Her scowl held a thousand messages. “Sounds great,” she gritted out in a voice as excited as a saber tooth tiger for a root canal.
“Perfect.” Coach Rivers clapped. “The tent is right over there. Afterwards, we’ll hold group sessions for anyone who wants to give it a try.”
Cole rubbed his hands together as they strode from the field. This was a great opportunity to spend time with Sarah, yet the coach was wrong about one thing. They were extremely attuned to each other, always had been, always would be. Right now, he could practically hear her thoughts of retribution.
Her lilac scent surrounded him as she walked past him. “Don’t get any ideas in there.” She sauntered off, her ass swaying provocatively.
Oh yeah, this was going to be fun.
“Please remove your clothing.”
Sarah blinked at Mr. Simmons, a jovial, thin man in his early thirties. They’d walked into the tent only moments ago, and the masseuse addressed them immediately. “I doubt you need help, but I can assist if you require.”
Just as she was about to respond, Cole spoke, his voice low and serious. “No one will be helping her out of anything.”
Mr. Simmons frowned. “I’m sorry, I meant no offence. I was actually talking to both of you. Some of my clients find it more comfortable to wear robes.” He pointed to two gowns, almost sheer for their thinness. They would hide things – somewhat.
“I’ll remove my shirt, but she’s good.”
Oh no, he didn’t. “I’m right here, deputy, and I can speak for myself. Didn’t we just talk about your overprotective behavior?”
“I didn’t mean to get anyone riled up,” Mr. Simmons stammered. They both ignored him.
Cole crossed his arms. “I didn’t realize you needed help undressing.”
“It’s a massage.” Sarah glared. “You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot get undressed in front of. And you just said you were removing your shirt.”
“That’s different and you know it.”
“Listen, guys, why don’t we all keep our clothing on–”
“You’re the sheriff. What happens if someone needs you and you’re wearing nothing?”
“Then I’ll get dressed.” She lifted both hands. “I’m allowed to get a massage.”
“Guys, calm down. Let’s just get started–”
“If I want to take off my clothing, I will, and that’s final.” Sarah gave a firm nod.
Cole looked thunderous, but she didn’t care. That she didn’t actually want to remove her clothing also didn’t matter. Cole turned her into the rebellious teenager she never actually was. But she wouldn’t, couldn’t, turn back now.
“Well, fine.” Cole reached for the bottom of his shirt and pulled it off. Sarah tried not to stare.
Unfortunately, she stared.
And stared some more.
And really, while it was getting incredibly pathetic, continued to stare.
Yeah, the trying wasn’t so successful.
He should be on gossip websites – no, in one of those hot body calendars – or perhaps both. Muscles rippled with every movement, defining his chest, cording on thick arms. His jeans hung low on his waist, showcasing a hard stomach and six-pack abs. Dominance flowed from him, authoritative power shaping a commanding presence.
She looked up into knowing eyes. Cole’s smug expression said he knew exactly how he affected her. “Your turn.”
Sarah hesitated as she took the offered robe. This had seemed like a better idea before his shirt was gone. “Isn’t there a dressing room?”
“I’m afraid not.” Mr. Simmons pivoted away from her. “But, really, it’s fine for you to keep your clothing on.”
Cole’s eyes blazed in challenge, daring her to follow the path she’d begun. He didn’t think she would. Ironically, that’s what finally gave her the strength, but not before she made her own demands. “Turn around.”
He lifted an eyebrow, conveying his thoughts as clearly as if he’d spoken. He’d already seen everything. Still, no way was he seeing her now. A moment passed, then finally, he turned.
She pulled off her clothing, slipped on the robe and cinched it tight with the matching belt, all in under sixty seconds. Silky and sleek, the fabric fell in luxurious waves to her thighs, kissing whisper soft touches across her skin. “I’m ready,” she declared.
“Great.” Mr. Simmons clapped his hands. “Who wants to go first?”
“He can.” She’d barely gotten over being undressed. She needed a respite before Cole put his hands on her body.
“As you wish,” Cole drawled lowly. With the grace of a panther, he climbed face down onto the massage table. Suddenly she was very much aware of his lack of clothing and of hers under the thin robe. She stepped forward, stopped as she got her first good look at his back. Her heart plummeted.
Something had changed.
Cole wasn’t perfect. Oh, most of him was. His back was still expansive and well-muscled, with not an ounce of excess fat to tarnish its power. He was still large, commanding and formidable. And yet the smoothness that had been so perfect years ago was not unmarred. Healed and yet jagged, a scar broke the straight lines of his back, starting at his left shoulder and running down more than half his torso. She had been so preoccupied with undressing, she hadn’t noticed it before.
“What happened?” she whispered before she could stop herself. He looked up from the table, his eyes blazing. She drew back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. If you don’t want to talk about it–”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” His voice was a strained whisper, a symphony of pain. He closed and opened his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss it. It doesn’t bother me anymore, so just pretend it’s not there.”
Sarah nodded, yet endless questions brewed. What had caused such a deep scar? What had he been through? Most of all…
How could she help him?
She forced her attention back to the present, to the masculine man beneath her. Even lying on the table, he was gigantic. The power was still evident, just controlled.
“Ready to touch him?” the masseuse asked.
Gimme a Y, gimme an E, gimme a S, what does that spell? Yes! “Sure,” she said lightly. It was no big deal. This was a casual situation in a casual setting. Masseuses gave massages to strangers every day, and it was an absolutely ordinary experience.
But Cole was no stranger, and he was anything but ordinary.
“First take some lubrication,” Mr. Simmons instructed.
Lubrication? Sarah forced away a thousand and two inappropriate thoughts as she accepted the warm oil. Smoothing it onto her palms, she shifted her weight between her feet, as if preparing for a physical feat. Only this would be far more challenging than a police academy obstacle course.
“Now touch his back.”
Had someone turned the heat to the solar flare setting? Thank goodness Cole couldn’t see her. Lower, lower, lower she dropped her hands until she touched the smooth plains of his skin. Somehow, he was even harder than he looked, granite muscles taut with power. He was as heated as a furnace, pure strength under velvet.
“Now dig in with your fingers, like this.” As Mr. Simmons modeled the movements, she kneaded the smooth muscle, her hands tiny compared to Cole’s large body. He was the ideal specimen of masculinity, a sculpture crafted by a master. Even the scar did nothing to distract from the perfection – if anything, it added to his danger.
At first, he showed no reaction, yet as she moved lower, he jerked with a slight intake of breath, betraying her effect on him. She deepened the massage, traveling up his muscled back to his thick shoulders, and warmth spread through her body, pooling in places it had no right to be. He was all man, and, despite her protests, massaging him was anything but a chore. She fought the urge to touch more, parts she should definitely not be thinking about. Parts she should not remember with such clarifying detail.
Sweat broke out on her brow.
“That’s enough,” Cole said lowly. Had her desire been obvious? His penetrating gaze revealed the answer. “I need time to massage you.”
Where had the oxygen gone? Sarah wrenched her hands back, covered her haste by cinching her robe tighter. “Maybe that’s not such a good idea–”
“Aren’t I going to get a turn?” Cole hefted himself off the table in one smooth movement. He stood over her, his bare chest only inches away.
She should say no. Must say no. And yet somehow she was nodding and climbing onto the table. The jostling caused her robe to open… she snatched at it, but it was too late. His eyes darkened as he got a glimpse of pink curves and bare angles. Heat burned every inch as she shifted onto her stomach.
A tube squeaked as he squirted oil on his hands, then light slapping as he rubbed them together. The masseuse said something, but she couldn’t focus on his words, not as Cole’s firm hands splayed across her back. He traced her lines, plying the soft flesh like a maestro crafting an opus. He massaged deep into soft tissue, turning her body to jelly. With every movement, he branded her; with every touch, he possessed her. A thousand minutes could’ve passed or more. Then a new voice joined the fray, and the sound of fabric rustling, as Mr. Simmons left the tent. Which meant she was now alone. With Cole. With his hands on her naked back.
She remembered what happened the last time that happened.
“No!” She shot up. Yet she did so without thinking, far too fast, not realizing the robe had already come down around her arms. She tried to grab it, but it was too late. The robe fell to the floor, and she stood before Cole. Completely and utterly…
Exposed.