Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
S arah Sloan’s Review
Cole Carter’s kisses: 1 star
This is a lie. Like complete fiction. Total untruth.
Sarah Sloan’s Revised Review
Cole Carter’s kisses: 2 stars
Um, not really.
Sarah Sloan’s Revised Revised Review
Cole Carter’s kisses: 3 stars
La di da.
Sarah Sloan’s Revised Revised Revised Review
Cole Carter’s kisses: 4 stars
Getting closer.
STOP – it is unacceptable to enjoy Cole Carter’s kisses (or at least admit it). Will be returning to 1 star in next review.
Sarah Sloan’s Revised Revised Revised Revised Review
This review has been removed for violating the terms of service. We require all reviews to be from objective third-party consumers. We have reason to believe this review has come from an unreliable source. Continued violations will result in loss of account.
If the first kiss was a mistake…
And the second kiss a really big mistake….
And the third through twelfth kisses you-have-the-willpower-of-a-carrot-stick mistakes…
Then what was spending an entire day with Cole at a Renaissance festival supposed to be?
Yeah, it was definitely time to get her head checked.
She had to get out of this date. She didn’t know how, but she would find a way. Of course, it would be difficult after the town had so generously offered the prize and she’d so gratefully accepted, not to mention the deputy/war hero/town hunk who seemed to think she belonged to him. Still there had to be something she could do.
Perhaps she could find someone else to go with Cole. There were probably hundreds or thousands (or millions) of women who would happily take her place. But as suddenly as the thought appeared, she dismissed it, refusing to consider why except to affirm it had absolutely nothing to do with jealousy. Maybe they could give the ticket to charity. Maybe Mrs. Carmichael could go.
She grinned. Maybe George the monkey could go.
But first she had to tell Cole, which was why she was traveling to his place on the sun-splashed day, only his car (or rather one of his fleet) wasn’t in the driveway. His neighbor was outside watering the lawn, however, and informed her that Cole was helping Mrs. Carmichael. As Sarah headed to her new destination, she considered every possible excuse to skip the event. So far she’d come up with several promising ideas:
1. She’d come down with an alien flu communicable at two hundred feet away that could turn your skin green and make you itch all over (antennae may or may not be involved).
2. An extremely urgent matter had arisen. She couldn’t give details, but it definitely involved the FBI.
3. She was allergic to Renaissance fairs/the outdoors/him and would break out in hives and itch all over with any contact.
4. He was hotter than a fresh tamale, and she was worried she was going to jump on top of him and lick him up.
Unfortunately, she didn’t look sick, he probably wouldn’t go for the FBI thing and he definitely knew she wasn’t allergic to him. The fourth, though true, was out of the question. But there had to be something that would work. Hopefully, a plan would emerge before it was time to explain.
She parked on the narrow street behind a line of cars and approached Mrs. Carmichael’s home. She walked slowly, trying (and failing) to formulate an excuse that actually had a chance of working. So far she’d added zombie invasion to her list of possibilities.
Yeah, it wasn’t looking good.
No one was in front of Mrs. Carmichael’s house, but banging was coming from the back, so she threaded the yard between houses. Before she reached Mrs. Carmichael’s backyard, the sound of hushed conversation drifted from the farmhouse next door. The home belonged to her friend Chloe and now contained a group of approximately two dozen women on the second story wraparound balcony. Her friend spotted her and waved. “Hey, Sarah, come up!”
Renewed banging came from Mrs. Carmichael’s house, drawing her attention. She really should go straight to Cole and tell him she couldn’t attend the fair. However… she still had no idea what to say to the stubborn man, and a few minutes with the ladies might inspire her. She ascended the white spiral staircase that led to the large deck.
“Hey everyone.” She smiled. “What are you guys up to?”
“It’s our monthly movie club.” Harmony adjusted her sparkly rhinestone sunglasses, then straightened her matching green beaded necklace. “Today’s theme is hot hunky heroes.”
Sarah’s smile widened. She’d been to the movie club a few times. Coincidentally, every month’s theme was hot hunky heroes. “Why aren’t you inside? Usually a television is involved in hot hunky heroes,” she teased. Chloe’s husband owned the only electronics store in town and had built his own state of the art home theater.
“We’re watching the movie out here.” Jessica pointed to a small screen perched precariously on the balcony railing. Stretching an extension cord to the limit, it appeared to be the small tablet Chloe usually kept in the kitchen. Sarah could barely make out the tiny figures playing in one of last year’s hit romantic comedies.
She squinted. “How can you see that?” Although actually no one seemed to be watching. Usually they sat in rapt attention, waiting for the moment the hot hunky hero removed his shirt and showcased his six-million-pack abs. But now the women watched something beyond the balcony, on the ground below. Sarah peered closer, followed their gazes down, down, down…
She froze. Tightened. Exhaled. They were indeed watching their hot hunky hero, only not on the television.
Cole Carter had struck again.
There he was, Harmony Creek’s most eligible hunk, swinging a heavy mallet on a thick wooden fence post in Mrs. Carmichael’s backyard. The post burst into the ground with one hearty swing, then he moved to the next. He worked like a machine, his muscles rippling, a fine sheen of sweat visible even from afar. His biceps flexed, the muscles in his chest and back easily providing the strength he needed. He was power defined, the epitome of masculine dominance. And…
His shirt was nowhere to be seen.
He wore only jeans, hung low on his body, showcasing six-million-pack abs like a hot hunky hero movie poster. As he lifted the mallet, the pants sank a little lower, and Sarah peered closer. And closer. And closer and closer and…
No! Bad, bad, bad. Instead of ogling him, she should be making missing signs for his shirt. Missing: One Man’s Extra Large Shirt, stretched from rippling muscles, answers to the name, Hot Body. Reward: Her sanity.
“Oooh, here’s the best part!” Jessica squealed, and though she tried, Sarah’s carrot stick willpower didn’t allow her to avert her gaze. Cole grabbed water from the table, not a glass, but an entire gallon, and took a long swig. Even from the balcony, the droplets of water were visible, as they slid their way down his chest, over his stomach, down to–
She gulped, tore her gaze away from the forbidden. The women were transfixed, with dreamy smiles, widened eyes and licking lips. A woman emerged from the house with bags of popcorn and started handing them out. Sarah didn’t have time to decline before one was shoved into her hand. This was ridiculous! She wasn’t going to stand on a balcony, eating popcorn and enjoying a live show.
“Oh. My. Goodness,” someone whispered.
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t– oh hell. She turned back just as he poured the water over that hot body, flexing as it ran down muscle-bound rivulets, the droplets caressing his tanned skin.
She took a bite of popcorn.
Then he turned, gave a bright smile and waved, and the women responded with flushes, giggles and hoots. Some looked away in a halfhearted attempt to pretend they hadn’t been looking, while others just stood and grinned. Sarah simply stared. And stared and started until he turned to her… and his expression changed. The playfulness lessened, the teasing vanished, as the air turned as serious as an F5 twister. Their gazes locked in a duel, assessing, demanding, challenging .
“I’d better go.” She stuffed the popcorn into her purse, winced when its contents scattered. She’d worry about that later. Now she had to convince Cole she wasn’t watching, fantasizing and/or ogling him (while eating popcorn). In other words, lie .
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Jessica winked at her. “Cole doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Actually, I came to watch him.” Sarah grimaced. “I mean touch– I mean talk to him! You guys enjoy your… um… movie.” But actually the movie had ended, the credits had rolled across the screen and no one had noticed. Sarah jogged to the staircase and took the steps down two at a time.
Head held high, she strode across the lawn to the powerful man as her heart auditioned for a marching band drumline. She would not let a man she’d known since gummies and juice boxes intimidate her, no matter how he tried to seize authority. She was as strong as him.
She stopped right in front of him, well right in front of his chest. Then she looked up and up (and up and up and up) until they locked eyes. A smile quirked on his lips. “Are the ladies enjoying their movie?”
He knew? Her surprise must have been evident because he laughed. “My mom usually attends those things, but she had a hair appointment today. I’ve heard lots of tales.”
Of course. Small towns where everyone knows everyone’s everything. “Yeah, well, it’s hot hunky heroes day.” She closed her eyes, opened them to pure male satisfaction. “Don’t let it get to you. It’s hot hunky heroes day every month, and obviously I meant the movie, not you.”
“Oh yeah?” He folded his arms across his chest. “What movie were you watching?”
She opened her mouth, but nothing emerged.
Yeah, she didn’t have the slightest idea.
She cleared her throat. “A hot hunky heroes movie, of course.”
His eyes twinkled. “And what was its name?”
She looked up at the sky, but unfortunately the answer didn’t magically appear. “Its name was Hot Hunky Heroes Movie, of course. And–” She held up a finger before he could respond. “If you argue with me, I’m going to walk over there and tell them to take a closer look. Maybe we should set up bleachers.”
He stepped closer, and the scent of oak and spice surrounded her. “You wouldn’t be jealous, would you?”
Um, yeah. Obviously. If the green pompoms fit. “Jealous? Me? That’s ridiculous!”
His smile widened.
“I Am. Not. Jealous. You can entertain an entire bleacher, no, an entire stadium, of women and I wouldn’t care. I didn’t mean to ogle… um… watch you.” Wrong direction . She lifted her chin. "I came to talk to you about the Renaissance fair. I can’t go.”
There, she’d done it. Simple and straightforward. Now she could say goodbye and spend the rest of the day watching hot hunky hero movies.
“Thanks for letting me know.”
This was easier than expected. “I’m glad you understand.”
“If that’s all, I want to finish this fence before the festival.” He picked up the mallet. Then he started swinging. “I’ll see you at the fair.”
Wait, what? She stormed to him. “You don’t understand. I just said I can’t go.”
He took another swing. “I’m rejecting your not going.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Pretty sure I just did.”
“You haven’t even heard my reasons.” She scowled. “How can you reject them?”
“You’re right.” He put the mallet down, swung back to face her. He was so tall, he blocked out the sun. “So what are they?”
Make your choice – Will it be zombie apocalypse? Aliens? An army of invading French fries?
She stared, cleared her throat, stared some more, looked at the sky (still no mysterious message, zombies or invading French fries) and stared again. All the impossible and unlikely reasons danced in her head, each more ridiculous than the last. Perhaps she could combine them. An alien army of zombies with pet French fries. Winner!
“Are you trying to think of an excuse right now?”
She fashioned her best incredulous look. Put her hands on her hips and stomped her foot for good measure. Was it likely to work? Nope. Her acting hadn’t improved since she’d been cast as a tree in the community theater. “Of course not.”
“Are you sick?”
“No,” she answered automatically, then cringed. There goes the I-caught-a-mild-case-of-the-plague excuse.
“Did something come up at work?”
“No.” She had to answer that one truthfully since they worked together. So far, the most serious call involved littering. Maybe she could somehow upgrade it to felony littering. Littering with intent? Sir, pick up the bubblegum wrapper or I’ll be forced to take you in.
“Is there some sort of personal emergency?”
“No.” She slumped down, the disappointment in her voice obvious. She would’ve answered affirmatively, but then he would ask about said emergency, then she would start railing about aliens, zombies and/or invading French Fries and matters would go seriously downhill from there.
“Are you trying to get out of it because you don’t know how to handle me?” He gave the hit-the-nail-on-the-head-and-pound-it-through-the-ground answer. Before she could yelp, Look, a zombie! he leaned in. “So you’re backing out because you’re scared. I’m sorry, but I can’t accept that excuse.” He lifted the mallet and pivoted back to the posts.
“Now wait just a minute!” Sarah stomped forward. “I’m not scared of going with you. If I was, I would have made up some ludicrous excuse.” And if she’d claimed aliens from the beginning, she wouldn’t be in this mess.
He lowered the mallet to the ground once more, handling the heavy tool as if it were a twig. “Okay, then let’s hear it. But remember, I’m a cop, so I’ll be able to check out any story you give me.”
Sarah scowled. That definitely eliminated alien invasion. “It’s just not a good idea for us to go together. Because… because… you’re you, and I’m me.”
Somehow he didn’t answer with, “Oh, of course, why didn’t I think of that?” Instead he smiled. “That makes absolutely no sense.”
That was beside the point . “Things are getting too complicated between us.”
He tilted his head. “In what way?”
He was going to make her say it. “You know in what way. We’re kis… doing things we shouldn’t be doing, having feelings we shouldn’t be having.”
She regretted the words instantly, but it was too late. He leveled the full force of his gaze on her. “Feelings?”
No way was she going there. “You know what I mean.” Up above, two dozen women leaned against the balcony, not even pretending not to eavesdrop. She lowered her voice. “Don’t you see how much attention we attract?”
He glanced at the women, then back at her. “Are you sure you’re not jealous?”
“Jealous?” She chirped out a small laugh. “Of course, I’m not jealous. Even the idea is laughable. I’m so far from jealous I’m–” She searched for the right word. None existed. “Well, not jealous.”
Only she was, terribly and annoyingly so. Of course, she couldn’t admit that to him. To be jealous required an emotional attachment, and she’d certainly never allow that. Yet his gaze proved he saw more than she admitted – even to herself. “It’s not fair. You do this–” She waved her hand over his so-close-to-naked-and-yet-not-close-enough body. “And you expect people to ignore it.”
“What have I done?” He stepped closer. “I removed my shirt while building a fence in a private backyard. Is something wrong with that?” His eyes darkened. “Are you having trouble ignoring it?”
Oh, yes. Yuparoo. Ding ding ding! “It’s fine.” But I would be happier if you took off more than the shirt. She cleared her throat. “As for the fair, I can’t go with you, and that’s final.”
“Can’t go where?”
Sarah cringed as Mrs. Carmichael walked out of the back patio. Yet she brightened a moment later. Perhaps this was an opportunity. If she could get the elderly lady on her side, she might convince Cole to let her out of their arrangement. “It’s wonderful to see you, Mrs. Carmichael. I was just telling Cole I couldn’t make it to the Renaissance fair. He told me I have no choice.”
“Oh that’s silly.” Mrs. Carmichael tsked.
Sarah lifted an eyebrow at Cole, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue. Score 1-0 Sarah.
“Of course, you’re going.”
“You see– Wait, what?” Sarah turned to Mrs. Carmichael, but not before she saw Cole stick out his tongue. Score 1,000,000-0 Cole.
“Why in the world wouldn’t you go, girl?” Unlike Sarah and Cole, she spoke loud enough for their audience on the balcony (and block, city and invading aliens) to hear. “He’s the catch of the century. He even offered to build my fence for free since police department rules say he can’t take money for extra jobs.”
“There aren’t any rul–” Sarah stopped at Cole’s swift headshake. Perfect. If she couldn’t resist Cole as an overbearing authoritarian, how would she resist the altruistic hero who built fences for elderly ladies for free?
“Sarah doesn’t actually have a reason, although she’s desperately trying to think of one,” Cole said mildly, both diverting the subject from his altruism and turning the attention on her. He lifted his eyebrows at her.
So did Mrs. Carmichael.
So did the entire hot hunky heroes movie club.
Fantastic. He made it seem like she was purposely avoiding him because she had feelings for him. Which was totally, utterly wrong, of course. “He’s kidding.” She chuckled, giving him a soft punch on the arm. It was like punching steel. “I thought he might want to go with someone else.”
The single lady contingency of the movie club gasped.
“There’s no one else I’d rather go with.” He gave a wolfish smile. “You’re the only one.”
The single lady contingency of the movie club sighed.
And every shrewd gaze turned her way. “He means professionally,” Sarah hastened out.
“No, I don’t.”
“We’ll spend all our time talking about cases.”
“No, we won’t.”
“So I suppose it does make sense to go from a professional point of view.”
“Isn’t she cute when she’s making excuses?”
Cole was going to be cleaning the station bathroom for the rest of his life. “I’m going to go now, before I do something…” She glared at her reaffirmed arch enemy. “Illegal.”
He laughed as their popcorn-munching audience waved good-bye, some cheerfully, some with undisguised jealousy. Well, they needn’t worry. This so-called date was a onetime thing. Cole probably thought she was an arsonist… no way would he truly pursue a relationship.
And she’d keep telling herself that until she believed it.
* * * *
She was as nervous as a teenager waiting for her prom date. Perched on her small front porch under the clear blue afternoon sky, Sarah adjusted and readjusted the itchy outfit for the twelfth time, finger combed her uncooperative tresses. Waited for the man who never left her thoughts.
If only she could drive herself to the festival. She could avoid Cole’s disconcerting presence and be free to leave when she wished, but her grumpy car was acting up again. When Cole offered to take her, she didn’t have an excuse to say no that didn’t involve a mythological creature.
She pulled at her lacy collar, sucking in the usually delightful fragrant air that now turned her throat into a cat scratching post. A low rumbling shook the ground, and she straightened. A sleek convertible Corvette approached, gleaming and ruby red, gliding on the ground with the smoothness of a hovercraft from an 80’s sci-fi flick. Most people in town drove more economical and/or less billionaire-chic vehicles, and it was rare to see something this fancy driving through their small town. Yet now it stopped directly in front of her.
She should’ve known.
Of course, it didn’t stand out half as much as the powerful man who emerged like a warrior from its masculine confines. If Cole had been dashing in uniform, sexy when half naked, he was simply gorgeous in casual clothing. Newly showered, crisply shaven, he smelled clean and fresh with just a hint of musky cologne. A burgundy t-shirt stretched taut against his expansive chest, tucked into midnight black jeans outlining long legs. Like an old-time hero, he wielded just the right combination of sexy and dangerous.
Down girl! She needed to focus on something other than his perfect physique. She inclined her head to the gleaming car. “Impressive.” There, that was a decent start. Calm, professional and casual. Only her mouth didn’t get the message that she was done. “It’s perfect for those who like powerful and muscular… um… things. How many vehicles do you own?”
A raised eyebrow proved he knew she wasn’t just talking about the car. “Five. Not counting the motorcycle, of course.” He grinned.
“Of course.” And then, just because she couldn’t help it. “You do realize you’re one person? You can only drive one car at a time.”
“So you’re saying I should get seven, one for every day of the week?”
She couldn’t stop a matching smile. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. But why stop there? Maybe you should get one for every day of the month.”
“I like that idea.” He winked, before walking around the car and holding the door open for her. She hesitated, but it was inevitable. She entered the lawman’s lair. A second later, he folded his powerful form next to her.
He revved up the engine, which literally purred as he pulled away from the curb. He bridled its power the way he controlled his own considerable strength. “I’m not that uneconomical. There really is a good reason why I have five cars.”
“Plus a motorcycle.”
“Plus a motorcycle.” His grin widened.
So did hers. “Let me guess – five is your favorite number?”
“Nope.” He turned down the road, headed for the double lane street that was the closest thing Harmony Creek had to a highway. “I inherited the truck from my dad. I put it together with him while I was in high school.”
“I remember that.” Memories rose, of a teenage Cole flushed with excitement, giving her a rare hug the day he received the present. It has been the day he turned sixteen, and she’d used her lunch money to buy him a card with a sappy message and a picture of two puppies. For once their differences didn’t matter as he told her all about the car and the big celebration his parents planned. She laughed and smiled and even blushed when he made her promise she would attend.
She didn’t tell him her sweet sixteen was the following week, or how her father was sure to forget, which, of course, he did. But not Cole. Somehow he’d broken into her locker (the one time he’d broken any rule of any sort) and left a dozen pink carnations with a handmade card. There’d been no name, but she’d recognized that confident, sprawling handwriting. He had never mentioned it and neither had she, but deep in her closet, under a pile of raggedy tee shirts and shredded jeans, that card was carefully preserved in a shoebox bed of pink tissue paper.
She forced herself back to the present. “I understand keeping the truck for sentimental value, but what about the Lexus, Corvette and what else?”
“You don’t want to know my real splurge.” He made a comical face. “The Lexus is practical. With my parents getting older, I needed a dependable family car. The motorcycle is fun, and the others are convenient. It’s nice to have extra cars to lend out when relatives visit.”
Which they did often. Although Cole was an only child like her, he had numerous aunts, uncles and cousins who saw him regularly. It made her own lonely childhood, with her absent mother and few relatives estranged from her father, seem even more stark. But if he had extra cars…
“Wait a minute.” She sat up. “You didn’t offer one to me when my car broke down.”
“No, I didn’t.” The words were strong, confident and just on the wrong side of mischievous.
She ground her teeth. He’d wanted her dependent on him. She shifted in the annoyingly comfortable seat. “What about this car? It has no sentimental value, and with its limited capacity, it isn’t really convenient. Any good excuses?”
“Absolutely.” Cole gave a boyish grin. “It’s fun.”
Sarah shook her head, but still the mood lightened. Why did he make it so hard to stay angry at him? “Are you sure it’s not to grab the attention of the one woman who’s not infatuated with you?”
“There’s a woman who’s not infatuated with me?” Cole recoiled in mock horror. “How is that possible?”
He sounded so aghast, Sarah couldn’t help but laugh. “Judging by the reaction of the movie club, it’s hard to believe.” She shook her head but soon sobered. She’d been just as enthralled as them. “Why did you tell Mrs. Carmichael you weren’t allowed to accept money for extra work? We don’t have any rules like that. You made me sound like a tyrant.”
“Sorry about that.” Underneath the teasing words, a genuine note rang. “I had to think of an excuse to stop her from paying me. How could I take money from a lady who lives on a fixed budget and treats her pet monkey like a grandchild?” He turned the wheel, expertly navigating the car. “If you don’t mind, can we keep that rumor going?”
“Why? Don’t tell me you’re planning on building another fence.” When he didn’t respond, she sighed. “How am I supposed to stay mad at you if you keep doing nice things? Are you building another fence?”
“Not at the moment.”
“A shed?”
“Nope.”
“A mailbox?”
“No.”
“Wait, I got it. A house?”
He stayed silent.
“Oh for crying out loud–”
“I’m not building an entire house, just contributing a little. Jess Andrews needs to expand her home to accommodate her grandfather, and I don’t have anything major planned for the next few weekends. Plus, I have some extra materials. It’s no big deal.”
Actually, it was a huge deal. Cole acted like it was a simple job, but it would take far more than a few weekends of work, and thousands of dollars of materials he couldn’t possibly have just hanging around. He was doing Jess – and her grandfather – a big favor. No matter how she tried to convince herself otherwise, Cole wasn’t a bad guy. Not even close.
And with every good deed, she was falling deeper and deeper for her would-be nemesis.
“Let’s talk about our schedule for today,” she changed the subject before she fully lost herself in the power that was Cole Carter. She removed a printout from her purse. “Here’s the information from the fair organizers. First, we’ll select our Renaissance outfits, which we get to keep as part of our prize. Then we’ll explore the fair, which includes comedy, musical and action shows as well as vendors and artists sharing one-of-a-kind masterpieces. Finally, we’ll be the guests of honor at the grand feast, with death-defying stunts and a five-course extravaganza.” She folded the paper into a small square. “And in case you’re wondering, I’m afraid.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you.”
“I was joking.” Sarah put the paper back into her bag. “Once again, you’re forgetting I’m your boss. I’m more than capable of protecting myself.”
“I’m beginning to realize that.” Cole cast her a sideways glance. “In fact, I’m beginning to realize a lot of things about you, about the present and the past . I consider this prize an opportunity. We have the whole day for you to show me who you really are.”
She stiffened. He’d been chasing her secrets since the moment he returned. Had he discovered the truth?
The truth of who she was.
The truth of who she wasn’t.
The truth of how she was starting to feel about him.