Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
S arah Sloan’s Review
Cole Carter’s Car: 5 stars
Strong. Powerful. Muscular. Filled with power and fueled by strength. Beautiful to look at, but what is underneath is even more intriguing. Can move a little too fast but doesn’t apologize. I could spend all day just admiring its far too tempting attributes.*
*Disclosure: May not be describing car.
The past had come alive.
An enchanted realm beckoned, a storybook adventure with royal kings and wise queens, valiant knights and majestic steeds. Skyscraper trees and crystal lakes provided the perfect background to multicolor tents and colorful flags, set against an aqua sky with cotton candy clouds and a brilliant golden sun. Sarah was a kid again – in the type of childhood she’d always wanted – as she strolled through the Renaissance wonderland. She took a deep breath of woodsy air, as she walked over crunchy leaves and dewy grass.
A thousand sights competed for attention. From magicians to Shakespearian actors to classical singers, performers of all kinds presented their skills to amazed audiences, delighting generations of families. The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, mingling with the scent of gardenias and pine trees. Vendors hawked all sorts of goods, from homemade jewelry to hand carved goblets to “magical” potions. Cole pointed to a tent selling weapons, where a silver broadsword gleamed in the sun. “How about Harmony Creek P.D. add that to the required arsenal?”
It was surprisingly easy to imagine Cole wielding a sword, channeling its power to conquer all evil. She vanquished the image. “I think you’re powerful enough as it is.” Woops. That definitely made the “Top ten things not to say to the overbearing, too-hot-for-his-own-good hunk next to you” list. “I mean the answer is no. At least not for you. If anyone is going to carry a sword, it’s me.”
He gestured to the weapon. “Are you sure you can handle it? It looks mighty big.”
“Of course, I can handle it. I’m used to handling heavy swords. In fact, I’ve handled many–”
She stopped when he blinked at her.
When she realized exactly what she’d said.
Oh sh–
“I mean I haven’t handled that many swords, well not too few of course. Probably your average number.”
He smiled. Slowly. Knowingly. Wickedly.
Yeah, he knew exactly what she was thinking.
She stopped. There was no way around this. “We’re here!” The relief was all-encompassing as they reached the Ladies, Lords and Peasants Costume Shop , and she dashed inside. Thankfully, Cole didn’t comment as he strode after her, and she vanquished the unfortunate conversation to the mud pits where the tavern wenches sparred. Fortunately, her new surroundings provided captivating distraction.
If the outside view was enchanting, the inside of the shop was magical. Exquisite garments covered every inch of the spacious tent, hung on carved wooden racks and garbing lifelike mannequins. Crafted of silks, satins, muslin and brocade, the elaborate Renaissance dresses conjured memories of the fairy tales she’d longed for once upon a time. The men’s section sported regal outfits and full suits of armor, beckoning from the pages of a history book. Like its moniker suggested, the store carried clothing from all walks of life, from wench’s outfits to majestic gowns fit for a queen, with a similar range for the men.
“Can I help you?” A gorgeous, red-headed woman approached them. She wore a brilliant brocade emerald dress with a full skirt and an extremely low top, showcasing generous cleavage. Sarah glanced at Cole, but he didn’t seem the least bit fazed by the outfit or the woman wearing it.
Not that she cared.
For an instant, she imagined herself in one of the dresses, dancing at a glittering ball, held tightly in Cole’s arms. “I’m Sarah Sloan and this is–”
“Cole Carter,” the woman finished with an overexaggerated curtsey that showed ten miles of cleavage. “The boss told me you were coming, but I also recognize you from the article.” Without a glance at Sarah, she held her hand out to Cole, not for a handshake but for a kiss. With a smile, he obliged.
Not that she cared.
Sarah’s shook her head. “The article?”
“Didn’t you see it?” The woman regarded Cole even as she answered Sarah. “A story about Harmony’s Creek’s very own hero. It even made the national papers.”
Sarah frowned. Zoe had mentioned something about an article, but she didn’t read it. She didn’t need another reminder of the man who forever vexed her.
“I’m surprised your girlfriend hasn’t seen your article. All the women here have.”
“Oh, I’m not his girlfriend.”
Cole didn’t say a word.
“We’re not together,” she said, just so it was clear.
Yeah, still not a word.
The shopkeeper looked back and forth between them, then smiled. “That’s nice to hear. Anyways, the article was fabulous.”
Now Cole finally responded, “It was no big deal. They mentioned a lot of guys.”
“They mentioned you saved a lot of guys,” the shopkeeper clarified. “It was all about him. Don’t you know what he did? He–”
“We’re on a bit of a tight schedule,” Cole broke in, with a low rumble that softened the interruption. “Can we pick out our clothes now?”
The woman gave a slight pout. “Of course. The festival is gifting each of you one complete outfit. It can be whatever you want, such as a lord.” She winked at Cole. “Or a wench.” She waved an absent hand at Sarah.
Sarah tamped down her annoyance. “Or a queen?”
The woman shrugged and pointed to the racks in the back. “Sarah, why don’t you look over there, while I help Cole over here?”
Sarah followed her direction and shook her head. “You’ve got it backwards. You pointed me toward the men’s clothing and Cole toward the women’s section.”
“Exactly,” the woman simpered. “Didn’t they tell you? That’s part of the fun. You get to pick his clothing, and he chooses yours.”
Sarah and Cole locked gazes. They both turned to the mannequin, who wore a bright red serving wench costume with a tight corset and a bodice that showed even more cleavage than the shopkeeper. The dress had a high slit up one end that made it nearly as racy as her prostitute disguise. “That’s not a good idea.”
“I think it’s a great idea.” Cole’s eyes sparkled. “And remember, you get to choose my costume.”
True, but unfortunately the first thing she imagined was a knight’s suit of armor. Perfect for the returning hero, but not exactly tit-for-tat for what Cole clearly had in mind.
“Don’t worry.” Cole fingered the red outfit. “I’m going to dress you just as I see you. I already have ideas.”
She bet he did.
“Sarah, your prize includes more than just the outfit.” The shopkeeper barely looked at her as she edged closer to Cole. “While you’re changing, I’ll show Cole some hair and makeup styles. After you’re dressed, you’ll go to the salon tent for a Renaissance style makeover. You’ll then come back and surprise Cole.”
Perfect. He’d probably choose a gaudy, over-the-top style to compliment her one-step-below-a-Renaissance-whore look.
“When you’ve picked out Cole’s outfit, put it in that dressing room and then wait in the one next to it. I’ll bring the outfit Cole chooses. Any questions?” The shopkeeper clutched Cole’s arm.
Do you know I might arrest you if you don’t release him? “No,” Sarah said.
“Perfect.” With a not-so-gentle tug, she led Cole away.
And, damn it, she cared.
Sarah stomped to the racks. She didn’t exactly spy on Cole, just peered at him through the clothing (in other words, spied). The shopkeeper was showing him the peasant-chic dress from the mannequin, and he was smiling like when he’d first seen her in prostitute-chic. Well, fine. If he wanted to put her in something inappropriate, she’d find the ugliest outfit possible, fit for the servant of a servant of a servant.
But, of course, that’s not what she did.
She recognized perfection when she saw it, displayed by the largest mannequin in the store. Gorgeous, if a man’s garment could be called such, the masterpiece was magnificent in every way. Crafted of deep blue brocade with accents of spun gold, the suit featured a thick jacket, pitch black pants and shining ebony boots. Atop the figure, a golden crown gleamed, glittering with authentic looking rubies, sapphires and emeralds. It was perfect for a king, or a man who ruled his world like one.
Before she changed her mind, Sarah slipped the outfit off the mannequin and raced to the designated room. After hanging it on the wall, she went to her dressing room to await her fate.
Mere moments passed before the silky teal curtains rustled. Like her, Cole must’ve chosen swiftly, most likely the risqué wench costume that would get her laughed off the force if word got back to Harmony Creek. And, of course, word would get back. The curtains opened and the shopkeeper entered, carrying a thick opaque garment bag. Yet instead of her earlier glee, she seemed annoyed.
Sarah took a deep breath. “Is that what Cole picked out?”
“It is.” The woman’s frown deepened. “Unfortunately, he didn’t go with my selection. Are you ready?” She unzipped the garment bag.
Sarah just stared. “I don’t believe it.”
“How long did you say she’d be?”
“A long time. A very long time.”
Cole held back his displeasure. It had only been forty-five minutes, but it seemed an eternity since Sarah disappeared. He longed to see her in the dress he knew would be pure perfection. If she didn’t return soon, he would find her.
Sarah’s choice for his garment had been another in a long line of surprises – and mysteries. He’d been expecting the ugliest of mud show wear, servant garb or worse. Yet the sapphire suit was regal and imperial, and extremely well-tailored. No doubt she’d be as surprised by his choice for her.
The shopkeeper prattled on. He’d been raised to be a gentleman, but in some cases, it was a challenge. She annoyed him with her rudeness to Sarah, and her favorite pastime seemed to be insulting every woman that passed. Even before she displayed her vindictive personality, he’d felt none of the desire he normally experienced for an attractive woman. He would’ve been worried if he didn’t feel such intense desire for his beautiful boss. No, things were definitely working as they should, apparently just focused on a single force.
He was falling deep.
The signs had grown more compelling with each moment. He hadn’t been joking about not lending her his car so they would spend time together. Nor was his silence inadvertent when the shopkeeper asked if they were dating. No, he was definitely discovering (and rediscovering) feelings, and they were anything but slight.
The woman continued on her mean-spirited gossip, “And so I said to her, eat if you want, but you’re not going to fit into that size two dress–”
“Are you ready for the big reveal?” A voice from the back silenced the woman. In the next moment, Sarah stepped out, and all thoughts of the shopkeeper (and every other woman in the universe) disappeared. All he could focus on was the enchanting queen before him.
And royalty she was, glittering in a sapphire gown that matched sparkling eyes. With delicate beading and luminescent pearls, it shimmered, the rich satin tracing her trim waist and curvaceous hips before flaring out to a fairy ballgown. Off the shoulders sleeves exposed creamy skin and just a hint of luscious breasts, less revealing than the peasant’s frock, and yet far more alluring for its coy boldness. Still, it could not compare to the ethereal creature wearing it.
With her hair and makeup done to his specifications, Sarah had been transformed. Her black hair had been swept into a dazzling array of braids, with glittering jewels threaded throughout. Delicate makeup emphasized her natural beauty, highlighting gleaming eyes and glossy pink lips. Desire hit him like lightning from a summer storm, and it took all his strength not to gather her up and divest her of everything but that shimmering makeup. She was stunning, gorgeous and his .
Wait, his?
Yes.
HIS.
He stepped closer, halting inches from her. If only he could reach out, touch her to make sure she was real and not some fantasy creation, but somehow he stopped himself. She was the sheriff, the girl he’d known since grade school, his oldest friend and his most complicated opponent.
Perhaps something else as well?
He cleared his throat. He had to stay focused. “You look lovely.” Satisfaction rose as her eyes widened. She could never hide his effect on her.
“I still would’ve gone with the wench costume.” The shopkeeper pushed herself forward, studying Sarah with a critical eye. “This accentuates your curves a bit much, don’t you think?”
The color drained from Sarah’s features, and anger boiled. Cole captured Sarah’s hand, holding her gaze, as he spoke to the waspish woman. “Actually, I can’t imagine anyone more perfect, on the outside and on the inside. Anyone who can’t recognize that is either extremely rude, jealous or both.”
The woman gasped, gaped and sputtered, as without a word more, he turned, taking Sarah with him. No one would hurt her, not physically, not verbally. Not ever.
They stepped out of the shop and into the bright sunshine. The crowd was considerably larger than an hour ago, but he still only noticed the woman next to him. They walked a minute more, brushing against each other, before he pivoted. “Are you all right?”
She hesitated for a second that lasted forever. In the next second, her impartial mask reappeared. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He swept his gaze back to the shop. “You shouldn’t listen to that woman. She was rude, jealous and vindictive. She literally criticized everyone that passed.”
“Well, she needn’t be jealous. I don’t have anything she doesn’t have.”
Of course, she did. She was everything. “You have all she has and more.” Cole squeezed her hand. “Can’t you see that?”
She broke his gaze, but her cheeks tinged pink. “Are you trying to flatter me because I’m your boss? This isn’t going to get you more vacation time, buddy.”
He stifled his smile. The humor was only another mask. He would let it go… for now. “So what would you like to see?”
“The inside of your car as we drive home?”
He looped his arm around her. “Sorry, but you’re not getting away from me so easily.” Or… ever?
She sighed, but true disappointment was absent from her gaze. She seemed almost happy, as if she actually wanted to be there. Right now, there was nowhere else he wanted to be.
They spent a few minutes walking and taking in the sights. Colorful characters abound, from royal lords to riveting pirates to fluttering fairies. They passed a row of skill games, and Sarah’s gaze snagged on one of the prizes, a wreath of fresh roses for her hair. The sign indicated a contest of strength.
He leaned down. “Do you want me to win that for you?”
“Oh no, I’m fine.” But she stole one more glance, so he walked to the vendor, a large, muscular man with a shiny bald head, garbed in a pirate’s outfit and tattoos running along his entire body. He shook his hand. “How do you play?”
The vendor pointed to a table with two chairs. “It’s an arm-wrestling contest. The winner gets to pick a prize.”
Cole looked between the table and the muscular man. “Do I wrestle you?”
The vendor grinned and shook his head. “My wife got tired of wrapping up my arm. We wait for another contestant.”
Cole jerked his head toward Sarah. “Can I wrestle her?”
Sarah folded her arms across her chest and huffed something regarding male chauvinist pigs. Louder, she said, “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”
He laughed. Actually, he wouldn’t mind wrestling her, but he imagined something a little different than arm wrestling. And if he kept thinking like that, he would be too distracted to do the contest.
Just then a beefy man walked up, accompanied by the heavy smell of beer and a sneer to match. He leered at Sarah. “Is this the prize today, Stu?”
A volcano brewed in Cole’s chest. Keep control. Do not threaten. Do not charge him with being a felony ass. Gripping control like a cowboy holding a bucking bull, he turned to the speaker.
Yet Sarah stepped forward first. “I’m no one’s prize,” she growled.
“Jerry, how many times do I have to tell you to stay away?” The vendor straightened to his full height. “You’re driving away business.”
The drunk teetered far too close to Sarah. “No, man, I’m giving you business. Look at those curves under that dress. I’ll even play double for the chance to win this woman–” He deliberately paused. “A prize.”
The volcano bubbled higher. Cole resisted the urge to hit something – someone – as he stepped between the man and Sarah. If only he hadn’t sworn to uphold the law… “You’re in the wrong place, buddy. Move along.”
“Hey, I have every right to be here.” Jerry poked a finger at Cole’s chest. “Besides, it’s not like she belongs to you.”
“Actually…” Cole looked the man dead in the eyes. “She does.”
That stopped Jerry… for ten seconds. “Have you already had some fun? What was she like? Maybe I’ll just find out for myself.” Then the man reached around Cole, and with a lucky move, managed to swat Sarah’s ass.
The volcano erupted.
Never had a punch felt so good. The brute had attacked first, in what was officially assault. Which meant – it was now self-defense. The man was lucky for Cole’s iron-control because although the blow brought him teetering to his knees, he refrained from breaking his nose, knocking him out or sending him flying to the moon. But if it happened again… “Don’t touch, talk or look in her general direction.” Cole’s command was deceptively quiet, and all the more powerful for it. “Or I will not hold back.”
The drunkard sputtered a hundred apologies. Two security guards dashed forward, and after a quick explanation from Cole (along with a flash of his badge) they led the man out. Cole gripped Sarah’s hand. “Let’s go.”
“Wait a second.” The vendor ran to them, holding the ring of red roses. “Here’s your prize.”
“I didn’t win,” Cole voice emerged harsh. He forcibly softened it. “I didn’t even play.”
The vendor pushed the flowers into his hands. “Jerry’s been scaring away my clients all day. You’ve more than proved your strength.”
“Thank you.” Cole turned to Sarah, frowned at her pale countenance. She hadn’t said a word since the incident. Now she watched silently as he placed the rose crown on her silky tresses, ruby red brilliance on midnight-black locks. She remained quiet as he took her hand and led her away, as they treaded over the fragrant ground. So did he, for all the words were gone, save for the echo of the past. Of course, he couldn’t blame her.
He had, after all, declared her his.