CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Ginger
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ginger
66 days to go
LAW DADDY
Bring warm sweatshirts. It gets cold up there.
I’ve been packing for myself for like fifteen years at least. I also checked the weather and have packed extra socks, my pillow
And a partridge in a pear tree.
LAW DADDY
Always gotta be a smart ass. All this from the woman who doesn’t even wear a coat in the winter.
It was one time. I also helped Mabes pack. So she’s good to go. All you have to do is worry about yourself.
I watch the three little dots pop up, then disappear, then pop up again. But still, nothing. I stare at my phone. It’s been two weeks since I moved in, and Cole has been leading two new courses in citizen interaction techniques and report writing. On top of this, he’s also been covering for two deputies who are on holidays. We spent the other night on the front porch drinking a bottle of my nonna’s homemade wine while he went over Mabel’s summer schedule and told me where he’d need me to fill in as he takes on this extra load. He needs this Lake Charles holiday to reset and recharge before another busy few weeks.
Since Cole has been working all hours, Mabes and I have fallen into a great routine. We both get up early and I make her breakfast. Some days Cole wakes early and has coffee with me; some days he gets up when I’m already making Mabel’s waffles or muffins, which she tells me are far better than her dad’s boring cereal. Once everything is ready, we sit outside in the sun and count the painted lady and viceroy butterflies vying for the milkweed bush in the corner of the yard while we eat.
Our garden project is in full swing now too. Over the last week, we’ve managed to dig out the entire back garden and refill it with fresh topsoil. Mabel is a very go-with-the-flow kind of kid but, at the same time, a little workhorse when she wants something. She spent three days straight with me out there, filling one side of the plot with starter plants: new tomatoes, some peppers, intermittent flowers, spinach and lettuce. It’s all in the beginning stages, but to see Mabel’s face light up every time a new sprout appears has been magical. She’s drawn a picture of the garden in her notebook and, every time something new pops up, she adds it to the sketch.
Most nights over the last two weeks, Mabel has already had dinner by the time Cole gets home. We talk while he eats then we play a boardgame or swim until Mabel is ready for bed. By the time his routine with her is done and he’s showered, it’s late. Which means, aside from a couple of nights I’ve mostly been hiding in my room with my romance novels and one of my “tools.” Normally I have more self-control. But seeing Cole come through the door every day in that damn uniform, and hugging his daughter like the perfect family man he is, I’m really being pushed to the limit.
Now, as I’m zipping up my suitcase, I glance down at my phone. Still no answer from Cole. We’re heading to the lake cabin he rents every year an hour outside of Lexington, as soon as he gets home and showered. Cole says staying at the cabin is like being the only people on earth. We’ll be gone for four days over the weekend and I’m just hoping for a comfortable bed and a good place to read my book.
My phone buzzes as I pick it up.
LAW DADDY
Thank you for helping her pack.
It took you that long to say thank you? Awkward.
LAW DADDY
You’re awkward.
Real mature.
You’ll be happy to know I’m almost packed and I have sweatshirts.
LAW DADDY
I was packed two days ago.
We can’t all be Captain Organized.
LAW DADDY
You could be somewhat organized though … Second Lieutenant Organized maybe?
I live my life one day at a time, Ashby. I don’t worry about organization. Or rules.
LAW DADDY
Exactly what you want to hear from the woman in charge of caring for your child.
Whatever , I scoff, and put my phone in my pocket just as I feel it buzz again. I can’t help myself, and pull it back out with a smirk.
LAW DADDY
Are you doing some sort of wifely thing and ignoring me?
Sure am.
LAW DADDY
Atta girl. Shows that maturity you made me realize I’m lacking.
Now get that ass packing. I’ll be home soon.
I shake my head and, this time, firmly place my phone in my shorts pocket. Oh, I’ll get packing alright.
I peek into the living room and spy Mabel sitting at the coffee table doing a sticker book and watching the movie I could probably recite from memory after the last two weeks. Annie . The new version with Jamie Foxx. She’s obsessed.
I decide I’m safe for mischief so I head into Cole’s room. His walls are cream and empty, and his bed is covered in an army green duvet with an ivory throw blanket at the bottom. The wood tones of his headboard match his dresser and the items that sit on top are sparse: some wood boxes, cologne, a watch box housing way too many watches for one person, a glasses case, and a framed photo of him and Mabes from the day she was born. I smile at the picture and sigh like a cartoon character with hearts for eyes, because the image of him holding the tiniest little bundle in his arms, and the look of love he’s giving her, is bewitching. I blink and remember the task at hand.
Focus, Ginger.
I spy his suitcase in the corner and hoist it up onto the bed. When I unzip it, I stand in shock. This suitcase looks like something I’d pin on Pinterest.
Every single thing has its place. His socks are folded perfectly in one section, boxers in another. The entire suitcase is a sort of masterpiece as it opens further, and I discover shorts, sweats and jeans in an underside compartment. I think of how I tossed a few bathing suits, some shorts and tanks, and my toiletries and books into my own case. No rhyme, no reason. It’s official: Cole and I are polar opposites in every way.
I get to work unraveling each pair of socks and do my best to mix them up. They’re all crisp and white but have different-colored Nike swooshes on them. I put navy with gray, black with red, and so on. I unfold his boxers and flip them inside out, before placing everything back exactly where I found it, so he won’t notice until he unpacks. I stand back and smile, then remember the joke Reds boxers I gave him one Christmas. I wonder if he still has them and make my way to what I assume is his underwear drawer.
I pick right. Top drawer, at least twenty pairs of perfectly folded boxers, mostly black. I shuffle around for a few moments before I find them. The Reds pair. I quickly pull them out and replace them with one of the pairs he packed. I smile as I consider the fact he’ll have to wear them one of the days we’re away.
I go to close the drawer, but my sweater catches in the handle and I knock a small wooden box off his dresser in the process. It spills to the ground with a clanging sound. I freeze, waiting to hear if Mabel has heard.
What am I doing in Cole’s underwear drawer?
I move to pick up the items that have fallen out of the box and realize they’re handcuffs. Four or five different pairs. I pull two out for inspection just as Mabel comes bounding into the room. I quickly stuff them into the pockets of my loose gym shorts, and pull my oversized tank down to cover them.
“What fell?” she asks. “What are you doing?”
I smile. “Just making sure Daddy has everything he needs.”
“Can I help?”
“Of course,” I answer. “Do you want to help me zip up the suitcase?”
She nods and we push down on the case to close it. When we’re finished, I hear the oven timer sound and realize our early dinner is ready. I move to the kitchen in my bare feet and pop on Cole’s fluffy oven mitts to pull out the lasagna that we prepared this afternoon. It’s perfectly bubbly, just the way my mother and nonna make it.
I’m just getting the table ready when Cole comes through the front door an hour early from work. Only, unlike most days, he isn’t empty-handed. Instead, he’s carrying two of the biggest bouquets I’ve ever seen: dahlias, roses, lilies, carnations. A real stunning mix of blooms. Mabel runs over to him as he places both bouquets in one hand to pull his sheriff hat off and hang it on the hook at the front door.
“You got flowers for Ginger too?!” she exclaims as he bends down to kiss her cheek and hand her one of the bundles of flowers.
Cole’s rugged masculine beauty stuns me. The slow steady grace with which he toes his large boots off; the slight scuff along his wide jaw; his ass in those tan uniform pants. I’m a sucker for it all.
His eyes flit to mine across the room and I almost drop the freshly baked lasagna as the corners of his perfect lips turn up in a grin.
“Of course. I couldn’t let her room be lonely while we’re gone, any more than yours,” he says as he approaches me.
Am I still holding the lasagna?
I blink and set it down on the warming board on the stove. When I turn around, Cole is right there.
“I wasn’t sure exactly what kind of flowers you like, so I just got one of everything Cindy had,” he says, mentioning the owner of the flower shop in town.
“I …” I manage to croak out, fumbling like an idiot. Cole chuckles, pulling the oven mitts from my hands and placing my bouquet in my arms as Mabel comes back into the kitchen with hers.
‘I picked my spot!” she says, and I struggle to keep up with this little unspoken piece of their life between them.
I watch as Cole pulls out two vases from a kitchen cupboard, unwraps her flowers, and fills one vase with water.
“There’s one for you there too …” He gestures to the pretty crystal vase left on the counter as he heads off with Mabel to her room. He’s back in less than a minute and finds me in the same spot, staring down at my flowers as I take in their heavenly scent. He laughs lightly.
“Somewhere along the line of Gemma and I splitting up, Mabel developed a kind of anxiety around leaving home for any length of time. Sometimes it’s only when she leaves, but other times it’s when we both do …” he explains as he takes my flowers from me.
“That’s understandable,” I say softly as he pulls the wrapping from them, and arranges the stalks carefully in the vase before filling it with water.
“She even has a bit of an attachment to our house itself. Our holistic doctor called her an empath, which basically means she feels everything. She worries the house will be lonely when we’re gone, so we put flowers in her room to keep it company. They usually go in the window in the sun. I don’t know why, but it makes her feel better about leaving. Doc says it’s a phase and that it will pass.”
My heart swells at the effort this man makes to keep his daughter settled.
“Thank you, Cole, they’re so pretty,” I manage.
“Go pick your spot in your room while I serve up this feast,” he says, rubbing my shoulder. “Smells so damn good, Ginger.”
I look down at the blooms then back up at him as Mabel bounds back into the room.
“You guys made this?” Cole says to her.
“Yes! Ginger taught me her nonna’s recipe.”
“Can’t wait,” I hear him say as I head to my room in search of the perfect spot for my flowers. I place them on my end table and stand back to admire them. Cole could never know that this is the first time any man has bought me flowers. A simple gesture that shouldn’t affect me as much as it does. I swallow down my heart in my throat as I make my way back to Mabel and Cole, heading over to the counter to serve myself a slice of lasagna.
“I already got you one. And some salad,” Cole says, pointing to the table where a plate of food waits. He leans back in his chair and makes all sorts of exaggerated grunting noises over the dinner we made. For some reason, they lead my brain to all the wrong places.
“Mabel did the hard work. That perfect layering is all her.” I smile as I take a bite.
“Ginger made the sauce. We crushed up tomatoes,” Mabel tells her dad proudly, “and I squished them with my hands.”
Cole grins at her. “Hope it wasn’t after you made mud pies in the yard.”
“I washed my hands you know.” She says like it’s obvious.
He turns to me. “You made the sauce from scratch?”
I nod. “My nonna would disown me if I used jarred pasta sauce, Cole. And, trust me, she’d find out somehow.”
I can’t bring myself to look at him. The picture of Cole, sitting with us at the table in the late afternoon sun, is giving me all sorts of feelings I’m not prepared for.
Once we’re finished eating, we move to clean up as Mabel disappears to watch the end of Annie .
“Be careful, Sheriff. Keep being so nice and I’ll expect flowers every time I have to leave,” I blurt as we put the last clean dishes away.
Cole looks at me with a face I don’t quite understand. He leans down to kiss me on the cheek, taking his time before pulling away,
“Keep making lasagna like that and I won’t let you leave,” he says into my ear before backing away and heading off to the shower.
“Out the door in thirty, ladies!” he calls out over his shoulder, oblivious to the way his words just rendered me speechless.
As the door shuts to his room, I remind myself this is a business arrangement, then I realize his handcuffs are still in my pocket.
The drive to Lake Charles passes quickly and, in just over an hour, the blue expanse of the lake comes into view in the distance.
“I don’t know how I’ve never been here before. It’s so close to home,” I say, looking out the window.
“It’s a hidden gem,” Cole says. “Dad brought us fishing here every summer from the time I was thirteen until I finished college. We’d stay for a week, usually in this cabin we’re heading to, and always planned to come back after I became an officer. We never did. So, the summer he got sick I organized a weekend trip for the three of us. Mabes was only four when she came here for the first time. Gemma was … away,” he says cautiously, which tells me she was MIA. If I remember correctly, that was one of the last summers before they split up.
“Papa comes here,” Mabes says so surely, that I almost believe her.
“Mabes thinks he’s a butterfly,” Cole explains. “We always see the monarchs flying around the same bush in the yard. They never used to be there, but now they fly around right in front of where my dad sat every morning. He loved it here. Said he would get a cabin up here when he retired.”
A look settles across Cole’s face. It’s something between fondness and grief.
“We’ll see him. He always comes,” Mabel states.
I look back at her and smile. Sometimes I wonder if she’s really a grown woman living in a little girl’s body. I’m sure we could leave her on her own for the day and come back to the house clean and dinner ready. A real-life Matilda.
“Well I, for one, am excited to see this magical place!” I say, propping my feet up on the dash as I watch the town roll by. My jean short cutoffs are sticking to the leather of Cole’s truck as we drive with the windows open. I throw a silent prayer up to the universe. Please let there be air conditioning.
We weave our way through the windy streets of Lake Charles. It’s a beautiful harbor town with a marina that runs alongside the main road and goes for a few miles. The whole strip is lined with boats of all shapes and sizes, and boaters that have taken up a sort of residence at their slip. There are gazebos and sun shelters everywhere, housing people cooking out and sitting on patio furniture. It’s a small town, with one grocery store facing the harbor, quaint shops, and an old-fashioned drawbridge for boats to escape into the lake. As we drive through town, I take a deep breath. Cole’s right; it’s relaxing and feels almost coastal, even though we’re in midland Kentucky. The only thing that reminds me we’re still in state are the rolling green hills in the distance.
“I love it already,” I tell them.
The three of us are chatting away as we reach a hill and start up to the top. After a few more minutes of driving, we pull up a long, hidden driveway.
“Home sweet home,” Cole says as the house comes into view. When it does, I gasp. It’s not overly big but is a good-sized log cabin. The property is framed with trees and pristine landscaping around the front porch. But it’s the view behind it that takes my breath away: the lake itself, glittering in the early evening sun as far as the eye can see, sailboats bobbing on the still water. I’m speechless as we pull up to the garage; there’s a basketball hoop attached, and a bucket filled with balls. I can see Cole grinning at my reaction in my periphery.
“It’s … beautiful,” I whisper.
“Wait until you see the back,” he quips.
As we get out of the car and walk up the cobblestone walkway to the front door, Mabel stops behind me.
“Hi Papa,” she says like he’s sitting right there, and sure as shit, right there in the bush at the side of the porch, is the prettiest monarch, settled and calm, its wings barely moving as it perches right beside us.
Just as my skin breaks out in goosebumps, Cole leans down and whispers in my ear, “Told you, Vixen. Magic.”
The overwhelming sense of calm continues as we move through the house. There’s a center hall, with two bedrooms on one side of the house and two on the other. The whole place is made of wood, not unlike the cabins at Silver Pines, only much less rustic and more modern. The kitchen has clearly been renovated and boasts a huge center island with stone counters and stainless-steel appliances. The main living area is open-plan and features floor-to-ceiling tinted windows to showcase the hot tub that sits on the back patio, and the lake behind. When my tour of the interior is complete, Cole and Mabel lead me outside to the back of the house, and a large flat yard with the greenest grass I’ve ever seen. Stone inlay leads through the center to a set of stairs which drop down fifty feet, providing access to a private beach with wisps of crab grass shooting up through the sand, and a weathered red dock complete with a little silver skiff boat. The water is clear and shallow to the end of the platform, and the sand is lined with beach glass and shells.
“Can we boat, Daddy?” Mabel asks.
“After we unpack,” Cole replies, ruffling her hair. “We can’t do everything at once.”
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket as he shows me around the rest of the yard, but decide to ignore it until I’m in the privacy of my room.
LIV
How’s the love den?
If you mean the cabin with Mabel, it’s beautiful.
LIV
And you’re there why? Because Cole needed a nanny on a trip he takes every year?
Because Mabel asked me in front of Cole to come and he agreed. And why would I turn down a free vacation?
LIV
Uh-huh.
Nothing is going on.
LIV
I’m onto you, Danforth.
Just … be careful. Okay?
This is Cole. Don’t forget.
How could I? It’s all I think about. Trust me.
LIV
Did you at least equip yourself for a weekend with a hot, probably shirtless, outdoorsy dad?
I pull out my spicy “why choose” novel I’m partway through and Mr. Always Ready, my favorite purple silicone wand that hits all the right spots. I snap a photo.
Armed and ready.
LIV
You dirty little slut.
A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.
LIV
Unless she gets some help from a willing hot sheriff.
F R I E N D S
LIV
Whatever gets you through the day
A sharp knock at the door momentarily scares the shit out of me. I shove Mr. Always Ready behind the pillow and spin around, tossing my phone onto the bed just as the door opens.
Cole walks in. “You unpacked? We’re going to take a boat ride. Make sure you bring a sweater. It gets chilly out there just before the sun sets.”
He eyes the cover of my book on the bed.
“Uh-huh,” I say, gulping down my anxiety.
“You okay?” Cole’s eyebrows raise. His navy sleeveless Nike workout shirt shows his muscular upper arms, and hangs low enough under them that I can almost see the outline of his abs and the curious branded G under his ribs. It’s hard to spot, encompassed by so much ink, but it looks like the Grosvenor logo from a ranch two counties over where he worked one summer when we were younger. I wonder what sort of crazy shit he got up to there.
I force my eyes to his face. His hat sits backward on his head, and he has a dishtowel slung over his shoulder which somehow makes him look even hotter.
“Yep,” I croak out.
“Maybe you’re quiet because you snuck into my suitcase and fucked with all my shit.” He moves a little closer. “And you’re feeling guilty?”
I laugh and breathe out in a huff. “No idea what you mean.”
“Uh-huh …” Cole eyes rake over me suspiciously. “I’m tossing those Reds boxers into the campfire by the way. I’ll go fucking commando before I wear them.”
I don’t laugh, and Cole looks at me expectantly. I’m pretty sure he can see me sweating at the idea from ten feet away.
“Not even a grin, Vixen?” he asks. Yep, he’s onto me. “Why are you being so weird?”
“What’s that G on your side,” I ask in an attempt to distract him, but also because I’m curious.
“Nah, that’s not gonna work,” he says playfully. Moving toward me to analyze me better, he tugs one of my curls gently. “You’re not changing the subject, why are you being so weird?”
I sigh and throw my hands in the air, deciding he needs a dose of reality.
“You know, Cole, when a woman is acting strange, it usually means she’s trying to hide something.”
I reach behind the pillow and pull Mr. Always Ready out, so he can get the full view. He looks from it to my book, which I’m sure he can guess is smutty from the woman chained to a bed on the cover, and the title, Sinners’ Paradise . His jaw falls open. Any embarrassment I may feel is suddenly totally worth it.
His mouth snaps shut and he gulps. “In my cabin?”
“Technically not your cabin,” I say as I drag my suitcase out from under my bed. “I didn’t see the ‘ No vibrators ’ sign on the door. And please, you’re the furthest thing from a prude.”
Cole folds his arms over his chest. “Here’s an idea … maybe not get yourself off for one weekend?”
I tip my head to the side. “Aww, baby, where’s the fun in that?” I say, stuffing the vibrator into my bag and putting it back under the bed.
“Close your mouth, Cole.” I smile sweetly, patting him on the chest as I walk by.
“Shouldn’t have to put a sign on the door, Vixen,” he says, as if my behavior is shocking. But I didn’t miss the way his throat bobbed or the way he eyed Mr. Always Ready up.
Men. Show them a vibrator and they lose all train of thought.
After dinner, Cole boats the three of us around the inlet of the lake. The homes that back onto it are just as beautiful as the cabin we’re staying in. Most of them are floor-to-ceiling glass, and the last of the day’s light reflects off their windows. Green and rocky bluffs jut out into the water on either side, and the lake turns into a deep mercury pool as the orange sun sinks over the horizon. I breathe in the fresh air and watch as seagulls roam overhead to land on the beach beyond, which is still busy with visitors enjoying the sunset. But though the landscape is stunning, I can’t take my eyes off Cole as we cruise along the water. He’s in command, operating the motor and steering the boat in his backward hat and sunglasses. He looks gorgeous, and I’m finding it hard to watch anything but him.
By the time we get back to shore, it’s dark and Mabel is already dozing. Cole carries her up the steps and she snuggles against him, her dark hair hanging down over his strong arm. It’s obvious she knows she’s in the safest spot on earth, and I wonder if it’s possible to crush on this man any more; my baby-making equipment feels like it may burst at this sight alone. Plus , he doesn’t even break a sweat on the fifty-foot climb to the top.
He turns back to me before he enters the house to tuck her into bed.
“Hot tub and a drink?” he asks.
I glance over to the tub on the deck. Just behind it is a bar area, with built-in solar lighting, that sits against a wooden privacy fence.
Getting inside the tub might be the worst idea ever when I’m trying not to jump this man’s bones.
I should retire to my room and work at getting myself off to push through this weekend. I should say no. But instead I say, “I’ll get changed.”