Saturday, December 24 #2
Despite Talbert’s gruffness, he surprisingly had a gentle touch when handling “delicate” family matters.
“You did good, pal. Damn good,” the senior detective said, slapping him on the back after they exited the unmarked car and lumbered solemnly toward their vehicles in the police department parking lot.
Garrett performed so “good” that he didn’t plan to head straight back to his house.
His truck didn’t need GPS to find its way to Clancy’s Tavern, his usual hangout as well as that of other off-duty officers.
A home away from home for the miserable.
Police work drew them to the place where they drank much and said less.
A nod here, a nod there, then the glassy eyes returned to staring at or into the elixir before them, failing to dull their senses or alter life or death’s outcome.
Misery loves company, as the saying goes.
After chugging several beers, Garrett found himself in the same state as his buddies.
He ran his hand over his face, feeling more than just his stubble.
His cheek bore the sting and visible mark of despair.
Another rough day at work, a long and emotionally draining one.
It had to be when he received the missing-person report and the photo of a beautiful eighteen-year-old girl with cascading blonde hair, smiling as she proudly held her high school diploma.
A sweet girl who left home ten days ago to meet up with an old school friend for her first solo holiday trip. A girl who never made it onto the bus. Samantha Owens was his Jane Doe.
He dragged Ed along as backup to deliver the sad news to the Owens family. This was not a situation where two were better than one.
When he revealed the grim findings in the small, festive living room, with a decorated Scotch pine tree and brightly wrapped gifts beneath it, Mrs. Owens, the mother in a housecoat and slippers, transformed into a mama bear.
She leaped across the room, clawing and punching the person closest to her.
The unfortunate person was—him. Garrett couldn’t fault the mother of the victim in the slightest. He deserved it—and more—for delivering that devastating news on Christmas Eve.
Then Mr. Owens, a wheelchair-bound man, suddenly slipped out of his chair in shock and onto the floor.
Total pandemonium erupted as the two younger teenagers wailed, Garrett attempted to hold Mrs. Owens back, and Ed tended to the father with one hand while dialing 911 with the other.
In the end, after multiple punches and scratches, Talbert and Mr. and Mrs. Owens were the only ones without a single battle scar.
Garrett’s index finger shot up as the waitress hurried past his table. Just one more for the road. Why the hell had he ever taken this job? Aside from pursuing justice, it was a disturbing way to earn a living. Was it worth it? He wondered. He had plenty to think about—his whole life to reevaluate.
He spent twenty years in law enforcement, twelve of them in this backward excuse for a county, including the last six in homicide.
What other job was he qualified for? After ruling out firefighting altogether, his options were limited.
Perhaps he could become a street cleaner.
That would meet the low expectations of his father, chief of the fire department.
“You want to be a cop? You’re a disappointing piece of shit and no son of mine!”
Bottoms up to you, too, Dad!
As his empty amber, long-necked bottle dropped onto the pitted pine table, Stacey, the waitress, winked at him as she slid the bar check across it.
It was far from a flirtatious gesture. It was her subtle way of telling him the bartender had cut him off.
Clancy wouldn’t be in business if drunk police officers maimed or killed themselves or others on the way home.
Garrett smiled at Stacey, the fifty-something woman in desperate need of a dye job and major dental work.
No problem. He didn’t need to tip for the stash at his house.
Hours later, crashing onto his couch, the hungover detective didn’t think of the beautiful teenager lying on the cold gurney in the morgue. Instead, he envisioned the woman with large, beautiful brown eyes who stirred his heart.
* * *
With Nicholas in his tailored suit and Angelica in her figure-hugging cocktail dress, they dined and danced at a rooftop restaurant overlooking the Shadowcrest River, where they enjoyed plenty of glasses of the sparkling fruit of the vine.
Angelica understood why her companion was drinking, but her own reason was more puzzling.
Were her lost feelings returning, or was she trying to numb her senses?
She could only endure so much while dancing with the striking man she was trying to shy away from, as he kept murmuring words of affection—oh, heck, words of hunger—into her ear.
As she pulled away, Nicholas drew her closer.
His promises of seduction stirred her to recall things she’d put firmly on the shelf.
Every part of Angelica’s body that could respond to this new awareness did.
It became clear to her—and hopefully not to Nicky—that she was falling under his spell—his heated breath, his words, his touch, his body pressed against hers. Swaying as one.
After returning to the condo, they relaxed in the chairs Nicholas called “their chairs,” with champagne in hand, for another night of stargazing. Angelica slurped, overwhelmed by a waterfall of emotions, as she tried to clear her head.
Nicholas reached under his chair and pulled out a blue box tied with a white bow. Beaming, he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “A beautiful gift for a beautiful woman. Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, darling.”
She might have been a small-town girl, but almost every woman in the world recognized the box. “This is from Tiffany’s, Nicky. You shouldn’t have.”
“Indeed, I should have. Now is the perfect time, since you just lost all your previous gems. Think of this as a down payment, with many more to come, dear.”
Speechless, she removed the bow, opened the box, and took out the jewel case.
Clicking it open, Angelica’s eyes fell on what could be described as a crown jewel—that’s the best way to put it.
In front of her lay the largest heart-shaped diamond she’d ever seen, set on a braided gold chain.
The exquisite necklace belonged on the neck of royalty, not on the plain woman with the scar from Blankville.
It was a priceless symbol of love. Angelica understood how Nicky felt.
He wore his heart on his sleeve and his smooth tongue.
But this? What were her feelings after spending time with him?
She spoke guardedly, saying, “It’s a gorgeous necklace.”
He fastened the sparkler around her slender neck. Nicholas’s glaring eyes undressed her as much as he admired the jewel.
“You do it justice, sweetheart. I can’t imagine this piece of jewelry on a more stunning woman.”
Wrapping Angelica in his arms, Nicholas’s lips met hers in a heated kiss, igniting electric desire, timeless cravings, and reckless fervor that burned all the way down to her curling toes.
A kiss charged with yearning, conveying more than his words ever could.
A moment when two lips unite as one, erupting into a thousand sizzling sensations, sparking a fiery explosion.
Angelica couldn’t help but react. Did she need Nicky in her arms once more, whispering in her ear and kissing her in places hidden from view?
Or was this just a product of the moment?
Christmas Eve—a perfect evening when all the stars and planets align and everyone is in love.
Was she starting to love him again, or were her desires driven by her need to feel loved tonight?
Her body said one thing, her heart another, and her mind twisted it all around.
The vision that might reveal the answer was hazy.
On hot sighs, they broke free but remained bound to the essence of the churning undertow.
Angelica’s soul savored and inhaled more than just the power of his kiss.
She mellowed, no, melted, into the spirit of the moonlight shining through the glass, the twinkling sky above, the festive holiday, and the man encircling her.
Whether from loneliness, temptation, longing, lust, or love—or simply from going against all reason or questioning what was right and what was wrong—Angelica didn’t end up in the guest bedroom at the end of the deserted hall when the lights went out.
Instead, she found herself sharing much more than Nicholas’s bed.
When she woke at dawn on Christmas morning, adorned only with the shimmering, golden symbol of Nicholas’s devotion around her neck and cocooned in his arms, Angelica’s emotions were a tangled mess.
She couldn’t remember, not in the least, why she had done what she had fought so long and hard to avoid.
Especially, why was she clinging to the man she once despised?