Chapter Three #3
Another car could be heard approaching, and simultaneously they turned to see who was coming. The police patrol car could
be seen coming up the hill toward them.
“I called,” Lesley supplied. “I didn’t know what else to do.” Was she imagining things, or did Cole tense and take a step in retreat?
“I don’t want to become involved.” His eyes seemed to bore into hers. “Agreed?”
Numbly, Lesley nodded. Not become involved. But he already was. What he wanted was to avoid any contact with the police. But
why?
By the time the two uniformed officers had parked their vehicle and approached her, Cole was inside the duplex, door closed
and lights off. She cast one fleeting glance toward him, then turned her attention to the policemen.
The first one tipped his hat back with the end of his pencil. “Seems like you carry a mean broom, lady.”
“Yes.” Lesley swallowed tightly. “These two are drunk and disorderly.”
The second officer picked up an empty beer can beside the car. “I think we get the picture. Looks like their car may have
ruined a portion of your yard.”
“Are you going to arrest them?”
“Looks that way. Any qualms?”
“None.” Lesley’s hand clenched the broom handle. “Throw the book at them.”
“You’ll need to answer a few questions.”
The first officer returned to the police car and picked up the microphone to his radio.
“Would you mind coming down to the station and answering a few questions?” be asked, surveying the two men, who were sitting
up. Dale was rubbing the side of his jaw and looked around confused. Frank was out cold.
“No,” she agreed meekly, “I don’t mind at all. Let me change and I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“This one says a man slugged him.” The officer glanced at Lesley.
“Ask him about ghosts and goblins—he probably saw those too,” Lesley supplied. She wouldn’t lie outright, but she owed Cole a debt of appreciation. “I’ll be right back, Officer.”
After an hour and a half at the police station, Lesley parked her car in the driveway to her apartment. Halloween wasn’t a
holiday she’d soon forget if as much happened to her every year. She felt bone-weary. It seemed that in the space of a few
hours more had happened in her life than the past twenty years.
When her car door slammed, Cole came out of his duplex. His tall figure filled the open doorway, silhouetted by the light.
“Everything go okay?”
“Fine.” She wiped a hand across her face and sighed. “Frank and Dale are sleeping it off in the drunk tank.” At his concerned
look she added, “Neither one of them even showed signs of a struggle. I think you got the worse end of that deal.” The bruise
on his face looked angry and she squelched feelings of guilt. “Would . . . Would you like a cup of cocoa?” She wasn’t sure
why she issued the invitation. Tonight he had made her angrier than anyone or anything and only a short time later had rescued
her from what could have been a nasty scene. The invitation was a way of extending her hand in friendship, her way of saying
“Let bygones be bygones.”
Cole hesitated, and Lesley tensed. He knew what she was saying. Now she almost regretted having asked. “Look, I didn’t ask
for your hand in marriage. A decision shouldn’t be that difficult.”
“You must be exhausted.” He was offering her an excuse.
She refused it. “No, I’m too keyed up to sleep.”
With a dignified just of her chin, she stood back and waited.
She became fascinated with his strong profile as he stood in the open door.
The contrast between Dale and Cole was all the more striking.
There wasn’t anything artificial about Cole.
He was all male . . . and distant. Did he want to keep it that way?
His expression changed, softening somewhat. “Another time, perhaps.”
Lesley sucked in a hurt breath. He was refusing her? She had extended an appreciative hand of friendship and he rejected it.
It hurt. That was what surprised her. He turned her down and she felt like an insecure teen who hadn’t been asked to the prom.
“Good night, Lesley.” He turned back into his apartment and closed the door.
Was that regret she heard in his voice? Nibbling on the corner of her bottom lip, Lesley walked into her half of the duplex.
Although dark and filled with shadows from a three-quarter moon, her home offered comfort and security.
Slipping off her shoes, Lesley flexed her toes in the carpet before moving into the kitchen and flipping on a light switch.
Immediately the area was bathed in a soft glow.
She opened the refrigerator, took out a carton of milk and poured herself a glass. The package of hamburger caught her attention
as she returned the milk carton.
Not giving herself the opportunity to change her mind, she slipped back into her shoes and marched over to Cole’s front door.
He answered after the first knock, his expression thoughtful as his eyes fell on the meat.
“Here.” She gave him the hamburger.
“Thanks, but I’ve already had dinner.”
“It’s not to eat,” she announced primly. “Put it over your bruise.”
A smile quivered at the corners of his sensuous mouth. “I thought you were supposed to use steak for that?”
“I didn’t have steak, only hamburger,” Lesley reasoned.
“I’m afraid I could only accept Choice, Grade A tenderloin beef. Corn-fed preferred.” A teasing quality crept into his voice.
“Honestly,” she admonished, quickly losing the fragile grip on her temper, “just take the hamburger. It’ll make me feel better
so I can get some sleep.”
“And if you’re asleep, you can’t bother me,” he added as if that was enough of an inducement for him to take the meat.
“Exactly,” she said a trifle flippantly.
“’Tis done. Good night, Lesley, for the third time.”
“Good riddance, you mean,” she muttered with a brash air of unconcern.
His chuckle followed her as she turned and began to walk away.
“Lesley.”
Expectantly she turned around.
His gaze flickered over her and she watched as a muscle in his jaw tensed. “Nothing. Good night.”