Chapter Nine
Colt nearly knocked Delaney down. She’d been at his door, poised to knock, when he rushed out. Due to good reflexes, he caught her before she hit the ground.
“Sorry.” He kept his hands on her arms, reluctant to take them off. Not because he thought she was still in danger of falling but because she felt good. Soft and womanly. She smelled good too.
“You have an emergency?” she asked.
“No.” He was just running late as usual. “What’s up?”
“I made you something.”
That’s when he noticed the girly gift bag she held in her right hand. “You did? Why?”
She waved her free hand in the air. “It’s a long story. Just consider it a thank-you for yesterday.... It was lovely.” She handed him the bag, then waited expectantly.
Colt presumed she wanted him to open it in front of her. He untied the ribbon, felt into the bag, and pulled out some sort of a garment. Shorts. Navy blue ones that looked similar to all his others. But newer and lighter.
The last time someone had given him a gift, besides his parents, was his secret Santa at the annual Garner Adventure Christmas party. It’d been a ten-dollar Starbucks travel mug. He wasn’t quite sure how to react to Delaney’s present. She was a world famous designer. The shorts were probably worth at least three figures.
“Try them on,” she said, and practically pushed him back inside the house.
He didn’t really have time, but under the circumstances how could he say no? Taking the shorts to his bedroom, he got out of his uniform pants and slipped them on.
Whoa! What was he thinking? These were nothing like his other shorts. These were freaking unbelievable. First off, they fit him like they’d been custom made to his body. Secondly, they were incredibly comfortable while being ... Hell, he didn’t know anything about fashion. But these seemed deluxe, plenty of pockets, and a cut that wasn’t so bulky and long that they made him look distorted.
He knew cargo shorts had a bad rap. A dozen women had told him so. Still, there was a reason why they were the uniform for adventure tour guides everywhere. How else could they store gear on a long hike or a climb or a sport fishing trip? Backpacks were great but not always easy to get to when you needed bear spray in a split second.
He checked them out in the mirror. Yeah, the shorts were unbelievable, all right.
“Well?” Delaney called. “Come out so I can see them.”
He walked out of his room. “Can you make me more?”
She zoomed in on him, made him turn a few times, and pulled a pin cushion out of her purse. “Stand still. They’re too long and a little too full in the hips.”
“What are you talking about? They’re perfect.”
“Not quite, but they will be when I alter them.”
“You’re going to take them?” He felt a sudden, irrational possessiveness over the shorts.
She had her hands all over his waist, hips, thighs, even his ass. If it weren’t for her jabbing the pins a little too close to his package, he would’ve gotten a hard-on.
“Only for the day. Then I’ll return them. Promise.”
“Jeez, Delaney, you could make a fortune with these shorts.”
“I’m glad you like them, but a fortune? Highly doubtful. I hate to break it to you, but cargo shorts are not so much in style.”
“These could be. You could singlehandedly bring ’em back.”
“I think I’ll pass. They do look great on you, however.”
“Yeah?” He looked down where she was putting the last pins in the hems.
When she finished and looked up, they locked eyes and he was a goner. If he stood there any longer he was going to kiss her and that would be . . . a stunningly bad idea.
“I’ve got to get to work,” he said, but didn’t want to move.
“Okay.” Was it his imagination or did her voice sound huskier than usual? “Just be careful of the pins when you take off the shorts.”
“I will.” He told his legs to move, but she was so close. Right there by his crotch. Ah, Jesus. “Uh . . . thanks ... Delaney. Best gift ever.”
“I doubt it, but I’m glad you like them. I’ll make the alterations and have them back to you by this evening.”
He wanted to ask her to dinner, which was stupid on so many levels. Ultimately, he didn’t because he couldn’t predict his hours. In the long run it was better that way. He could fall for a woman like Delaney Scott. But he’d already done that with Lisa, and look at what a train wreck that had been. Why couldn’t he just fall for a nice, safe, local girl?
He made it to work thirty minutes late.
Carrie Jo glanced at the clock on the wall as he passed by her desk. “Oversleep?”
He stopped and eyed her bowl of cottage cheese. “I thought you were on that cleanse.”
“I signed up for Weight Watchers.” She pointed at her meal. “This is only four points and the fruit is free.”
He had no idea what she was talking about. “Is that good?”
“I get forty-four a day, so yeah.”
“Did you exercise?”
“If you count walking to my car.”
He shook his head. “Well, at least that’s healthier than those vile juice drinks. Anything going on I should know about?”
“So far it’s been quiet. Haven’t heard a peep out of Pond Scum.”
“Don’t call him that, Carrie Jo.” Even though the name suited the mayor, he didn’t want his staff to use it. “I’ll be in my office.”
“Want coffee?”
“Why? You planning to get me a cup?”
“I figured if you were getting yourself one, you could get me one too. But not the swill here.” Jack made a pot every morning and it tasted like a cross between sludge and burned tires. “I was thinking you could get it at Tart Me Up. I’m slaving away here for you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Give me ten minutes to get caught up.” The fact was he wanted breakfast anyway.
In his office, Carrie Jo had already booted up his computer and he quickly scrolled through his e-mails. Nothing important. He made a few calls, then popped into Jack’s office.
“You want anything from Tart Me Up?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Jack said. “You hear anything from Pond Scum?”
Jeez, that name was going to get them all in trouble. “Not since the city council meeting. Hopefully that’ll keep him off our asses for a while.”
Jack made a face. “Doubtful, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed.”
Colt walked the short block to Tart Me Up. The door jingled when he went inside. A good crowd—all waiting for their numbers to be called—called out a chorus of “Hi, Chief.” Rachel Johnson came out from the back, her apron covered in white powder.
“You have a fight with a flour sack?”
“Something like that.” Rachel’s eyes sparkled, and not for the first time Colt noticed how pretty she was.
She’d moved to Glory Junction three years ago from San Francisco, where she’d been a corporate lawyer. Following her dream of being a baker, she’d quit her law job, gone to culinary school, and bought the old Glory Junction Bakery, which had been floundering ever since Starbucks and Peet’s had come to town. For months after opening, she’d given away free samples of her delicious pastries, delivered her mouthwatering sandwiches to local businesses, and had been active with the Chamber of Commerce, which had paid off. Judging by the lines of people that started early in the morning and didn’t let up until well after lunch, Rachel was killing it.
A few times she’d subtly hinted to Colt that she was interested. He’d never acted on it, using his chief position as an excuse when really he’d never felt that zing. Who could say why? Rachel was smart, successful, gorgeous, a damned good skier, and here in Glory Junction for good. Maybe if he gave her half a chance something would develop. But that was the thing about being a public official—you couldn’t take every attractive single woman in town on a test drive.
She filled him a large cup of coffee. “What else can I get for you, Chief?”
His number hadn’t been called yet. “Why don’t I wait until my turn?”
“If you say so. I only figured that your time would be better spent keeping our streets safe. But I certainly enjoy your company.” She smiled at him. “How’s life treating you?”
“Not bad. You?”
“Good. We’re planning to compete this year in the End-of-Summer kayak races and to kick Garner Adventure’s butt.”
Colt scrutinized the three kids working behind the counter. One he’d known since grade school: the boy had more piercings than brains. Another looked as if she hadn’t seen sunlight in three years, and the third was having trouble operating the espresso machine. “I wouldn’t get too cocky.”
“Don’t underestimate us,” she warned good-heartedly.
“I would never do that, Rachel.” He grinned back at her, hoping that if he flirted ... tried hard enough ... he might feel the same pull of attraction he did with Delaney. But nothing. Not so much as a twitch south of his belt.
When it got to his turn, he ordered a ham and cheese croissant and two coffees to go. “See you, Rachel.”
Back at the office, he ate his sandwich and fielded calls. There was a domestic up on McClatchy Ridge. Those could get hairy, so he sent two of his most seasoned officers. Then TJ called to see if he could teach a beginning rock-climbing class on Sunday.
“Come on. I thought you were looking for more people to hire.”
“I’m working on it. But with school starting . . .” A lot of their guides were college kids who moved to Glory Junction just for the summer. Some literally camped at the state park for three months and used the showers at GA.
“I’ll look at my schedule,” he told TJ. “In the meantime, see if you can find someone else.”
“I’ll do my best, but no one teaches that class better than you.”
Colt groaned. “Nice try, but flattery will get you nowhere.” He hung up.
It turned out to be a peaceful day, despite his late start. Colt was even thinking of taking off on time for once when his private line lit up. Usually Carrie Jo intercepted those calls but she’d already gone for the day.
He picked up. “Garner.”
“Please stay on the line for Mayor Pond,” said his honor’s secretary, who then whispered, “Sorry, Colt, he makes me say that.”
Jesus Christ, you would think the guy was the POTUS. “No problem, Josephine.” Colt waited, listening to the god-awful Muzak in the background.
“Colt”—the mayor’s voice finally came over the line—“I wanted to talk to you about the End-of-Summer kayak races.”
“What about them?”
“I want you to head up Glory Junction PD’s team.”
“We don’t have a team.” In the past, the city had always represented all its municipal offices in the races and Colt had been on the Garner Adventure team. “We don’t even have kayaks.”
“I have one on order for you.”
The city had voted against new Kevlar vests for the department, but it could afford a kayak? Pretty shitty prioritizing if you asked Colt. But no one was.
“All right,” Colt said with reluctance. He had nothing against representing the police department. It was his department after all. It’s just that he’d always kayaked for GA and he got the distinct feeling that Pond Scum wanted to cause division between Colt and his family. A little payback, perhaps, for the Garner show of solidarity at the city council meeting.
“I expect a victory, Colt.” And with that the mayor hung up.
Colt couldn’t be sure if the mayor had just made a veiled threat: win or else. The guy was enough of a dick that Colt wouldn’t be surprised.
He packed up and headed out before the mayor called to bother him again. On his way home, Colt contemplated dinner. He didn’t have anything in his fridge. His brothers had eaten the last of his chips and bean dip. After changing out of his uniform maybe he’d go to the Indian place for some tandoori. If Delaney happened to be available, maybe they could go together.
Ah, Jesus, he was so screwed.
When he pulled onto their easement road there was a car in the coveted space. A Mercedes Roadster, not Delaney’s Tesla. His stomach sank. She probably had a date. At the top of his driveway, Colt took the time to turn the cruiser around in case he got called out, then walked down the steep grade.
Halfway to the kitchen door, he heard raised voices coming from Delaney’s house. He took a detour across the lawn to get a better look. She was on her deck with Robert and they appeared to be having an argument. It didn’t look physical and he mulled over whether to intervene or not. It was clearly a postdivorce thing, probably having to do with their business and the use of her name. Unfortunately, he’d seen domestic arguments turn to violence on a dime, not that he expected it in this case. But for Delaney’s sake, he wanted to break it up. He supposed he could say they were disrupting the peace, even though in reality the only peace they were disrupting was his.
Ah, the hell with it. He couldn’t leave her without backup and continued across the easement.
“Excuse me, is there a problem here?” he asked loud enough to be heard over their dispute.
Delaney froze and turned a dozen shades of red. “Uh . . . no.”
“Hell yes, there’s a problem.” Robert’s face was also red but from anger. Colt thought he was a few seconds away from erupting.
He climbed the deck stairs and put himself between Delaney and her ex. “How about we take it down a notch?”
“How about you mind your own goddamn business?”
“Robert!” Delaney’s eyes widened. “What’s the matter with you?”
“What’s the matter with me? What’s the matter with you? You’ve been ordered by a court of law to stop using the Delaney Scott name, yet you keep using it.”
Delaney started to say something in response, but Colt held up his hand. “I suggest you go through your respective attorneys on this. What you can’t do is stand out here and disturb the neighborhood.”
“Fine.” Robert pushed his way past Colt. “We’ll go inside. No law says we can’t.”
Colt looked at Delaney for guidance. It was up to her. If she wanted to let her ex into her house, there was nothing Colt could do about it. But under the circumstances, he didn’t think it was wise.
“I don’t want you in my house, Robert.”
Good girl.
“I built this goddamn house,” Robert shouted, and tried to force his way in.
“Delaney said no, Robert. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Robert turned and glared at Colt. “Fine. But this is going to cost you, Delaney. Mark my words. You’ll regret it.”
Robert walked off in a huff and that’s when Colt noticed the jacked-up suit he had on. Ankle-length pants—they looked like they had shrunken in the dryer—with a jacket, wingtips, and no socks.
“What’s wrong with him?” Colt asked as Robert peeled off in his Mercedes.
“Besides the fact that he’s from Assholia?”
“No, his clothes. Did he borrow them from a twelve-year-old?”
“Hey, I designed that suit,” she said, obviously peeved by his comment. “I’ll have you know it’s the height of fashion.”
Colt made a face. “If you say so. But if I were you I’d stick to cargo shorts.”
“Oh, be quiet.”
One side of his mouth kicked up and then he turned serious. “I’m sorry he gave you a hard time.”
“He’s a moron. Thanks for stepping in. I was holding my own but I appreciate you having my back. You don’t think any of the neighbors heard, do you?”
“Nah,” he said. “I wouldn’t worry about it. He won’t come back later to harass you, will he?”
“I don’t think so. Before you’d gotten here I’d made my position clear. Without clarification from the court, I’m not doing anything. It would be too big a hit for my new company.” She opened the door. “Come inside and try on your shorts.”
“Okay, but I should get out of my uniform first.” He motioned to his gun, which he needed to lock in his safe.
He crossed over to his house, took a quick shower, and returned to Delaney’s a short time later. She had him come up to her studio and handed him the shorts.
“You can try them on behind the screen or in the bathroom.”
He opted for the bathroom and came out when he had them on.
“Stand up there.” She pointed to a little stage in front of a three-way mirror. She was bossy but he did what she said, feeling a little foolish.
“They fit great,” he said as she examined him with a discerning eye.
She stuck her fingers between the waistband of the shorts and his hips. Her hand felt good on his skin and he sucked in a breath.
“Yep, they do. I suppose if the designer thing doesn’t work out for me, I could make it as a tailor.”
“What are you talking about? These are the best damn shorts I ever had. Can you make me pants like these?”
She pretended to shudder. “I could. The question is why would I want to?”
“Because I’m a great neighbor and as soon as I change back into my jeans I’m taking you to dinner. The Indian place.”
“For most of the time I’ve lived here, you’ve been a lousy neighbor . . . whining incessantly about parking . . . bitching about my light,” she teased. “But I do like Indian food, so there may be a pair of pants in it for you.”
Colt enjoyed their banter. She didn’t shy away from giving him hell, which he liked. He sat in the chair next to her drafting table. “How long had Robert been here before I came over?”
“About twenty minutes. He’s probably still here ... somewhere. He drove up from LA.”
“Seems like a long way to come for a fight. Why not let the lawyers deal with it?”
“One of the reasons Robert’s a successful businessman is because he doesn’t take no for an answer. He wants the Delaney Scott name off merchandise that belongs to me . . . a clean break for his company. It’s confusing to consumers, especially since he has a new designer who will want to set a different tone for the house and put her mark on things.”
“It seemed pretty heated to me. He wouldn’t raise a hand to you, would he?”
“No. Never. We had our problems but never that.”
“You grew apart, right?” He figured there had to be more to it than that.
“Mm-hmm. So do we need a reservation at this Indian place?”
Nice subject change. “Nah. You’ve never been before?”
“I have; I just couldn’t remember whether you needed a reservation or not.”
He supposed that was his cue to get moving. “Let me put on my jeans.”
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” she called to him. “I want to change too.”
He got into his pants and beat her to the living room, where he snooped around until she came down. She had a lot of nice things and way too many throw pillows. He could tell a lot of time had been put in to decorating the place whereas his idea of decorating was putting in a sixty-five-inch flat screen.
“You ready?” She came down the stairs in another one of her killer dresses and, man, did the woman have a pair of legs.
He didn’t want to stare, so he held the shorts up in front of his face. “I just want to drop these off at my house. I’ll pick you up so you don’t have to walk up my driveway in your shoes.”
She had on high heels. He didn’t usually go in for stilettos, preferring a woman in a pair of hiking boots. But the ones Delaney had on—red, strappy things—would fuel enough erotic fantasies to last him a lifetime.
“Too much?” she asked, and looked down at her feet. “They go with the dress.”
“They don’t exactly scream Glory Junction, but they’re sexy as hell. Did you design them?”
“I did,” she said, and beamed proudly.
“They’re a hell of a lot better than Robert’s Pee-wee Herman suit,” he said.
She laughed but added, “What you know about fashion could fit in a thimble.”
“I’ll concede to that.” It was fun messing with her. She gave as good as she got, just like his three brothers.
He dropped the shorts off at his house, got his truck out of the garage, and stopped in front of Delaney’s house to pick her up. By the time they got to the restaurant he was starved. Luckily, one of the owners showed them to a table almost immediately. He ordered a plate of naan to hold them over.
“You hungry?” he asked Delaney.
“I am.” She toed her purse under the table and Colt was momentarily distracted by her red shoe and one very shapely ankle.
They got their flat bread, ordered, and watched as a steady trickle of people flowed in. They’d been fortunate to get to the restaurant before it had filled up. TJ came through the door, spotted Colt, and made a beeline for their table.
“Shit,” Colt muttered under his breath. He didn’t want his brother giving him crap over Delaney, especially because this was the second time TJ had caught them together. His family was great, but they had an annoying habit of getting in each other’s business.
“Hey.” TJ came over wearing a grin the size of the Grand Canyon. Colt wanted to wipe it off his face. “What are you two up to?”
“Gee, we’re in a restaurant. Perhaps we’re getting a bite to eat,” Colt said, which only made TJ’s grin widen.
“Me too. Pickup.”
Good, Colt thought. The sooner his brother got it, the sooner he’d leave.
TJ grabbed the chair next to Delaney. “You have a good time white-water rafting with Colt the other day?”
“It was wonderful,” she said. “Initially I was nervous about it, but Colt made it seem effortless.”
TJ smirked. “Yup, you were in good hands.” He turned to Colt, who wanted to sock him. “We’re having a brief meeting tomorrow morning to talk about the races. Can you come?”
Colt shook his head. “Pond wants me to lead the police department’s team.”
“The police department doesn’t have a team.”
“We do now.” Anything Pond could do to get under Colt’s skin.
“Ah, Jesus.” TJ broke off a piece of naan and ate it. “He’s really trying to screw with you, isn’t he?”
Colt shrugged. Sure, it would break with Garner tradition to have him compete against his own family, but it was far from the end of the world. “It’s an amateur race. No big deal.”
“Don’t let Dad hear you say that.” Their father had founded the annual contest and to him it was a source of pride that GA won every year.
“He’ll get over it,” Colt said.
One of the owners came out of the kitchen with a sack for TJ.
“I better get going. Nice seeing you, Delaney.” TJ paid at the register and took off with his bag of takeout.
Delaney turned to Colt. “What do you think the mayor is up to? Is it possible he’s just getting into the spirit of the races and wants the city to be more involved?”
“The city has always been involved, just not the police department. I think TJ’s right; his intention is to mess with me. He knows I’m part of Team Garner every year. It’s a vindictive maneuver to get back at my family for rallying the town to support me over the picture on Facebook. It’s petty and stupid, but it’s easier for me to go along than fight it. And frankly, the police department should be involved. It’s a nice way for us to interact more with the community.”
“You’re a better man than I. As far as I’m concerned the mayor is a creep and I look to avoid him every chance I can.”
Their food came and Colt waited until the server left. “I know you said he made a move on you a while back. He hasn’t continued to pressure you, has he?”
“No. Once I made it clear I wasn’t interested, he acted like nothing had ever happened. What’s his deal, anyway? Has he ever been married?”
“Divorced twice, according to Carrie Jo. That’s all I know about his personal life other than the fact that he’s wealthy, or so he says.”
“You don’t believe him?”
Colt thought Pond had money, just not as much as he wanted everyone to believe he had. “I think he did well when he sold his startup. As far as how much he has in the bank, I don’t have any idea.” He didn’t really care, either, unless he was intentionally misleading the good people of Glory Junction.
They dug into their dinner. “Mmm. This is delicious,” Delaney said.
“I think TJ eats here four times a week.”
“What about your other brothers?”
“Win’s always training for a triathlon or some other competition, and eats accordingly . . . a lot of protein shakes and complex carbs. Josh eats Hannah’s food. She’s a great cook.”
“What about you?”
“I usually grab takeout or go to my parents’ house.” He knew that sounded lame for a grown man. “And you?”
“I buy a lot of prepared meals at the market. I know how to cook some but am usually too busy.”
“You having any luck with the designing?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Absolutely nothing is working.”
“I wouldn’t say that. The shorts are amazing, Delaney.” He locked gazes with her, staring into her blue eyes, and the song “Galway Girl” went off in his head again.
“The shorts are basic,” she said. “Nothing too exciting as far as design.”
“Maybe not runway exciting, but they’re original. I’ve been wearing cargo shorts most of my life and your design is superior. The fit is better, the pockets more accessible without the bulkiness and boxiness, and the cut is more comfortable.”
“That’s because they were custom made to your body.” As soon as she said “body” her face turned pomegranate red. The color matched her hot shoes.
He wondered if she thought about his body as much as he’d been thinking about hers. She’d certainly gotten his size right. The shorts had fit him to a T even before she’d made the alterations.
“Even so, they’re damned fine shorts.”
“Thanks.” She blushed again.
“Just giving credit where credit is due,” he said, and continued to stuff his mouth full of tandoori chicken to keep from asking her back to his place. Best not to wind up like the guy in the song. By himself with a busted heart.