Chapter Four
She should have come up with the idea sooner. Using her reflection in the glass door, Amanda made sure her hair was in place and her clothes in proper order before pushing the door open with one hand. The other was occupied with balancing the plate of Mrs. Busybody’s peanut butter cookies.
She had wanted to do something nice for Officer Marc Bryson. And when she found the plate of cookies in the back of the cabinet where she had hidden them, the thought came to mind. He would never know that she didn’t make them herself. Or that the dog licked them…
Her high-heeled boots tapped along the tiled floor as she entered the police station. An American flag occupied one corner with the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania flag parked right next to it. On the walls were framed pictures of men in uniform. She couldn’t tell if they were current or former officers, but clearly not one was a woman. Figures. A small town such as this probably didn’t recognize equal rights. It was like the Dark Ages.
She thought she spotted one of the Brysons’ pictures up there, but she wasn’t sure and before she could step closer to read the brass plate underneath it, she was interrupted.
“Can I help you?”
She stepped up to the counter and smiled at the redheaded officer. A dusting of freckles crossed his nose and cheeks. He wasn’t much older than her. She read his name tag: Dunn.
“Hello, I’m just here to drop off some cookies for Officer Bryson.”
“Oh, hold on. I think he’s in the patrol room.” Officer Dunn turned and bellowed toward the back. “Max, someone is here to see you.”
Max! Amanda panicked. “No! No. That’s not… I’m sorry, I meant Marc Bryson.”
“Oh.” He gave her a shrug like it was no big deal.
Too late.
Max came from out of a side room with his head down, busy snapping on the leather keepers that secured his duty belt to his narrow trouser belt. Amanda looked at the cluttered accessory and wondered what all the things hanging off it were for. The gun, of course, she recognized.
He looked up as he approached the front counter and froze. A flush flooded his face. Amanda’s eyebrows knit together. She had never seen him embarrassed before. What did he have to be embarrassed about?
“Ms. Barber.”
“Officer Bryson.” She frowned. “Actually, I was here to see your brother.”
The color left his face as quickly as it appeared. A dark eyebrow rose.
“I brought him some cookies to show my gratitude for bringing Greg home the other day.”
She plunked the plate down on the counter. Both men eyed the cookies hungrily.
Typical men, she thought. Give them food or sex and they’re happy. Pussy or cookies, just put them on a plate.
Max turned to Dunn. “Go take a break.”
The other officer knocked Max’s arm and said, “Save me a couple,” before disappearing down a brightly lit hallway.
Max pulled the plastic wrap back and held a cookie up, inspecting it. Suddenly, Amanda felt horrified. She shouldn’t have brought these cookies here. Chaos had slobbered on them. Maybe he could tell?
Ugh. Why didn’t she even know how to bake something simple like cookies? She had wanted to thank Marc, not get him sick. Would it look suspicious if she suddenly knocked the cookie out of Max’s hand and threw them all in the garbage?
“Are they poisoned?”
Without waiting for an answer, his straight, white teeth bit into the soft cookie. Amanda held her tongue until he finished chewing and swallowed.
“Yes,” she said. And smiled.
He only hesitated for a second before finishing the rest of it off. “Well, they’re good. I’ll make sure you get the plate back.”
She nodded and swept a hand toward his duty belt. “What’s all the junk?”
The surprise showed on his face. She guessed that Max didn’t believe she was actually interested.
She wasn’t really, but for some silly reason, she wanted to make conversation. She couldn’t imagine why since he was so aggravating.
Standing a little taller with unmistakable pride, he started on his right hip, placing a hand on each item as he went around the belt. “My weapon. It’s a GLOCK .45. Expandable ASP baton. Two extra magazines. Holder for my Maglite.”
“I thought I recognized that flashlight,” she said with a little sarcasm. Just a little…
“Radio holder. Pepper spray. And these…” He popped open a black leather case and pulled out a set of shiny silver handcuffs, dangling them from one of his long fingers. “Are for bad little girls. Do you want to try them on for size?”
Damn, they were just like the ones in her dream. She closed her eyes, reliving it. Just for a second. Her eyes popped open when he cleared his throat.
“I have my own set, thank you very much.” She gave him a wicked smirk. “They’re pink and fuzzy.”
She spun on her heels and tossed over her shoulder, “Enjoy the cookies. And stay out of my dreams.”
As she walked away, leaving him speechless, the guilt came back to her again. She pushed the thought away. He deserved everything she gave him.
She heard him call out “What?” as she shoved the door open with a smile and walked out into the sunlight.
A little dog spit wasn’t going to hurt anybody.
* * * *
The cookies were gone, and the plate long returned to Mrs. Busybody’s porch—in the middle of the night—as the end of October quickly blew into November. And as much as she hated—no, that was too strong—disliked Manning Grove, she had to admit to herself the fall foliage was beautiful.
The colder weather, she could do without, though.
Amanda had managed to stay out of trouble as Max had suggested on several occasions. Even better, she had actually managed to stay out of his way too. Occasionally she saw a black-and-white cruiser around town and wondered who was driving. Marc or Max or the other brother, whoever he was. She hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting him yet. She preferred to stay out of the police department’s attention. Even though one of their officers kept invading her dreams. But at least her dreams kept her warm at night.
She had redecorated the master bedroom to her liking, which made her feel a little more comfortable in the house.
In fact, she only left when she needed to pick up groceries or things they needed. She was trying to stay out of view from curious eyes. Especially Mrs. Busybody’s.
She hadn’t even left the house to meet with the lawyer. She had called Mr. Wells instead, just to let him know she’d be sticking around for a little while longer. And if anything changed, he’d be the first to know. He seemed satisfied with that for now.
Anyway, it wasn’t like she could blend in easily; her sense of style alone made her stand out. But she refused to give up her fashionable wardrobe for boring housewife-type jeans and bulky sweatshirts with “cutesy” pictures on the front. Which seemed to be the fashion fad around here.
She had become close with Teddy. They spent hours talking like two girlfriends—on the phone or holed up in his shop. He really reminded her of home and some of the friends she’d left behind. Miami was a mecca of colorful people. She missed that.
The best part was that Amanda had finally set up her laptop and had cable—who in their right mind lived without cable nowadays?—installed in the house. So now she had Wi-Fi access. Finally, some connection to the real world.
As she was checking her neglected Facebook page, the familiar ding of her IM caught her attention. She looked to see who’d come online. HOTTAMALE.
Carlos.
The man thought he was a hot tamale. Ha!
The chat window popped up on her screen.
Hey, baby, what r u doin, flashed before her.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t blocked her screen name for others to see, so he knew she was online. The green little circle told him so.
Nothing, she typed, then hit the Enter key with a little more force than was necessary.
A second later: I miss u.
I bet, Amanda replied.
Do u 4give me?
No. She blocked his screen name and x-ed out of the window. That was that.
Until her cell phone rang thirty seconds later. She looked at the display. She recognized the number; the self-proclaimed hot tamale was now calling.
She swiped the screen. “What.”
The heavy accent on the other end grated her nerves. “You shouldn’t still be mad at me.”
“Why not?”
He knew that she every right to still be angry with him. Which was evident by the long pause. “I miss you, pocita.”
“You said that.”
“I could come and visit.”
Amanda laughed. Carlos in Manning Grove. Right.
It was almost as laughable as Amanda herself being in Manning Grove. She grimaced.
“I could bring tu madre.”
“No!”
“She misses you, as I do. Says it was a mistake that you left.”
“That’s her opinion. The only mistake I made was accepting you back for the second time after you slept with Rena.” The cheating, lying perro.
“It won’t happen again.” He sounded like a little boy, and Amanda wondered what she’d ever seen in him. He had swept her off her feet with his hot Latino passion, but that was all it was. Nothing more. He was immature and still a little child. Sometimes he acted even younger than Greg.
“No, you’re right, it won’t. I’m done with you.”
“You found another man.”
“No.” Well, maybe. Sort of. She found a man continually in her thoughts. And her wet dreams. A man in a dark blue uniform. A proud, strong, amazingly annoying man. But a real man.
Not some little boy. She was finished with thirty-year-old little boys. Done with double-dealing dogs.
“No me llama otra vez.” She heard a hurt sound on the other end before she cut off the call.
The phone rang again. Didn’t she just tell him not to call?
She let the call go to voice mail and went back to catching up on her endless e-mails.
Within two minutes the phone rang again. Her mother.
She pushed the Power button, shutting the phone off. It was too coincidental. Her mother had probably put Carlos up to calling her. She thought Amanda would come running back to Carlos.
Well, she was wrong.
As much as she wanted to go back to Miami… Even if she could convince Greg, she would now have to wait. There was no way she wanted her mother to think she was coming back because of her. Or Carlos.
If she could survive this arctic tundra, she’d go back in spring. That gave her plenty of time to work on Greg.
* * * *
An uneventful Thanksgiving came and went. The same lonely pumpkin that Amanda had purchased for Halloween served as the sole decoration for turkey day.
As the colorful leaves fell, barren trees were left in their wake. The winds picked up, causing Amanda to finally give in and dig out some of her stepmother’s unattractive, bulky sweaters to wear. She had resisted for a while, but even with the heat on, she shivered in the house.
Passing a mirror in the upstairs’ hall, she stopped and looked at herself in disgust. Apparently her stepmother had been a much larger woman, as the sweater she had pulled on fell to her knees and swallowed her whole. She looked like a big blob.
She had money accumulating in an account since she had hardly touched the trust except to pay for Greg’s day care, food, and the utilities. She decided it was a good time to spend some of it.
She shucked the sweater. There was no way she was going out in public looking like that—she’d rather freeze to death. She made sure Greg was bundled up before packing him into the gray Buick, with the now nondescript license plate, and headed off to do some high-end shopping…at Sears. Besides Walmart, it was the only decent-sized store in the area.
A light dusting of snow covered the roads, and she ended up driving like an old woman. She was not used to driving in the stuff. Her knuckles white, she had to slowly unfold them from the steering wheel when she finally got to their destination. She realized she’d had her jaw clenched the entire time, and forced it to relax, rubbing away the stiffness.
Greg had teased her all the way, telling her she looked funny. She was too nervous to remove a hand from the steering wheel to turn up the stereo volume. She had wanted to drown out his deafening laughter.
When she had turned into the parking lot, the car’s back end had slid a tiny bit, and she shrieked with fright. Greg had only enjoyed the ride and screamed, “Wheeeee!”
She had looked over at him in annoyance. It would serve him right if she made him drive home.
But she slowly relaxed as they strolled through the different departments at Sears. Greg was having a ball picking out items excitedly, spittle flying like crazy. He found the perfect outfit for Amanda: purple stockings, a lime spandex jumper and a pink turtleneck. Oh, and she couldn’t forget the yellow beanie hat. Amanda handed it all to a clerk, apologizing. She felt bad that the young girl would have to put all the stuff back.
Instead, she went to the juniors department where the clothes were a bit more trendy and tried on some really cute tops along with some tight hip-riding jeans. On her umpteenth trip to the dressing room, she pulled on a snug, soft V-necked sweater in autumn gold and a deep forest-green corduroy mini. She tugged on some black leather knee-high boots and tromped out onto the sales floor amid the jungle of clothing racks.
“What do you think, Greg?”
Greg was not sitting on the vinyl seat where she’d left him right outside the dressing room. Instead he was talking with animation to none other than Officer Bryson. She sucked in a breath. He was in uniform with a dark navy cruiser jacket covering his wide shoulders. He carried a notepad in his hands.
And he was staring a hole right through her. Amanda’s toes curled in the tight boots.
She went over, walking carefully in the stiff boots. She didn’t need to trip and look like a dolt. “Is there a problem, Officer?”
Even though fully clothed, he made her feel naked as hell while raking his eyes over her. Warmth spread from her thighs.
His hand tightened on the notebook, and she noticed a quick clench and unclench of his jaw before speaking…a bit huskily. “Not at all.” Max cleared the catch in his voice. “I was just here getting additional information on a previous incident.”
“Oh. Sounds exciting.”
“It’s not. Greg was just telling me that you two had Thanksgiving alone.”
Amanda shot a look at her brother. As always, it went unnoticed. Greg hopped from one foot to the other, nodding his head in agreement.
“We weren’t alone,” she said carefully. “We had each other.”
“You don’t have any other family you can spend the holidays with?”
Amanda frowned and muttered, “None that I want to spend it with.”
“What?”
“None close by. I don’t want to drag Greg down to Miami for just a few days.” She added, “If I drag him down there, I want it to be permanent.”
Amanda didn’t miss his answering scowl. It wasn’t any of his business anyway.
Max turned to Greg. “Want to spend Christmas with my family? We’ll have a tree and presents, and we’ll sing Christmas carols.”
Greg squealed with delight, his arms swinging uncontrollably. It was a low blow not to ask her first in private before getting Greg’s hopes up.
“And mistletoe…” He stared at her lips. She licked them instinctively.
He stepped forward. She stepped back. Their gazes locked.
Amanda finally broke free and looked at her brother. She couldn’t disappoint him. She didn’t want him to miss out on a fun holiday gathering. Even if it was with this disturbing man and his family. His family.
“Your wife won’t mind?”
A deep rumbling started in Max’s belly and worked its way up. “No. My wife won’t mind.”
He winked at Greg. Greg tried to wink back but ended up closing both of his eyes at the same time.
“Oh,” she murmured, wondering why that question would be funny.
Max flipped open his notepad and scribbled down an address before ripping the page out of the book. “Here. Be there early enough to open presents.” As she reached for it, he snagged it back to scribble some more. “That’s my cell. In case you get lost…or are late.” He snapped the notepad closed and stuffed it into his back pocket. “But don’t be late.”
He was giving her an order!
His wandering gaze seared her from head to toes.
“And wear that outfit.” With that he turned and strode away.
He was telling her what to wear? Whatever!