Authors: Dani Jace
The small amount of security she’d regained during her few days home evaporated like an early morning fog on the beach. She’d been so stupid. A lump welled in her throat.
Men. So meticulous with machinery. He inflated the tires checking them with a gauge. If only they were only so conscientious with others’ feelings.
She peeled off his hoodie and tossed it on the backseat, and shivered at the loss. Resting her head against the headrest, she quickly wiped away her stray tears.
The cottage sat dark when they arrived. Ray opened his door. “I’ll walk you in.”
“No need.”
He followed her up the steps anyway.
As hard as she tried, she couldn’t let go of her anger. All the crap she’d boxed away in California acted as a catalyst for pent fury at this new treachery.
Before she unlocked the door, he braced the doorway in a capturing stance. Nearly a head taller, he was a wall of imposing muscles. He’d never physically hurt her.
She shook with fear at losing his friendship and his love, but the recently played bitch refused to back down. How could she not have seen the truth before now? What true friend hid such a secret?
His jaw muscle twitched. “Jo, please. I know you’re pissed and you think we betrayed you, but you would have never fulfilled your dream. Your Dad might have been wrong, but he loved you. Bobby and I love you.”
His sincerity struck her, but accepting his apology made her a pushover. Again. Covering her hurt by playing hard core had always been her way. “Y’all have a funny way of showing it.”
“This isn’t how I wanted tonight to end,” he conceded and pressed a light kiss on her forehead. “I’m so sorry.”
More tears threatened and she gritted her teeth. “We’re all sorry about something. But hey, it’s still early. You can hit The Casino. I’m sure you find something in stretch denim to take home.” She ducked under his arms, unlocked the door and stepped inside.
She resurrected her wall. This time stronger than before.
The ball shanked left, and Ray cursed under his breath.
Craig followed through on his swing, and the ball lofted high, dropping close enough to the pin for him to birdie the hole. His stocky roommate strode across the fairway and lined up his putt. “Just call her.”
“I sent roses. The next move is hers.”
“Yeah, well some women want you to grovel.” He smoothed a hand over his shaven head and got behind the wheel of the cart.
He hopped in and Craig took off. He didn’t belly up and Jo wouldn’t respect a man that did. She’d come around when she was ready. Bobby lectured him for telling, but he was done covering for them. Jo had every right to be angry. The man responsible was dead, so that left him and Bobby to share the blame.
What he’d give to have even one cherished memory of the man who had abandoned his mother and him without a word. Cappy probably thought Ray would do the same to Jo, so he held no animosity toward him for protecting his daughter.
What Jo had said to him at the door cut like a razor. He didn’t have notches on his headboard because he’d never taken a woman to his bed or home for that matter. And he’d never slept over. For that, he’d been labeled a player. There was only one woman he wanted in his bed, sleeping or otherwise and that was Jo.
Although her hot, tempting kisses on the beach had him wishing for more, he’d felt her apprehension. Trust issues ran deeper than her anger at her father’s meddling.
He’d be patient, but with her stubborn nature, it might take a while.
At the next hole, he gripped the iron taking his stance, keeping his eyes on the ball as he swung and propelled the annoying white sphere to within a few feet of the hole. It rolled off into the bushes.
Such was his life these days. Rough
.
* * * *
Summer days melded together while Jo played lifeguard. Bobby and she avoided one another while at home. A bouquet of red and yellow roses in the colors of love and friendship sat on the bar with a note of apology. Though wilted and nearly dead, her conscious wouldn’t allow her to toss them. More than once, she hit Ray’s number on her speed-dial, but pressing the send key proved problematic.
Dehydrated one afternoon after her shift, she popped into a small beachfront bar not far from the house. Bobby occasionally met some of his cop buddies at Papagayos.
Behind the heavy Spanish style door lay a man cave. A perfect place to disappear. She’d avoided the poplar nightspots hoping to avoid former classmates and locals who knew her and her troubles out west.
The bar spanned the left side of the room, with a few booths to the right. A small side room boasted a couple of pool tables. It was early for the after work crowd, but a few patrons tossed back cool ones and appetizers. Jo took a seat in front of one of several flat screens.
A hulky bartender approached. “What’ll you have?”
She eyed the taps. “Blue Moon.” To match her heart.
“A woman with good taste.” He tapped the beer and held out his hand. “Harley. You new to the area?”
She returned the firm grip. A tattooed eagle holding a trident and pistol peaked from beneath his T-shirt sleeve. Built like a tank and ruggedly handsome, with mysterious brown eyes and dark wavy hair, he wore a smile bordering on devious. She bet he’d been a real SEAL and had plenty of secret missions under his belt. “Jo Mercer, ex-pro surfer turned lifeguard.”
“Sister to Sergeant Bobby Mercer?” he asked with a chin raise.
“Guess my story is all over OBX.”
“We’ve all got histories, babe. Some more interesting than others.” He winked and parked an iced mug in front of her. “Taking on the ocean makes you tough. You’ll endure.”
A SEAL would know. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I’m looking for a weekend bartender. Tips would be good for a beach babe like you, probably better than a whole day of fishing humans from the Atlantic.” He gave her a slight wink.
A little flirty, but Harley was the type of friend she needed. As an employee, she would be part of his team. SEALS were loyal to their team. Vic might be only a small-time dealer and still in prison, but his rich family might eventually seek payback. A risk she had to take to get out of jail. “Sure, I did a bit of bartending in Cali.”
“Our patrons are mostly cops, firefighters and the like.” He wiped down the bar.
“Hmm.” Glancing around, she decided she already liked the place.
* * * *
Jo quickly settled into a routine at Papagayos. The solitary cook in the back, and a college-aged waitress who served the booths and the pool tables in the side room were Harley’s only other staff.
One a sweltering Friday evening in August, she caught a brawny form settling at the bar and turned from the register. “What can I get for you?”
Her heart froze as wide blue eyes bore into her.
“Bud on tap,” Ray answered after a pause.
“Anything else?” Her shaky breath relayed her shock.
“A shot of forgiveness?”
She bit her lip, silently cursing her betraying body that warmed in his presence. Judging from his sweat-soaked tee, he’d been working on his day off. His weary frown made him appear older than twenty-eight.
Before she could reply, another patron raised his glass. She nodded and went to grab their beers hoping to gain some composure before answering.
“So how long have you been working here?” Ray asked as she slid a frosty mug in front of him. His stony stare mirrored his tone.
“About a month. Thanks for the flowers, but—”
He exhaled a frustrated sounding sigh. “I can’t change the past, Jo.”
“Neither can I―but I gotta start getting my life back on track.” She held out her hands gesturing to the bar. Tears brimmed, forcing her to blink. “And gas ain’t cheap.”
“Why here?”
“Tips are good and I don’t have much of a resume.” Another customer arrived and by the time she’d returned from serving them, he had disappeared. A hundred dollar bill sat beneath his half-empty mug.
“Big tip for one beer.” Harley’s deep voice boom from behind.
She flinched and faced him.
“Something going on between you and Ray?”
Her boss certainly knew his clientele. “Never got that far.”
“Once burned twice shy?” Harley’s dark eyes danced.
“More like burned at the stake and left for dead.”
“Ouch. You could light a fire with that amber glare, sweetheart.”
Ray made it clear he didn’t like finding her working at Papagayos. And Harley knew him. Her female intuition smelled a history between them.
* * * *
Ray collapsed the gurney and helped Georgia push the empty stretcher into the ambulance. How the hell did Jo end up working for Harley? Hopefully, she’d learned after being burned by the last bad boy.
“The nurse wants you.” His squad mate winked and flashed him a grin lighting up her dark complexion.
“No, she’s the captain’s daughter and needs a date to her friend’s wedding. Her guy is overseas right now.”
“So, he’d never know.” She shrugged.
“Not interested.” Hell, he was already in a fucked-up relationship with a fire captain’s daughter.
He felt his hip vibrate. “You wanna drive back, I’ve got a call.”
He opened the passenger door and answered, “What’s up, man?”
“Has she called you yet?” Bobby asked.
“Yeah, right.”
“Oh, I forgot. We’re talking about my stubborn ass sister. Just tell her to get over it, like I did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me she’s working for Harley?” He slid onto the seat.
A low whistle filled his ear. “Because I’m not a masochist.”
“Really? You’re a police sergeant. Thought it was part of the job,” he said buckling his seatbelt.
“Oh, yeah.” He snorted. “So are you going to suck up?”
“I sent flowers. Groveling isn’t my style. She’s feeling stung. You weren’t the one in California taking heat, only to come home and discover your family lied.”
“Man, you got it bad.”
“Oh, and you don’t. Your car’s never at the house anymore. Guess you’re sleeping at her place now.”
“Not much sleeping going on, bro.”
“Lucky you.”
“I’m cooking for Sarah and Jo on Sunday afternoon. Can you come?”
Ray caught Georgia grinning from ear to ear as she maneuvered the ambulance through heavy by-pass traffic. “I got an offer on a partial evening shift, and I’m not pressing things.”
“You’d be my guest, not hers. She can fly if she wants.”
“Let your sister and your woman get acquainted. Your world will be happier if they get along.”
“So, how long are you going to give her before you get the itch and move on?” Bobby asked.
“Maybe she’s the only one who can scratch my itch.” And at the moment he was like a big dog covered in fleas. After disconnecting, he cut Georgia a look. “Did you get all of that?”
Her lips twitched. “So it’s your friend’s sister who’s got your balls in a vice.”
He let his head fall against the headrest. “Ahh yeah, hurts sooo good.”
* * * *
Jo cruised past the main fire station on her way to Papagayos. Ray’s Hummer sat in the parking lot. He’d caught her off guard the other night. It could have gone worse, he might have brought a date along.
He’d asked for her forgiveness. Of course she had, she loved him. But the words wouldn’t spill from her lips. Same as her fingers refused to call him. Her father may have thought Ray was unworthy. He might have been or still be a player, but she was just damaged goods and felt useless to anyone.
She swung through the door of the dark tavern. Two business types dressed in dark polo shirts and slacks didn’t fit their regular patrons’ attire. Seated nearest the kitchen, their serious expressions had her scanning for Harley.
“Can I get you guys something?” She tossed two napkins down on the bare bar before them.
“No, thanks, honey,” the older one said. “Just waiting for your boss.” Fine lines at the corners of his gray eyes enhanced the steel shading at his temples. The way he said honey reminded her of her dad. The scent of Old Spice intensified the association.
“Secret mission talk?” She teased with a smile.
He nodded.
“Yeah, I know. You could tell me, but you’d have to kill me.”
“Don’t think Harley would take it too kindly if we offed his help.” The younger partner smiled. He barely looked as old as she, but the way he casually observed his surroundings gave evidence to his training.
They were too casually dressed for FBI. DEA maybe? Bobby should know which alphabet group they belonged. She returned with ice waters and a small bow of pretzels.
“What’s up, Ben?” Harley returned and extended his burly hand across the bar toward the older man. “Pete.” He shook hands with the other man. “Come on back to my office.”
They gathered at a small table in the back where Harley added receipts at the end of the night. An odd feeling settled in Jo’s stomach. What was he into? If they were DEA, she prayed it didn’t involve her.
In late summer, Ocean Rescue transferred Jo to Coquina Beach near Oregon Inlet. Wild and remote with tall dunes and grasses, the area attracted tons of surfers. Some of the surfers recognized her from competition days and began inviting her to their parties. Occasionally, she stayed for a beer as her social animal reemerged.
Labor Day weekend, she sat in her lifeguard chair stuck in the proverbial fork in the road. She desperately needed a job with hospitalization, and more importantly, life insurance. Her brother appeared to be on the fast track to matrimony, and she couldn’t be sure where it would leave her with regard to a residence. If he decided to sell the beach house, she’d be screwed.
Even with her physical education degree, teacher openings were nil on the Outer Banks or nearby mainland. Retail work slowed considerably in the off-season. After clearing almost two hundred dollars during a full shift at Papagayos, she couldn’t see working more hours for less money.
She was, however, a strong swimmer, and could drag a two-hundred-pound man out of the surf, and administer CPR until EMS arrived. It didn’t get much more physical. Rescues in extreme conditions. Maybe Bobby was right about firefighting. Decent pay with benefits and enough excitement to satisfy her adrenaline driven nature.