Uncovering Officer Smith (The Discovering Trilogy #2) (24 page)

“Wow, okay.” I nod, scanning the view. “This is original. I’ll give you that.”

He climbs up onto the hood of the car. “Oh, just wait for it.” He pats the hood beside him.

My look lingers on the closer tombstones. One stands out next to me; an angel with clasped hands. It stands taller than the rest, its stone so white it appears to glimmer in the soft light. Maybe that was just my imagination. With one last look, I prop myself up onto the hood beside him.

“So, what are we waiting for exactly?” I interrupt the silence.

“Shh, just wait.” He nudges me slightly.

I sigh. “Okay.”

My feet dangle off the hood of his car as my eyes dart around. I get the urge to ask him once more, but before the words escape me, it begins. The sun starts to fall behind the far trees. The sky erupts in vibrant hues of orange and pink. It’s so bright I can swear it is only a painting. It then begins to cast a cascading shimmer over the entire tiny town beneath us, bathing us in its light.

A small gasp escapes my lips. The view below is a beauty I don’t think I could ever forget in five lifetimes. It reminds me of the mornings home in Jersey when I used to run the track before school and watch the sun rise. It brings me back to those days before grades ruled my life and my mother was occupied with finding Bedford the right university. It was simpler times back then, when all I had to focus on was the cloud of breath escaping me in the filtering morning light.

John’s voice brings me back. “This is my favorite spot. I come here when I’m on patrol and just take in the view.”

“It’s gorgeous.” My words obviously can’t even begin to do it justice.

“I thought you’d like it.”

Those are the last words before we grow silent again, staring at the magnificence before us. The spell is broken as soon as the sun moves slightly lower and the hues shift to a deep red.

“So, talk to me.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Tell me more about yourself, Becca.”

“What is there to tell? I’m from Jersey, I came to North Commons on a scholarship, and I have a 4.0 GPA.”

“That’s not all there is to you. I just want to know more. Ford never really likes to talk about you.”

“Well, the truth is, I came here to escape.”

“Escape?” His eyes glance over at me. He’s interested now.

“My parents – my mother, actually.”

John leans back on his arm, causing the hood of the car to groan slightly. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse. With her, it’s all about status. She couldn’t care less about my grades. She only paid attention to what clubs I was in, who my friends were, and what boys I was dating. She just wanted something to tell at the country club tea parties. Completely overprotective, absolute control freak, and the only thing on her resume was her over-the-top, ridiculous party planning.”

He processes this for a second. “What about your father?”

“My dad?” I scoff, “He’s non-existent, always working—Can’t say that I blame him. Oh, and I’m totally invisible when Bedford is around. He’s their golden child. When he left for college, it all changed.” I sigh. “My mom became unbearable. I held her sole attention. I needed an escape and school was my focus. I stayed late at the library and barricaded myself in my room. I did homework and extra credit, whatever would keep me busy. Then, when I got the scholarship, it was all worth it. I was able to escape. They had no say and nothing to hold over me.”

“Is that all?”

“Huh?” I finally turn to him.

“Is that why you chose the middle-of-nowhere-New-York? To hide in your room and behind all your books and to continue on to stuffy old law school?”

“No. I…” I breathe. “It’s because I don’t want to be a ‘Stepford wife.’ I see all my Mom’s friends—Shallow, desperate. I told myself I’d never be one. I’d rather be known for my brains than my beauty.”

He stares out at the town for a second, the last glimmer of sun falling gently behind the trees before he finally says, “You can try to hide behind all those books, Becca Swanson, but I see you.” He meets my eyes; big, blue, and beautiful. “I’ve always seen you.”

In this moment, I know I am in love with John Smith.

Becca woke me up before the sun with something much better. It led to what felt like hours of more fun stuff. We must have passed out afterward because when I open my eyes again, the light is filtering through the open curtains.

“What time is it?” I grumble aloud as I roll over, reaching for my phone.

I have two missed calls and three text messages from Ford.

“It’s like noon, why?”

I read the few animated text messages. “Oh, crap, your brother is on his way over.”

“What?” In one swift movement, Becca is on her feet. She’s hooking her bra behind her back when she turns, searching the floor for the rest of her clothes.

“He was supposed to come over and watch the game. I totally forgot after this morning’s…
activities
.”

“Ugh.” Her thin hips shimmy into her jeans and she tosses her shirt over her head.

Throwing the covers off, I climb to my feet and slip a pair of boxers on.

She pauses, scanning the room. “Um,”

“What?” I turn. Becca’s standing there with that determined look again, her forehead crinkled, her fingers in her messy hair, and I want to ravage her again – but I can’t.

“I can’t find my thong.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“If you find it, will you put it aside for me?”

“Sure.”

“Please don’t do anything creepy like sniff it or hang it on a chandelier or something.” She smiles.

I crack up. “Deal.”

“Okay, I think I have everything.” She tosses her backpack over one shoulder and jingles her keys loose. “I’ll see you later.”

She leans up on her tiptoes, meeting my lips. I can’t help it when my arms wrap around her waist and pull her closer, deeper. When we pull away, her lips have that adorable pouty look to them. A part of me doesn’t want her to leave. I’d rather have her stay and cancel on her brother. But I let her leave me with a smile.

Watching her leave, she turns when she reaches the top of the stairs to look over her shoulder. We share a look before she descends.

A knock comes at the front door before I can even make it into the bathroom to shower. The knock comes again, rapid this time. I swing the door open.

“Did you forget some—?”

The door smashes against the wall. The blue eyes I see are not friendly ones. Bedford tackles me. We come tumbling into my apartment. My head narrowly misses the foot of a stool as he climbs on top of me and throws a fist.

“Was. That. My. Fucking. Sister?”

I scramble out from underneath him and jump to my feet. “It’s not what it looks like.” My palms are out, attempting to calm him down.

“Oh, really? Because it looks like my little sister was just leaving your apartment, Smith! I thought we talked about this. What ever happened to bro-code? Does loyalty mean anything to you?”

“I… I.” Truth is, I don’t know my feelings. How do I look into similar blue eyes and explain my feelings about his very own sister, especially when I don’t know them myself? “She’s …” I try again.

“She’s what? Tell me how after you promised to leave her alone, I find her leaving your apartment?”

My shoulders slump. “You’re right.” I’m no good for her. What did I think was going to happen? I’m John fucking Smith, notorious bachelor, self-declared workaholic, and heartbreaker extraordinaire. I can’t get involved or let my guard down. Most of all, I can’t get involved with Bedford’s little sister. She’s too good for me. She is dangerous. She has the power to destroy me.

He leans into me, pointing his finger in my face. His eyes blaze with an anger I’ve never seen – not even in football. “I will handle
her
, but if you ever lay a finger on my sister again, I will destroy you.”

“Is that a threat?”

Bedford’s blue eyes bore holes through me. “A promise.” With that, he leaves, slamming the door behind him. All that’s left of our scuffle is a crater in the wall from the doorknob.

I guess I’m watching the game alone.

I spent another beautiful weekend with John. Monday he stopped returning my calls and hasn’t responded to a single text. I waited hours for him to reply. It’s hard to focus on the beginning of the fall semester and homework, when you are so confused about what the hell could have happened. The hours turned into days and the days are now weeks. I haven’t heard a single thing, and texted him more times than I want to admit. Even I realize I’m looking pretty pathetic. For some reason, I thought I had gotten through to John, the infamous man-whore.

Don’t get me wrong—I knew what this was. I didn’t go home with him expecting anything but awesome sex. When I woke up in his bedroom the second time, I even asked him if he wanted me to leave. He said no; told me to stay. We went for coffee. He talked about his parents and took me to the roof. John even showed me his favorite spot in Angelica! So, when he just stopped calling me… I’m not going to lie – it hurts. Kills, actually, because it means there was something he didn’t like about me. As I sit here in my living room, staring at the blank document on my computer, all I can think about is
him
. I’ve had a lot of time to think and I’ve gone over every moment we spent together. The worst part of all is the doubt that one single man brought to the smart, confident woman I used to be.

I sigh. “I’m going to text him.”

Meggie dives across the couch for my phone. “No!”

“Why not?”

“Just let it go. You’re only going to look desperate and then feel even worse.”

“I… I just—”

We fumble for the phone and it slips from both our hands.

“No.” She kicks the phone across the wood floors.

“Meggie!” I holler before giving up and pulling out of the struggle. I collapse on the couch.

“This is for your own good.”

In the smallest voice to ever come out of my mouth, I say, “I just need to know why. What the hell did I do? What about all the things he said?”

She looks at me, tears brimming her eyes, mimicking my own. “I don’t know, Bee. Truth is, you will probably never know. Men are a race all their own. They weren’t created to make sense or call girls back, and most don’t even give a decent orgasm.”