That Thing You're Good At (A Starview Novel Book 1) Page 4

  He thought he’d planned a nice evening. The fire was lit in the fireplace, the bottom floor of the house had been somewhat remodeled since he moved in and knowing Emily had grown up in the area she knew the history of the home so she’d understand the whirlwind of the restoration. He’d done his finest at tidying up, puffed up cushions on the couch, cooked salmon and vegetables in the oven and made a nice rice pilaf on the side. Two bottles of wine from the T&M, one red and one white, stood on the table, upping his odds of a pleasant evening. He’d borrowed two movies, one chick-flick with Julia Roberts and one action film with Bruce Willis, hard to go wrong with Die Hard—any of the sequels. Apparently, good intentions and preparations didn’t belong in the same sentence as him, because the evening was . . . a freaking embarrassment.

  The salmon burned in the oven and made the house smell like fish before Emily got there. He only wanted to be overly sure it was fully cooked! Damn it. The rice stuck to the bottom of the pot, and when Emily had mentioned she preferred coffee after dinner instead of another glass of wine he made her a cup, sweetener and all. She burned her lip on the hot liquid and in the swift movement spilled some of it on her skirt, which percolated down and scorched her thigh. She had already seen both movies and informed him she favored comedies to all other genres but pretended to sound happy with the alternatives with which she was presented. When he finally cleaned up the mess and found they had literally nothing to say outside of the dating event, his phone buzzed and somehow he was glad it was Drew who’d ordered him in for overtime.

  Emily understood the abrupt interruption and looked genuinely happy he’d got back into law enforcement after such an outstanding sports career. He wasn’t as thrilled about the trade but was now doing something he’d previously done, finding bad guys and putting them where they belonged. Way the fuck away from other people. It was a good career if any.

  They ended the date as he predicted, with her kissing him pleasantly on the cheek, thanking him for a nice evening. God, he sucked. A nice evening - that was all he got? He still had a rough time getting around the fact that this wasn’t New York, that he wasn’t a star anymore, and bonding with a woman while keeping clothes on was key here. In New York, a nice evening had generally ended with a female above or below him, moaning his name before exiting his apartment. She’d not been an Emily or a Rose. Sometimes he’d even failed to ask for a name.

  “Christ,” he groaned at the memory and changed into his uniform. Small town life sure was unique, but he was determined to get reintroduced to it. This is where he grew up and this is where his parents left him their home. His home now. His career was done on the ice, he just had to tolerate that. Hard as it was.

  * * *

  HOLLY

  The speed dating event had been a blessing in disguise. For the first time, in what felt like an eternity, she’d received compliments. About her looks . . . and yeah, largely from men about the clothing she wore. She’d followed their eyes, to her bosom. Yep, she knew it and she’d tagged along in Reena’s silly game of confidence to promote what you had. She sure knew she had them, and maybe the dress had slightly magnified the case. Either way, she remembered the comments, some better than others, and now standing by the sink, brushing her teeth, with Aubrey running Hot Wheels between her feet, she felt rather amused with her situation. Life, in general, seemed good, suddenly.

  Had she taken up on the invitations from the events? Not yet. She’d evaluate the pool of men before she settled. She’d found several men, ranging from the hot stud in his 20s to sexy silver fox in his 50s, more than tempting. It was even better when she’d seen that some men came from neighboring cities, and one even as far as three counties away. The gene pool might be too slim for mating with only men in the area. “Mating?” she spoke to her reflection in the mirror. “We, my friend, are done mating,” she declared and spat the toothpaste in the sink and picked up Aubrey.

  An hour later, Aubrey snoozed in her Princess Bed, the lavender bedroom door barely open to warm the room in the cool evening's hold. The house wasn’t new enough to have a/c, and why would it, when winters made roads turn into ice and eyelashes dusted white in the snowy winds. She’d made herself a cup of coffee when a thud came on the side door to the kitchen. Holly took a step back to look down the hallway leading to the front door waiting for someone to realize the correct door to enter was on the front of the house.

  Nobody usually came down the grassy side of the house to the smaller door for any reason unless they were of the raccoon family and it was trash day. Hm, she thought and wandered up the hallway to the front door and with a coffee mug in hand, she peeked around the white drapery in the side window by the door. The front was deserted as for a car further up the street which could be a visitor to anybody on the street. It sure wasn’t a lively road, but it still held a few houses and saw its climax of automobiles in the late afternoon when most people, who had yet to retire, filled up their homes with love and laughter. Hopefully. She wasn’t too close with her neighbors, not more than pleasantries. She was okay with that; she had her full of social interaction at work and elsewhere, like a silly dating event.

  She readjusted the curtain and walked back down the hallway into the modest kitchen and looked out the window above the sink. The grassy side looked fine, and she noted her cherry trees finally held more fruit than blooms which made her happy. She took a sip of the hot coffee and grabbed the brass knob to the side door and tugged it.

  “Oh, shit!” she cried and with the jump, the mug of coffee came out of her grip and smashed onto the floor. Her hand hurt from the scorch of heated liquid but she didn’t care. At her feet, halfway in her kitchen, sprawled a man, her age, nicely dressed, flowers in hand, and a gun wound to his chest. Dead. Stone cold, dead.

  Chapter 9

  JAKE

  The fall evening was seething hot, damn Indian summer, and so was the woman sitting in the beach chair on the back porch bathed in officers and detectives. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought it to be Holly when the 911 call came in. Yet here he was, battering her with questions he’d rather not have to request.

  “Drew,” he hissed and pulled his friend and Police Chief to the side of the house. “Do we truly need to ask her all of this now, I know we should,” he groaned and turned, “but look at her.”

  They both looked at Holly, sitting in the chair with a blanket draped around her, in the heat. Her teeth were rattling and her body shuddered in tremors.

  “Shock, for sure,” Drew murmured. “Is this a problem for you, Jake?” he glanced over his friend. “If so, I’ll pull you off this case immediately. You can’t sleep with someone involved in the case, you know that, correct?”

  Jake pulled his head back around at the distant tone of his long-time friend and now his supervisor. “Of course, I realize that. She just looks stressed. That’s all.”

  “You have a duty to do, Jake. If not, I’ll have Chase continue this. Your pick.”

  Jake glanced around the area among the gathering of officer scattering the yard searching for clues. Two men in dark suits were finding great enthusiasm in the deceased subject still lying halfway through the kitchen door. Jake’s eyes zeroed in on Chase. His wide shoulders and towering height made him stand out in the throng of people and he was presently speaking to one of Holly’s neighbors. Hell no would he let Chase sit knee to knee with Holly. Why he had an excess of fury inside him he didn’t want to consider, he just knew he had to find his way back to Holly and continue where he left off. He glanced back at Drew who snickered then turned his concern to the deceased individual.

  “Do you need another blanket, Holly? Something to drink?”

  She swayed her head and shivered. With a blank stare to her knees, she wrapped the surrounding blanket a little tighter. A tear spilled down her cheek and even though he realized it was wrong, he leaned over and removed it with his thumb. Holly didn’t reflect, and he sighed faintly.

  “Has this man been here before, H
olly?” She shook her head in response and held her eyes on her knees. “Do you know him? Is he a friend of yours?” All the questions gave him the same response pattern.

  “So, you have never seen this man before at all? Need a minute to think? Holly?”

  “Yes,” she whispered barely enough for him to hear. He leaned forward and studied her face. “Where Holly? Who is he?”

  She forced her eyes up to his, shining with tears ready to spill over the edge. “Speed dating.”

  ***

  HOLLY

  Holly stepped inside the house still immersed in the blanket. With Jake’s generous hand on her lower back, she moved to a more private place on the bottom floor. The living room reading alcove. Not that he would know, but this was her favorite spot, always had been. The two bookcases she’d inherited from her grandmother didn’t only keep books, clean from dust she might add thanks to her fevering reading habits during Aubrey’s naptime, but photos from her life: her grandmother holding her as a little girl, Aubrey in her arms as a newborn. Memories she cherished pulled together the bookcases and brought them to life.

  Jake escorted her to the recliner by the bay window, closing the sliding doors to the room behind them as they went in. The sounds outside were hushed and Holly felt like she could finally breathe. Her lungs took the cue and inhaled deeply.

  “I figured it would be calmer in here,” Jake said, seating himself on the footrest at her feet, close enough for their knees to touch and a zing went through her body and she shivered.

  “You cold, Holly? Want me to make you something hot to drink? Coffee, tea, chocolate?” he made a lopsided smile at the situation.

  She hadn’t acknowledged how much she liked him saying her name, but it rang awfully nice on his lips. Really nice.

  “No, thank you,” she stammered and drew up her legs into the recliner.

  “Crisscross applesauce,” he smiled and nodded to her knotted legs. “Reminds me of Ms. Jenkin’s kindergarten class when I was little. Her tone is still echoing in my mind. Wow, talk about memories.”

  He sounded amazed, and she watched him draw his hand through his dark short hair.

  “I had her too,” Holly replied and moistened her lips.

  “No shit, ah . . . sorry. Didn’t mean for it to sound unprofessional. Let me start over,” he sighed and Holly noticed what looked like a nervous tick, his hand through his hair again.

  “I meant,” he began, “I wasn’t aware of you going to the same kindergarten as me?”

  “I’m two years behind you, Jake. We went to school together most of the time.”

  “Yeah, I should have paid more attention to that.”

  “Why? I was younger than you, had no features to talk about, and—“

  “I’m gonna stop you right there,” Jake held up his hand in front of her, notepad and pen resting on his thigh. His muscular thigh, she noticed now. Ice-hockey must do that to you. This close she noted how ruggedly handsome he looked. Not model worthy, no. His nose was somewhat crooked from a potential strike, a faint scar ran under his right eye, stitched to less than excellence, but with the fine lines at the side of his eyes, that moved he smiled he was stunning. She bet he never looked in the mirror trying to press his face back pretending to look ten years younger, or what he may look like should the last baby weight melt off during the night. Yeah, she didn’t think so. His body was endowed for anything physical and reflecting on it got her hot. A handful different things other than the crime outside her door came to mind and made her swallow hard.

  She’d seen him on ESPN through the years, seen him gasping through a brief interview the second he’d gotten off the ice, sweat dripping down his forehead. A handsome beard had once grown on his face making most women swoon and faint like they’d been hit with the plague. At least that’s what the tabloids said, and the woman doing the interview.

  “Drew hit me over the head with the fact that you helped me with my homework sometimes. How the hell can I not remember that?”

  His distress made her smile. “I was what you would’ve called a nerd at the time . . . and thinking of it, I think I still am,” she considered and glanced at the photos in the bookcase. “I loved school and picked up extra credit work if there was any. I wore glasses then, contacts now. If not, I’m blind as a bat,” she continued. “I didn’t expect you to high-five me when you returned here and praise me for all the work I did for you in high school. It was ages ago, so drop it.”

  “For all its worth, I am grateful for the help.”

  “Even if you don’t remember it,” she coughed up a laugh.

  “Even so,” he claimed, and a grin tugged one corner of his pretty mouth.

  “Well, my straight A’s took me nowhere, so why did I even bother.”

  “And my C’s . . .”

  “Hey, I made sure some of those turned out better than that!” she managed and locked eyes with him, amused at his attempt to make her feel better.

  “Sure, it was that . . . uh . . . book report?”

  “Jake, no need to bring up old school work now. But thanks for making me think of something else for a few minutes. No need to apologize. Yes, I saved you some time and you got an awesome scholarship, from what I’ve heard, and you had an extremely successful career away from here. Kudos to you, honestly.”

  “Yeah, the career I had.”

  She watched him tap the pen on the pad of paper resting on his lap, his mind someplace else but in the living room facing her.

  “I’m sorry about your injury,” Holly mumbled and caught his pupils dilate. He smiled and nodded before glancing down at the pad in his lap.

  “So, Holly, back to today. You brought up the speed dating event we both attended. Was this man part of the event?”

  She nodded and unwrapped herself from the blanket and stood, pacing the living room from wall to wall as she spoke. “He was the first man to stop by my table for the first five minutes of the evening. His name was Andrew, he worked as a store manager at HEB, and was nice enough I suppose.”

  “How do you mean?”

  Holly sighed and paused, wrapping her arms around herself. “You know what . . . he wasn’t a great date at all. He spoke more about his ex-girlfriend than anything else, checked his phone for messages throughout the brief minutes we had to spend talking to each other and thanked me as Amber when the bell rang for switching tables.”

  Jake shook his head, and she watched his pen scribble word after word on the pad at his hands. “Yikes,” he mumbled and turned the paper pad over. “Anything else, Holly?” he mumbled and stared into her eyes from where he was seated, legs wide in stance on the floor, his body size too large for the footstool. God, he filled up a uniform well, both on the ice and in civil life. She looked back up at his eyes and blushed, not sure if he was as good as Drew at reading people. Maybe it came with the profession? She hoped not.

  “Nothing I can think of.”

  “Why was he here if your date wasn’t successful?”

  Holly chewed on her lower lip and struggled to recall anything else from the evening. “He complimented me on my dress. “

  “Oh, I think we all did.”

  “What?”

  “What?” Jake swallowed. If she looked closely, she might have seen a minor twitch under his left eye.

  “As I was saying,” she continued, studying him meticulously, “he pointed out my dress and how I . . . filled it out,” she sighed and shook her head.

  Jake wrote down her testimony and nodded before he glanced back up and locked eyes with her again. She wondered what he was thinking.

  “Thanks for this, Holly. I will have to talk to Drew and the other detectives about this and we will keep you posted, all right?” He put the notepad and pen back in the front pocket of his blue uniform shirt and slid the doors opened to the living room letting the buzz back inside and the view of a relaxed Drew leaning against the wooden pillar at the bottom of the staircase.

  “Took you long enough there,
Jake. All done? Hi, Holly, how are you holding up?” He turned to her and gave her arm a squeeze. “Got somewhere to stay for the night? I’d like you to not stay here for a few nights while we continue our work and put your house under surveillance.”

  “Yeah, I have a place. Mrs. Peterson called and advised me to do just that. I have my cell phone with me should you need to call me.”

  She watched Jake walk down the hallway grabbing a large bag off the floor by the kitchen handing it over to Drew before they opened the front door and left to join forces outside. “Get packed, wash your face, and get going, you need to rest Holly before you crane over.”

  “What’s in the bag,” she replied quietly and pointed to the plastic in Drew’s hand.

  “Your kitchen area rug, it got painted in blood when the man dropped in.”

  As soon as the two exited the door she turned to look at her reflection in the hallway mirror. “Holy smokes, I look greener than my usual pale, and . . . is that vomit?”

  Chapter 10

  JAKE

  Her skin was smooth as he had imagined. His mouth trailed kissed from her mouth down over her collarbone continuing down the valley between her breasts, nipples hardening, and his hands marveled at their size and weight. He could drown here. He could die here. And oh what a way to go.

  “Gasp!” Jake woke up and choked for air. He was watching the shadows dance across the ceiling from the tree outside, long fingers waving in the dusk. His eyes closed, and he rested his hand on his chest, taking a deep, steadying breath before exhaling. Just as his yoga instructor had instructed the team during exercise. He shifted to face at the alarm clock by the bed and watched the red numbers scream an angry 4:05 back at his eyes. Great, he thought, it was right between morning and night and now he wasn’t sure he could go back to sleep. He tore open the sheets and sat on the bedside, his feet hitting the cool wooden boards of the floor. He rubbed his hands over his face and seized the glass of water on the nightstand, draining it.