Baker’s Law (12 page)

He stood away from Marissa, breathing heavily.

“Your phone.”

He cursed softly, then snapped the phone from his belt and glanced at the screen.
“I’m supposed to be off duty.” He held up a finger and dialed a number. “Chief here.”

His end of the conversation was a few “hmms” and “uh-huhs.” Then he touched something
on the screen and tucked the phone back into its holder. “I have to…” He shoved his
thumb in the direction of the parking lot. “I’m—”

“No. Go.” Relief, mingled with regret, washed over her. “I understand completely.”

Jax looked like he wanted to say something more, but simply gave a quick nod and turned
to go. He stopped long enough to give her a quick, hot kiss. “We’re not done here.”
He winked, then he hurried through the darkened lot.

She leaned back against the wall, closed her eyes and let the night air wash away
any and all hints of Jax Carlisle. As if it was that easy. She’d been crazy to ask
him to kiss her—not that she’d minded his response.

“There you are.”

Marissa jolted as Cherry set a hand on her arm.

“Are you okay? What did I miss? Tell me everything.” Cherry all but bounced on the
balls of her feet.

“There’s nothing to tell.” Marissa leaned away from the wall. “Jax, I mean the chief,
got a call and had to leave.”

Cherry eyed her for a long moment, then hooked her arm with Marissa’s and tugged her
toward the front of the building.

“I’ll pretend I believe that for a little while, but you’ll have to tell me later
why your hair is tousled and you have the ‘thoroughly been kissed’ lips.”

Joan Barkley was standing outside her shop as Jax pulled in. She’d called in to the
station—requested him by name, for which Ada had apologized profusely when she’d called
him—to report a suspicious male lurking outside her store. “Chief.” A huge smile split
her face but she quickly schooled it. “I didn’t expect you to get here so quickly.”

“I wasn’t that far away when your call came in.” He was still dressed in his jeans
and T-shirt from the club. He hadn’t wanted to waste time running home, though the
extra time would have given him a few minutes to unwind from the taste and feel of
Marissa. Thankfully by the time he pulled into the lot in front of the store—it’d
taken nearly the entire ride for his body to get back in check—no one would have been
the wiser that he’d just been inches away from getting to second base, and third if
he was really lucky. He fought back a bark of laughter. What was it about Marissa
Llewellyn that made him feel like a teenager? He had trouble controlling himself,
and he thought in terms of first or second base. The woman was doing some kind of
number on him.

Jax gave a mental head shake. He didn’t have time to analyze whatever it was. He had
to focus on work. He zeroed his gaze on Ms. Barkley. “So, tell me what’s going on.”
He flipped open the spare notepad he had tucked in his truck for just such times.

Joan fiddled with a clothing rack, straightening the hangers out evenly. “I was closing
up for the evening. We close at eight but I had to tidy up and fill out my reorder
sheets.”

It was half-past ten when he’d gotten the call from Ada. “That’s a lot of reordering.”

She gave little smile. “We’ve been rather busy lately.” She set her hand on his forearm
and crowded his personal space as he took notes. Her other hand fluttered over her
chest and she batted her eyelashes, acting nervous and looking anything but. “Anyway,
as I was saying, I was at the counter when I saw someone lurking outside the door.”

“Were the lights on?” Jax motioned to the store, which was lit up like it was still
open for business.

“Yes sir, they were. But the closed sign was flipped.”

“And you’re sure it was a man?”

Her eyes rounded. “Oh yes, he was tall and was dressed in dark clothing.”

“Show me where you were standing exactly. When you saw him.”

Joan led Jax through several racks of clothing to the back of the store where the
large counter sat that housed the register and a display case for some purses and
other items. Atop the counter were several sheets of paper and a chewed-on pencil.

Joan snatched up the pencil and shoved it in a drawer under the register.

“Were you standing or sitting?” He pointed with his pen to a stool off to the side.

“I was sitting. I jumped up when I saw him. Then called you, I mean the police.”

Jax nodded and jotted down a few more notes. “Where was the stool?”

She moved it over right in front of the paperwork.

Jax sat. Most of the front windows were blocked by the clothing racks, and he was
a good six or seven inches taller than Joan Barkley. There was, though, a clear view
of the door through a narrow break between the racks. He jotted that down in his notes
as well.

“Stay here and I will take a look around.”

“You’re going to leave me?” Her pitch went up with every word.

“I don’t think anyone is still hanging around at this point. You’ll be fine.” Jax
tucked the notepad in his back pocket as he headed to the door. “Lock this behind
me.”

Joan’s heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she scurried behind him.

Jax did a thorough perimeter check of the building, surrounding stores and then the
parking lot where a single car—a light colored sports car—sat and didn’t see a single
soul skulking about. He returned to the front door where Joan stood with her arms
crossed.

She quickly unlocked it and let him in. “Did you find anyone?”

“No, but like I said, I didn’t think anyone would be hanging around at this point.
Have you finished your work? I can walk you to your car.”

“Oh, yes. Sure.” Joan hurried around the store dousing lights for closure. She gathered
up the sheets on the counter and stuffed them into a large purse, then met him back
at the front door. “Um, hey, since you’re already out, how would you like to go grab
a bite to eat?”

Jax kept his expression passive as he did a quick mental eye roll. Just as he suspected.
There was most likely no man lurking about—even if there was, the chances of Joan
actually seeing him were pretty slim unless she’d looked for and expected someone
to show up at her store. With the lights on and the darkness outside, someone would
have to practically have their face pressed to the glass to be noticed.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to go in to the office to
write up this report.” He pulled the notepad from his pocket and slapped it into his
hand.

“This late?”

“‘Fraid so.” Jax stood beside her as she got into her car and waited until she pulled
out of the lot before he walked to his truck. He called in to the station. “False
alarm, Ada. How are the other guys doing tonight?”

Ada apologized again and gave him a quick rundown of the most recent calls. Nothing
that needed his attention, thankfully.

“Good. I’m heading home then.”

“Sorry to mess up your night off, Chief.”

“It’s all part of the job.” He hung up and tucked the phone back into his belt clip.
He leaned against his truck and ran his hands over his face. He debated driving by
Marissa’s house to see if she’d made it home. Nah, that made him feel a little too
much like a stalker. Or very, very desperate.

Instead, he opted to go home. It’d been a while since he’d had a full night’s sleep.
Not to mention Soldier, his German shepherd, was probably due for a visit outside.
A cold beer and a little bit of TV and he’d be set for the rest of the evening.

The fates had something different in mind, however, as his headlights cut across his
front porch and revealed someone sitting on the top step.

He sighed and parked his truck in front of the detached garage. “What brings you out
here, Callie?”

His sister stood, then dusted off the back of her dark pants. She sniffled and crossed
her arms over her chest. “Mother is driving me completely crazy.” She cringed a little
as Soldier let out a fierce series of barks from inside the house. “I have the key
you gave me, but I was a little afraid to go in with…” She motioned to the front door
where Soldier continued to go nuts.

“Aw, he wouldn’t hurt a flea.”

Callie snorted. “Yeah, right.”

His sister followed him into the living room. “Soldier, sit.” The three-year-old dog
plopped his rump on the edge of the foyer, blocking their entry into the house. “Not
right there.” Jax pushed the dog’s neck. Soldier merely got up, turned in a tight
circle, then sat back down. “Here, give me your hand.”

When his sister did nothing, Jax snagged her wrist and held her palm out for the dog
to sniff.

Soldier gave Callie a few perfunctory sniffs and a lick, then stalked over to his
dog bed in the corner behind Jax’s recliner.

“See, no fleas harmed.”

She didn’t even crack a smile.

He settled his hand at his sister’s back, then guided her to the sofa. “You want anything
to drink?”

She shook her head and sniffled.

He wanted—needed—that beer, but opted to sit beside his baby sister and put his arm
around her shoulders. It’d been years since she’d come to him to cry about some injustice
or another. “Tell me what’s she’s done now.”

“She is trying to micromanage every detail of the wedding.” Her breath shuddered.
“I mean whose wedding is this anyway, hers or mine?”

“What’s Wes said about all this?”

Callie tilted her head back and growled. “He’s so busy with work right now that his
pat answer is always, ‘Your mother knows what she’s doing.’” She swiped at her eyes.
“He’s not
trying
to be an ass.”

“But he’s busy.” Jax didn’t want to point out that Wes was just like her father, his
stepfather. Casper Carlisle had adopted Jax when he was four years old. Jax had never
wanted to ask his biological father how Casper had talked him into relinquishing custody,
but he was sure some money and possibly a threat was exchanged. All to keep up appearances.
His mother couldn’t have children with two different last names. What kind of precedent
did that set? He gave a mental eye roll at his mother’s pretension.

“Marlie Llewellyn is our fourth wedding planner,” his sister continued. “Do you
know
how embarrassing it will be if she quits? Not that I can blame her. Mother has been
rude to the woman. And utterly hostile to her sister. Do you know she all but forbade
me to have her cater my shower?”

“Marissa’s going to cater your shower?” The mere mention of Marissa made his pulse
race. “Her cupcakes are good.”

Callie sat up straighter. “I know.” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped
her nose. “Still, I’d have ordered some anyway, to make up for…”

Jax frowned down at his sister. “Make up for…what?”

“It’s nothing. Never mind”

“It’s not ‘nothing.’ And you brought it up.”

She screwed up her face like she had so many times as a child when she was about to
tattle—on herself. “I’m kind of the reason she got fired from Daddy’s club.”

“What do you know about that? You had to be what, ten or eleven back then?”

“I might have stuck my red dress in the washer and it might have turned all the towels
I hid in there with it pink.” Callie lowered her voice. “And she got blamed for it.”

Jax stared at his sister.

“I didn’t mean to get her in trouble. Mother had dressed me like a four-year-old.
My friend Mandy brought me an outfit to change into and I stashed the dress in the
washer. I don’t know how it got turned on. I swear.” Callie held up her hand as if
she were swearing in court. “I didn’t even find out what happened until the next day
when I went back to get the dress.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Do you think I should
tell her? Apologize?”

His immediate response was
hell no.
He wasn’t sure if Callie knew that Marissa’s dad had also gotten fired. He’d heard
all about it, even in Austin. His mother had called to gloat about how she’d had to
fire the Llewellyns. Almost as if she was teaching some
riffraff
their place. That phone call had helped solidify his decision to stay in Austin and
away from the Carlisles of Oak Hollow.

Callie didn’t realize how many lives she’d touched with one simple, selfish act. Whether
it was an accident or not, back then it had to have been devastating to Marissa’s
family. And it couldn’t be undone. “It’s been over fifteen years. No point in bringing
it up now.”

She nodded. “What do I do about Mother?”

Jax sighed. “The way I see it, you have two choices. You let Mother have her way,
which she almost always gets—and you’ll be miserable. Or you stand your ground, have
the wedding the way you want—and you’ll be happy, but then you’ll have to deal with
her wrath as it comes. And it will come. But it will be harder for her to micromanage
you the next time around.”

“Is that how you did it?”

“Did what?”

“Got out from under Mother’s thumb. You did exactly what you wanted to.”

Jax shrugged. Having Neil Whitcomb for a father, someone he could turn to, and vent
to, had been a lifesaver. The man never openly badmouthed his ex-wife, no, he’d simply
helped Jax see where his mother was coming from and why. Her family had had ridiculous
expectations for her. When she’d fallen in love with Neil in high school, she’d gone
against her parents’ wishes and married him. Life had been hard without her family
money to fall back on. Eventually the strain had been too much for the young couple
with a small child. She’d divorced Neil and moved back into the family fold. When
Casper came along, he met the expectations and was willing to jump through the family
hoops.

“I just lived my life.”

“And she let you?”

“She’s not telling me what to do.” He chuckled. “That’s not true. But when I don’t
listen she’s not surprised anymore.”

“Maybe I’ll get there some day.” She sighed and narrowed her eyes at him. “Where were
you tonight?” Callie tugged on his shirt. “You off duty?”