Busted: Promise Harbor, Book 3 (3 page)

“No. Of course not. I wouldn’t do that.”

“But you have doubts.”

Josh sighed. “Doesn’t every guy before he straps on the old ball and chain?” The moment the words left his mouth he slumped a little. “Didn’t mean that,” he added, sounding a little regretful for comparing Allie to some kind of a prison sentence.

“I guess some guys do.” Jackson shoved a hand through his hair, wishing Matt hadn’t left them to go back to Stone’s. This wasn’t a conversation he was in any position to have on his own. “I’ve never had the guts to even propose to someone, so I wouldn’t know.” One blog rumor and premature ring browsing by his ex-girlfriend certainly didn’t qualify as a genuine proposal.

Josh was one of the few people who actually knew the truth about Melissa. As far as the public was concerned, he’d been the one to call off their “engagement”, and Melissa had basked in the media spotlight after he’d supposedly broken her heart.

“But yeah, it’s probably normal to feel a little nervous about it,” Jackson continued. “It’s a big step. It’s serious.”

“Yeah. Serious. You’re not helping, dude.”

Jackson grinned. “Sorry. Okay, how’s this? You’ve known Allie forever. You love her. You love her family. They love you. Your mom is thrilled to pieces about this. The whole town is behind you on this. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You two are going to have a long and happy life together.”

Josh nodded, but continued to stare at the table as though the solution to his cold feet problem might miraculously present itself there. “Still not helping.”

Giving his friend a hearty slap on the back, Jackson stood. “You’ll be fine. Once you’re up there at the front of the church watching Allie walk down the aisle looking like a million bucks, you’ll be so glad you’re marrying her.”

Josh picked up his beer and drained it. “Right. Absholutely. Can’t wait.”

“Fuck. You’re hammered.” Maybe saying it aloud would convince his friend to go home before he showed up at his own wedding still wasted. Matt certainly hadn’t been able to convince him after they’d arrived at their third bar of the evening, preferring to avoid Stone’s, where Allie and her bridesmaids were partying.

“No, I am not.” Josh straightened. “I’m fine. Let’s have another round.”

“Nope. I am doing my best man duty and hauling your ass out of here. You’re already going to need a large bottle of Tylenol and a jug of Visine in the morning.”

“Oh all right.” Josh stood and held on to the table for a moment as though he needed to get his balance under control.

Allie was going to kick Jackson’s ass, and that was saying something considering how sweet and even-tempered Allie was.

“I need a burger,” Josh announced. He took a step and leaned a little too far to the right, but managed to straighten before he toppled over.

“Okay, big guy. Let’s head to Barney’s and then I’ll take you home.”

“Yeah. Barney’s. I can have a hickory burger. And fries.”

Josh didn’t say much else on the walk to Barney’s, but something was clearly on his mind. His expression was far too serious for someone with so much alcohol in his system.

Inside Barney’s Chowder House people filled nearly every booth and table—the norm on a warm June night—but they managed to snag an empty table and took a seat.

Deciding his friend couldn’t be feeling nauseous if he wanted food, Jackson assumed Josh was looking a little miserable for an entirely different reason. “You know, if you’re seriously having doubts about getting married, it’s not too late.”

Josh gave him a crooked smile. “Sure it is.”

“No. It’s not too late until the vows are said.” Jackson leaned across the table, wishing the two of them didn’t need to have this conversation, but he’d be damned if he didn’t make sure that getting married was what Josh really wanted. “If you want to run, I’ll drive us to Mexico tonight. Just say the word.”

“Mexico?” Josh lifted an eyebrow.

“Or wherever.” Not like he had anywhere else to be. He ignored the ache in his gut that followed the mental reminder.

Josh shook his head. “You know I can’t do that. I made a promise to Allie. I always keep my word.”

“Yeah. You always do.” He’d certainly kept his word when he swore he’d find a way to get Jackson back to Promise Harbor one way or another. “
You
are a man of honor.”

“Damn right. I’m a man of honor,” Josh told the waitress who arrived to take their order. “And I’m fucking starving.”

She blinked at him.

“Don’t mind him,” Jackson said, trying not to laugh in front of the teenage girl who probably wanted to be anywhere except serving intoxicated customers. “He’s getting married tomorrow.”

“I am,” Josh added. “To the most wonderful woman in the world.” His expression brightened, then quickly dimmed. He stared at something past Jackson, shaking his head. “Devon?”

Jackson’s head snapped around. “Devon?” He scanned the room, easily picking out Josh’s ex in the crowd—at the booth directly across from them.

“Allie invited her to the wedding.” Josh shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

Jackson knew otherwise. “Jesus Christ.”

Devon stared at Josh, looking surprisingly like she and Josh had both been drinking the same
life sucks
Kool-Aid. “Hi Josh.”

“Devon. Hey.” Between one breath and the next, Josh moved to sit across from her. “How are you?”

She shot Jackson a nervous look before answering. “Good. I’m good. How are you?”

“Good.” A pause. “I’m drunk.”

“Oh. Okay.” She offered up a smile that fell a little short from Jackson’s suddenly-wishing-he-weren’t-so-sober perspective. “I guess that’s allowed the night before your wedding.”

Jackson winced at the direction their conversation might take given Josh’s earlier mood, and it wasn’t going to do his friend a damn bit of good. Still, he tried to ignore their exchange and finished placing their order with their waitress.

By the time she returned with a soda for him and coffee for Josh, the pair had settled into a quiet conversation Jackson couldn’t follow with the rest of Barney’s chatter. Probably for the best. And probably the only reason he happened to be looking toward the front door in time to see Hayley step inside.

She gave the crowded dining room only a cursory glance before making her way to the front counter. A couple on their way out waved at her in passing and she smiled in return.

Jackson searched his memory for that smile, but couldn’t recall much beyond Hayley always slipping from sight, her expression so serious, guarded. The blonde chewing on her bottom lip, one hand tucked in her back pocket, looked far more comfortable in her own skin than the withdrawn, often angry teenager he remembered.

The same one who’d intrigued the hell out of him even back then.

Leaving his friend for a moment, Jackson approached the counter. Within a few feet he noticed the smear of mint-green paint on her cheek and the wild tendrils of hair that had escaped the clip she used to pull the blonde mass back from her face.

She’d exchanged her pants and black shirt for a pair of faded jeans with a rip in one knee and paint-stained T-shirt. Any woman he’d spent time with would never have left the house without taking at least twenty minutes in the bathroom, let alone wearing painting clothes. Although besides his mother, he couldn’t think of another woman he knew who would be painting anything more than her nails.

It took a few seconds to realize that Hayley seemed to be looking everywhere in the room except at him. Just his imagination?

He edged a little closer, enough that anyone would have sensed a subtle invasion of personal space. She didn’t so much as glance in his direction. Definitely avoiding him. Interesting.

“Hi.”

Hayley took just long enough to look his way to confirm his suspicion that she’d known he was there all along. A polite nod and smile were all she spared him before flagging down a passing waitress to ask about her takeout order.

“Don’t you guys usually favor doughnut places?”

“You watch too many cop shows.”

“It’ll be just another few minutes, Hayley.” A different waitress emerged from the kitchen with a tray loaded with hickory burgers and fries.

Jackson’s stomach growled in protest as the tray went in the opposite direction of his and Josh’s table.

“No problem. Thanks, Pam.” Hayley’s smile faded when she noticed he hadn’t returned to his table.

“So people do call you by your first name.”

She picked at a blotch of dried paint on her thigh. “Some of them have even been doing it since I was born.”

He grinned at her sarcasm. “Does that mean I get to call you Hayley too, seeing as we’ve known each other since grade school?”

“You’ve known my brother since grade school,” she corrected.

“So what should I call you?”

She leveled those sharp eyes on him, and he fought the urge not to squirm for some reason. “How about Detective?”

A man in his late forties, wearing an apron covered in what Jackson would have bet was Barney’s famed hickory sauce, emerged from the kitchen with a paper bag in hand. “Here you go, Hayley.”

“Thanks, Roger.” She dug into her pocket, but the guy just waved her off.

“That’s for the one you didn’t get to finish a couple weeks back after that car chase.”

Hayley glanced at the door as if gauging how quickly she could make her escape. It was the first expression she’d made that he recognized.

Jackson slid two feet to the right, putting himself in her path. “Car chase?”

“Some lunatic three counties over robbed a 7-Eleven. Hayley ran him off the road, then tackled the bastard when he tried to get away on foot.”

Giving Jackson a wide berth, Hayley nodded at the cook. “Night, Roger.”

Jackson stayed on her heels. “So you’re some kind of hero, huh?”

She shook her head. “Hardly.”

“Ran a guy down and tackled him? I’m impressed.”

Her eyes searched his like she wasn’t sure if he meant that or not. “Don’t be. I’ve seen eighty-year-old women lining up for early-bird bingo move faster than that moron.”

Jackson reached the door first, but didn’t push the glass open. “You never said when I could make things up to you.”

“Are we still talking about the truck thing? That’s not necessary. Just water under the bridge, right?” She inclined her head toward his arm. “Are you actually going to open the door or are you waiting for a ref to blow a whistle first?”

Jackson laughed, but still didn’t open the door. The pleasant buzz of alcohol hummed through his veins, the effect magnified by an incredibly attractive woman with pretty gray eyes, standing close enough to touch.

He lifted a hand to touch the dried paint smear on her cheek, but thought better of it at the last second. “You might want to wash that off.”

A flare of color washed across her cheeks, but she angled her body away from him before he could be sure if he’d just made her blush. “There’s a stiff penalty around here for blocking.”

“Gonna cuff me, Detective?” he teased.

A small smile finally caught the corner of her lips. “I’d try not to sound so excited, Mr. Knight. People might get the wrong impression about you.”

Mr. Knight? Jackson opened his mouth, but the sound of her cell phone ringing cut him off.

She pushed the door open and slipped into the night with only a warning. “Try to stay out of trouble.”

“We’ve got another one.”

Hayley’s hand tightened around her cell phone, grateful for the distraction from her second run-in with Jackson Knight. She still couldn’t decide if it was worse that he didn’t remember her or that he’d confused her with a perky, big-boobed cheerleader he’d thrown up all over.

“Hayley?” her partner prompted.

“Yeah, I’m here.” She crossed the crowded parking lot, barely resisting the urge to stick her hand in the bag to score a few fries.

“Can you follow up with a witness from last night’s robbery? His shift ends in less than an hour and my wife will have my ass if I miss drinks with the in-laws on their last night in town.”

Ignoring the tired aches in her back and shoulders, she slid behind the wheel of her truck. Dreams of a long soak in the tub after a twelve-hour shift and four hours of painting evaporated faster than the steam rising out of the bag in her hand. “That’s two Saturday mornings of hockey drills you owe me.”

“Thanks, Hayls. I’ll email you the details.”

The wait gave her just long enough to search Barney’s windows and see if she could pick Jackson out in the crowd. He had to be sitting just out of her line of sight, she decided a few seconds later. Just as well. Judging by her quickened pulse and ridiculously fluttery stomach, the years since high school hadn’t completely dimmed a foolish crush on her brother’s best friend.

Her phone beeped to signal a new message less than a minute after her partner hung up, dragging her thoughts firmly away from Jackson and his determination to make up for not remembering her.

The latest robbery brought the number of incidents to five in the last three weeks, all involving wealthy tourists with reported losses totaling nearly nine thousand dollars, and they still didn’t have a single suspect. Their captain was already feeling pressure from the mayor’s office to make an arrest before the robberies affected their small town’s thriving tourist industry.