Seeing Red (15 page)

J
oe skipped his run that morning and made a stop at McDonald’s for breakfast on his way to work, making his fall off the diet wagon complete. It was going to be a hell of a day, facing the implications of their new evidence on the Creative Interiors fires, and he needed all the fortification he could get.

He parked and headed toward his office, not happy to see his light on, which meant someone was already waiting for him.

Indeed, Cindy sat perched on his desk in a light blue suit snug to her curves, eyeing a box in the corner that hadn’t been there the night before.

“Hi,” she said happily, as if she hadn’t tearfully dumped him in a restaurant two weeks ago.

“Hi,” he said, playing along. He pointed to the box. “What’s that?”

“Don’t know. Kenny just said to make sure it didn’t go anywhere, that he’d explain it to you later.” Cutting him off before he could escape behind his desk, she moved close to take his hand and press it against her heart. “Did you miss me?” she asked softly.

He opened his mouth but she put a finger against it. “Wait.” She shot him a little smile. “I should go first.” She drew a slow breath. “There’s no smooth way to say this so I’m just going to spit it out. I shouldn’t have let you go, Joe.” She arched a little, making sure to press all her good parts, of which there were many, against him. “I missed you.”

He waited for the usual zap of arousal to sing through his body, but nothing happened. He looked at her and felt warmth and affection for the time they’d spent together, but no heat. “Cindy—”

“Mm-hmm?” She slipped her arms around him, glided them up his back, and then down to cup his ass. “Let’s go to my place.”

Reaching back, he took her hands in his, brought them between their bodies.

“Uh oh.” Smile fading, she pushed back so they weren’t touching. “What’s going on?”

“We stopped seeing each other, remember?”

“Oh, that. Just a little tiff really.”

“Cindy. We both know my work isn’t conducive to a relationship—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we can work through that.”

“You didn’t think so when you left me over that very thing.”

She studied him closely. “Is there someone else already?”

That it was even possible shook him deep, but there was. Beautiful, lazy-smiling, easygoing, come-what-may, churn-him-up Summer. “This is about you and me,” he said.

“You enjoyed what we had. I know you did.”

“I did,” he agreed. “But—”

“I really hate buts, Joe.”

“I’m sorry, because this is a big one. You asked if I missed you. It’s easier to tell you what I didn’t miss. I didn’t miss worrying about disappointing you, or stressing over how mad my work made you—”

“You…didn’t miss me,” she said, shocked, making him wince. “Wow.” She seemed bowled over by this, and backed away to think. “I pictured you so miserable. I even waited an extra few days to dig that misery deep.” She sank back to his desk. “I can’t believe it. You didn’t miss me.
Me.
”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.” She stood up again. “But that’s my problem, right? I mean I took the risk of leaving you. I actually thought I’d get a diamond ring out of it.”

He felt himself pale, and she let out a mirthless laugh. “Don’t worry, Joe. I think I get it now.” She looked him over from head to toe, put her hand to her heart and gave one little fluttering sigh. “If only you weren’t so damn gorgeous.” She sighed. “But so am I. I’ll recover.”

“Yeah, you will.” He hugged her when she leaned in, then watched her go, thinking he must be insane, because being with her had been a piece of cake compared to being with Summer.

Too bad he’d never taken the easy route in his life.

He blinked, then backed to his chair and fell into it, because he’d just realized where this thought process had taken him. He’d told Summer they were going to be just friends, that that’s all he wanted, and he’d lied through his teeth. He wanted more. He wanted it all. If that didn’t make him the biggest fool alive, he had no idea what did.

Kenny poked his head in. “Cindy cut you loose again?”

Still stunned by the revelation, Joe stared at him. “Huh?”

“Did Cindy—”

“Woof.”

At the unmistakable sound of a puppy’s bark, Joe nearly had a coronary. He rushed past Kenny and looked inside the box. Inside was a downy soft blanket and a dark muddy-colored spot.

A muddy-colored spot that wriggled, whimpered, and then barked again. “
A puppy?
What’s a puppy doing here?” It looked like a chocolate lab, complete with melting eyes and a pink tongue lolling out of its mouth as it sleepily contemplated Joe.

“She’s our new arson partner,” Kenny said. “Do you like her?”

“If she’s yours, I like her a lot.”

“Yeah, about that.” Kenny pasted an apologetic look on his face. “She was going to be mine, but then my landlord said no dogs.”

“You live in your own house.”

“I’m awfully strict.”

The puppy began to try to crawl out of the box. She fell on her back twice, crying in frustration, shooting Joe those dark, dark puppy eyes. Caving like a cheap suitcase, he scooped her up, and immediately got a face licking from chin to forehead.

“Look, they were giving away puppies at the pound yesterday,” Kenny said. “I drove by as they were cleaning up. She was the last one left. I mean look at her, I couldn’t just leave her, right?”

“You should never have stopped.”

“I know. But she’ll make a great arson dog, don’t you think? Check out that nose.”

As if on cue, the puppy wriggled her nose, and then set her head down on Joe’s chest, panting happily.

“She’s got your name all over her,” Kenny said hopefully.

Although she couldn’t have been more than a few pounds, she felt like the weight of the world. She was a responsibility, a huge one, and he was a man who couldn’t see himself making it work. “I don’t need a dog,” Joe said, and stroked her soft fur.

“Look her in the eyes and tell her that.”

Joe stared down at the puppy, then back at his partner. “Don’t do this. Why are you doing this?”

“She ate everything that wasn’t tied down last night, man. I thought I was ready for a dog but she’s crazy.”

“Take her back.”

They both looked at the puppy, who cocked her head at them and whined softly.

“I can’t do it, man,” Kenny said miserably. “I thought I could but…you take her.”

“No.”

“Come on. Would it be so bad to have a real attachment? An emotional connection?”

“You know what? Don’t even start.” He’d had a hell of an emotional attachment just two nights ago, and yet it wouldn’t be
him
that put a halt to things, but Red’s own issues with a so-called commitment. “I live on a sailboat. How do you walk a puppy on a sailboat?”

“Very carefully.”

“This isn’t funny. Take her back.”

“Ooops,” Kenny said, picking up his pager, reading the display. “Gotta go.”

“Don’t you even think about—
Kenny!
”

But it was too late, he was gone.

Joe swore colorfully but that didn’t change a thing. He was still alone with the puppy. “Great. Well, I have to go, too,” Joe said. To no one. To the puppy. He set the thing down in the box and headed to the door, stopping at the sound of a long, pathetic whine. “You can’t just come with me.”

She tilted her head. Her ear hit her in the face and she sneezed.

“Okay, you’re cute. I’ll give you that. But you still can’t come.”

She let out another heartbreaking whine.

“Ah hell.” He moved back to her and picked her up. “You plan on being good, right?”

She licked him again, and he sighed into her happy little face because as he knew all too well, even the best laid plans got screwed up.

The next morning Summer took a few customers on a kayak trip, and was shocked when they booked her again for some of their friends. She set up a calendar to keep track of her trips, then worked on the insurance paperwork for her mother, a chore that seemed never ending. At the end of the day, she went for a run to ease her stress.

She took the streets instead of the beach, telling herself she wanted a change of pace, but when she found herself standing in front of the three-day-old burned-out shell of Creative Interiors II, she knew she’d meant to come here. She wanted to see it for herself in the light of day.

There was yellow tape wrapped around the building, warning people to stay out.
Caution.

It seemed to Summer that her entire life had a yellow tape around it.

Caution—don’t run so far that you forget where you came from.

Caution—don’t turn your back on the people that matter. It’s not easy to find them again.

Caution—don’t try to get back to the last place where things made sense. You’ll only find yourself more lost.

She ducked beneath the tape and saw the fire vehicle parked in the lot.
Joe’s.
She moved up the three front steps and peered inside. The front had been boarded up but someone had removed the barrier and let themselves in. She did the same.

The destruction was both shocking and numbing. The walls were black, the windows broken, the furniture unrecognizable as anything other than drenched, charred rubble. It smelled horribly acrid, and at her first whiff, she was assaulted with the memories of being surrounded by fire. Like a one-two fist to the belly they hit her, and she doubled over.

Joe popped his head out of one of the alcoves and saw her clutching her stomach. “Christ,” he said, and rushed toward her.

“I was just in the neighborhood…” She tried a smile but it was difficult with the breath backing up in her throat, and finally she gave up. “Oh, damn,” she whispered, and sank to her knees in the wet muck. “These damn spots in front of my eyes are getting really annoying.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” He wore coveralls, gloves, and boots, and was streaked with dirt from head to toe. He tore off his gloves, threw them aside, and crouched besides her. Tugging on her ponytail, he tilted her head up. “You’re pale.”

She looked into his face, sooty and streaked with sweat, and found there was nothing else in the world she’d rather be looking at. “I am not going to throw up.” She had no idea if she was trying to convince him, or herself.

“Are the spots still dancing?” He shifted his face even closer as if he could see them himself.

“No.”

He relaxed slightly but remained close enough that she could have counted the gold flecks swimming in his whiskey-colored eyes, or each individual thick eyelash. She could see the inch-long scar above his eyebrow, which she knew was courtesy of taking a flying leap out of his father’s hands and into their TV set. He had other scars, too, and each of them had broken her heart.

Just, as she suspected, she’d once broken his.

She wanted to make that up to him, wanted him to smile at her, feel the warmth and affection he’d once had for her. God, she needed that from him. “It’s…not as bad in here as I thought.”

“Well, the bathroom’s gone. That’s where the fire started. But this room…” He looked around. “It’s actually salvageable. The back is trashed though, needs new flooring, paint, and there’s a lot of water damage—” He took a look at her face and broke off. “And you don’t need to hear this right now, I’m sorry. Why are you here, Red?”

“I told you, I was just in the neighborhood—”

“Truth.”

Because I’m lost. Floundering. My foundation’s slipped.

He didn’t rush to fill in her silence, but waited her out. Silence had never bothered him the way it had her. “I wanted to tell you another secret,” she said.

“Do I have to tell you one first?” he asked cautiously.

Such a guy. “No, this is a freebie. I told you I came back to Ocean Beach for my mom. Remember?”

“Yes.”

“And I really thought that was it, but now I don’t think that’s the whole truth.” She looked around. The soot and water were pervasive and depressing. “I came for me too. I needed to connect. Emotionally.”

He stared at her. “Have you been talking to Kenny?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Go on.”

“That’s all I’ve got.” She shrugged. “Only there’s a problem. When it comes to actually executing the emotional connections I think I want, I keep screwing up. I’m pretty sure I’m doing it on purpose.”

“Maybe you’re not ready.”

“Maybe.” She shot him a smile. “I guess I’d kind of hoped you’d say that I haven’t screwed anything up at all, especially between us.”

“You haven’t. But you have to see that yourself.”

“So we’re really okay?” She looked at him, so big and tough and brutally honest, and had to ask. “We’re really going to be friends again?”

He nodded, and that more than anything made her feel better. He was so strong, so sure of himself. She wanted to ask him how he’d gotten to this point. She wanted to know the path he’d taken, and what he’d done to become so comfortable with who he was, but before she could ask any of that, a small bundle of fur bounded toward them.

“Woof.”

The bark belonged to the sweetest chocolate lab puppy Summer had ever seen. It launched itself at Joe, who caught it in midair.

“I told you to stay,” Joe said sternly, but sighed when the puppy licked his chin. “We’re going to have to work on that,” he muttered.

“She’s yours?” Summer opened her arms and the puppy jumped into them.

“A misbehaving little tyrant is what she is. She’s already eaten two files in the truck, and chewed through a bag of evidence. Not to mention she has no manners and can’t sit or stay to save her life.”

“You sound like a dad.”

“Bite your tongue.”

“Oh, Joe. Not all dads are bad.”

He looked away. “I know that.”

He broke her heart. He always had. But he’d no more welcome her sympathy now than he ever had. She stroked the puppy. “She can’t be more than twelve weeks old. Telling her to sit or stay means nothing to her. And she’s probably teething—Ouch!” She pulled her hand free—now sporting teeth marks—and laughed at the puppy’s startled expression.

“I have matching marks all over me,” Joe said, but reached out to pet the dog’s head.