Searching for Always by Jennifer Probst
"Sure." He never released her from his stare. "I ran out of IPA. In my house, that's cause for a full temper tantrum."
Luther frowned. "What's IPA? Some kind of file code?"
"It's beer. Good beer."
Luther looked just as disappointed in him as his instructor did, and damned if he didn't feel even better at the dual reactions. Yeah, he was twisted.
Her lips tightened, but she never let the obvious annoyance seep into her tone. "I'm thrilled this session helped, Officer Petty." She emphasized his title so subtly it was like a graceful sweep behind the knees. Quiet but deadly. "I'm looking forward to hearing more on your lightbulb moments in the future. For now, that's it, gentlemen. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."
She rolled to her feet in one graceful motion, turned her back, and began gathering her things.
Stone gritted his teeth and stood, refusing to show he felt stiff and achy. The bastards next to him seemed fine. Maybe they had kids they sat on the floor with regularly. He needed to get a nephew or a niece or something.
He watched her hurry out the door, enjoying the swing of her tight rear. Her license said five eight, but he pegged her as being a bit taller. Those legs could wrap tight around a man's hips and squeeze so hard he'd probably pass out in pleasure. Of course, once her mouth opened he'd be resuscitated and dragged into hell.
Too bad.
Maybe he'd shoot some pool with Devine tonight. If he was gonna be suspended, he sure as hell wasn't staying at home, bored out of his mind. Since he couldn't have a smoke, he'd stop at Dunkin' on the way and get his favorite chocolate Munchkins. He'd bring some for the guys at the station and see if he could sniff out a good crime someone needed help on. Like who purposefully mixed the recyclables up with the trash.
Stone headed out.
"POPPY, WHAT ARE YOU doing here?"
The bungalow was filled with the scents of onion, grease, and comfort. She laughed at the doggy attack of squirming fur and crazy tongues, then dropped to the floor in surrender while she hugged her fur babies. The stress of the day eased from her shoulders. Dorothy was so right. There was nothing quite like home.
Her grandfather walked over, spatula in hand, and shook his head. "You got your hands full with these monkeys, honey," he said. "Decided to walk them and surprise you with dinner. Unfortunately, I think Mike got hungry early and raided the kitchen. The garbage was torn up and scattered everywhere."
Arilyn groaned. "I thought I locked it up! I was running late and forgot. I need to get one of those big cans with the lid. Hey, how'd you know it was Mike?"
"Because Lenny was already chewing on your sneaker."
Great. She always shut the closet, but Lenny had become smart enough to use his paw to drag it open to find the treasure. Damn, she'd loved those new Skechers. She wagged her finger at both puppies. "You two are in big trouble. No Frosty Paws ice cream tonight."
Lenny scampered up her legs and licked her ear in a sloppy apology. She giggled and scooped him back to the floor. "Sorry you had to clean up, Poppy." She rose to her feet and gave him a hug. The familiar scents of Irish Spring soap and Old Spice surrounded her. After her parents passed, Poppy had become her rock. The only stability left in her life, he gave her structure, shelter, and love. He made her laugh with his wild streak, penchant for fun and gambling, and advice to live large or go home trying. So like her mother, until cancer had eaten everything decent and good within and spat it back out.
He was dressed in his usual uniform of brown pants, white shirt, and sturdy leather shoes polished to perfection. The black tattoos of the memories of his fallen comrades in Vietnam climbed down each arm. A cross and a name. Eight of them. She used to sit in his lap and study the tats for hours, fascinated by the detail and boldness. Though painful for him, he used to tell the story of the war to keep the memory alive. So no military member or person fighting for his or her country would ever be forgotten again.
He lived in a cozy brick house filled with interesting antiques, old movie posters, and an attic bursting with trunks full of old clothes and photos. She'd get lost up there for hours when she needed a connection with her parents, poring over her family heritage ripped away from her too soon. Poppy was tough and smart. He aged with a grizzly endurance that taught her to appreciate life in all forms and stages, good and bad, old and new, giving her hope that each morning would bring a surprise. He'd owned a small auto repair station for years, content to spend his days under the hood, where the memories of war and what he'd left behind faded under the turn of a greasy wrench. He'd taught her a bit about cars and how to take care of herself. Arilyn used a lot of his techniques and turned it toward computers. In some ways, mechanics were the same: there was a larger picture where everything finally fit. The journey was half the fun.
He'd been a handsome man, with piercing green eyes and a full head of silver hair that competed with thirty-year-olds'. Sure, his face reflected a map of deep wrinkles, his teeth were no longer his own, and his hands had been gnarled by a touch of arthritis, but Poppy was still her rock.
When they diagnosed him with type 2 diabetes, she realized he couldn't be alone any longer. He needed to be monitored, and living two hours away wouldn't work. He was the one who agreed to give up his house and move closer to her. The Best Friends Center in Verily was the perfect fit. The center boasted a lively crowd, with bus trips, group activities, and a certain amount of independence. Besides spending more time with him, he'd be able to keep up his social calendar.
Unfortunately, he was having a hard time fitting in.
"Hey, it's Tuesday night. Why aren't you at bingo?"
Those bright green eyes shimmered with outrage. "They won't let us gamble. Tried to get a pool going, and Elmer Fudd ratted me out. What good is a game if you can't bet money?"
"Who's Elmer Fudd?"
"You know that fat guy with the bald head and pudgy cheeks? I always think he's gonna tell me he's been hunting wabbits."
Arilyn pressed her lips together. "It's not nice to call people fat, Poppy."
"Everything's so PC nowadays."
"How about trying to concentrate on the thrill of winning without money?"
"Boring. Bingo is lame anyway. Hey, is there a way to hook up an iPod in my room? If I have to listen to Dean Martin or Frank Sinatra play on the speakers for one more minute, I'm gonna puke."
This time she did laugh. "I can't trust you with an iPod. We've already gone through three cell phones before I cut you off."
He shot her an innocent look. "How was I supposed to know the HOTGIRLS party line cost a dollar a minute?"
"You're incorrigible. What are we having?"
"I made a stew. Potatoes, onions, and the veggies you love. Mine has meat, yours doesn't."
"Hmm, smells delicious." She lifted the Crock-Pot lid and took a sniff. "Did you go to the organic butcher shop for the meat? They're grass fed and use humane techniques with their animals."
"Yes, honey. But I think if you took half the amount of effort to find men as you do food, you'd be married already." The touch of sympathy on his face made her squirm. She'd done a complete turnaround of her life after her mother died. Death suddenly became real, and Arilyn decided not to become a drain on the world with a large carbon print and nothing to show. Dedicating herself to finding true inner peace and quality health, she sought a path her Poppy never understood but had learned to accept. He didn't know about her latest breakup with her lover, because he'd never met him or heard her speak of him. No wonder he was worried. Probably thought she hadn't dated in years.
She shook off the thought and spotted the bottle. "Poppy, alcohol isn't good for you." She pointed to the Guinness on the counter, but he waved her off.
"Beer is. Just heard it on the news. Something about the fermentation or wheat. Just one, A. I had a hard day."
Her heart softened. He was so full of life. The idea of not having him around for another twenty years terrified her, so she always tried to balance her motheri
Arilyn began setting the table. "I had a bad day, too," she confided. "Started an anger management course."
"Another job? Can you handle all this?" Poppy spooned out the stew into two bowls and settled at the counter. "What about Kinnections?"
"My shifts are flexible. I usually enjoy running these classes, but there's a cop in my class who's a bit challenging."
"You mean he's a jerk?"
She nodded. "Yeah, he's a jerk. He's so arrogant! And he has this sneer-smirk thing he probably thinks is sexy, but it's really annoying."
"You'll keep him in line. After all, he's in the class for instruction on managing his temper, right? By the time you get done with him, he'll be a changed man."
His confidence in her abilities soothed her nerves. She picked up the spoon and took a bite. Heaven. Her family had pure Irish roots and besides making a mean soda bread, Poppy was great at stews, soups, and his famous corned beef and cabbage. He'd almost cried when she became vegetarian. "Yeah, I guess."
"I know. Cops are a funny bunch. I respect the hell out of them, but their job makes them a bit hard-core. Imagine the type of circumstances they run into on a daily basis. Would probably piss me off, too."
She fell quiet, thinking over her grandfather's words. He was right. Stone had his own issues to work out. He may be difficult to deal with, but if she was able to help him perform his job in a more peaceful manner, it would be worth it. He may mock her, but she believed in the tactics she taught. She'd just have to prove it.
"Thanks, Poppy."
"Welcome, sweetie. I'll walk the dogs for you until you finish up class. No need to rush home when I can help out."
She held her tongue, knowing he needed to be busy just as much as she did. "That would be wonderful."
"Good. Now finish your stew and tomorrow give that cop a little hell."
Lenny and Mike howled in agreement, or maybe it was because they smelled meat in a house that never had any.
Arilyn laughed and listened to her grandfather.
five
WHEN SHE WOKE up, Arilyn swore to have a better attitude.
It lasted all the way up till the moment Stone Petty strolled into her class.
He was late. A full fifteen minutes. The worst part? He strolled into the firehouse with a lazy grace that confirmed he didn't give a crap. Luther and Eli glared at him. Dammit, arriving late to her class set the wrong tone. A large coffee cradled in his big hands, he shoved some sort of greasy biscuit with bacon hanging from it into his mouth, rubbing his hands down the front of his jeans. Today he wore a Jets T-shirt, a battered ball cap from Key West, and sneakers with a tiny hole in the big toe. His five-o'clock shadow only added to the dark menace of his goatee, and he nodded to the other men before plopping into a chair.
"Whassup?" he grunted, crumpling the wrapper into the brown bag, and shooting it across the room at the wastebasket in the corner. He made the shot and gave a half grin of male pride before sliding his gaze back to her.
Oh, she was going to kill him.
He was a heathen with no manners. Her nose crinkled with disgust. How on earth did his body look in decent shape? His diet probably consisted of crap. And he may have tried to hide his discomfort during their time in a seated position, but she knew he had difficulty keeping still and pain-free.
Wait till she finished with him today.
"Officer, perhaps you'd like to explain why you're late?"
He glanced around as if surprised that anyone cared. "Had to stop at the station first."
"I see." She dropped her voice to arctic chill mode and narrowed her gaze. "I'm sure your superior informed you that you must sign in to these classes at the appropriate time. Being late disturbs the class and disrespects all of us."
"Yeah, well, I'm sure solving a crime trumps being late."
Her brow lifted. "Remind me again, Officer: Are you currently on suspension?"
Gotcha.
He jerked in his seat, and anger flickered over his features. Those inky eyes slammed her with male irritation. "For two weeks only. How did you know about that?"
"So, solving crimes on suspension would be against the rules, wouldn't it?"
He refused to surrender. Just stretched out his legs like a relaxed predator and sipped from his coffee. "How would you feel if I stepped back and watched a theft happen 'cause I'm on vacay? Is that a great use of the taxpayers' money? 'Cause it seems you've always been concerned with how I spend my day."
She remembered their very first conversation in the summer, when she accused him of being a liability on the taxpayers. Hmm, still sore about that, huh? She tried not to crow in glee. "Oh, I apologize, you were helping with an arrest? Maybe I'll call and thank your boss. Explain to him in this particular case it's fine to be late."
His jaw clenched. She refused to let her gaze waver, knowing if she backed down here, it would be all over. Stone Petty would eat her alive and then ask what was for dessert. "I had to consult on a case," he finally ground out. Waves of heat and crankiness swarmed from his aura. He paused, and his next words seemed strangled, as if he was forcing them out. "I apologize."
She treated him to a brilliant smile, mostly fake. "Apology accepted. Please don't let it happen again. Oh, and you'll need to stay additional time after class. The rules, of course. Each minute must be accounted for. Now, let's start the subject of the day, shall we?"
Eli and Luther looked satisfied by his punishment, and she was back in control.
For now.
She ignored the shiver that raced down her spine and concentrated on her class.
STONE PICKED AT HIS thumbnail and wondered what Devine was up to. Maybe he had been chasing a speeder, and when he got to the driver's window, the driver looked off. Maybe Devine asked him to get out of the car, and the driver refused, and his partner got to slam him up against the hood, cuff him, and do a vehicle search. Maybe he found something incriminating like a weapon or drugs. He'd get a medal and Chief Dick would boast about him in the department, and the whole time Stone was stuck here in anger management class learning how to eat well to decrease anger and stress.
Bastard.
"Officer Petty?"
He looked up from his battered thumb. He was getting sick and tired of her prim and proper tone. His title sounded like a mockery and irritated the hell out of him. "Stone," he reminded her again. "You call that dude Eli and the other dude Luther. How about calling me Stone?"
She smiled again, but it wasn't real and they both knew it. "Achieving the status of a policeman deserves respect. You earned the title and deserve to be called 'Officer.'"
Bullshit. How did she manage to get away with such behavior? She wrapped up insults in phony attempts to be nice. Of course, she'd backed him into a wall on that one. Who would've thought his being a bit late and eating fast food could make her so damn snarky?
Stone smothered a humorless laugh. At least temper made her more real. If he had to hear one sugarcoated statement about avoiding bad foods, soda, alcohol, cigs, and anything else fun in life, he was gonna seriously fake some kind of illness. Maybe food poisoning from his bacon biscuit. Yeah, that was good. Was she calling him again?
"Yeah?"
"Luther and Eli have shared some of their concerns with their diets. Do you have any?"
He began to roll his eyes but caught himself just in time. He didn't want to have to stay any later in psycho zen detention. "Nope."
She was sitting cross-legged again on the mat. Head rising high above her slender shoulders. Red-gold hair caught in a thick braid that hung down her back. Long, graceful limbs tangled up in a dance of grace and balance he'd never really seen in another woman. Too bad she was so dull and boring. "Wonderful. Why don't you take us through typical meals during a workday?"
Why weren't Luther and Eli normal dude
"Turkey bacon?" she asked.
He snorted. "Hell, no. Nothing wrong with eating pig. That's why God put 'em on earth for us. To eat."
She literally paled. Stone's mood picked up. Yep, she was a vegetarian all right. Too funny. He warmed up to his topic. "I go to work, and have a midmorning snack of Cheetos or Oreos. Then for lunch I usually swing by Micky D's or Arby's, depending on my mood. Wash it down with a Big Gulp soda. Then, for my midafternoon snack, I hit the vending machine. Dinner is pretty healthy."
She swallowed. "Chicken?"
He scratched his head. "Sometimes. Kentucky does a good job of it. Sometimes steak, nice and rare and bloody. A few IPAs and maybe a shot of Irish whiskey later on. Oh, I eat veggies, too. Like you've been saying, they're important for balance and stuff. I like corn."
"Of course you do." A fine sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead. He tamped down on a laugh. Damn, she was a do-gooder. Wanted everyone to eat from the earth, probably, and die of starvation and boredom. She cleared her throat. "Umm, do you feel any of these habits need to change after our session? Luther wants to try drinking more water. Eli would like to stop snacking in the evening. What would you like to change?"
Stone pretended to think. "Well, I did quit smoking, so that was a big change."
"Yes, a wonderful decision we all applaud."
"I'd say I'd like to change my choices with fast food." She looked so relieved and happy, he almost felt bad for her. Almost. Her smile seemed much closer to real. His gut clenched. Funny, he had an urge to make her do it again. For him. Her eyes sparkled, and her lips relaxed, and that amazing energy shimmered around her, setting off something deep inside.
Whatever. He was probably hungry again.
"I'm thrilled you want to make those changes. Gentlemen, let's break for lunch and try to use some of our newfound knowledge. Again, the power of our choices affects all aspects in our life. Even anger."
Luther and Eli agreed with way too much eagerness, but Stone was already leaping from the chair and to the door. One hour of freedom. He'd pop back into the station and see what was up. It was also time to get the bastards back for the poop in his trunk incident. Devine had identified the two main culprits--McCoy and Make It Work Dunn. He'd keep this round simple and classic.