Accidentally in Love (5 page)

“Safe to assume that wasn’t the result you were looking for?”

There was about half a second when he wished he’d kept his mouth shut; then she made a low, mocking sound deep in her throat as she pushed to her feet.

“Jeez, two funnies in one night,” she muttered, swiping her forearms awkwardly across her butt. “Careful or you might pull something.”

There it was again: that weird sensation in his gut, only this time it was more than just a sensation. It was hotter, stronger, like some kind of internal combustion. It was strange enough to have it happen once, but this was the second time in one night, and both times had been because of her. If it had been any other woman, it would have been obvious what his gut was trying to tell him, only this wasn’t any other woman. It was Ellie.

The two of them had been forced into the same circle of friends because of their connections to Jayne and Nick, but never once in all that time—not at any of the gatherings they’d all been at, not during any of the times he’d ticketed her, and never once during his investigation of the hit-and-run—had he ever felt anything like what had hit him tonight. So what the hell?

Maybe Nick was right; maybe it was gas.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t…he wouldn’t…just leave her there in the rain.

“Come on.” He stood the bike up and started for the bed of his truck.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Gripping the edge of the seat, Ellie pulled the bike back a little.

“Putting it in the truck.” He tugged it forward.

“What for?” She tugged it back.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said slowly, his voice even against the sarcasm. “Do you not understand how a bike’s gear assembly works?”

“Yes, smart-ass, I know how it works.” She didn’t ease her grip on the seat one little bit, and neither did he.

“Okay,” he said, drawing the word out. “Then I don’t understand your question. How else do you plan on getting it home?”

“I’ll walk it.” When she tried to tug it again, Brett held tight.

Rain trickled down the back of his neck and under the collar of his jacket, sliding slowly between his shoulder blades until he shuddered. Why the hell was he standing here arguing with her? If she wanted to be that stubborn, she deserved to walk the damn bike home in the rain. He almost said as much, too, but of course he didn’t. He couldn’t. It was a safety issue.

Yeah. That was it. Safety first.

“Come on, Ellie, it’s getting dark and you don’t have a single reflective strip on this bike.” With a final jerking tug, he pulled the bike out of her grasp, lifted it into the bed of his truck, then reached around her to open the passenger door. “Just get in.”

He was already behind the wheel with his buckle latched before she finally huffed out a defeated breath.

“Do you have a towel or something I can sit on?” She waved her hands down the length of herself, as though he hadn’t already noticed the mud splatters or how her soaked T-shirt clung to her. Judging by the way she was suddenly trying to pull it away from her skin, she knew he noticed, too.

“Don’t worry about it,” he finally managed, shifting Jayne’s container of leftovers closer to him. “Seats are leather—they’ll wipe right up.”

It took her a while to get in and close the door because she was trying so hard not to touch anything with her greasy hands, and after watching her fight to grip the seat belt with her pinkie finger, he finally reached over, pulled it across her body, and snapped it into place himself. Goose bumps riddled both her bare forearms, so before putting the truck in gear, he turned the heat up a little and flipped on her seat warmer.

“Not exactly the best time of year to be without a jacket,” he said.

“Yeah, well, things went a little sideways before I left, and I forgot it.” Not a breath of malice, just low and even, with maybe a hint of laughter when she added, “Too bad, though, ’cause it had reflective strips all over it.”

For the first half kilometer or so, he waited for her to light into him about how, if it hadn’t been for him, she would have been home right this second, warm and dry and clean, but seconds ticked by without so much as a whisper. It wasn’t that he wanted her to rip into him, it was just—

“I hope you don’t feel guilty about making me ride my bike in the rain,” she said, snapping her helmet through the strap of her backpack. “I always ride to practices and games—it’s part of my warm-up.”

“That’s, uh, good to know, but I didn’t make you ride your bike, and I don’t feel guilty. You’re the one who drives like a lunatic.”

“I don’t—” She stopped, rubbed the heel of her hand under her nose, and sat back with a resigned sigh. “If it’s not guilt, then why did you stop to help me?”

“Why did I…?” He cast a glance her way, but she’d turned to look out the side window. “Are you serious?”

“You must have had a reason.”

Brett resisted the urge to snort. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, but it might surprise you.”

“Ha. There’s not many things you could say that’ll surprise me.”

“I did it because…” He paused, inhaled slowly, then huffed it out in a whoosh for added effect. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this out loud….Okay, here goes. I did it because, despite what you think, I’m not a complete asshole. Shocking, I know.”

He caught a glimpse of her smile through the reflection in the glass, but by the time she turned to face him again, all that was left was a tiny twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“Touché, Poncherello.”

Was that it? No return jab? He wasn’t complaining, he just wasn’t sure where to go from here, and apparently neither did she. Still, it felt stupid not saying anything, so…

“We can take a crack at getting the chain out when we get to your place, but it’s jammed in there pretty good and we’ll probably bend up your gears.”

“It’s fine; I’ll take it to the bike shop tomorrow and have Tim fix it.”

“Uh-huh.” Brett glanced over at her, waiting for her to work through the logistics of what she’d said. Wasn’t happening. “So, what, you’re just gonna walk it the five clicks between your place and there?”

“No, I’ve got a bike rack on my…” It only took a second before she grunted low in her throat.
“Right.”

Turning onto her street, he took a mental inventory of the vehicles parked on either side of the road. After she’d been hit by that truck last year, Brett couldn’t shake the feeling it had been more than just an everyday hit-and-run. Ordinarily, the suspect driver would be in such a hurry to get away, he’d leave all sorts of evidence behind, but not in this case. Whoever had driven the truck had made damn good and sure he hadn’t left a trace, which made Brett wonder right from the start if she hadn’t been targeted.

When he’d broached the idea with her friends, they couldn’t come up with a single person who might want to hurt Ellie.

“I mean, sure,” Maya had said. “There’ve been a couple times I’ve wanted to clock her a good one myself, but that’s because I made the mistake of asking her opinion on something, and we all know we’re in for some harsh truths when we do that.”

As part of Brett’s investigation, he’d driven down her street at various times of the day and night, both in his patrol car and in his truck, keeping an eye out for any vehicles that seemed out of place or the least bit suspicious, but he’d never found a single vehicle that didn’t have a reason for being there. Tonight was no different.

“Leave the bike with me,” he said. “And I’ll drop it off at Tim’s in the morning.”

Ellie was already shaking her head.

“That’s okay, I’ll ask—” Using the tip of her pinkie finger, she tried to push the button on her seat belt, but it was at a weird angle and she couldn’t get enough pressure from her one finger. “I’ll ask Nick.”

“Sure, okay.” Brett unclicked both their buckles, then got out of the truck and rounded the front to open her door. “I’m sure Nick can make room for it between the ball equipment, sawhorses, and boxed-up fixtures he’s hauling around for the Jacobssens’ house. That toilet alone probably only weighs about a hundred pounds, so it shouldn’t be too much of a pain in the ass to move. And sure, my truck’s empty and I have to drive right by Tim’s to get to work tomorr—”

“Stop!” Ellie cried, her plea laced with a resigned, choked laugh. Rain-soaked, spattered in mud, and with her backpack hanging from her bent elbow, she continued to hold her hands up like she was prepping for surgery. “I get it, okay? You’re right.”

With the bike lifted half out of the truck, Brett froze for a second before turning a disbelieving eye her way. “I’m sorry…I’m
what
?”

“Don’t be an ass.” The tiny gold fleck in her right eye sparkled for a second before she narrowed her gaze at him. “I said you’re right. And…
thank you
. I appreciate your help.”

Brett lowered the bike back down, slumped his hip against the side of the truck, and nodded.

“Whew.” He whistled slowly. “I bet that hurt.”

“You have no idea.” She could roll her eyes all she wanted, he saw the way she chewed the corner of her mouth like she was trying not to smile.

He was pretty sure his own smile almost made it to his face that time, but before it did, the front door of the house opened and out stepped an older, gray-haired Ellie.

“Shiiit,” Ellie muttered, her eyes closed tight for a second. “Thanks for the ride and for dropping my bike off—now go,
run,
save yourself. I’m not kidding.”

Try as she did to hurry into the house, the other woman stood at the top of the steps, partially blocking her way.

“Hello.” Her gaze drifted past Ellie to Brett, then immediately locked back to Ellie. “Good God, what happened to you? Where’s your bike?”

“Nothing, I’m fine. Let’s just go inside.”

“What about your friend? Aren’t you going to invite him in?”

“He’s not…” Ellie’s back straightened, her shoulders heaved under a breath. “He has to go.”

All it took was a click of the older woman’s tongue and Ellie stepped aside so she had a straight view of Brett.

“You’ll have to pardon my daughter’s manners,” she said. “She seems to have left them in her equipment bag.”

“Ma’am.” Brett tugged the cap from his head, bobbed a brief nod, and stepped up onto the porch, his hand extended. “Brett Hale. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Gail Palmer. It’s nice to meet you, too.” Her head tipped a little to the left as she thumbed toward the house. “Would you like to come in for some coffee?”

Ellie didn’t say a word, just stood blinking down at the step she was standing on, her posture as rigid as Brett had ever seen it.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, setting his ball cap back in place. “I, uh, I should get going.”

And just like that, Ellie’s shoulders relaxed. Before she turned for the house, though, she looked at him one last time, and while it’s possible he misread it, he’d have sworn her brown eyes softened a little.

“Thanks again.”

Brett lifted his hand in a short wave and took a couple of steps backward. “Good night, Ellie. Ma’am.”

“ ’Night.” Ellie cleared her throat and headed straight for the house with Gail right behind her, speaking in one of those mom whispers every child, grown or not, hates.

“He’s cute,” Gail said. “Is he your boyf—?”

“No!” Ellie’s voice, on the other hand, carried across the yard just fine. Maybe if Brett had been inside his truck he wouldn’t have heard it, but he’d been standing at the front bumper waiting for them get safely inside.

“And so well-mannered, all that ‘ma’am’ business. It’s almost like he’s military or…” Gail stopped at the door, whipped her head around, and stared at Brett for what couldn’t have been any more than a second or two but felt a hell of a lot longer. “Oh my God, Ellie,
are you dating a cop
?”

“As soon as I get reassigned, I am gone.”

—Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens,
Justified

“Son of a—
ugh
!” Ellie slapped the letter from the Motor Vehicle Branch on the table and took a long sip of her wine. Poncherello must have thought he was
soooo
funny yesterday, telling her that a list of instructors would be included in the letter, yet conveniently neglecting to mention that he was the only one in the area.

“What’s the matter?” Gail’s question hung unanswered as she made her way into the kitchen. “Ellie?”

“Nothing. Want some wine?”

“It’s a little early, isn’t it?”

“Not according to my watch. See? Wine o’clock.” Ellie’s chuckle died in her throat when Gail didn’t so much as crack a smile.

Gail Palmer never drank before six
P.M
. and rarely had more than one glass. Last night, of course, had been an exception to the rule; she’d downed her first glass and half of another before reining herself in.

“I finally got hold of Gabbie. She asked if I wanted her to drive out here, but she’s leaving for Calgary in a few days, so I told her I’d go see her when she gets back next week.” Gail accepted the glass Ellie held out and took a short sip before changing the subject. “How was work?”

“Good. Busy for the middle of the week.” Ellie got the rice cooker going, then opened the fridge and started pulling out what she needed for dinner. “Hope you don’t mind stir-fry.”

“It’s fine…” Gail’s voice trailed off slowly. Then: “What’s…oh, Ellie, for goodness sake. Is this why you walked to work this morning?”

With her reading glasses perched on her nose, Gail skimmed over the letter from the MVB, then looked over the top of her frames at Ellie, who sighed and somehow managed to not roll her eyes. So much for privacy.

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s just—”

“How did this happen? All these points…”

“Apparently I have a bit of a lead foot. It’s nothing, I’ll get it taken care of.”

“Can’t your gentleman friend do something about it?”

“My
gentleman friend
?”

“The one who brought you home.” Gail raised her left eyebrow slightly. “Sergeant Hale.”

“Nice try, Mom. He’s a constable, not a sergeant, and he’s
not
my ‘gentleman friend.’ ” Ellie banged the wok down on the counter and turned to grab the oil. “After everything I’ve lived through with cops, do you really think I’d be stupid enough to get involved with one, especially the one who—”

Gail wasn’t listening because she was too busy rereading Ellie’s mail. “It says here he’s a licensed instructor. That’s good.”

“Not the word I would’ve chosen,” Ellie grumbled. Then her face brightened. “Hey—can you drive a stick shift?”

“Me? Lord, no. Your father tried to teach me when we were first married, but after stalling it at the end of our street half a dozen times, I pulled the emergency brake and walked straight back to the house. Why?”

“Never mind.” Damn; there went the hope that Gail could drive Ellie into the city for her safe driver’s course. She’d found a session starting next week, but it was in Vancouver, a forty-five-minute drive away, and the bus didn’t run often enough between there and Newport Ridge to make it workable.

How was it even possible that there was only one accredited instructor in this town—especially when he could only do it part-time?

With the chicken browning, Ellie tossed around ideas of how she could get into the city every night for two weeks. Maybe she could hit up Jayne, Regan, and Maya on different days so it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience for them. But that still seemed like more than she could reasonably ask.

The doorbell rang just as she dumped the vegetables into the wok.

“I’ll get it.” Gail had the door open before Ellie could toss the pan the first time. “Well. Will you look at that—you speak of the sun, and you feel its rays. Are you here for supper?”

“No, ma’am.” At the sound of his voice, Ellie almost dumped everything on the floor. “Wondering if I could please speak to Ellie for a second.”

“Of course! Come on in, she’s just in the kitchen.” Without waiting for him to answer, Gail headed straight back to the stove, a twisted little grin on her face. “Constable Hale’s here.”

“I heard, thank you.” Ellie started to turn, then had to pause for a second as Jayne’s voice suddenly echoed in her ears.
You can’t deny he looks damn good in that uniform
.

Stop it!

With a quick glare at her mom, who continued to grin, Ellie passed her the spatula and made her way to the living room, where Brett stood, thankfully not in uniform, though still looking damn good in his plain old Levi’s and green T-shirt.

“Hi.” He cleared his throat over the croaked sound and started again. “Uh, hi.”

“No uniform, so I’m guessing that means you’re not here to execute a warrant…”

Whoa—was that a…nope, not a smile. Sure looked like the start of one there for a second, but it must have been a muscle twitch.

“Tim called just as I was getting off shift, so I’ve got your bike. Want me to put it around back?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask why. Why hadn’t Tim just called her, and why was the cop being nice to her? She’d never given him reason to be, and while this wasn’t the first time she’d felt guilty about that, she’d usually been able to brush that guilt away by simply remembering that he was, in fact, a cop.

And cops pissed her off.

This time that annoying guilt refused to be swept away so easily.

With a quick mental shake, she tipped her chin toward the door. “Thanks—I’ll come out and get it.”

“Get it after,” Gail called. “Dinner’s going to be ready in about two seconds.”

Ka-thunk
. Oh no.
Ka-thunk
. She wouldn’t.
Ka-thunk
. She did.

By the way Brett’s eyes widened, he realized what was coming before the third plate hit the table. Gail shushed his protest before he managed to sputter it out.

“Didn’t you say you just got off shift?”

“Yes, ma’am, but—”

“But nothing. You have to eat, and it’s the least we can do, since you went out of your way to help with Ellie’s bike, so grab a seat. Can I get you something to drink with dinner? Let’s see what Ellie has in the house. There’s wine, of course.”

“Not enough,” Ellie muttered as her mom continued to list every beverage she could find.

“Water? Pop? Milk? Wait, what’s in this jug? Is this orange juice? It smells like…oooh, don’t drink that.”

“I’ve got Scotch in the top cabinet,” Ellie whispered to Brett. “If you’re staying, that’s what I’d recommend.”

Brett ducked his head a little, his voice barely loud enough for Ellie to hear. “I didn’t mean…I’ll just go.”

“You can try, but for the rest of your life you’ll be ‘that rude boy who refused to eat with us’ and she’ll spend the next ten years berating me for not insisting you stay.”

“Constable?” Gail looked up from the cutlery drawer, her brow raised in question. “To drink?”

“Uh, milk’s fine, ma’am, thank you.” When Ellie tipped him a look, he lifted his shoulder in a barely-there shrug. “I’m driving.”

Milk. To stop the smile that desperately wanted out, she sucked her lips behind her teeth and forced herself to nod ever so slightly. So he’d picked milk—big deal. It wasn’t
that
cute. Okay, it might have been a little bit cute. Whatever.

“Dig in.” She waved him toward the table, then took a minute to slice up one end of a crusty baguette and set it on the table with a shallow dish of garlic oil mixed with fresh rosemary. When she lifted the wine bottle in silent question at her mom, Gail shook her head over a mouthful of vegetables, and as Ellie went to set the bottle down again, she realized Brett hadn’t so much as raised his fork.

“What’s wrong?” Frowning, she took the chair across from him. “Are you allergic to broccoli or something?”

“No.”

“Oh, jeez, you’re one of those crazy people who puts ketchup on everything, aren’t you? Well, you’re out of luck here, buddy. I don’t even think I have—”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

She waved her glass toward the dishes on the table. “Then eat up before it gets cold.”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded. “After you.”

From the corner of her eye, Ellie saw her mom’s gaze come up, her mouth frozen in mid-chew, before she awkwardly lowered her fork back down beside her plate, chewing slowly, as though she could somehow be inconspicuous while crunching a water chestnut.

Ellie smirked. “Worried I might have laced it with a little arsenic or something?”

His mouth twitched ever so slightly, but whatever he was going to say was drowned out by Gail choking on the rest of her bite. When Ellie was sure her mom was okay, she dished up her dinner, then passed him the serving spoons.

This was way beyond weird and Jayne and the others would die if they saw her sitting there eating with the cop. What with the number of times Jayne and Nick had the whole group of them over for dinner, this wasn’t the first time she’d eaten a meal with him. It was, however, the first time they’d eaten alone and the first time they’d sat across the table from each other. All those other times at Jayne’s, Ellie had made a point of staying as far away from him as possible.

She hadn’t given it so much as a second thought that she would ever be friends with Brett, not even after she found out he was a friend of Nick’s. She’d moved across the country to get away from everything, cops included, so the last thing she wanted to do was make friends with one out here. If he went one way, she’d generally go the other; if he said yes, she said no.

Brett might not have done anything to her directly, but he was still part of the “blue wall,” and Ellie wasn’t even slightly interested in having anything to do with that again. If she could only learn to drive under the speed limit, she’d probably never have to talk to Poncherello again.

Still, he’d gone out of his way for her twice in two days, and now that he was sitting at her kitchen table, no matter how weird it was, she couldn’t just ignore him. Her mother had raised her better than that; she should say something, but what? Everything she could think of sounded stupid and would probably only make the situation even more awkward.

Thank God for her mother.

“Have you lived here long?” Gail asked.

“Just over six years,” he said. “I transferred in from Etobicoke.”

“The airport?” Gail’s eyes widened. “I imagine you were a fair bit busier there than here.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Did you request to be transferred here or were they desperate for warm bodies and you happened to be low man?”

“A little of both, I guess.” His jaw tightened slightly before he went on, his full fork hovering above his plate. “The girl I was with wanted to move to Vancouver, and Newport Ridge was the closest detachment looking for a couple more general duty members, so…”

Gail’s gaze brushed over Ellie’s briefly before focusing back on Brett.

“What does your girlfriend do?”

“Mom—”

“She’s a photographer,” Brett said. “And we’re not together anymore.”

“Oh.” While other people might feel awkward at having brought up a failed relationship, Gail just plowed right on through. “That’s too bad. Is she still living here?”

“Last I heard, she and her husband were living up north. Whitehorse, I think.”

“She’s married?”

“She is now, not when we were dating.”

“Well, that’s good to hear; for a second there I thought you meant—”

“Mom!” Good grief. Ellie was usually the one being accused of having no tact, but she had nothing on her mother.

Gail didn’t miss a beat. “How long does a posting last in a town this size?”

Brett lowered his fork slightly. “It varies. Mine was five years, and then they extended it for a year.”

“Huh.” At least she gave him a chance to eat something before her next question. “So your posting’s finished?”

“Uh…” He cleared his throat slowly. “Yes, ma’am. It is.”

“It is?” How had Ellie not known that? And how stupid did she look admitting that out loud now?

“Have you put in for a new one, then?”

He couldn’t have hesitated more than a second or two, but it was long enough to catch Ellie’s attention. There was something in his expression, something in the way he took his time swallowing, then cleared his throat again.

“I, um…” He straightened a little and rolled his shoulder, and while Ellie couldn’t be sure, of course, she’d be willing to bet he was wishing he’d taken her offer of Scotch instead of the glass of 2 percent sitting in front of him. “Yes, ma’am, I have.”

“You have?” Ellie gaped. “When? Do Nick and Jayne know?”

“Last week.” With his hands still wrapped around his knife and fork, he lifted his fingers in one of those “what can you do” gestures. “I haven’t gotten around to telling anyone yet.”

Her head refused to nod, almost like it was refusing to acknowledge what she’d just learned. All she could do was stare back at him and pray that her expression didn’t give away the unexpected slap of regret that rocked through her.

Where the hell did that come from? And why did he look at her like that, his eyes boring into hers and making her feel like she should say or do something?

“Where will you go?” Gail’s voice broke through the moment, making them both blink and reach for their drinks.

“How ’bout we just let him eat, Mom?”

“It’s okay. I put in to go back to Etobicoke. My folks are just outside Ottawa, so…” His voice was smooth and even, and when Ellie flicked what she hoped was a casual glance his way, he was looking right back at her, his face as straight and unsmiling as ever.

“Did you go to university before joining the RCMP?”

“Yes, ma’am. I have a degree in English; figured if the cop thing didn’t work out, I’d like to go into teaching.”

“Oooh, that’s smart.” Gail nodded. “Ellie here was going to be a journalist, weren’t you, sweetie?”

“Yup,” she scoffed. “I was. All part of the Big Plan.”

“Sounds a little ominous,” Brett said.