Ever After (Love to the Rescue Book 3) (4 page)

She wore the same uniform as Olivia, and she passed him without recognition. She had no way of knowing that Pete’s testimony had put a habitual drug offender back on the streets, allowing him to take the fateful drive that had cost her husband his life. Nor did she know that Pete’s own father had been the man driving that car.

Tamara didn’t know who he was, and like a coward, Pete let her walk past, then pushed into the men’s room. He stood there at the sink, sucking in breaths over the sickening clench in his stomach. Swallowing hard, he turned away, unable to face his own reflection in the mirror. Never in a million years could he repay his debt to the Hill family.

“Vandalizing a building, Olivia? What in the world were you thinking?”

Olivia winced at the rebuke in her mother’s voice. “Obviously I wasn’t.”

Marlene Bennett sighed into the phone. “Well, thank goodness the judge was understanding. You’ve got to get the charges dismissed or you’ll never get back into McKellon.”

Olivia’s mother was a prosecutor for the Wake County District Attorney’s Office. Her father was one of the top defense attorneys in Raleigh. They’d argued for decades over which route Olivia should take: defending the innocent or prosecuting the guilty.

In the end, she’d decided to do neither. Two years into her studies at McKellon University School of Law, her longtime boyfriend died of an accidental overdose. Heartbroken, Olivia had taken it as a wakeup call to pursue her own happiness and quit living her life according to her parents’ expectations. So she’d dropped out of law school.

Because truthfully, the more time she spent there, the more she wondered if she wanted to be a lawyer at all. She’d never truly fit in at McKellon. While her classmates were busy buying business suits and planning their path to partner, Olivia daydreamed about animal rights protests and meditation techniques.

Now she waited tables at the Main Street Café. Her parents were still waiting for her to come to her senses. They’d pay for her to finish her law degree as long as she re-enrolled before she turned thirty. That meant she had to decide this year if she wanted their help.

“I’ll get the charges dropped.” Olivia sank onto the couch and slung her feet onto the coffee table, suppressing a weary sigh.

“Don’t you think this has gone on long enough?” her mother asked. “With your grades and your passion, you’ll be on the fast track to make partner wherever you go. Or you could join the DA’s office. You might even get to prosecute some animal abusers.”

Olivia smiled, just a little. “But I’m not sure I want to be a lawyer.”

“You have opportunities most people don’t. You’ve got natural talent, and your dad and I have connections to get you started. Don’t waste that. You’re obviously bored with waitressing or you wouldn’t be vandalizing buildings in your spare time.”

Well, she was a little bored with waitressing, but that had nothing to do with the reason she’d spray-painted Halverson Foods’ chicken-processing plant. “I’m not bored.”

“Don’t be foolish, Olivia. It’s time to get your act together before it’s too late.”

“I will, Mom.” Olivia hung up the phone and rested her head in her hands. Everything her mother had said was true. She’d make an awesome lawyer. Except she didn’t want to be one.

And that had to count for something, right?

Or was she being childish? Lots of people had jobs they didn’t like. They did what they had to do to pay the bills and support their family. She could sure pay a hell of a lot more bills practicing law than waiting tables.

Bailey, one of her foster dogs, came over and licked her cheek. She was a four-year-old fawn boxer, available for adoption through Triangle Boxer Rescue. Olivia wasn’t much of a dog person, but she’d promised to foster while she was renting Merry’s house, so Bailey and Scooby—currently sprawled out flat on the couch and snoring loudly—were hers until they found their forever homes.

Her phone chimed a notification. It had better not be someone else tagging her in that fraternity prank picture, because if she had to see that thing one more time…

It was a text message from her friend Cara, who’d moved to Massachusetts earlier in the year.
Chicken ass? Handcuffs? Hot cops? Call me!

Olivia snorted. If Cara still lived here, she’d have been at Olivia’s birthday celebration and probably would have talked her out of spray-painting the chicken-processing plant in the first place. She was a good friend like that.

It’s true. I’m a convict. I’ll call you tomorrow
, she texted back.

Because right now, she was going on a kitten hunt. It had been bothering her for days that she hadn’t had a chance to look for the kitten yet, but tonight was the night. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to set foot on Halverson Foods’ property now that she’d completed her restitution by washing off her graffiti, and she had no desire to run into the employees there again.

But she was hoping that, if she went over after they’d gone home and stayed by the road, she could lure the kitten to her. She’d bought a can of tuna for the cause, despite the fact she didn’t eat it and the very smell was enough to make nausea rise in her throat.

The kitten was hurt, and it was hungry, and it needed a home.

She couldn’t just turn her back and pretend she’d never seen it.

She put leashes on the dogs and took them for a walk, then loaded up her Prius with everything she thought she might need on her kitten-capturing expedition. She’d borrowed a cat carrier from Kristi, which she lined with a ratty old towel. That and the can of tuna were for her best-case scenario. Worst case, she had a cat-sized humane trap and a bag of kitten chow to leave behind.

If she couldn’t catch it tonight, she’d leave the trap and check back tomorrow. With any luck, the hungry kitten would have taken the bait.

It was just past eight, and the sky above glistened with stars. She drove cautiously out to the factory but pulled over before she reached its entrance, instead parking on the side of the road.

She’d done her research earlier, finding where the edge of their property lay. No way was she getting caught trespassing a second time.

She stepped out of her car and popped open the can of tuna, letting its nasty fishy smell permeate the air. “Here, kitty kitty.”

The air around her immediately filled with flashing blue lights and the blip of a siren. A cruiser pulled in behind her Prius.

“Christ on a cracker.” She kicked her tire. Seriously, what were the chances?

Sure enough, Deputy Pete Sampson stepped out of the cruiser, looking every bit as crisp—and as hot—as he had at the diner earlier. He sauntered over, his expression stern. His gaze traveled over her, making her squirm.

He tipped his head to the side. “Mind telling me what the hell you’re doing out here, fixing to break the law—with a can of tuna fish?”

P
ete watched her squirm. Disappointment battled curiosity as he waited for her explanation. He had to admit—he’d wanted to believe that the sheriff was wrong about her, that she would stay out of trouble and away from the Halverson plant. Yet here she was.

“I’m not breaking the law.” Olivia raised her chin, still clutching the can of tuna fish.

“That’s questionable. As you’re well aware, trespassing is a crime.”

She didn’t blink, didn’t look away. “I’m not trespassing. This is public property. Halverson Foods’ property line lies about five feet past the entrance, right over there.” She turned and pointed toward the driveway some twenty feet behind her.

“You sure about that?” He sure as hell didn’t know where the property line lay, but as far as he was concerned, she had no business anywhere near here. And there she went again spouting facts that proved she was anything but a ditzy blonde.

“I’m positive. I told you I had no intention of breaking the law again.”

“No offense, Miss Bennett, but a lot of people tell me that. They rarely mean it. So you never answered my question. Just what the hell are you doing out here after dark, carrying a can of tuna fish?”

She glanced down at the can in her hand and, if he wasn’t mistaken, gagged slightly. “I’m looking for a kitten.”

“A kitten?” Well that wasn’t what he was expecting, but then again, Olivia Bennett had a habit of surprising him.

“I saw it both times I was out here. It’s little, and something’s wrong with one of its legs. It needs to see a vet, and, more than likely, it needs a home.” Her chin was still up, daring him to challenge her.

He settled his arms over his chest. “A kitten.”

She nodded. “I just want to see if I can catch it. I’m not going to trespass.” She held up two fingers. “Scouts honor. So you can just be on your way.”

He shook his head. “All the same, you have to admit, you’re blurring a line. I’ll just hang around and make sure you don’t cross it.”

She let out a sound of frustration. “Well if you’re going to stand there, the least you can do is help me look for the kitten.”

Was she serious about the kitten? He looked down at the open can of tuna in her hands. This woman was completely illogical yet totally logical at the same time. “I’m more likely to scare it off.”

She rolled her eyes. “Which is why I suggested you be on your way. But if you seriously don’t trust me…”

“Whether I trust you or not, I’m not leaving you out here by yourself.” He gestured to their surroundings—dark woods to the right and the empty chicken factory on their left. It was no place for a woman to be alone after dark.

“I can take care of myself.” She turned her back and walked a few steps toward the wooded buffer off the side of the road, waving the can of tuna and calling, “Here, kitty kitty.”

Pete could almost see the cartoon lines of fishy scent wafting in the air around her. He pulled the flashlight from his belt and shone it in the bushes for her.

She poked around, crouching and calling for the cat. He would have thought he was being played for a fool, out here in the middle of nowhere in the dark, mere yards from the scene of her arrest, except for the fact he couldn’t think of a single other reason for Olivia—a vegetarian no less—to be out here armed with nothing but a can of tuna fish.

After about ten minutes, he was about to tell her to pack up and be on her way. It was past time for him to resume his patrol, but she beat him to it, heading back toward her car.

“I knew it was a long shot,” she said with a shrug.

He turned toward the cruiser. “All right then.”

Olivia opened the hatchback of her Prius and pulled out a large wire cage.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving a trap. I brought a bag of kitten chow to put inside. I’m betting his empty belly will get the better of him by tomorrow.”

“And what if you catch a raccoon instead?”

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as if the idea of catching something other than the mythical kitten hadn’t occurred to her. “Then I’ll set it loose and try again.”

“You’re going to an awful lot of trouble over this. Why?”

She turned, her brown eyes bright in the beam of his headlights. “It’s a tiny, helpless kitten. I can’t pretend I didn’t see it. I have to try my best to help.”

“What if it has a home?”

She gestured to the darkness surrounding them. “Out here? More likely someone drove it here and dumped it.”

“Hmm.” Might be she was right. His first year on patrol he’d found a bag of puppies in a ditch, thrown out like trash.

Olivia carried the trap into the woods, then crouched and dumped a hearty helping of kitten chow inside. She carefully set the spring latch, then sat back to survey her handiwork. “I’ll come out and check it in the morning before I clock in at the café.”

“Not sure you want to be poking around out here on a Monday morning. Folks might get the wrong idea. I’m off tomorrow. I’ll swing by and see if you’ve caught anything.”

“Oh, um.” She narrowed her eyes. “Really?”

“I’ll give you a call.” He turned and walked back to his cruiser before he’d had a chance to question his motivation.

Pete was still not thinking about it when he drove back out to the Halverson plant the following morning. He’d already gone for a long run with his dog, and now he’d do a cursory check on the trap Olivia had set. He could only hope he wasn’t about to get his fingers gnawed off trying to free a rabid raccoon with a belly full of kitten chow.

He slowed his Subaru Forester and pulled over where he’d found Olivia the night before. The thought of her in his cuffs, looking forlorn yet devastatingly beautiful, had nothing to do with why he was here. Nothing. Not the scent of wildflowers in her hair. The fire in her eyes. Or the way she could sucker punch him straight to the gut with her passion for her cause.

The woman overflowed with emotion, with raw passion and unabashed determination. And Pete, well he did better when he kept his emotions firmly in check. Olivia was a firecracker all right, and he’d prefer to keep all of his fingers intact.

Therefore, he’d confirm that she hadn’t caught anything in her trap, then he’d put her out of his mind in anything other than a purely professional capacity, which meant trying to connect her to any of the other acts of vandalism around town.

He stepped out of the Forester and crunched through leaf-strewn pine needles to the spot where she’d left the trap. “Well I’ll be damned.”

Inside the silver cage, a little white creature gazed at him from wide blue eyes. “Mew.”

Pete shook his head. “You are one lucky furball.”

He crouched to get a better look, and the kitten hissed at him. It was little, probably shouldn’t even be away from its momma yet. Its white fur was dirty and matted with burs. He reached out to grab the handle on top of the cage, and the kitten went berserk. It ping-ponged from one end of the trap to the other, hissing and screeching like a wild animal.

“Whoa.” He grabbed the cage and stood, careful to keep his fingers far enough from the bars as to be out of harm’s way. Out of nowhere, he stifled a laugh imagining Olivia trying to tame this pint-sized terror.

They’d be perfect for each other.

Back at his SUV, he put the kitten in the back with an old towel underneath that he kept for Timber, then pulled out his cell phone and dialed her number. It rang through to voicemail, and he felt a flicker of panic. She’d mentioned having to work today. What the hell was he going to do with the kitten in the meantime? “It’s Pete. I got your kitten. Call me when you get this.”

He slid the phone into his pocket and stared at the creature in his car. It stared right back, eyes wide and terrified. He was tempted to drop it off on her doorstep and be done, but that wasn’t right, and he knew it.

Therefore, with a heavy sigh, he got back into the Forester and headed home. The kitten meowed plaintively all the way there.

Pete put the cage against the wall in his garage and slung an old towel over the top. Covering the crate sometimes helped Timber settle down, maybe it would have the same effect on the kitten. It just hissed at him.

He went into the house and got a small bowl, filled it with water, and carried it back to the caged kitten. This would be tricky. He opened the trap just wide enough to slip the bowl inside.

The kitten hissed again, louder.

He slammed the door shut and made sure it had latched securely.

Now to wait for Olivia’s call.

Olivia listened to the message on her phone, then punched five to listen to it again.

“It’s Pete. I’ve got your kitten. Call me when you get this.”

It’s Pete.
So they’d moved to a first-name basis now? She felt a little thrill at the prospect. She was attracted to him, which was silly because he certainly didn’t date women he’d arrested. And that was a shame, because Pete was different from the guys she usually dated.

She’d always gone for the “lost cause” type, the boy her parents would be certain to hate, the one everyone said would end up being nothing but trouble.

And they’d been right.

Her dating life was nothing but a string of wrong-way collisions. She’d been in love once. She and Roger dated all through college, but while she was studying her butt off in law school, he was burning brain cells on cocaine. He was an addict, and she’d fought so hard to save him from himself, but in the end, he’d loved the cocaine more than he’d loved her.

He’d overdosed one sunny April morning, dead at twenty-four. Olivia had been heartbroken. And she’d vowed not to date another man with such demons. Unfortunately she hadn’t always held true to that promise. It was in her nature to fight for a lost cause, and she’d wasted too many years on men who didn’t have their act together.

Part of her pact with herself before she turned thirty was to get serious about this aspect of her life too. It was time to grow up, both personally and professionally. She needed a career, and she needed a man who respected himself. A man who might marry her and father her children, because her biological clock was starting to tick a bit more loudly these days.

Shaking her head, she lifted the phone to her ear. Pete had called at nine, almost five hours ago. She had no idea what he’d done with the kitten in the meantime, but she’d just gotten off shift. The thrill of excitement that ran through her this time had nothing to do with the sexy man she was about to dial.

They’d done it. They’d actually caught the kitten!

She pressed his number and hit send. It rang twice, then connected.

“Hello.” He sounded irresistibly dark and sexy on the phone, his deep voice accentuated by the crackle of the airwaves.

“It’s Olivia. I just got your message.”

“’Bout time.”

“Yeah, sorry. I just got off work. How’s the kitten? Do you want me to meet you somewhere?”

“It’s a feisty one, that’s for sure. I’ll drop it by your house in half an hour.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you.”

“Welcome.” With a click, he was gone.

He hadn’t asked where she lived. Hadn’t asked for her phone number either. It irked her that he knew these things from her arrest. Blowing back a lock of hair, she headed for her car. Pete would be at her house in half an hour, which meant she had just enough time to buy a litter box and hurry home to put the dogs out back before he arrived.

Where should she put the kitten? Bailey and Scooby couldn’t be trusted around it, not at first anyway. It might not even be tame and almost certainly wasn’t housebroken. She flinched. Oh well, if there ever were a landlord who’d forgive her bringing a kitten like this into her home, it was Merry.

She hurried to her car, then stopped short and stared. Someone had spray-painted chickens all over it.

What the hell?

She balled her fists. White paint dripped down the side of her Prius from the crudely drawn chickens stretching from her front bumper to the rear. It was the driver’s side, which faced away from the diner. Someone had defaced her car in the middle of the day in the center of town. Who? Why?

Beneath the chickens were the words “Cluck you.”

Classy.

Who had spray-painted her car, and what the hell was she going to do about it? Would it wash off? Should she go to the police? Swearing under her breath, Olivia slid into the driver’s seat. No time to worry about it now. She had to get home and set up for the kitten. Fifteen minutes later, she turned into her driveway.

Inside, she let the dogs out of the kitchen and dodged slobbery snouts as she hurried upstairs to change. She tossed her uniform in the laundry basket and pulled on a pink tank top and shorts, thankful for the warm weather this far into October.

She put the dogs in the backyard and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge when the doorbell rang. She smoothed her hair and adjusted the neckline of her top, which was ridiculous because it was
Deputy Sampson
at her front door.

If she knew what was good for her, she’d go scrub her makeup off and change into sweatpants before she opened it.

Instead, she pulled the door open and offered him her sweetest smile. And holy hell, she hadn’t been prepared for the sight of him out of his uniform. He wore a red T-shirt and khaki shorts, his dark hair ruffled by the breeze, and oh, her heart tripped all over itself at the sight.

“Olivia.” He looked down at the cage dangling from his right hand, then back at her.

So they were definitely on a first-name basis, and oh, the kitten! It looked up at her with wide, terrified blue eyes, crouched in the back corner of the trap.

“Thank you so much for doing this for me.” She motioned him inside, trying to keep her eyes on the cat and not the man.

“You take up car graffiti in your spare time?” he asked, his dark eyes pinned on hers.

She sighed. “Someone did that while I was at work.”

“You report it to the sheriff’s office?”

She shook her head. “Should I?”

“Of course. Vandalism is a crime, as you know. Any idea who did it?”