Friends and Lovers (16 page)

“You’re breaking my heart, Morrison,” said Wes sarcastically. “As soon as you focused entirely on me you made it easy for Chuck to take a clean shot at you. Just be glad it wasn’t a bullet. You left yourself wide open stalking after me like that.”

“Let it go,” Woods told his partner. “None of us can afford to be sloppy when there are lives on the line, hence these little training exercises.” Then Woods turned and pointed at Wes. “I had you.”

“Almost,” said Wes, not believing it for a second.

“I guess that means coffee is on you guys,” Chuck said with a good-natured smile and slapped Morrison on the shoulder rather than his sticky back.

They might grumble but those were the rules. Adding insult to injury, the winning team was entitled and expected to rub it in back at the station.

* * * *

Wes found an opportunity to call Lauren at work later that morning.

“Hey there,” he said, his smile so wide it burned when he heard her voice on the line.

“Hey yourself. What’s up?” asked Lauren.

“You sure you want to know?”

She laughed. “Stop it. How’d it go this morning?”

“We kicked their asses.”

“Of course you did. Sounds like you have way too much fun with your training exercises.”

Wes laughed. “It serves its purpose. They’re releasing Sherry at eleven. She won’t be able to go back to work, but at least she’ll be home.”

“That’s great news.”

“And I missed you last night. I can’t wait to see you,” he added softly.

Lauren sighed. “Me too. Catching up on sleep in my own bed didn’t exactly work out like I hoped it would.”

“Poor thing. We’ll just have to do something about that.”

“Rest has to be involved when I spend the night with you.”

“No worries. I got the lecture from Chuck. He doesn’t want me dropping the ball when I’m supposed to be covering his ass.”

“I’m sure. Well, we don’t want that either.”

“No, we don’t. Six o’clock, my place.”

“It’s a date.”

Wes put down the phone and perked up when Chuck came jauntily out of the lieutenant’s office with a big smile on his face.

“Come on,” said Chuck, slipping into his jacket, covering his gun. “I think we finally caught a break on those copper pipe break-ins. Fourteen houses and businesses hit. We’re going to nail these bastards.”

“What’d we get?”

“A woman just saw two suspicious characters casing her neighbor’s empty house. She even managed to snap a couple of pictures.”

“Smart.” Wes hopped up from his chair and grabbed his jacket as the chair rolled under the desk. “What’s copper selling for now?”

“A lot.”

* * * *

Lauren was grinning like a lunatic when she hung up. Jackie, ever nosy, stopped inside the open doorway with a smile of her own.

“Let me guess,” said Jackie. “Lover Boy?”

Lauren fluttered her lashes and beamed. “Mmm-hmm.”

“You.” She shook her head and laughed. “I don’t even know who you are anymore. It’s like you’re taking happy pills or something. I swear I never knew you had so many teeth.”

Lauren laughed exuberantly. “I can’t help it.”

“Well, do something constructive now and stop mooning over your squeeze or I’m going to lose my appetite.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Because I love you, I’ll try to control myself. What do you need?”

“It’s not me actually. It’s our latest guest Sylvia Coulter. She needs someone to take her to get a new phone, and I can’t do it because I’m expecting a call back from Caldwell at any time.”

“I guess that leaves me. Is her daughter coming along?”

“No. She just started preschool today.”

Lauren sighed. “Oh, good. Would you ask Sylvia to get ready?”

“Will do.”

Lauren was clearing her passenger seat when Sylvia met her in the driveway.

“Just moving my briefcase,” Lauren said with a smile, setting it on the backseat. “Radio Shack okay or do you have another store in mind?”

“Radio Shack is fine,” said Sylvia.

“Please…get in.” Lauren left the door open for the woman and walked around to the driver’s side.

Of course the trip was awkward, but then they always were when Lauren found herself driving one of their residents anywhere. She decided to open the conversation with an old standby.

“Do you work, Sylvia?”

“Nothing right now. I had a job at a salon while I went to cosmetology school, but after Hope was born Wayne thought I should quit. He didn’t like the idea of daycare.”

Isolation and dependence—classic.

“What are your plans once you leave the shelter? Have you found housing?”

“I’m taking Hope back to Ohio. My family is there. With their help I’ll be able to finish my schooling and maybe work part-time.”

“That sounds great. Everyone needs a support network. So who did you get to represent you?”

“Well, I qualified for state assistance. They assigned me to Burns, but he hasn’t called me back yet.”

“Don’t worry, he will. He’s good, and I know for a fact he’s got a pretty heavy caseload.”

“I figured.”

* * * *

“I don’t fucking believe it,” Wayne Coulter said, his bloodshot eyes narrowing on the unfamiliar car with his wife chatting happily in the passenger seat. He pulled into traffic three cars back and followed.

They turned into a strip mall and parked. Wayne hung back, watching from the next lane over as the women got out and walked into an electronics store.

As tempting as it was to storm in there and drag the bitch out by the arm, Wayne knew it wasn’t the right moment and he’d never accomplish anything with so many witnesses to interfere in their little domestic squabble. No doubt she’d be the one to get all the sympathy. Fuck that. Sylvia didn’t even leave him a goddamned note. People simply didn’t do that shit to one another. What the hell was wrong with her?

Parking his van several spaces away, Wayne got out and dashed over to the strange car. Afraid of getting caught, he made his investigation fast. There was nothing personal on it or in it from what he could see. Not even a bumper sticker. He wrote down the license plate, though he doubted he’d get anywhere with it. Slinking away between the cars he just happened to catch the reflection of a pen lying on the dashboard. He backed up and stretched up just enough to read the words
Gloria Fields Crisis Shelter
and a hotline number stamped on it. He copied everything onto his wrist and returned to his van. He’d be long gone by the time they finished shopping.

* * * *

Lauren’s mood took a definite upturn when Wes met her at the front door with a deep, brain-scrambling kiss. She smiled when he tugged her inside and took the bag out of her hand, knocking the door closed with his elbow.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” Wes admitted, pulling her against him with a sigh. He stroked his hand down the back of her head, smoothing her hair.

Lauren melted into him, loving how it felt to be wrapped in his arms. “Tell me about it. Isn’t there some way we can get paid just to lounge around every day together instead? This work thing is highly overrated.”

Wes chuckled and towed her off to the bedroom.

Men were so predictable, Lauren thought with amusement. “You know, if you keep this up, I’m going to start thinking all you want from me is sex.”

Wes set her bag on the bed and turned with a thoughtful expression. “No way, not that I couldn’t be persuaded to burn the dogs, but the grill is going.”

“Hot dogs?”

“I’m running out of ideas here. I just barely beat you back home.”

“We have to have some menu discussions.”

“Not now.”

“I suppose it can wait.”

“It has to. I don’t have a lot of time tonight, and I’m not going to waste it working out a shopping list.”

Her face fell. “You’re going out?”

“Have to. We caught a break on a frustrating case today. Chuck and I are pulling surveillance tonight. Come on.”

While Wes took the hot dogs off the grill, Lauren poured drinks and gathered plates and silverware.

He looked up when she walked out to the deck with her hands full. “What have you got there? I already set the table.”

“So you did. Take these and I’ll put the rest back inside.”

Wes reached out and took the glasses out of her left hand.

“Be right back.”

“Ketchup, mustard?” he called after her.

“Ketchup.”

“Potato salad?”

She came through the open screen door with a grimace. “Never.”

“Okay then. Guess I’ll let you fix your own plate.”

“Probably best.”

A little later, Wes dragged a chip through the dip and looked up at Lauren. “My mom called. She wants us to come for lunch on Sunday.”

Lauren groaned. “Already? Do we have to?”

He picked up another chip. “It’s unavoidable. The sooner we get it over with, the better. Besides, all they’re going to want to talk about is the baby. If you can stomach that, you’ll be fine.”

Lauren took a sip of her raspberry lemonade before asking, “So, how many women have you taken home to mother?”

“Counting this Sunday?”

“Sure.”

Wes kicked back and looked up at the sky, nodding slowly as he took a silent head count. Lauren began to fidget…then she started to stew.

“Just forget it,” she finally snapped in exasperation.

Wes grinned and his eyes crinkled adorably in the corners. “One.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “One other person besides me or just me?”

“Just you.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?”

“You’re thirty-three years old.”

“So?”

Lauren frowned, still not sure she believed him. “You’ve never taken anyone home to meet your family?
Never
?”

“Nope.”

“That’s weird.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It just is.”

Wes leaned back, his clasped hands resting on his stomach, and gave Lauren a curious smile. “How many guys have you brought home?”

“A couple, but it wasn’t like that.”

“So you weren’t seeing them?”

“Well, I suppose I was, but it’s not the same thing. It wasn’t like an audition to the family or something. It was just a gathering here, a party there. But this is Sunday at the parents’ house. There are connotations. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Hmm, connotations.” Wes sat forward and craned his neck to peek around the ketchup and mustard. “Can I have that last pickle?”

“You’re incredible.”

“Because I’m not stressed about eating my mother’s cooking? I’ve done it before. So have you come to think of it.”

“I can’t talk to you about this,” she said, throwing up her hands.

“Finally.” Wes smiled. “Now kiss me because I have to get going.”

Chapter 15

Wayne Coulter slammed down the phone and tossed his pad full of scribbles back onto the sticky tabletop. Now he was seriously pissed off.

Gloria Fields, the damn place was called Gloria Fields, but all he could find was an emergency confidential hotline and they weren’t giving anything out to him over the phone. Bitches.

What now, what now? There had to be something he was missing, some avenue he hadn’t identified yet. His family was falling apart and those self-appointed missionaries of interference weren’t helping him get his house back in order. Meddling, those bitches were meddling.

No one screwed with Wayne Coulter.

* * * *

Lauren slid hanger after hanger down the closet rod, growing more irritable by the second. She blamed the heat. Well, stress and heat. What a winning combination. There was no way she was going to be comfortable wearing any of these. She should have gone shopping.

Shopping…to go eat at the Dunlops? She was losing her mind. She’d never stressed over eating with them before. It had always been so casual. But that was when she was Sherry’s guest. For some reason, coming over with their son changed everything.

She stomped out into the living room holding up a sundress on a hanger. “What am I supposed to wear? Is this okay for your parents?” Lauren studied it critically before waving it in front of Wes.

He shook himself awake and looked up from the television, a blank look on his face. He’d been dozing. “Sorry, what?” he asked, yawning.

Lauren smiled sympathetically. Poor guy, he’d had two late nights and not much sleep. At least that case was closed.

“This dress,” she repeated. “What do you think?”

“I like it. You’ll look nice.”

“But I don’t have a bra to wear under this,” she said, reconsidering her choice.

Wes perked up. “Even better. I can cop a feel anytime I want.”

“Cop a feel?” Lauren rolled her eyes.

He grinned. “Maybe you should skip the panties while you’re at it. I’m sure you’ll be a lot more comfortable.”

Lauren flounced out of the room shaking her head. “Pervert.”

“I’m a guy. That’s how our minds work,” he called after her.

“Well, maybe I’ll just have to feel my cop,” she fired back.

“Right behind you.”

* * * *

Lunch with Wes’s parents went exactly the way he’d predicted it would go, with one very serious oversight. His mother baked, adding another fifteen degrees at least to the oven-like temperature inside the house. Not only was it stifling, but being easily chilled themselves they didn’t have any fans going nor did they choose to use the central air even though Wes and Lauren were melting like ice cubes at the table.

“Bet you wish you’d skipped the panties now,” Wes whispered in Lauren’s ear as his mother talked about the layette she’d bought for the baby.

Lauren elbowed him in the ribs and he chuckled softly, nodding to his mother across the table.

The younger couple didn’t stay long once the meal was over. It was a matter of self-preservation and Wes wouldn’t let Lauren beat herself up over it on their way home.

“I know my parents. They’re just glad we came for a visit.” He breathed a sigh of relief as Lauren aimed a vent directly at him, blasting him with cold air.

“We can’t bail so fast next time,” she insisted. “And here’s a newsflash—now it’s
your
turn to face
my
parents.”