“How long have you two known each other?” I ask, curious about the obvious bond they share. I push down my own guilt when it makes me think of Maddox once again. I really just have to man up and give him a call.
“I met her the week I moved here. We bonded over our mutual love for romance novels, and the rest is history. Sometimes you just click with a person, you know?”
As a matter of fact, I do know. The last person I felt that kind of instant connection with tore my heart out of my chest when she left me, so I’m a lot more leery of who I let close these days. I grunt out my response and thank the young server who delivers our drinks, grateful for the interruption. Bringing the steaming mug to my lips, I take a tentative sip and groan as the rich taste ofespresso explodes on my tongue. “Damn, I really needed that,” I say as Charlie hides her smile behind her own mug.
“So, what made you decide to move to the sticks all on your own?”
Charlie’s shoulders tense, and I narrow my eyes at the change in her demeanor, making a mental note to myself that the reason that brought her to Moose Harbor is not something she feels comfortable talking about. Guess that’s something we have in common.
“I had a relationship go sour and needed a change of scenery. A fresh start to focus on myself without outside influences. My parents passed away recently and left me some money. So, when I looked at different investment opportunities and came across the resort online, it just felt like it was meant to be, you know? I can’t really explain it. I know it seems crazy to buy a struggling business in the middle of nowhere, but at the time, I needed the distraction, and I’ve never been one to turn down a challenge.”
“I’m sorry about your folks,” I say simply. The sadness in her eyes triggers an echoing ache in my chest. I don’t bother saying more. I know from experience that no amount of sympathy can erase the agony that goes hand in hand with a great loss. Grief is a fickle thing. It absolutely annihilates you at first. Overwhelming you with a crippling pain so intense, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to function again. Then the numbness sets in, and for a while,you don’t feel much of anything. You spend weeks sleeping the day away, only dragging yourself out of bed long enough to take care of your basic needs, before crawling back underneath the covers.
Then, one day, you wake up and your new reality doesn’t sucker punch you in the gut as soon as you crack your eyes open. You’re able to resume mundane tasks, such as taking a shower and fixing breakfast. You drag your sorry ass back to work, hoping it’ll bring back some sense of purpose. And when you make it through that first day without breaking down, the relief is so great you can’t help but cling to that tiny sliver of hope. It taunts you with the possibility of a fulfilling life and you want to believe it so fucking bad. But the joke’s on you. Because just when you least expect it, it all comes flooding back, drowning you in a tidal wave of emotions that takes you out at the goddamn knees.
Once you experience that type of loss, you can’t ever go back to the person you were before. Life as you knew it no longer exists. Gone is your faith in humanity, and a God cruel enough to stand idly by, allowing evil to snuff out innocent lives without a moment’s hesitation.
“What about you?” Charlie’s question snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts. I blink once and refocus on the woman beside me. “I haven’t been in the hospitality industry long, but renting a cabin for such a long stretch of time seems a little unusual. Areyou running from the law or something?” she asks, chuckling at her own joke. When I don’t join in, her laughter dies a quick death, and her eyes pop wide.
“Oh my God. You are, aren’t you? Now it all makes sense. The grumpy attitude. The desire to sleep on a fluffy mattress. You probably escaped from prison and haven’t slept in a comfortable bed in years. That’s just my luck. I’ll probably end up getting arrested for harboring a fugitive. I’m too pretty to go to jail, Cole. Please tell me you’re not a criminal.”
“Relax,” I tell her when it looks like she’s about to start hyperventilating. “I’m not a criminal. As a matter of fact, I am the law, so as long as you’re not laundering money through the resort, I won’t have any reason to arrest you. Besides, I’m on leave. I may have sworn an oath when I first joined the FBI, but if you told me right now that you’re the drug kingpin of Moose Harbor, I can’t say I’d give a fuck.”
Charlie stares at me with her mouth hanging open, only snapping it shut when our food is being delivered. I unfold my cutlery and begin digging in while she looks like she’s still processing. I have to give it to Dee. The food here is to die for. I have to pace myself, knowing from experience I’ll make myself sick if the rich sauce mixes with the remaining bourbon in my gut too quickly.
After a long silence, Charlie picks up her own utensils and glances at me from the corner of her eye.
“FBI? You?” she says in a low tone, like I just told her I’m deep undercover and she’s the only one aware of my true identity.
“You don’t have to whisper. It’s not a secret, or anything.” I lift my hand to catch the attention of a passing server, and she stops by our table to top up our water before slinking away again. Charlie waits until she’s out of earshot, then clears her throat, adjusting her voice to a normal volume.
“I guess it’s just unexpected. You don’t look like an FBI agent to me,” she muses, an adorable frown on her face while she pushes her scrambled eggs around on her plate.
“And what did you envision an FBI agent to look like?” I prod, unable to hide my amusement any longer.
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen one in real life. I always pictured you guys to be super put-together. Always in a suit and dress shoes, like Agent Mulder from The X-Files. You look more like a renegade mercenary with your ripped jeans and combat boots.”
“Hm, guess I should talk to Mads about joining his team of misfits,” I mutter.
“Pardon me?”
“Nothing,” I say, bringing my mug to my lips for another sip. “As I said, I’m off duty. I always hated the monkey suits, anyway.Necessary evil in my profession, but something I doff the second I’m off the clock. Damn ties always feel like they’re choking me.”
“You’re not messing with me. You’re really with the FBI?” she double-checks, looking at me like I’m some kind of superhero. If she only knew. She’s so far off track. The people I’ve failed to protect could attest to that if they were alive to tell the tale.
“For now. Not sure that’ll still be the case once I get back home. That’s kind of what this whole trip is about. To figure out what I want my future to look like.”
“You going through a midlife crisis?”
I snort and watch her tear into a strip of bacon like it’s the best thing she's ever tasted. Her little moan of pleasure goes straight to my groin. I like a woman who can appreciate good food. Someone who doesn’t count calories and nibbles on nothing but celery sticks past dinner time. I’m not a small guy at six-foot-four, and I keep myself fit, so I’m aware there’s some bulk to me. The last thing I want to worry about is snapping my partner in half like a twig if things get a little rough. Not that Charlie and I will ever end up in bed together.Damn it, Cole. Stop thinking about manhandling her. This is not going to happen, no matter how sex deprived you may be.
“I wish it were as simple as that,” I say once I manage to wrestle my libido under control.
“You don’t enjoy your job anymore?”
I meet her curious gaze and linger there for a moment, drowning in her emerald pools.
“It’s a long story.”
