Dark Blue (South Island PD Book 1) (6 page)

“He was always smoking hot. I bet he looks great in uniform.”

Belle’s heart skipped a beat. “So what? Good looking guys are a dime a dozen.”

Actually, guys as good looking as Jackson were about as rare as polar bears in the desert, but admitting that wouldn’t help Belle’s case or soothe her hurt feelings. She and Mariah were different, no doubt about it, but she’d told Mariah everything when she’d come back to the island – every soul-crushing detail.

Mariah shrugged. “You deserve a little fun, after what you’ve been through. And you’ve already been with him, so you know it’d be good. Seems ideal to me.”

“Casual sex isn’t my idea of fun.”

Mariah arched a brow. “Not even with a hot cop like Jackson? You were into him for years. Don’t you think it’d be fun to sleep with him again now that you’re more experienced? I bet it’d be even better than before.”

“
Especially
not with Jackson. If I slept with him and things went bad after that, my only good memories with a guy would be ruined.”

“So you’re going to avoid the only guy who’s ever made you happy just so he can’t have the chance to mess up?” Mariah’s brow rose even higher.

Belle bit her lip. “No, not necessarily. But before I sleep with anyone, I want to be sure they’re worth taking the risk on – that it means something to them.”

Mariah dropped her gaze. “Right – I can see that.”

Belle fidgeted in her seat, shifting to an even less comfortable position on the couch cushion. She hated talking about her last relationship. Any feelings she’d had for her ex-fiancé were long dead, but it seemed as if the embarrassment would never die.

Sometimes, when she closed her eyes at night, she remembered the sting of calling her parents and telling them the wedding was off. It’d been the single most humiliating conversation of her life – even worse than the one where she’d confronted her unfaithful fiancé.

Kyle. Belle had dated him for over a year back in Atlanta. She’d also agreed when he’d asked her to marry him, only to later find out that he’d been screwing other women regularly throughout their entire relationship. When she’d confronted him he hadn’t seemed sorry, only annoyed that she’d found out.

She’d been a joke to him, and she’d taken it so seriously. Meanwhile, he’d been getting
casual
on a regular basis.

How could she have been so blind?

“I know you hate talking about it,” Mariah said.

“Wouldn’t you?” Bell’s reply came out sharper than she’d meant it to.

Mariah blinked. “Well, yeah—”

Remorse started to creep in, and Belle shook her head. “Never mind. Sorry I snapped.”

“It’s okay. I’d have my panties in a bunch too if I was being stalked.” Mariah grinned.

“Right – the big green dildo is to blame for my bitchiness.” Belle couldn’t help grinning back.

“Seriously though, you’re right – you’ve been messed around with too much. I don’t blame you for not wanting anything casual.”

Belle nodded. “I think He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named soured me on casual, probably for life.”

Mariah agreed, though neither of them spoke his name – they had a standing agreement not to.

“You dodged a bullet anyway,” Mariah said. “Who wants to be married to a product developer? I don’t even know what that means, but it makes me think of pastel shirts and dorky ties. Give me a hot man in uniform any day.”

Belle smiled despite herself. She
had
dodged a bullet. As humiliating and hurtful as breaking off her engagement with Kyle had been, marrying him and finding out afterward would’ve been a thousand times worse.

“Jackson is hot,” she admitted, “but we never had anything more than sex, and casual just isn’t for me anymore.”

“You were friends, too. And how do you know his feelings for you are casual?”

Belle shrugged. “We had sex twice in one night. That was it. Not exactly a foundation for the kind of love that lasts a lifetime.”

“Yeah, but only because you waited until the day before you had to head back to school for the fall semester to get together with him. You did that on purpose, so you could disappear the next day. You never gave him a chance to be serious about you.”

“It’s not like I planned it – it just happened. I’d liked him for so long, and I felt like such a pariah, still being a virgin at twenty-one. I didn’t want to graduate from college and start my adult life with no experience, so even if Jackson and I couldn’t keep seeing each other, I was glad it happened.”

“If all you wanted was to have sex, you could’ve waited. You could’ve waited just one more day and had your pick of all the guys on campus.”

Belle wrinkled her nose at the thought of grabbing a random frat boy and having sex with him just for the sake of it.

“You wanted it to be Jackson.”

She nodded. “Even though we couldn’t date… I knew I could trust him, and who wouldn’t want to sleep with him?”

Though he was even hotter now, Jackson had been gorgeous at twenty-three.

“He might’ve wanted more than just a night with you then – you just couldn’t stick around to find out. But you’re back now, and you’re both more settled. You two could give things a chance.”

Mariah’s gaze drifted past Belle to the kitchen, where the flowers were on display, evidence of Jackson’s presence. “He showed up at your door with flowers after writing you a speeding ticket. That took some balls. Seems pretty obvious to me that he wants more than what you gave him years ago.”

Belle sat still and silent, lost in thought. The idea of calling Jackson, getting together with him and seeing where it might lead was supremely appealing.

At the same time, the thought made her heart slam against her ribs, sparking a twinge that reminded her of what it felt like to have it broken.

The same twinge she’d felt when she’d left the island the day after she’d left a piece of herself with Jackson.

Belle indulged in an afternoon out with Mariah on Saturday. After brunch at a new restaurant on the island, they crossed the bridge to Charleston and did some shopping. Unlike Mariah, who’d come away from the trip with several new outfits, Belle had only bought one thing: a decorative clock to hang in her kitchen.

The trip had been more about fun than necessity anyway, so as she crossed the bridge from Charleston back to South Island, she didn’t feel as if she’d wasted the morning.

“Don’t speed,” Mariah said. “Or do, if you want an excuse to run into your favorite officer again.”

“Please, I can’t afford another speeding ticket, let alone more points on my license. My insurance rate would probably double.” It was true, but her traitorous heart flip-flopped at the thought of rolling down her window so Jackson could look her in the eye.

“Right. Have you called him yet?”

“No…”

She hadn’t done it, but she could hardly go a minute without thinking about it.

She couldn’t help the way her gaze gravitated to the side of the road, where Jackson had hidden his cruiser just past where the bridge met solid ground. If he was there, she’d be able to see his vehicle as she drove by.

Belle was wearing sunglasses, so hopefully Mariah wouldn’t be able to tell if she stared.

“Ooh,” Mariah sighed.

Belle braced herself for teasing as Mariah leaned forward in her seat.

“Oh, shit.” Mariah’s seatbelt strained across her chest, and her head blocked Belle’s view of the right side of the road.

Belle’s stomach lurched as she realized that Mariah’s tone wasn’t teasing.

“What?” she demanded.

But she didn’t need Mariah to fill her in – the cause of her distress was apparent.

There was a police cruiser parked at an angle on the shoulder, and it wasn’t alone. A pick-up truck sat just feet from it, its headlights shattered and its grille massively dented. The cruiser was in much worse shape, its entire front end crumpled. Auto glass and bits of colored plastic were scattered over the asphalt like glittering confetti, and as Belle stared, a tow truck rolled onto the side of the road and stopped.

There was no officer, no civilian driver and no ambulance or first responders. It looked as if the truck had hit the police car and the crash victims had already been removed.

“Do you think that’s Jackson’s car?” Belle asked. It was a stupid question, of course – Mariah would have no idea. But the words had just tumbled out, leaving a sour taste in her mouth.

“Maybe not,” Mariah said. “It’s not like he works every shift, or even every day.”

But he was working day shift, and the cruiser was parked in his hiding spot. Belle’s stomach clenched, and there was no sign of the butterflies that’d been flitting around there just seconds ago. Now, thinking of him brought a wave of fear, quickly chased by regret.

The idea of something happening to him scared her, the fear penetrating a deeper place in her heart than she’d realized she’d given him.

“Hey,” Mariah said, touching Belle’s arm. “Do you want to pull over somewhere so I can drive?”

Belle shook her head. “No, we’ll be at my place in a few minutes. Besides, I’m fine.”

“You’re white as a ghost,” Mariah said, “and that’s okay. Even if there’s nothing going on between you now, you and Jackson were friends.”

Belle nodded, accepting Mariah’s tact. When they reached her apartment, Mariah announced somewhat flamboyantly that she was going to use the restroom.

Alone in her kitchen, Belle eyed the bouquet Jackson had brought her. He’d written his phone number on the card tucked among the lilies on a plastic prong.

She was done waffling over whether to call him.

What if he’d been in the car and had been hurt? What if, God forbid, he’d been in a fatal accident? He was a cop, after all. It was a daily possibility.

Her imagination ran wild, and although she knew she was dwelling on the most dramatic scenarios possible, she also knew they’d haunt her until she knew that he was all right.

Shoving aside her pride and doubts, she plucked the card from the bouquet and got out her phone.

After dialing, she cradled the phone against her ear, her heart in her throat. Visions of crumpled metal and crushed glass filled her mouth with a sour taste, and she couldn’t wait to rectify her ignorance surrounding the wreck by the bridge.

She held her breath through the first ring, then the second and third.

“Hello?”

She finally exhaled. “Jackson. It’s Belle.”

“Belle?” His voice brightened, though it retained the husky undertones that so easily sent little shivers down her spine. “What’s up?”

“I got your number from the card.” Duh. She frowned and caught her dulled reflection in the microwave door.

“I’m glad you called.”

A spark of pleasure flared inside her, but was quickly snuffed out by fear. Obviously, he wasn’t dead or lying on an operating table, but he still might’ve been in the accident.

“I drove by a wreck just past the bridge, where you were monitoring traffic the other day. It looked like a truck hit a South Island Police cruiser sitting in that same spot. I was afraid it was you.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“I’m off today. I know what you’re talking about, though. The officer in the car suffered some head trauma, but he should be okay. The truck driver wasn’t seriously injured.”

“Oh. Thank God.” She felt genuine relief, though it paled in comparison to the relief she’d felt when she’d realized Jackson hadn’t been in the wreck.

“Yeah, it could’ve been bad.”

More words danced on the tip of her tongue, but it was hard to decide exactly what to say.

“Now that you know I’m alive and well, is there anything else you want to talk about?”

His words, combined with the teasing tone of his voice, brought a smile to her lips.

“Actually, I was thinking of calling you soon anyway. I enjoyed seeing you the other day.”

After the melodrama her imagination had conjured up surrounding the wreck, confessing her feelings seemed non-dramatic in comparison.

“I enjoyed seeing you too, Belle. I’d like to see you again.”

His reply made her smile. And what would it hurt to agree, to see if he was fishing for anything more than a casual fling? Mariah might be right.

“That sounds good to me,” she said after a moment’s pause.

“Have you given any thought to where you’d like to meet?”

“Not really. Have you?”

“We could grab dinner tonight. You still love seafood?”

“Of course.”

“What do you say we hit up Moreno’s?”

One of the best local seafood places, Moreno’s boasted an ocean view and even had its own beach access ramp. “Okay.”

“It all right if I pick you up at seven?”

She agreed without hesitation. When she got off the phone a minute later, she finally had what she’d never gotten with Jackson: a date.

Mariah emerged from the bathroom a convenient twenty seconds later. Her lips were freshly glossed and her olive skin was flushed artfully pink over her cheekbones. Apparently, she’d redone her make-up.

“Jackson’s okay,” Belle said. “He’s off work today and wasn’t in the wreck.”

Mariah sighed, rolling her shoulders as if a burden had just been lifted from them. “Good. What else did you guys talk about?”

“Well, we’re going to Moreno’s for dinner tonight.”

“Nice. So, all it took for you to realize you’re definitely still interested in him was thinking that he might be dead.”

“I was always interested in him – I’m just not sure how serious he is about me. I’m still going to tread carefully. If it turns out all he wants is sex, he can forget it.”

“I doubt that’s all he wants. It was always obvious he had a thing for you when we were younger.”

The feeling had been mutual, and in a way it had made leaving him after they’d finally gotten together a little more bearable. She’d liked him so much that the thought of having him like that and then watching him lose interest in her afterward had been unbearable.

This time, there would be no packing her bags and moving on to another life in another state. She wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was he.

* * * * *

Heading to Belle’s apartment on Saturday evening wasn’t like the time before. This time, she wanted him there.

It made all the difference. Jackson’s blood rushed through his veins, as hot as the setting August sun. He was glad he’d brought her the flowers and stashed his number among the blooming lilies. This time, he approached her door empty-handed, his head full of memories and hopes so thoroughly intertwined that it was hard to tell them apart.

He’d give his left nut to see her strip naked for him again, to run his hands up her thighs and bury his cock between them. The memory of doing exactly that had stayed vivid all this time, unfaded by the half a dozen years gone by. That was more than he could say about anyone else he’d ever been with.

Belle had been different – special. And not just because he’d been the first to have her, the only one who’d ever claim the thrill of thrusting into her tight, virgin heat. That’d been exhilarating on every level, but he wasn’t a Neanderthal. He’d valued Belle for Belle, not her inexperience or the chance to take something no one else would ever be able to claim after him.

The real reason it had been so damn amazing was because it’d been so unexpected. By the time she’d started college, he hadn’t been able to look at her without feeling a wrenching in his chest and a swelling in his groin. She’d always been beautiful, intelligent and friendly toward him. And she’d been untouchable in his eyes – not because of her virginity, but her perfection.

Hell, he hadn’t even realized he was her first until it’d already been done. She hadn’t said anything.

She’d been privileged and driven in ways he’d never been. As much as he’d lusted after her, he’d never seriously considered trying to drag her down to his level. While he’d been breaking his back beneath the summer sun on construction sites throughout the Lowcountry, she’d been a university student on break from the studies that would secure her a solid future. She’d worked her ass off at school, maintaining a near perfect GPA, and her summers at home had been her only real breaks.

Even in his early twenties, he’d seen the disparity between them, the difference in the paths they’d been traveling. They’d both grown up on the island, just a few streets apart, but that had been where their similarities had ended.

Their differences hadn’t mattered much when it came to hanging out at the local beaches and piers with other young South Islanders, and that was where he’d gotten to know her.

They’d swam together, eaten together and soaked up endless rays of sun. Usually in a group of friends and acquaintances they’d made in high school, but occasionally they’d gone for a short walk or swim alone. He’d relished those times like something stolen, something precious.

He hadn’t planned on reaching for anything more, on asking for anything other than the pleasure of watching her laugh and relax on the beach, totally oblivious to what a fucking bombshell she’d been in her bikini.