The Honeymoon Cottage (A Pajaro Bay Romance) (5 page)

"There are a lot of birds," she said.

"Pajaro. That means bird," Oliver said. Interesting. Where'd he picked up Spanish? But before she could question him further she spotted a movement below.

A man was running on the beach, wearing shorts and no shirt, the ripple of muscles across his back visible even from this distance. He was a big guy, but lean and moving with a mesmerizing grace. She watched, entranced, as his long legs ate up the distance and he got farther and farther away. He had dark hair, kind of wavy with the sweat, and she couldn't see his face, but something about his arms pumping—

She quickly looked away. It was him. She felt stupid, realizing she'd been ogling that cop from last night. He was not the kind of man she found attractive. She liked low-key guys, the mild-mannered nerdy type. Definitely not some big, brutish guy with tanned arms big as tree branches and the bossy personality to match.

Camilla took Oliver by the arm and pulled him back from the edge. "It's a bit dangerous, I think, young man. We can bird-watch some other time."

"Birds? Why would I look at birds?"

He pointed off to the left.

About a half-mile down the beach she was surprised to see an old-fashioned amusement park—a Ferris wheel and great red-and-white towers of a wooden roller coaster jutted up into the clear sky, and other brightly colored buildings hinted of summer fun.

"It's heaven," Oliver said. "Let's stay here forever."

"It's heaven," she whispered, watching the tiny figure of the cop far off down the beach. This place felt far apart from the harsh world outside. It was as if here was a place she could start over, be whoever she wanted to be, dream any dream and make it come true. She briefly considered what it would be like to live permanently in a little cottage, in a cute village surrounded by sand and sea and cotton candy, with the chance to just be herself and have nothing to hide. Then she quickly dismissed it. Ridiculous. She couldn't do that. Even if she didn't need to sell the cottage to pay off her debt to Cordova Computing, she wasn't staying here.

She needed to find a job somewhere no one had heard about her arrest. She needed a new city big enough to get lost in, somewhere she could be anonymous. Pajaro Bay was most definitely not that place. She was pretty sure the natives wouldn't accept having a criminal as a neighbor, and by now, everyone in town had probably heard about her arrest record.

"Let's go!" Oliver said excitedly. "Right now!"

"To the amusement park? Not today. Come on. We've got to get you enrolled in school." She led him inside, shutting out the distractions behind them and returning to reality. "You don't even have your shoes on."

He shrugged. "Can't find 'em."

They spent several minutes looking for the shoes, which turned out to have been conveniently lost under a pile of clothes. Oliver put them on v-e-r-y slowly. The more she tried to rush him, the slower his movements got. She kept scolding him, but he tuned her out. Well, she wasn't going to smack him. That had never worked on her and she wasn't about to try it on him.

"I'm going in the bathroom, kid. Be ready when I get out."

She sat in the bathroom for a while, wondering if she was really up to being a mom to this little boy. She had no clue how to take care of a child. Why had Dennis done this to her? But she had to make this work. There was no one else to do it. If she didn't take responsibility for Oliver, he'd be put in emergency foster care. She'd been told that when she was arrested and asked what would happen if she didn't make bail by the end of the day. The thought of Oliver sitting at school waiting for someone who never came had lit a fire under her. She'd pulled together every penny she could scrounge to make bail by the time his school let out that afternoon.

How could she live with herself if she let him down now? So, it was her lousy parenting skills or nothing. She gave her hair a quick brush, pulled her sweatshirt straight, and came out of the bathroom.

Oliver's shoes were tied and he was standing there, kicking at the floor with one foot.

"Get your backpack, kid, it's time to go."

"No." He crossed his arms and stood there, looking so much like Dennis for a minute that she had to swallow the angry response she wanted to make. Amazing how the kid could go from buoyant to bratty in two seconds.

She took a deep breath. "Yes. Now." She said it calmly.

He walked to the door with her as slowly as humanly possible, dragging his worn backpack by one ripped shoulder strap.

"That won't work," she said matter-of-factly. "No matter how slow you are, you'll still end up in school. Might as well go now."

The set of his jaw said he was spoiling for a fight, but she wasn't going to let him win. He took one look at her expression and picked up his pack and slung it over one shoulder. He glared defiantly at her. "Dad wouldn't make me go on the first day in town. He'd take me to the amusement park."

He probably would. Creep. "Well, I'm not your dad," she said coolly. "And you are going to school. No discussion, young man." She assumed that the firm tone in her voice was a good imitation of how caring mothers all over the world sounded on weekday mornings, but since she had no personal experience to go by, she was winging it.

She took him by the hand and led him out the door. "You need to go to school every day. So you don't fall behind." And so you don't end up a criminal bum like your father. She was careful not to say that last part out loud. She didn't know why Dennis had dumped Oliver on her, but as long as she had him, she was going to treat him the way she thought a child should be treated, not the way Dennis—or her own father—had done it.

She locked the cottage gate, then pushed him ahead of her in the direction of the car.

He scrambled into the back seat and threw down his pack next to him. "Maybe the car won't start," he mumbled.

It didn't.

Camilla sat there in the old convertible, staring at the dashboard. Nothing happened when she turned the key in the ignition.

"Maybe we'll be too late to go to school today," Oliver said hopefully.

"No chance. We're going even if we have to walk."

"I ain't walkin' that whole way."

"Don't say ain't."

"Why not?"

"It ain't polite," she said, and winked at him.

She turned the key again. Still nothing. That didn't make sense.

"Maybe it's out of gas," Oliver said eagerly.

"Of course it's not. I just put gas in—" She looked at the gas gauge. Empty. Okay. There was definitely something wrong with this junk heap.

"What are we going to do?"

She took the key out of the ignition. "I guess we're going to walk."

~*~

Chapter 3

She was as cute as before. Ryan got out of his truck, annoyed by her cuteness, annoyed by how it made him feel. Camilla stood by the convertible. Little Oliver sat in the back seat, a big grin on his face.

Well, it was his fault for driving by here to check things out on his way to work. Now he was stuck.

He had been hoping that when he saw her again, the effect would have worn off, but it hadn't. She still unsettled him in some fundamental way.

She looked at him, confused. "Why are you here?—I mean," she quickly added, "it's actually good that you are, but—I mean—" Her voice was still smooth and soft. He really wished he didn't notice these things about her.

He found himself smiling at her, the blush and the stammer seeming really cute to him for some reason. Cute. He didn't want her to be cute. He didn't need cute in his life.

"Just passing this way," he explained.

Right. His office was in the other direction, but she didn't need to know that. "Is there a problem?"

"We're out of gas," Oliver piped up.

She spun around and shushed him.

"Well, we are," Oliver said. "Now I don't have to go to school."

Ryan leaned into the driver's side and checked the gas gauge. Empty. He took out his cell phone and dialed. "Hector? Can you get a tow up here on Cliff Drive right away? No, not for me. There's a lady here. Something's wrong with her car. I need you to take a look ASAP. Yeah. The Honeymoon Cottage."

She started to protest even before he hung up the phone.

"But—" she started.

"He'll give you a free estimate," Ryan told her. "I know you don't have much money. But something's obviously wrong. He'll see if he can figure out what it is so you don't keep getting stranded."

She still looked doubtful. "You know, I can handle this myself."

"Didn't you want me to help?"

She blushed. Why was that cute, too? She hesitated, then said, grudgingly, "thank you for your help, Captain Ryan. But I can't afford a mechanic."

"Hector's Garage is not only reasonably priced, it also has the advantage of being the only mechanic in Pajaro Bay."

"Oh. I guess unless I want to spend the rest of my life in Pajaro Bay, I'll have to get the car fixed." She wasn't planning to spend the rest of her life here? He wondered what she was planning—not that it was any of his business.

She got her purse out of the car and helped Oliver out of the back seat. "I did put gas in the car," she said defensively.

"I know. I watched you."

"Right," she said. "So you know it's not my fault."

"Your fault?" He raised an eyebrow.

She shook her head. "Never mind. Come on Oliver. And stop kicking up dust in the road," she added as he shuffled toward her, dragging his backpack.

"No school today," Oliver said hopefully.

"Yes, school today," she said firmly.

She turned back to face Ryan. "I really appreciate this, Captain—"

The tow truck from Hector's Garage pulled in behind him, belching exhaust, with a blare of its horn for welcome. Hector, all tie-dyed and bleary eyed, got out. He appeared reasonably alert, but it was only 8:30 in the morning. Looked like he was living up to their agreement: stay clean and sober during business hours and while driving, and Ryan wouldn't go out of his way to investigate his after-hours hobbies.

"Sheriff dude! The lady needs a tow?"

Ryan pointed at the little car, and they all got out of Hector's way.

With a quick glance and a grin at Camilla, Hector got to work.

They all stood silently watching while he expertly swung his tow truck around and hooked up Camilla's convertible. Once he had the car rigged, he drove off with a cheerful wave and another toot of the horn that Ryan just knew would lead to at least one noise complaint call from the old ladies on Cliff Drive.

They stood in the street in his dusty wake. "Thank you, Captain Ryan," she finally said.

"—Just Ryan is fine."

"—Okay, Ryan. I'm Camilla. And I really do appreciate it." She put her purse strap over her shoulder. "It's not much of a walk to the elementary school, is it?"

"It's on the other side of town." He neglected to mention that "the other side of town" meant it was about four blocks away. "I'll give you a lift."

Oliver was scuffing his feet on the gravel. Definitely not a happy camper this morning.

"Ever ridden in a police car, Oliver?" Ryan asked him.

"Yeah," the boy said forlornly, and Ryan was startled. That wasn't the usual response, but he'd forgotten what the kid must've been through.

"Well, have you ever ridden in a specially equipped sheriff's department SUV?"

Oliver looked up with a sudden grin. "Does it have four-wheel drive?"

"You bet it does. Come on." He escorted them to his car.

"We could do something fun instead of going to school," the boy said to Camilla, obviously continuing an argument they'd started earlier. "Don't you think so, Captain Ryan?"

"There's nothing fun to do in this little town, Oliver," she said.

"There's an amusement park down at the beach," Ryan said, then wished he hadn't. The look Camilla shot him was not exactly cheery. So she had a temper along with the soft demeanor. Why did he find that intriguing?

"It's only open on the weekends until summer starts," he added, and her expression softened.

"Gee," she said with a sudden grin that lit up her face and sent a jolt through his gut. "That sounds like a great incentive for a little boy to go to school every day this week and do all his homework."

"Can we? Really?"

She looked a little nervous at what he'd just cornered her into promising.

"My treat," he found himself saying. "Saturday."

She started to protest, but he added, "It's not expensive. Rides for a dollar from now until summer. It's a great amusement park. You'll enjoy it." Why did he end up chattering so much every time he got near her? And now look what he'd done. He had roped himself into seeing her again. By the weekend he should have satisfied his curiosity about her case, and would have absolutely no reason to see her again. But there were still several days before the weekend. By then he'd find a way to back out of this.

From the glum look on her face, she might be the one backing out. He didn't let her dismay at being stuck with him wound his ego. He was way past the stage of wanting women to like him.

Oliver was still pouting at the thought of all the schoolwork standing between him and the amusement park, so Ryan talked a mile a minute about engine capacities and off-road capabilities, trying to distract the boy from the fact that he was being put in the back of a police vehicle. He needn't have worried about traumatizing him.

"Can I pretend I'm being hauled off to the slammer?" the kid asked as Camilla buckled him in to the back seat.

"Sure," Ryan said. "If you give me any guff, outlaw, I'll run you in with lights and sirens blazing."

"Yeah!" Oliver said. "Do that."

Ryan closed the door on the boy with a reassuring smile, then opened the front passenger door for Camilla.

"I can sit in the back with Oliver," she said gruffly.

"That's not necessary." He held out his hand to help her step up into the high SUV, and she reluctantly put her hand in his.

He very determinedly didn't notice how soft and warm her hand was. He didn't notice how nice she looked as she settled into the seat, either. He closed the passenger door with a scowl, not thinking about how green her eyes looked this morning and how nice the pale pink sweatshirt she wore looked against her skin. He didn't notice anything at all, he grumbled to himself as he went around to the driver's side and got in.