Cole in My Stocking Read Free Page B

Gripper could stand letting her out of the house dressed in those short skirts, he’d never know.
    But she hadn’t been dressed like that tonight. She’d had on flattering, not-too-tight jeans, those flimsy Ugg boots all the women liked wearing nowadays, and a chunky down coat over a turtleneck sweater. Somehow she’d managed to look even more striking all covered up.
    Her skin was still flawless. She still wore her hair in long, shining layers the color of black coffee. Her eyes were still a green so vibrant he’d had a hard time looking away from them when she’d stood in the beam of his headlights to hand him lug nuts. Without the eye makeup, their almond shape was more obvious, more intriguing.
    She looked different, but she was still drop dead gorgeous. And now she was legal.
    Technically she’d been legal when she’d left town. She’d been eighteen. But she’d been a high-schooler. He never would have made a move on an eighteen-year-old, not when he’d been practically twice her age and friends with her father. But she wasn’t eighteen any longer. She was twenty-four now.
    If only he could still be thirty-four, the age he’d been when she’d left. If only he could have stopped aging and waited for her to catch up.
    Jesus. He was becoming delusional. Maybe he should lie down on a cot and catch a few Z’s. Yeah, and then Stace would bust his balls for wimping out on the night shift.
    Stace.
    He glanced around the lot. His friend’s cruiser was two spots over. Great. She’d be on him like white on rice the second he walked into the station. “She’s an adult now, Cole,” she’d told him yesterday when he’d filled her in about Gripper’s death-bed confession and how he was supposed to relay all that messed up shit to Mandy. “If you see her again and there’s still a spark, you shouldn’t let her leave town without telling her how you feel.”
    He’d convinced himself there wouldn’t be a spark. Scratch that, he’d tried to convince himself. Unfortunately, his pragmatic side had known better. He’d been sparking for Mandy for six pathetic years. Tonight, the second he’d seen her, the spark had shot up into the air like a frigging grand finale at a fireworks show.
    The December night chill seeped into the cruiser. He should go inside and face the music.
    Stace would razz him about changing Mandy’s flat. He’d known from the twinkle in her eye when she’d arrived with the WD-40 that she’d pegged him. He’d been patrolling Newburgh more heavily than usual tonight, hoping to glimpse Mandy coming back into town. Like a fool. Only he hadn’t felt foolish when he’d found her on the side of the road in actual need of assistance. He’d felt like her hero.
    He snorted. Like she needed or wanted a hero. That girl didn’t need anybody. She’d proven it when she’d left town and made her own way in the world without help from her father or anyone else. Look what she was doing with her life. Look what she’d overcome. Mandy Holcomb was one remarkable woman.
    And now she was back in Newburgh. Even though the timing sucked because her dad had just died, even though he was too old for her, he was already planning ways to entice her to stay.
     

Chapter 2
     
    My heart sank as I turned on the lights and tried to figure out where in this disaster zone my dad had called home I was going to sleep tonight.
    The scent of dust hung thick in the air. Every flat surface that could be spotted through the clutter had a coat of grime deep enough to draw patterns in. I knew because I made a smiley face on the top of the microwave between a half-empty bag of popcorn and a stack of paper plates. Pill bottles, ash trays, bowls of spare change, remote controls, pantry items, empty beer cans, insect repellent, ammo boxes and other miscellany covered the eating nook in the kitchen. Stacks of newspapers, gun periodicals and junk mail made a maze of the living room floor. Instead of bringing old coats to the