Second Wind (Cypress Coast Book 1) Page 7

  “Table for one?” The hostess smiled expectantly, menu in hand.

  Embarrassment heated Laurel’s cheeks as she unbuttoned her coat. “No, I’m meeting a friend. I’ll wait at the bar.” She headed for a pair of empty stools in clear view of the door, dropped her purse and coat on one, and took a seat on the other.

  The bartender, who’d been a fixture at Julio’s for as long as she could remember, approached. “What can I get you?”

  “I’ll have a margarita, please.” If she stuck with one, she should be able to safely navigate the dark twists and turns of Highway 1 on the drive home.

  A basket of chips appeared, followed quickly by her drink. As she sipped the tart, slushy mixture, she watched a couple of guys in jeans and boots laughing and gesturing while they talked. They looked so happy and relaxed. So normal. The antithesis of Richard. The dark-haired one winked when he caught her eye, and she smiled in spite of herself.

  She had nearly finished her drink when Melody walked through the door. As soon as she spotted Laurel, she waved and headed toward the bar.

  Hoping the floor wasn’t too sticky, Laurel set her coat and purse at her feet. “I saved you a seat.”

  Melody unzipped her coat and followed suit. She’d taken her hair down and changed into jeans and a sweater. Unlike Laurel, she looked right at home.

  The bartender welcomed her with a broad grin. “Haven’t seen you for a while. The usual?”

  “Sure, why not? And a plate of nachos, please.” When he left, she turned to Laurel. “Paul took the kids to his mom’s for dinner tonight, so I might as well splurge and have a drink.”

  Laurel glanced at her friend’s left hand. “You’re married?”

  “Yep. You remember Paul Hardison from high school?”

  Paul Hardison. Captain of the basketball team and all-around hottest guy in school. Who could forget him? “Of course.”

  “We kind of hooked up in college, and one thing led to another. We got married five years ago, and now we have two kids. He teaches chemistry at the high school and coaches basketball, while I serve and protect the fine citizens of Carmel-by-the-Sea.”

  “Wow, you have a real, grown-up life.”

  Melody laughed. “That’s a polite description of our domestic mayhem. What about you? Are you in town for the holidays?”

  “Actually, I’ve just moved back. I started work today at Gallery St. James.”

  The bartender approached, and Melody accepted her drink with a quick smile. She positioned the nachos between them and plucked one from the gooey pile. “That explains what you were doing in the courtyard this evening.”

  “Mmm, hmm.” Laurel chose a nacho and bit off one cheesy, spicy corner with a crunch.

  Melody finished her chip and wiped her fingers on her napkin. “So, what about men?”

  Laurel’s nacho congealed in a lump at the top of her stomach. “What about them?”

  “Do you have a husband? Fiancé? Boyfriend? Cabana boy? Dog-walker?”

  Her anxiety eased, and she laughed. She’d forgotten how much she’d always enjoyed Melody’s sense of humor. “No, although a cabana boy doesn’t sound half-bad, but I’d have to get a cabana first.”

  They were still laughing when an insistent buzz from Laurel’s purse interrupted. She was tempted to ignore it, but on the off-chance it might be her mother, she bent over, ducked under the bar, and pulled it out. The caller ID said Unknown Caller, and she didn’t recognize the number. However, the area code gave her a jolt, and her hand shook.

  Seattle. It has to be him. Why won’t he leave me alone?

  She cancelled the call and turned off her phone. Stuffing it back in her purse, she straightened quickly—right into the underside of the bar.

  “Ow!” The shock of the sudden pain brought tears to her eyes. She sat up carefully, rubbing the back of her head.

  Melody’s brows knit in concern. “Hey, are you okay? What was that all about?”

  Laurel’s feeble attempt at a smile came out more like a wince. “I’m fine—dented maybe, but otherwise okay. That was my ex—I think.”

  “Your ex? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Melody peered at her over the rim of her glass as she took a sip. “It sounds like there’s a story there. Spill it, girl.”

  Laurel glanced at the other patrons around the bar as she tried to figure out what to say. The dark-haired man in the closest group—the one who had winked at her earlier—stopped his conversation to pull a phone from his back pocket. He frowned at the screen, pushed a button, shoved it back in his pocket, and began talking again. A moment later, another man in the group did the same thing. Seconds later, a woman across the bar followed suit.

  “Melody—” Laurel nudged her friend with her elbow and glanced around the room. “—something weird is happening. Look.”

  As they watched, one person after another picked up their phone, then discarded the call.

  Melody frowned, her glass frozen in midair. “What the—?”

  Laurel’s stomach tightened, and she was struck by a sudden urge to flee. She didn’t understand what was happening, but something wasn’t right. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Before they could move, a young man who looked barely old enough to drink, dressed in blue jeans, well-worn boots, and a white dress shirt buttoned up to his chin, approached with a confused look on his face. He held out a phone. “Are you Laurel McDowell?”

  Laurel stared at the phone as if it might bite.

  The young cowboy pushed it closer. “Ma’am, you’d better take it. He says it’s a matter of life or death.”

  Laurel made no move to accept the young man’s phone. She couldn’t.

  Melody touched her arm. Her voice was low and even. “Laurel, do you want me to take it?”

  The suggestion snapped Laurel out of her frozen state. “No. This is my problem.” She drew a deep, calming breath as she reached for the phone. “Hello?”

  “Don’t hang up!”

  Even though she’d expected to hear Richard’s voice, she still recoiled from the familiar, sharp-edged anger. “What do you want? You said it was a matter of life and death.”

  “It is, damn it. My death, and maybe yours.”

  She sucked in a swift breath. Desperation shimmered in his words and the tone of his voice. What was he talking about? It almost sounded like he was threatening some kind of murder/suicide. He’d claimed to love her, but he’d never shown any signs of being overwhelmed by mindless passion.

  The whole conversation was completely out of character for the polished, controlled man she’d known until the recent cracks had started to appear. She didn’t know what had tipped him over the edge, and she didn’t want to know. She just wanted him out of her life. “I’ll ask again. What do you want, Richard?”

  “I want my property back!”

  She tried to keep all emotion out of her voice. He was worked up enough without adding fuel to the fire. “You keep saying that, but I don’t have anything of yours. My engagement ring—”

  “I don’t want the damned ring! I need my stick!”

  He’s hundreds of miles away. Stay calm. Breathe. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any stick.”

  “Yes, you do. It’s in your bag, and if I don’t get it back soon, I’ll have to come down there.”

  Her chest tightened, and she had to force herself to breathe. She needed a lot more time before facing him again. “Richard, this conversation is pointless. I can’t give you back your stick—whatever that is—because I don’t have it. Don’t try to contact me again, and do not come here. If I see you, I’ll call the police.”

  Before he could respond, she ended the call and returned the phone to the worried-looking young man. “Thank you. I’m sorry about that.”

  “No problem, ma’am.” He slid the phone into his pocket and rejoined his friends after a quick backward glance.

  She closed her eyes and downed the remainder of her margarita in one healthy slu
g. The fiery tequila stung, and her throat rebelled with an instant coughing fit.

  Melody signaled the bartender, who quickly delivered a glass of water. She slid one arm around Laurel’s back and helped hold the glass until the spasm eased. “I assume that was your ex.”

  Laurel nodded.

  “It sounded serious. What can I do to help?”

  Laurel blinked away the tears from her coughing and fumbled in her purse for a tissue. She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. “Nothing, really.”

  “You said you were going to call the police if he showed up. Well, I’m the police. Tell me what’s going on. Did he threaten you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What did he say, exactly.”

  After Laurel repeated the conversation, Melody nodded. “As long as he stays in Seattle, there’s nothing we need to do, but if he shows up in Carmel, I can help fast-track an order of protection for you. What worries me is that trick he pulled with the phones. Is he some kind of tech genius?”

  Laurel shook her head. “He’s an art dealer.”

  “Then he must have some pretty impressive friends. Despite what they lead you to believe on TV, almost no one has access to tech like that. I’m not sure even the FBI could pinpoint a location and identify other phones in the immediate vicinity that quickly.”

  The worried look on her friend’s face did nothing to shore up Laurel’s confidence. “I keep telling myself he’s in Seattle and can’t hurt me, but this has knocked me off-balance.” She held out her right hand, which was shaking visibly.

  Melody closed her hand around Laurel’s to still its movement. “I think you should get a new phone as soon as possible.”

  “That’s what Jake said. At first, I didn’t think it would help, but now I think you’re both right. Even though Richard knows I’m in Carmel, a new phone might keep him from bothering me until he has time to calm down.”

  Melody’s gaze sharpened, and she cocked her head. “Jake said?”

  Laurel nodded. “Jake Carlson. He helped me when my car lost a tire on Highway 1 last Friday.” She took another sip of water. “He’s a good-looking guy, but kind of odd. Apparently, he’s an accountant for the FBI who hates to wear long pants.”

  Melody laughed. “That’s Jake, all right.”

  “What do you mean? Do you know him?”

  “In a professional capacity. He’s a forensic accountant and joined the Monterey County Financial Crime Task Force last year. I’ve coordinated with them a couple of times.”

  Laurel took another sip of her water. “I guess he’s a step up from a bookkeeper, then.”

  “Several steps. Why?”

  “He was pretty close-mouthed about his job. What does a forensic accountant do, anyway?”

  “They catch criminals like money launderers and drug traffickers using sophisticated financial analysis tools. It’s pretty interesting.”

  “Kind of like nabbing Al Capone for tax evasion?”

  Melody nodded. “Whatever it takes to bring the bad guys down.”

  “That actually does sound interesting. You’d think a guy would want to brag about a job like that instead of letting me think he was some low-level pencil-pusher.”

  Melody’s green eyes took on a speculative gleam. “He probably thought you were cute and might be scared off if you knew. Besides, in his position, it’s often better to keep a low profile.”

  Laurel let out a soft hmpf. “If that’s true, he’s not very good at it. He seems to be at Earthly Delights every time I turn around. My mom appears to have adopted him.”

  “There are worse people to have hanging around, especially considering your current problems with your ex. Jake might be able to help.”

  The last thing Laurel wanted, or needed, was to involve Jake Carlson in her seriously messed up personal life. She’d come home for a fresh start, and she refused to let her ex-fiancé’s stupid phone tricks derail her. “That’s enough talk about Richard. If he shows up, you promised to help with a protective order. That’s all I need. Besides, I’m sure he’ll calm down and forget about me soon enough.” She hoped she was right.

  Melody nodded and smiled. “I like your attitude. But remember, sometimes the best way to get one man out of your life is to let another in. I know you were hoping for a cabana boy, but Jake’s a good guy. You’ll like him, if you give him a chance.”

  Laurel considered her interactions with Jake Carlson. He’d acted concerned, even protective, but not necessarily in a romantic way. And after his odd behavior at breakfast this morning, it was hard to believe he was interested in her. Besides, she needed time to put her breakup with Richard behind her and concentrate on rediscovering who she was and what she wanted before she could think about any kind of relationship with another man.

  She smiled at Melody and picked up the plate of nachos they’d barely touched before the phones started ringing. “These look pretty sad. Let’s order a fresh plate and start the evening over. No more talk about me. I want to hear all about Paul and your children.”

  “That sounds good to me. I love them to death, but I have to warn you, I’ve got stories that will make you want to run out and get your tubes tied.”

  Laurel laughed and signaled the bartender for more food and another round of drinks.

  Two hours later she was feeling much more relaxed when she and Melody parted ways with tentative plans to meet for lunch on Friday, Melody’s day off. She had even screwed up the courage to share her artistic ambitions with her friend. Melody had been delighted by the idea of having a giant copper pinwheel in the yard and insisted on being Laurel’s first customer.

  As she headed for home, she was glad she’d switched to soda after her margarita. Her headlights were the only illumination on the dark, curving highway, so she kept a firm grip on the steering wheel and focused on the road ahead. The upside was, that left no room in her brain for ruminating over Richard or speculating about Jake.

  Of course, later, when she pulled up the covers and turned off the light, those thoughts came charging back with a vengeance. Even Rufus’s steady rumbling from his favorite spot against her leg failed to drown them out.

  By the time her alarm buzzed in the morning, she’d only managed a couple hours of solid sleep. As she dragged herself out of bed, she remembered the words of a favorite old song. Sometimes you’re the windshield. Sometimes you’re the bug. Today was definitely a bug sort of day.

  Despite Melody’s encouragement, Laurel wasn’t ready to make eating breakfast with Jake Carlson a habit, so she opted for coffee and toast at home before heading to work. Business at the gallery was a little livelier, and she managed to sell a lovely landscape by a local artist to a retired couple from Australia, so she felt she’d at least covered her salary for the day and helped keep the lights on. In another minor triumph, she stopped after work and bought a new pay-as-you-go phone. When the clerk offered to recycle her old phone, a lightness filled her chest as she handed it over. In a way, the device represented another bond to Richard, now severed.

  After giving Rufus fresh food and water and a good head-rubbing, she changed her clothes and headed down the driveway to Earthly Delights with a spring in her step. Tuesday was spinach enchilada night, and even the chance of running into Jake Carlson couldn’t keep her from her childhood favorite. However, to minimize the risk, she bypassed the main entrance in favor of the kitchen door.

  Her mother was sliding a hefty pan filled with spinach-stuffed corn tortillas and smothered in bubbling Monterey Jack cheese from the oven. She glanced up when Laurel stepped through the door. “Hi, sweetie. Want some dinner?”

  “That smells so good, I won’t say no. Can I help with anything?”

  Rosemary scanned the kitchen, where the other members of the cook staff were busily engaged in various tasks. “I don’t think so. We’re a well-oiled machine here.”

  Laurel laughed. “You always were.”

  “Grab a plate and help yourself. There should be a couple of e
mpty tables out front.”

  “I thought I’d stay back here with you, if that’s okay.”

  Rosemary scooped the steaming enchiladas onto a row of plates, added a big spoonful of seasoned rice to each, then lined them up on the raised counter for the servers. “Sure. That will give us a chance to talk.”

  Laurel hoped her smile didn’t betray her unease. She had always enjoyed chatting with her mother but still got a quick shot of nerves when her mom said she wanted to talk.

  “I spoke to Rafael about converting the old studio today.”

  “And?” Please don’t say it’s too expensive.

  “He knows where he can pick up some used building supplies cheap and thinks he and his two sons can have it finished in a couple of weeks, as long as you don’t want anything too fancy.”

  There was cheap, and then there was cheap. “I’ll be happy with basic and functional, but what are we looking at cost-wise? I don’t have much.”

  Rosemary named a figure under the ten thousand Laurel had gotten from the pawnbroker, but not significantly under. “Don’t worry. Your sisters and I will help with the work, and between the stuff we carted down to the garage the other day and odds and ends around the house, I bet we can come close to furnishing the place for free.” She flashed a grin. “We can start with your old bedroom. I’ve been looking for an excuse to re-decorate it for fifteen years.”

  A smile tugged at Laurel’s lips. “That sounds great, although I think we can pitch the old Justin Timberlake posters.” She silently vowed to start scrounging the second-hand stores for a grown-up sized bed, but in the meantime, at least she could afford to spend part of her first paycheck on a new comforter. The orange daisies that had been her mother’s choice had never done much for her.

  The next couple of days were encouragingly uneventful. Victor seemed happy to have her around the gallery, and her stress level reduced with each hour she didn’t hear from Richard. In fact, her new phone only rang once, when Melody called to confirm their lunch date for Friday. By the time they met at one o’clock at a tiny restaurant a couple of blocks from the gallery, Laurel was basking in an upbeat, mellow glow.