Red Red Rose (2 page)

Bellingham, Wa

“There
have been no updates in the search for Emily Raynes, the twenty-four year old
Bellingham native who went missing ten days ago. Although authorities haven’t
ruled out foul play, Chief of Police, Mike Dalton, does not believe her
disappearance is related to the Northwest Strangler case that has gone unsolved.”
The news anchor segued into the string of murders that had rocked the area over
the past several months. Four college girls in that time had gone missing from
the Pacific Northwest, only to turn up dead, days or even weeks later. At least
the first three. The fourth girl had yet to be found, but considering she fit
the same description as the others, I didn’t think anyone was optimistic about
her fate.

“There’s
been nothing new?” Cassie, one of my baristas, stood next to me behind the
counter, her worried gaze also fixed on the television screen. I shook my head
and then grabbed the remote, turning the volume down. I didn’t want to hear
anymore, but the captioning was there for any of my patrons who were still
watching.

“I’m
sure they’ll find her,” Cassie squeezed my arm reassuringly, but after almost
two weeks, we’d all started to lose hope that Emily would turn up safe and
sound. All I could do was nod and draw in a deep breath while Cassie turned her
attention to the customer approaching the counter. I returned the remote to its
place and distracted myself with checking bottles and canisters, taking note of
which syrups and supplies were running low.

“I’d
ask how you’re holding up, but I think it’s pretty obvious that you’re barely
hanging on,” a warm, male voice interrupted my task. “What are you even doing
here?” Will asked softly when I lifted my gaze.

“I
have a business to run. Besides, sitting home, worrying is worse.”

“The
cops haven’t found any more leads?”

I
shook my head. “No. But I don’t know how hard they’re trying. I don’t think
they’re convinced that she didn’t just take off.” It was frustrating as hell to
know that she was out there, and the police weren’t doing everything they could
to bring her home. Em’s reputation as a wild child and party girl made them
skeptical.

“You’d
think with the other girls they’d take it more seriously,” Will bit out.

“I
know, but Em doesn’t fit the profile, and so far none of the girls have been
taken from Bellingham. This is a college town; if people start thinking it’s
unsafe, then parents will stop sending their little girls here, and we can’t
have that. No, it’s easier to say she ran off, than to admit no one is safe.”

“That’s
bullshit. He’s taken girls from three different colleges. No one
is
safe. I don’t care about a profile. I just wish there was more we could do.
She’s still out there. I mean, no one has found her– her body or anything.
That’s a good sign, right?”

I
shrugged and looked down. I just didn’t know. It was true that her body hadn’t
turned up at any of the sites where the other girls had been dumped, but if she
was still alive, where was she? And who had her? Was she okay? Those questions
threatened what little control I was hanging onto.

“Hey,
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this harder, I just wish I could help, ya
know.”

“It’s
okay. I know. I feel the same way. Like I should be out there, trying to find
her, but I wouldn’t even know where to start.” The knot in my stomach tightened
at the reminder of how useless I felt.

He
set his hand on my forearm in a comforting touch. “We can’t give up. You gotta
believe she’s coming home.”

I
forced a small smile on my lips. “I know. She will.” Anything else . . . A buzz
in my pocket cut that thought short. Will withdrew his hand and I retrieved my
phone. I swiped to decline the call as soon as I saw who it was, and shoved it
back into my pocket.

“Is
he still calling you?”

“How’d
you know who it was?”

“Your
face gives you away. Guy won’t take a hint?”

I
sighed, but before I could answer, Cassie poked her head into our conversation.
“Was that Dickface again?” That was the name she’d taken to affectionately
calling my ex since I caught him screwing his ex, and ended things.

“Yes.”

She
made a disgusted huff. “Want me to key his pretty Porsche?”

Cassie
was one of the sweetest girls I’d ever met; she’d been with me since Urban
Grind opened its doors back in June. At no more than a couple inches over
five-foot, she was hardly threatening, but I had no doubt that she would enjoy
exacting a little bit of revenge on Nathan’s beloved car on my behalf. It never
ceased to amaze me how much feisty God could fit into such tiny packaging. He’d
also given her a double dose of sass. Her temper was the only thing that
matched her size. If I had to guess where God packed all that extra attitude,
I’d say in her generous bottom and bosom. They were about the only places it
could fit, because everything else was tiny.

“That
won’t be necessary. I’m handling him.”

Will
let out a derisive snort and I shot him a defensive look. “I am handling him.”

His
eyebrows lifted. “Are you really? It’s been almost a month and he’s still
calling.”

“And
the asshole has been leaving flowers,” Cassie added. This time I shot her the
look. Will was a friend, but I didn’t want her sharing my business with
everyone.

“Flowers?”

I
sighed, “Roses started showing up on my doorstep right after I broke it off
with him.”

“Do
you want me to have a talk with him?” Will offered.

“No
more than I want Cassie to scratch up his car. I appreciate you guys, but I can
handle this on my own. Now you,” I turned to Cassie, “I believe there are some
dishes in the kitchen that need washing.” She gave a little pout but shoved off
the counter and sulked into the kitchen. “And you,” I gave Will a stern look,
“must be pushing it close on your lunch break.”

He
started to say something, but the sound of the door opening drew my attention
and the figure stepping inside held it. My heart did this annoying little
stutter thing that happened every time this particular customer walked in since
I first laid eyes on him last week.

I
wish I could say our meeting was one for the storybooks, a beautiful twist of
fate, sparks flying and all that nonsense, but it wasn’t. I was a wreck. I was
going on seventy-two hours with very minimal sleep. That’s how long Emily had
been missing. The only things filling my stomach were caffeine and worry. I
shouldn’t have even been here, but I’d tried to convince myself I could handle
being at work. It was a disaster and I spent most of the morning on the verge
of a break-down, until finally Cassie and Reggie, my assistant manager,
intervened and kicked me out of my own shop. I couldn’t drive, because I knew the
break-down was coming. It was all about to hit me, and I knew when it did, it
would drop me. I took a walk to try and pull myself together. The only thing it
accomplished was the early stages of hypothermia. I returned to the shop to
escape the cold that was making my body shake with more than just tears, and
numbing everything except the pain I wanted numbed. I had my head ducked low,
hoping to make it to my back office before the tears, puffy eyes and drippy
nose could scare off any customers. I wasn’t the only one in a hurry to get out
of the cold, though. I collided with a brick wall on legs and probably would
have ended up sprawled on my ass on the freezing sidewalk if the brick wall’s
reflexes weren’t so sharp.

Steady
hands made sure I stayed on my feet, and I immediately started apologizing for
not watching where I was going as my eyes lifted to get a look at the stranger
I plowed into. They were blurry with the tears I hurried to wipe away, but I got
enough of a glimpse to know he was easily the most attractive person I’d ever
laid eyes on. Sadly, I was sure he was not having the same thoughts.

He
kindly reassured me that it wasn’t my fault, even though it clearly was. Embarrassed
that he could see what a mess I was, I ducked my head and waited for him to go
in, but he didn’t.

“You
okay?” Suddenly it seemed he wasn’t in a hurry to escape the freezing
temperature.

“Mmhmm,”
I mumbled, still avoiding meeting his gaze.

“Hey,”
his soft voice drew my eyes back to his. “You don’t have to hide your tears
from anyone. They’re not a sign of weakness, and nothing to be ashamed of. So let
them flow when you need to. It’s better than trapping them inside and letting
them drown you.”

I
nodded because I couldn’t manage to form words when his were turning me inside
out. He pulled the door open and held it for me. I rushed inside and directly
to the bathroom where I hid out until I was sure he was gone. I couldn’t even
explain my reaction, but I’d felt exposed in front of him. He didn’t just look
at me, he took the time to see me. I could have been crying for a million
reasons, but it’s like he knew it was coming from somewhere deep inside of me.
He reminded me that the awful pain wringing these tears from my insides wasn’t
anything I had to be embarrassed by.

The
next day I was behind the counter when he came in. He didn’t act at all
surprised to see me there. He just walked up, ordered a plain black coffee and
while I was pouring it, asked me why coffee was better than a woman. When I
told him I didn’t know, he replied smoothly.

“Because
coffee goes down easier.”

My
mouth fell open and I almost dropped his cup, but I couldn’t help the laugh
that escaped.

“Mmm,”
he’d hummed, “even prettier when you smile.”

My
laugh turned into a cough and then I cleared my throat and handed him his
coffee, hoping my cheeks weren’t flaming.

“Sorry,
but that’s the only coffee joke I know and I just wanted to see if I could get
a smile out of you today.”

“It’s
a terrible joke,” I said, but I was still smiling, so he’d succeeded.

The
next day he came in and had another awful coffee joke ready.

“What
do you call a cow that’s just given birth?”

“I
don’t know,” I shrugged, handing over his coffee.

“De-calf-inated,”
he grinned, and I just shook my head, but again I was smiling when he left, and
that wasn’t something I’d done much of lately.

When
he walked through my door the following day, I was prepared for him, and beat
him to the coffee joke. “What do men and coffee have in common?” I’d asked him
while pouring his coffee.

“Tell
me.”

“The
best ones are hot, rich and keep you up all night.” I bit my lip and held his
cup out to him, waiting for his reaction. To my delight, he tipped his head
back and let out a deep, rumbling laugh. Then he fixed me with what I was
coming to think of as his signature grin.

“I
think you win. I’m not sure I can top that one.”

The
jokes stopped after that, but every time he came in, he didn’t leave without
first dragging a smile from me, until all he had to do was walk in the door and
I was smiling. I’d yet to catch his name once in the past week, even though I’d
tried. It was just that his smile had the ability to make me forget my own
name. He came in at almost the same time every day. He’d flash that grin and
engage me in some witty conversation while I made his coffee, and then after
paying cash he would walk back out of my shop, leaving me and every female
alike in a daze. Reggie too. Only then would I remember I forgot to ask his
name again.

Cassie
poked her head out of the kitchen at that moment, but I informed her, maybe a
little too enthusiastically, that I had it covered. “I got it!”

I
saw the grin she couldn’t hide before she ducked back into the kitchen. A blush
spread over my cheeks, but this was my favorite part of the day. Even more
satisfying than closing time.

“On
that note, I better get back to work.” Will set his empty cup on the counter
and shoved off.  

I
gave him a quick, “See ya later,” before I walked over to the register to greet
my new favorite customer. It was almost unfair how easy on the eyes he was,
like it had to be a hazard to women everywhere walking down the street, or
driving. I wondered how many traffic accidents he had inadvertently caused with
those long, thick legs, lean torso and well muscled arms, not to mention that
perfectly sculpted backside that drew my eyes in every time he turned and
walked out of the shop. The favors that man could do a pair of jeans. . .  just
mmmm. And, as if he wasn’t already sex on legs, God had to go and give him a
face that would have certainly been the downfall of Eve if the devil hadn’t
beat him to it with that apple.

Dark,
intelligent eyes perfectly placed above chiseled cheek bones and a strong jaw,
covered by a few days worth of facial hair and framed by strands of almost
shoulder length hair that escaped the knot he had it pulled into, the same rich
color as his eyes, like a mocha with swirls of caramel. And damn did I ever
want to drink him up. It was as if he stepped off of some movie poster, all
tall, dark and Thor-like, and right into my shop. Only this guy was very real
from his amused smirk down to his ass-kicker boots. Shit, he was smirking at
me, and his facial hair didn’t hide the single dimple on one side of his mouth.
A mouth that only made me think inappropriate thoughts. Like what would happen
if I leaned right over this counter, grabbed him by the shirt and led his mouth
to mine. His grin continued to grow wider by the second. I had to stop staring
and say something, like ask him for his order. Not that I needed it. He ordered
the same thing every day.