Sneak Peek: Better with You

On Monday, I revealed the cover for my next novelette, Better with You. I'm still editing it and I haven't finalized the summary or elevator pitch, but the first chapter is ready to share. Read on for an excerpt of the first chapter.

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CHAPTER ONE 

Shane Moore checked the return address on the envelope against the numbers on the mailbox in front of the bungalow. Yes, he definitely had the right place. He glanced at the driveway and then the street nearby. No patrol car. She was not home yet. He tossed the envelope to the passenger seat, atop the bouquet of flowers, and slid the transmission into park. He would wait. As he rolled down the windows and lowered the volume of the radio, he hoped that she had a regular nine-to-five shift. He settled back in his seat, exhaling slowly through his nose.

Coming here was the right thing. He knew it. He felt it. After all of the letters and cards and snapshots, he was ready to see her again. In the flesh. He was ready to start something.

The engine ticked, cooling. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the rock song playing quietly through the speakers. Maybe he should have called first. Maybe he should have waited for the weekend.

Before he could change his mind and leave, a police car rolled past him and turned into the driveway. Shane grabbed the flowers and climbed out of his sedan. His stomach twisted. His heart pounded. He clutched the flowers and ambled toward the edge of her driveway.

Once the brake was set and the engine was off, Casey Jameson exited her patrol unit. Her sharp dark eyes scanned her surroundings. She wore a well-fitted city police uniform, a flash of white undershirt showing at the hollow of her throat, and her rich brown hair was confined in a tidy bun at the nape of her neck. Shane's breath caught. Photos and his memories had not done her justice.

Casey frowned at him. She flicked her gaze over the flowers and then searched his face. Half a heartbeat later, recognition dawned in her eyes. Her lips curved. She slammed her door and hurried around the back of her car.

"Shane?"

"Hi, Casey."

"I didn't know you were going to be here so soon."

He offered her the flowers. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

She stared down at them, hesitating. At last, she closed her hand around the bunched stems and took them carefully. "Thank you." She raised her eyes to his and smiled. "Of course I'm happy to see you. But I thought you'd call first." She stepped in and wrapped her arms around him. Daisy petals brushed against the back of his neck.

"Sorry. I thought it might be more fun to surprise you." He hugged her, closing his eyes briefly and breathing her in. No perfume. Just her: soap and shampoo and warm skin. Perfect.

"You thought surprising a cop was a good idea?" Casey stepped back and looked up at him, eyebrow cocked.

He shrugged and turned his palms up. "I didn't say it was my best idea." Her hug had settled his stomach and her acceptance of him had set his heartbeat at a normal speed. He tried not to show his relief when he smiled.

She shook her head lightly, exhaling a laugh, and turned. "Come on." She gestured with the flowers. "I need to get out of this uniform."

He followed her up the steep concrete slope of the driveway, his eyes falling automatically to the curve of her rear end in the snug trousers. His fingers twitched and he craved a touch. Stifling a sigh at himself, he shook his head. He wanted more than that.

Casey led him through the carport, past a green pickup truck, up a too-high step, and into the house. Inside was cool and darkened by the afternoon shadows. A yellow cloth covered the long table in the breakfast nook. Uncovered windows along the back wall faced out over a shaded porch and a flourishing garden.

Shane shut the door behind himself.

She stopped at the sink and crouched to pull a vase from the cabinet beneath it. As she filled the plain glass cylinder with water from the tap, she glanced at him.

"Are you hungry?"

"I could go for some Buffalo wings."

"I hoped you'd say that." She dropped the flowers into the water and set the arrangement on the counter next to the sink. "Give me a few minutes to change and I'll take you to dinner." She started for the doorway at the other end of the kitchen. "I have bottled water and soda in the refrigerator. Make yourself at home."

"Thanks," he called after her.

When she was gone, he slipped out of the tidy kitchen. He hesitated in the foyer, glancing up the narrow staircase to his right, listening to Casey moving around on the second floor. Shane turned left, toward the front of the house.

He felt light-headed. Her letters had always come to him smelling faintly of vanilla and sweetness; the scent was much stronger, all encompassing, in her home. It was a heady thing.

Shane paused just inside the living room. The walls and built-ins were a bright white while the furniture was a mix of modern Swedish economy pieces and solid American vintage pieces. A wide fireplace served as the focus of the room, but the real draw for Shane was the shelves lined with books. In watery sunlight streaming through the leaded glass windows, he examined the titles. She kept fiction separate from non-fiction, but there wasn't any more of one genre or author than of any other. It made him smile. In her letters, she had always mentioned being in the middle of a book. To see them all here, in front of him, felt like coming home.

Across the foyer, the dining room was more formal, with an art deco dining set and chandelier. The built-in hutch displayed China and silver. Meticulously clean China and silver, he noted. Shane wondered if Casey did the cleaning herself.

She still moved back and forth on the floor above him, so he passed the stairs and headed for the light at the back of the house. To his right, a small home office also served as a TV room. The white desk with the flowers painted in the corners looked like something out of a little girl's room and the couch looked like something from a fraternity living room. Shane frowned. It just didn't fit. The room was as clean as any of the others, but the furniture and design were all wrong. At least the books were familiar. More of them lined low white bookcases that were not built into the home. These, he saw, were books on law enforcement, true crime, and law. That made sense.

Casey's footfalls on the stairs drew him from his thoughts. He padded back into the foyer and waited, hands in his pockets.

She came into view, dressed in flat black shoes, dark blue jeans, and a black t-shirt. Her hair was still back in that neat bun, but her lips glistened pink. Kissably pink. He grinned at her.

"What?" She stopped a few steps from the bottom, hand on the banister, wary expression on her pretty face.

"You look great," he said sincerely.

She blushed. "Thanks." She passed him, headed for the front door. Her keys jangled in her hand. "Are you ready to go?"

***

Years of training and the professionally-honed skill of staying cool under pressure kept Casey from fidgeting. She wanted to fidget. It was almost six years since she had last seen Shane and while there had been pictures and her very vivid memory, those images paled in comparison to the real thing.

She had forgotten the effect he had on her.

Casey sipped her water. The noise of the after-work crowd rose around them. Shane watched the baseball highlights on a television above the bar across the room and Casey took advantage of his distraction to study him. His crew cut had grown out just enough to invite a touch. He had aged since that first time they met; no surprise there, he was barely twenty back then. His face was fuller, shoulders broader, arms thicker. His hair was still the same medium brown and his dark eyes still seemed perpetually amused.

And none of that had anything to do with why he had come to Washington.

She looked down and picked at the onion rings on the plate between them. His family was in Oregon, she thought. On a hippie commune? She tried to remember what he had written about them. They disapproved of his decision to join the Marine Corps. He disapproved of his father's draft evasion during Vietnam.

If they were still estranged, that might explain why he had not gone home.

Or maybe... Casey allowed herself the thought. Was it her? Could it be her? Hope fluttered in her chest.

Commercials replaced the sports reel and Shane settled in his chair, facing her. He plucked an onion ring from the plate and met her eyes.

"How have you been?"

She smiled. "Not much has changed since the last email."

"Did you arrest anyone this week?" He munched on the appetizer.

Casey laughed. "Yes. Two hookers and a john."

"It was one arrest, wasn't it?"

She shrugged and sipped her water.

Shane chuckled. "At least it keeps the job interesting," he said. He eyed her over the neck of his amber beer bottle. "How close are you to making State Patrol?"

"A few years still." She tore a piece from an onion ring and popped it into her mouth. "How is it being out?"

Sadness passed briefly over his face: his eyes darkened, his mouth pulled down. The expression disappeared quickly, replaced by a quirk of his lips and a light in his eyes. "Weird. Dealing with all of the paperwork, not having work to keep me distracted, having my things packed up and shipped, applying for the new job... It was rough. But I start work on Monday night, so it's all right now."

"Where are you working?" In his last letter, he had mentioned applying to the fire department in the city.

"The Fawcett Avenue station."

Casey nodded. "That'll be nice. I'm sure they're thrilled to have you."

"I'm looking forward to meeting the chief." He leaned back in his seat.

Silence fell between them. Casey stared down into her drink, trying to come up with a tactful way to ask the question she most wanted answered. She listened to the din of the restaurant and felt his eyes on her and wished that she was better at... this. It was easy when it was just letters. When he could not see her eyes and did not set her heart pounding or make heat pool in her belly with just a look. She closed her eyes briefly. She needed to know.

Casey looked up. "What--"

"So--" Shane said at the same time.

They laughed together.

"What?" Shane gave her an expectant look.

Casey brushed the crumbs from her fingers. She held her breath as she said, "I was going to ask what brought you to Tacoma."

Shane turned the beer bottle between his palms and seemed to consider his words. "It seemed like the best option. Growing city, job and education opportunities, reasonable cost of living..." He looked her in the eye. "You."

Electricity shot down her spine. She spread her hands on her knees to still herself. She had her answer, then.

Shane went on, "I moved around enough in the Corps. I wanted a place to settle down."

Casey nodded thoughtfully and finally began to breathe again. She held her knees under the table, willing her hands to stop trembling. "What was it you were going to say?"

"I have a favor to ask." He curved his lips and his eyes sparkled.

That expression drew her in. "What is it?"

"My stuff won't be here for a week. My apartment is totally empty and you wrote such nice things about your guest room." He raised his eyebrows. "Mind if I stay with you until my things get here?"

Casey leaned back in her seat, moving her hands to grip the edges of her chair. She had not expected that request. "Is that why you offered to pay for dinner?"

"Maybe." Shane's smile faltered and fear flashed in his eyes.

Well, she was scared, too. She had never hosted a man in her home. She had never hosted anyone. Casey breathed out. Resisting him would be impossible under those circumstances. She might make a fool of herself. But he was a friend first and foremost. It was not like she could turn him away.

She nodded and said, "You can stay with me." She looked at him curiously. "Will you be able to get to work all right?"

"As long as my car holds out, it'll be fine." Relief showed in the slight slump of his shoulders and in the grateful way he sucked down a gulp of beer.

Another silence fell between them. Calmer, Casey raised her hands to the table again. She trailed a fingertip down the outside of her glass, through the condensation, and sighed quietly. Shane was her friend. If she was sitting alone at her old desk, what would she write?

"Was it difficult to get hired on with the fire department?"

Shane shook his head. "No. I think the chief is a former Marine, too."

"My chief is."

"You're just surrounded by us."

"Coincidence, not design." She fingered the straw in her drink and glanced at him. "You mentioned school the last time you wrote. Have you thought about that any more?"

"I think so. There's a decent community college here in county, so I thought I'd start there with the basics. I did some correspondence courses when I was deployed. Those credits should transfer over."

"What do you think you'll study?"

"English." He got a faraway look in his dark eyes. "I already have other marketable skills, so there's no harm in studying something I love. Classes won't start for a few months, though." He grinned suddenly at her. "If you have any suggestions for ways to fill up my free time..."

Her stomach flip-flopped. She could think of a number of ways to fill his free time and hers. A heartbeat later, real inspiration hit. "Actually... If you're free tomorrow night, I teach a self-defense class. I could use an experienced demonstration partner."

Shane smiled easily. "You think I'm experienced?"

The way he said it made her blush. She looked down.

He chuckled. "It sounds good to me." His hand skated across the tabletop to rest over hers. "Thanks."

Casey stared at their hands. Warmth spread from where he touched her and up her arm, into her chest. She raised her eyes. He was smiling at her.

No. There would be no resisting him at all.

***

"The facilities are much nicer than what we had in Rwanda." Casey pushed open the guest suite bathroom door and stepped back to let him pass her. Mentioning their meeting place made her think of that day, so long ago, when he had burst into that hot little shack and helped her save three lives. He had seemed invincible then and she had been grateful. Her comfortable home was a far cry from the makeshift camp the Marines had shared with the Peace Corps volunteers but she had not forgotten the week they had spent there.

Shane whistled. The sound echoed in the small, clean room. "Wow. Why can't I just pay you rent and live here?" His eyes moved over the pristine porcelain fixtures and the antique textured wallpaper.

Casey tucked her hands into her back pockets and shrugged. Her home was her sanctuary. She had never expected to share it with anyone, so she kept it exactly as she wanted it. As she showed Shane through the house, she had been self-conscious of the feminine decor and, in the TV room, of the mismatched furniture. Shane didn't seem to mind any of it.

With a smile on his face, he stepped back into the bedroom.

She smiled back at him and shook her head. "I'm impossible to live with. I'm a neat freak."

"I bet I could change that."

"Ah, Shane. You should never go into a relationship expecting to change the other person."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

Casey turned away to hide the blush creeping up her neck. Had she really just said that? She started across the room. His smile, his patience, his appreciation--it was more than she could take. She needed to escape.

Shane put his hand out and wrapped his fingers gently around her wrist.

Casey froze.

He turned her around and tugged her into a hug. "Thanks a lot, Case."

After a moment's hesitation, she slid her arms around him and closed her eyes. "I'm glad I can help."

"I knew I could count on you."

She pulled away, smoothed her hair back, and rubbed at her arms. Goosebumps prickled her flesh. She avoided his eyes and started once more for the bedroom door. "I have to be up by seven, but I'll try to keep it down."

"Don't worry about it. I'll probably be up by then, anyway."

Casey paused near the doorway and looked back.

Was it the dim light of the room or was she seeing things? His brown irises seemed to be thin rings around his wide pupils. The smile he gave her was soft. Almost wistful.

"Good night."

Her fingers flexed on the doorjamb. "Good night, Shane."

Casey shut the bedroom door behind her. She moved swiftly past the stairs, all but fleeing to her own room. She leaned against her door once she was safely alone, tipped her head back, and closed her eyes.

He was in her home. Looking at her like that. Like he wanted something from her. In her mind's eye, she saw his face, saw his softened his expression, saw something she thought might be wanting. She exhaled slowly.

Maybe it was. Maybe he wanted just as much as she did.

Casey pushed herself away from the bedroom door and started for her own bathroom. It was Friday night. That meant a long, hot soak in the bath, a good book, and unwinding from the workweek.

Just because Shane was here did not mean that her entire world would be turned upside down.

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