Stella, Get Your Man. Nancy Bartholomew

I don’t want to…”

      “Yeah, you do,” he whispered.

      Lloyd squirmed into the space between us, seizing on the word walk, and agreeing vigorously with the suggestion.

      I rolled my eyes at Lloyd and grabbed my coat. “It’s freezing out there.”

      Jake smiled. “It’s not so bad. Might go up to fifty tomorrow. Great fishing weather.”

      He held open the door, waiting patiently while I wrapped a long furry scarf around my neck, tucked my hair up into a knit cap and pulled on wool gloves. Lloyd shot past him and ran down the steps, ready to explore his new turf.

      When the door closed behind us, I was surprised that Jake didn’t move. He stood on the stairs, staring up at the sky, slowly surveying his surroundings with what seemed to be satisfaction.

      “It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?” he said. “The sky’s so clear you can see every star, and the moon’s got a ring around it. Now, how often do you see that?”

      I stamped my feet to keep them from going numb and wrapped my scarf a bit tighter around my neck. “Have you lost your mind? It’s gotta be twenty degrees out here!”

      Jake sighed. “It’s all in how you perceive it, Stella.”

      “I perceive it as freaking freezing!”

      Jake wasn’t listening. His attention was caught by something lying on the ground next to the house.

      “Would ya look at this,” he said. “Somebody must’ve left it behind. It’s a nice one.”

      Jake inspected the rod. “Even left a nice lure on it, too. Wonder how that happened.”

      He turned, holding a fishing rod in his hand. A silver bauble dangled from its tip, catching the moonlight as it twirled. Whatever agenda Jake had was forgotten as he started off at a brisk pace, walking straight toward the ocean.

      “Come on,” he called over his shoulder. “It’ll warm you up to walk.”

      No, snuggling down under an electric blanket would warm me up, I thought. Walking along the beach at midnight in December would only cause pneumonia.

      “The doctor said you should take it easy. I think you should go back inside and rest.”

      Lloyd ran back and forth, covering the distance between us like a relay racer, barking his excited pleasure in Jake’s choice of direction.

      Jake paused, waiting for me to catch up, and when I did, slung one arm across my shoulders. I started to shrug him off, but he held fast.

      “I’m just keeping you warm, Stella. Relax.”

      “Doesn’t your side hurt?”

      He smiled. “Pain is all in the perception,” he answered.

      “I guess that shotgun blast was a hallucination then.”

      Jake shook his head, still smiling. “You need to work on your negativity.”

      “Negative? I am not negative!”

      Jake chuckled and began walking at a slower pace, his arm still holding me close to his side.

      “You prefer paranoid?” he asked.

      I couldn’t think up a snappy comeback. It was too late and too cold. Besides, Jake was close to being right about me. I was negative, especially when it came to men and romance, but look at my track record. I had a right to be skeptical. Too bad I couldn’t cut my heart out and survive.

      I walked beside Jake, feeling the strength of his arm around me and rehearsing what I’d say next. It was going to be all business, no matter how hard he tried. I was a no-nonsense woman with a job to do. The sooner we all accepted that, the better off we’d all be. Right?

      I lowered my head, ducking the stiff breeze that numbed my skin. Who was I kidding? The only one who needed to quit living in a fantasy world was me. I still had feelings for a man I hadn’t known since high school. I was living in the past, fantasizing that by some small miracle Jake Carpenter had suddenly morphed into Prince Charming. When was I ever going to grow up?

      Chapter 5

      Jake led us right past the boardwalk, down the steps and onto the beach. It was clear he wasn’t planning to discuss anything with me until he’d planted himself along the surf’s edge and had that stupid silver bauble immersed in saltwater. He wasn’t the only idiot on the beach, either. I counted at least four others, spaced maybe ten feet apart, all watching the surf for signs of action. What kind of shared craziness brought them out on a frigid night to stand waiting patiently for the hit of a lifetime?

      Probably the same strain of insanity made women believe in Prince Charming.

      I waited on Jake, stewing with the timeless frustration that had gone on for generations before me and would continue long after Jake and I were distant, past memories. Men fish. They fish for no reason, for endless amounts of time, and often return with whopping lies about their missed opportunities. Women know this; I just don’t see why they persist in putting up with it. It had to tie in with that Prince Charming thing somewhere.

      Jake brought his arm up over his head, rod in hand, and cast his line far out into the surf. With slow precision, he reeled the line back in and repeated the process, over and over again. Five minutes passed without a word while I slowly became an ice cube. When I couldn’t feel my toes any longer, I lost my patience.

      “Listen, if you don’t have anything important to say, Lloyd and I are leaving.” I turned away and started walking. Lloyd, the disloyal, raced off in the opposite direction, trotting up to investigate the other fishermen, leaving me to make my last stand alone.

      “Stella, damn it! Wait!”

      Jake shoved the butt of his rod down into the sand and caught my arm.

      “Come on, honey, I was just trying the thing out!”

      “Honey? Jake Carpenter, I am not ‘honey’ to you! I am your business partner and that is all. Got it?”

      He nodded, but I thought I saw the sides of his mouth twitching with a suppressed grin.

      “What was so important we had to walk all the way out here to talk about it?” I demanded.

      “I got a call from one of my contacts at the P.D. before we left,” he said. “The guys that chased us out of Joey Smack’s didn’t make it.”

      I thought back to the vision I’d had in my rearview mirror of the car exploding into a fireball as it hit a tree, and shuddered.

      “That’s not all,” Jake added. “I read over the report Mia’s private investigator sent her and…” His voice drifted off, his attention caught by something behind me.

      “And?”

      Jake wasn’t listening. His rod suddenly jumped, flying out of its sand pocket and skittering across the beach. Jake ran after it, dived and came up with it in his hands, pulling hard as something on the other end fought him.