“What are you, the movie police?” J.R. challenges without turning around.

  “I’m Miss Tanner’s teacher. She’s far too young to be here.”

  J.R. sniggers at my side. “Ignore him, Jackie. He can’t tell you what you can and can’t do outside of school.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, young man. I have an obligation to report any incident of juvenile neglect.”

  J.R. turns to him with a dark glare. “Neglect? How is this neglect? Her mom doesn’t even know she’s here!”

  “That’s exactly the point.” Mr. Kabe tugs on the bottom of his jacket and juts his chin as if to remind us he’s a person of authority. “Miss Tanner’s mother fails to respond to my phone calls, and she failed to attend summer conferences. The fact that she’s attending a movie intended for grown-ups is just one more reason to raise suspicion.”

  “Don’t be a dick,” J.R. says, taking a little longer to get back on his feet because of his cast. “Jackie’s mom works her ass off so she can provide for them on her own. Jackie isn’t the only latchkey kid in town.”

  Although I love that J.R. is coming to my rescue yet again, I begin to wonder if he should back off when Mr. Kabe’s face turns a deep shade of red. “What is your name, young man?”

  “John,” J.R. answers.

  “John what?” Mr. Kabe demands.

  J.R. is barely able to contain his smirk. “Cock…tos…ton.”

  Among a growl, Mr. Kabe grabs a handful of J.R.’s jean jacket and yanks him close. “You think you’re funny, stealing a joke from Chevy Chase like I’m some kind of an idiot?”

  I jump to my feet, balling my vibrating hands at my sides. While I normally wouldn’t hit a teacher, I could make an exception for Mr. Kabe. Especially if it meant getting kicked out of his class. “Let go of him!”

  Diane swoops in among us, eyes hard. “What’s going on here?”

  For several moments after Mr. Kabe finally releases him, J.R. doesn’t move an inch. I grab his hand and yank him back to me, afraid he’s going to punch Mr. Kabe. There’s no telling what his dad would do if J.R. did such a thing.

  “Mr. Kabe is threatening to report Mom for letting me go to an R movie,” I tell Diane.

  My sister’s face brightens with a smile as she turns to my teacher. “Mr. Kabe! I didn’t recognize you at first!” She smooths the palm of her hand along his arm. “I haven’t seen you in, like, forever! How have you been?”

  I doubt anyone watching misses the way Mr. Kabe’s eyes drop down to Diane’s chest. “Well hello, Diane. It really has been a long time. I sometimes forget you and Jackie are sisters.”

  “That’s because we have different dads,” she pretend whispers.

  My stomach roils when Mr. Kabe’s eyes do another sweep of my sister’s body. “You’ve certainly changed since you were in my class. You must be what…sixteen by now?”

  “And a half,” Diane sings with a corny wink.

  With a shift of his weight, Mr. Kabe pushes his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose. “It’s perfectly fine that you’re here, Diane, but your sister—”

  “Snuck in,” Diane tells him. “Our mom sent me here to find her. Jackie went missing after supper, and our mom’s worried sick.”

  “What about this mouthy kid?” Mr. Kabe asks, motioning to J.R. “Is he old enough?”

  “Don’t you worry about him, Mr. Kabe. He’s taking Jackie home with me.” Giggling, Diane pats Mr. Kabe’s chest. “We won’t disturb your evening any longer. Good night, Mr. Kabe!”

  “Good night, Diane,” he replies, shooting me a stern look. “I won’t be reporting your mother this time, Miss Tanner. But if something like this happens again, I’m afraid I’ll have no other choice.”

  J.R. collects the blanket off the ground and tosses it at me to carry before he pulls me away with his good hand, keeping in pace with Diane. As we near the gate where Karrie continues to sell tickets, Diane shudders.

  “Ugh, I need a shower,” she grumbles. “I despise that perv.”

  “Me too,” I say, crossing my arms over my belly.

  “Me three,” J.R. chimes in. Grinning, he bumps his hip against Diane’s. “Thanks for saving my ass. I owe you one.”

  “You didn’t have to act like that,” I snarl at my sister. “It was gross the way you flirted with him while he stared at your boobs.”

  Diane releases a loud, nasally laugh. “Seriously? If I hadn’t ‘flirted’ with him, someone from the county would’ve come to our house to see if mom was fit enough to keep us, and we’d both end up in a foster home. God, Diane. You can be such a baby.” Bumping her hip against J.R.’s., she grins. “Come on, birthday boy. Karrie will go on break soon, and I bet she’ll give us a ride to Baskin-Robbins.”

  They walk away, whispering to each other and laughing like I’m not even there.

  10

  STERLING - 2018

  Following the breakthrough with Theo over the weekend, my supervisor loads me up on cases. On a daily basis, I’m called into multiple hairy situations involving abused children. The worst is when I’m forced to pull five young children from their home after their father, a repeat assault offender, violates the terms of his probation by skipping anger management classes to get wasted at the bar. The mother screams in my face, threatening to send her brother to “take care of me” as I’m strapping the newborn’s car seat inside the back of the police cruiser. What was even more unsettling is the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about the girl from my dreams, and how she often fears someone equally violent.

  By the time I return home after the incident with the five children and discover Theo kneeling in my bedroom, building a nightstand, I’m a tornado of raw emotions. I can’t decide if I want to make him hold me while I cry, or rip my pants suit off and beg him to rock my world.

  When his warm eyes meet mine, sharp with intent, I opt for the second option. He’s been working overtime all week, trying to catch up on projects for clients, so I haven’t seen him much since the other night at his place. Somehow he’s managed to become even more alluring since then. I don’t think it’s because of the haircut, or the fact that he’s not as much of an asshole as I’d first thought. Maybe it’s because I now know he’s an extremely generous kisser, and likely an equally generous lover. I’m eager for anything to remind me there can be an upside to the darkest of days.

  “You look too damn hot to be a county worker,” he teases as I kick my heels off near the edge of the bed. Setting the hammer down on the floor, he studies my grim expression. “Another bad day?”

  “You don’t want to know,” I say, releasing my hair from the updo I’d spent far too long perfecting this morning when I couldn’t sleep any longer because of my intense dreams. After removing my sports jacket, I gesture to his project. “Whatcha got goin’ there, big guy?”

  “A housewarming gift. It just needs a few coats of stain and it’s good to go.” Grinning, he stands to admire the little table with what I perceive as pride. It’s simple and classic enough to effortlessly match the style of my new home. “I don’t know how you’ve managed living here this long without any furniture.”

  “I’ve lived too long without a lot of things.” I unzip my trousers, letting them fall to the ground, before lifting my blouse over my head. Theo’s tongue slips between his lips as he watches my dark waves of hair tumble down over my bare shoulders. The way his glassy-eyed gaze drinks in my pale pink bra and matching thong has my skin prickling with sizzling heat.

  I rush to him and fist his blue t-shirt, dragging him close to ravage his lips. His thick arms wind around me as his lips reciprocate with an equal burst of enthusiasm. I nudge his shirt up and he yanks it over his head, giving me unencumbered access to bulging pectorals, an impressive 6-pack with a slight roll at his belly, and rosy nipples that bead when I dust my fingertips over them.

  “Bed,” I rasp between more kisses, nudging him in that direction. “Now.”

  Despite my urgency, he takes his time caressing my body. The way he touches me is like something out of my deepest, darkest fantasies. I feel treasured. Adored. I’m suddenly more awake than I’ve ever been in my life as my heart and mind soar to a blissful level of euphoria.

  I try repeatedly to drag him closer, desperate to smooth my fingertips over his bunched muscles and run my tongue along his golden skin, but he remains out of touch, intent on learning how to play my body like an instrument.

  Around the time I’m ready to tear his jeans off him, I completely come undone with a final well-placed stroke of his hand. He steals my raged breaths with more urgent kisses before sliding off the bed.

  “Stay here,” he orders in a borderline surly tone.

  The sudden void of his warmth snaps me back to reality. “What…you’re out of little blue pills?” I grumble back at him.

  “I’m going to make you dinner while you relax.”

  A thrill blossoms through me, adding more pleasant heat to my afterglow. A girl like me could easily fall in love with a guy like him, I decide. “It’s sweet of you to offer, but we have some unfinished business to attend to. Besides, I don’t have much for groceries yet.”

  “Dinner’s covered.” His lips split with a dimpled grin. “We have plenty of time for business. I’ll be around for months, remember?”

  My body hums with satisfaction as I watch him stride out from the room, still shirtless. I almost gasp aloud with the discovery of a drawing of a beautiful angel inked across his back. Her wings stretch across his shoulder blades and her face is as serene as water. Why an angel? I wonder. Could it have something to do with his mom?

  I can’t help feeling a bit of disappointment by his comment about being around for months. Does he see this things between us having an expiration date? What if he considers this to be a fling, and nothing more? It’s unnerving how effortlessly I accepted him into my life after he kissed me. I’m even more unsettled by the feeling of being home that I get when he’s around. It’s a new sensation—something I never experienced with Stefan or any other man.

  Brushing my fingertips along the smooth wood top on the nightstand, I recall the way Theo had admired his own work. The man’s still a mystery, but at least I know of one thing that seems to make him happy.

  I slip into my kimono robe and pad barefoot into the kitchen, curious by his intentions. “You came prepared,” I say, watching as he unfolds a deli package of chicken breasts.

  “I stopped by the grocery store this afternoon. After that text you sent when I invited you to lunch, I figured you’d be too tired to cook.” He glances my way with a hint of annoyance darkening his gaze. “Thought I told you to relax.”

  “This is far more entertaining.” Shrugging, I boost myself onto the counter and watch as he prepares a coating for the chicken. Truthfully I’m watching the angel and the way his firm lats bunch and flex as he moves around the kitchen.

  I’ve never felt so relaxed around a man. I don’t even worry about the way my thighs jiggle when I swing my legs. It’s as if Theo and I have known each other forever. “Now I understand why you have an awesome kitchen. Have you always enjoyed cooking?”

  “Not always, no. My father was always working when I was a kid, and the only thing I knew how to make back then was sandwiches. It wasn’t until after my captain made me a food service specialist while overseas that I learned how to cook.”

  “You’re a veteran?”

  Tossing a breast into an oiled pan on the stove, he nods. “Marine Corps.”

  Among the sounds of sizzling chicken, my pulse skips a little. It doesn’t take a great stretch of the imagination to picture him in uniform, marching through rough terrain with an automatic weapon in hand. He definitely has the size and physique of a Marine—at least the kind portrayed by Hollywood standards.

  As much as I wish he would keep sharing little tidbits about himself, I also don’t want to accidentally ask something that will make him clam up again. “That’s admirable,” I merely say.

  He shifts away, expression now solemn. “I enjoy grilling more, but I noticed you don’t have a grill.”

  “Even if I did, I’m not sure my neighbors are ready for the kind of gun show you’d be giving them without a shirt.” Smirking, I slide off the counter and head to my designated liquor cabinet. The prior evening, I’d swung by the liquor store on my way back from work for a bottle of the cinnamon whiskey he’d served at his place. I fill two glasses with ice and whiskey before handing him one. “Thank you for doing this. It was a rough day.”

  “Wanna talk about it?” He turns to me as he takes a drink, one eyebrow lifted.

  From behind my glass, I shake my head. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to rehash it. Let’s just say there are some shitty people in this world.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  We clink glasses and simultaneously wolf them down. I relish in the burn of whiskey as it slips down my throat and into my belly. “That’s so delicious.”

  He bends quickly, brushing his lips over mine. “Tastes even better on you.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back with a fire in my belly even warmer than the whiskey. The man is the equivalent of human cat nip—I don’t know that I could ever get enough. He hoists me back onto the counter top and unties my robe, kissing my exposed skin before rejoining our mouths. What I wouldn’t give to lock him inside my bedroom and do nothing but absorb his skillful kisses for months on end.

  With the shrill wail of the fire alarm, we break apart. My senses were numb to everything except for the stroke of his lips, warmth of his tongue, and the scent of sawdust combined with his fragrant deodorant.

  “Better turn the chicken, big guy,” I tease, glancing over at the smoking pan.

  He starts for the stove, chuckling. “Guess I better get used to having tempting distractions while cooking.”

  With the wolfish grin that follows, my insides become the consistency of pudding. How will I survive falling for this once sour, now charming man if he plans to simply walk away?

  When my first half-Friday arrives, I try to convince Theo to take the afternoon off, but he’s promised to fix an old widow’s leaking windows, so I don’t dare beg. I find it far too enduring that he's offered to help an elderly woman, free of charge. Instead, I manage to lure Beth downtown for drinks before her evening shift begins.

  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I tell her before taking a sip of my cinnamon whiskey. It’s not something I would’ve ordered before meeting Theo, but now it reminds me of kissing him. “Actually two things.”

  “Yes, they’re real,” she teases, cupping her large chest. “Both of them.”

  I nearly choke on my drink with a snort. “Now that we have that out of the way, I’m curious to know when exactly you moved to Mankato. Were you here when those girls went missing in the eighties?”

  Eyes popping wide, Beth whispers, “How’d you know about them?”

  “My supervisor had an old poster in her office.”

  “It’s so weird,” Beth says, continuing to keep her voice low. “I mean, no one likes to talk about it. Sometimes I forget they were never found.” She stops to sip on her martini. “I moved here from New York in the late eighties to take care of my sick grandma. I’d spent my formative years immersed in the punk scene that was taking over Manhattan clubs, and people around here treated me like some kind of freak with the spiky blue hair I had at the time. It took almost a full year before I befriended someone halfway normal.” She points to her face and laughs in a rich sound. “Well, normal in my world anyway. I was hired as an apprentice for K.C., a tattoo artist who worked for a studio a few blocks down from here. She eventually told me about the girls, said everyone had their theories on what happened. I guess most of the adults were convinced these girls had either run away to escape a bad family situation, or they’d taken off with a lover. K.C. said it made sense at first because most of them came from rough backgrounds and shitty families, but then the sister of one of her friends disappeared and the older sister-slash-K.C.’s friend was convinced her little sister wouldn’t have run away for either of those reasons. K.C. thinks the mayor and whoever else ran the city at that time swept all the rumors under the rug and did their best to erase the girls’ stories so people wouldn’t be afraid to live in Mankato. They somehow managed to scrub any mention of it from public record, citing some bullshit about the girls being minors.”

  “Do you think K.C. would be working tonight?”

  Smirking, Beth arches a single eyebrow. “Hankering for some ink?”

  “No…I just…I think it’s sad no one found these girls, and no one brought their kidnapper to justice. I’d love to talk to K.C. myself, see what other information I can get out of her.”

  “It’s unsettling that no one seems to give a shit about them now,” Beth agrees before taking a long sip of her drink. She then shrugs. “But K.C. left over a decade ago. She couldn’t handle this town anymore.”

  My shoulders droop. “Do you know how I could get in touch with her?”

  “Maybe. I haven’t talked to her in a while, but last time she reached out, she had opened a studio in White Bear Lake near St. Paul. I think she named it K.C.’s Touch. As in the letters ‘K’ and ‘C’, not C-a-s-e-y. I’m sure you could find her contact info online.” Her straw crackles as she sucks down the remainder her drink, so she tries to get the bartender’s attention. “You said you had two things you wanted to ask, Hollywood. What’s the second?”

  I pause. “Hollywood?”

  “Seriously, do you own a mirror? I’d be an idiot not to see the resemblance. I didn’t really put two and two together until after you mentioned you were from L.A.”