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”GOOD EVENING, MS. GUSTAFSON." The officer stood on her front porch looking better than anything her imagination had drummed up over the last week. His hair was uncharacteristically messy tonight, as though he'd run his fingers through it, and the intense look in his eyes made her toes curl inside her socks.
"Officer Jarrett," she said flatly, glad he couldn't read her thoughts.
"We've received reports of suspicious activity in the neighborhood, and I'm here to investigate." He was very serious.
"Really? Should I be worried?"
"I suppose that depends on what's going on. Are you alone?"
"I—I'm sorry? I don't understand."
"Are you alone, Ms. Gustafson?" he repeated, a little louder, a little slower, as though she was hard of hearing, or slightly dense. "Do you have company?" His gaze darted past her shoulder.
"No. It's just me." She reached back and pulled the door nearly closed behind her, blocking his view into her home. She didn't like the way he was speaking to her, and still feeling a little bruised from his behavior last week, she wasn't going to stand for it again. "What exactly can I do for you?"
He ignored her question and asked one of his own. "Have you had any unwanted or unsolicited visitors lately?"
"What? No." The memory of Mike trying to push through her front door a few weeks ago intruded on her thoughts, but she didn't think that was any of this man's business.
"Are you certain?" His tone irked her.
"I think I would know." Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Mrs. Cork's partially-opened front door and the woman's silhouette back-lit from inside. The dog was yapping away from somewhere behind her. Nosy old poop. Then another thought suddenly took shape.
"Wait. Are you here because of her?" She tipped her head toward her neighbor's place. "Did she call you about this supposed suspicious activity?"
He didn't respond.
"Look at her, Officer. Which one of us is behaving more suspiciously?" It had to be. It just had to be! "I don't know how long you've been a policeman, but I'm sure you know about busy-bodies, nosy neighbors, and meddling gossips. Well, that," she pointed with an arm fully extended. "Is a prime example of all of the above." She grimaced with satisfaction as Mrs. Cork's door closed abruptly and the dog went silent.
"What is she complaining about? Is that why you were here last week? Because of her?" Her eyes got wide as she put two and two together, and she gasped indignantly, then glared at him with squinted eyes. "You were extremely rude to me that night. You were expecting something very different than what you found, weren't you? Suspicious activity? Ooh!" She stomped her foot. Then her eyes got wider. Her mind was working overtime now, and the pieces were falling into place like the inner workings of a combination lock. "Wait! This is the third or fourth time you've been by to check on me now. It was her all along, wasn't it? She's been calling the police on me!"
He held up a hand, interrupting her rant. "A call from one neighbor asking questions about your integrity is not enough to send an office—"
"Questions about my integrity?" Her voice was rising along with her heart rate and her color, she was certain.
"Please calm down, Ms. Gustafson."
"Calm down?" The condescending jerk! "I'd like to know what I've done to make my neighbor complain!"
When he raised a hand in a calming gesture, she had to resist the urge to smack it away. "In fact, since you're here, maybe I should file a complaint of my own. That woman lets her dog out front without a leash, and I know there's a leash law in this town. Then she stands there and watches as the little rat comes over here and dumps on my lawn. She has yet to pick up one pile in the four years I've been living here. Why don't you go harass her?" She knew she sounded vindictive and petty, but she couldn't help it. Something about the way he stood there, watching her come unglued, made her want to lash out at him.
Officer Jarrett referred to his notes again, ignoring her tirade. "The caller," he said, emphasizing the term as though he thought he could convince her of its anonymity. "Reports that there has been a string of strange men in the neighborhood over the last several weeks."
"Strange men? Strange men?" She felt like a parrot. "Could you be more specific? Were they, by any chance, standing on my front porch, holding flowers?" Apparently, Mrs. Cork spent way too much time standing on her own front porch.
"Do you know anything about strange men in the neighborhood?"
"Oh, Officer." She smacked a palm to her forehead, then spoke in a syrupy tone. " I can explain. You see, I've been trying out a new man every Monday night, hoping to find myself a husband." Amazed at how ridiculous the truth actually sounded, she continued, oozing sarcasm with every syllable. "Well, all those men have worn me out, and I needed a rest. I had to send tonight's man away, poor thing." She flapped her hand in the air as if shooing off a fly. "It's just little ol' me and a quiet evening of rest and recovery."
He said nothing, just studied her, his expression unreadable. Juliette could only imagine what was going through his head. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose. Her shoulders sagged and she leaned her head back against the door jamb, closing her eyes.
"What more do you want from me, Officer Jarrett? It's the truth, okay?" She ran a hand through her untidy hair and opened her eyes to peer up at him, but his head was down now, and his face was in shadows. "My sisters thought I was turning into a weird old maid. They've been setting me up with blind dates over the last couple of weeks. Let's just say it hasn't gone well, not even the night Trevor took me out. But that wasn't his fault." She kicked the edge of her doormat in frustration. "No, it was because you showed up and insisted on making me feel like a criminal." She turned away to look down the street where she'd last seen Trevor riding off into the night. She wished with all her heart she could be on the back of that bike at this very moment, instead of talking to this insufferable man.
When he still didn't speak, she continued, no longer caring what he thought of her. "I spent way too much time last week trying to figure out what I'd done to make you treat me so unkindly. I get it now. I know your type only too well. I'm just a silly little woman to you, so it's okay for you to think the absolute worst of me. I'm not even worth you giving me the benefit of the doubt, am I?"
Straightening, she brought her gaze back up to meet his. His eyes were still in shadows, but his brow was creased, his mouth tight. "Well, Officer, it's over. No more men. No more blind dates. In fact, no more dates, period. Finished. Done. The end. The fat lady sang, okay? Tonight was just a misunderstanding. My sister forgot to call the next guy on the list and he showed up." She snorted and put a hand up to cover her eyes that were suddenly prickling with unshed tears. "And why, oh why, am I telling you this? I sound as pathetic as you think I am."
Spent, her anger having boiled over and evaporated, she asked, "Are you going to arrest me? Or can I go back to my take-out pasta-for-one that's already been microwaved twice?" She rolled her eyes. "At this point, I'll probably die of radiation poisoning before my sisters find me a husband."
Then he grinned. Oh, there it was; that beautiful, heart-stopping smile.
No! She would not respond to it! She glared instead at Mrs. Cork's front porch, wondering if the woman could feel her eyes burning her flesh through the closed door.
"Really? Is all that true?" His voice was surprisingly gentle, and she could hear no trace of mockery in it.
She stood in her doorway, embarrassed by her lack of self-control, demoralized by the circumstances, and pathetic by her own admission. "Would it be possible for anyone to make something like that up?"
"I don't know," he chuckled. "I hear some pretty good stories in my line of work. In fact, I recently pulled over a lady who claimed she was just pretending to be a blind duck driving."
He was trying to be kind. Juliette snorted. "I bet she cried like a baby when that excuse didn't work."
"She did." He nodded sagely. "I must admit, that was one of the more terrifying encounters I've had. I even considered therapy after that."
"I bet. She sounds crazy."
Victor cleared his throat. Twice. "My friend said something like that about her. He called her wild." Juliette recoiled at the thought of Trevor talking badly about her. Victor must have noticed her flinch, because he reached out as if to touch her arm, then withdrew his hand quickly. "But in a good way. He calls his bike wild, his parents wild; he even calls God wild."
Juliette smiled up at him in relief, glad he'd explained. "Really? Well, I guess she doesn't sound so bad, after all."
"No. She doesn't sound so bad, after all," he echoed her words, his tone making her blush. "Ms. Gustafson, I owe you an apology." He actually dropped his gaze and stared at his toes for a few moments. He spoke quietly, almost sheepishly. "I have been imagining all sorts of things about you, and apparently, none of it's true. I don't know why I let my thoughts get away from me." He looked up, and waited until she met his gaze again. "My job doesn't allow for assumptions, or snap judgments, yet that's exactly what I've done. Then again," he grinned. "I've never come across someone quite like you before."
She caught herself staring at his mouth the same way Tim Larsen had stared at hers, and she blinked, then darted her eyes over to Mrs. Cork's for something else to look at.
"All kidding aside, I'm sorry. It sounds like you've had quite a month, and I certainly haven't helped. Will you forgive me?" He held out his hand, palm up, as though offering more than just a handshake.
She felt the rush all over again as she placed her hand in his. Solid and gentle, secure and warm, it was all she could do not to close her eyes and sigh. She pulled away as quickly as she could without being rude, uncomfortable by her lack of restraint. She crossed her arms, hugging herself, unaccountably shy now. "I'm sorry, too. I was very rude to you tonight. I think I even stomped my foot at you."
"You did." He chuckled. "Although that was pretty wild."
If she didn't know any better, she might think he was flirting with her. The notion sent a tingle all the way from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and she quickly changed the subject.
"Poor Mrs. Cork. She probably thought I was running some kind of escort service."
Officer Jarrett looked away, but not before she saw his guilty grin.
"No way! And you believed her?" Juliette clapped her hands gleefully. "No wonder you were so mean to me! You thought I was leading Trevor into debauchery, didn't you!" She started laughing as she recalled the events of the night from this new perspective; the look on Victor's face as he pulled up behind Trevor's bike, his hesitance to even touch her, the stern request for Trevor to call him before he left town. "Did you tell Trevor any of this?"
Victor nodded reluctantly, his mouth a crooked smile. "And he refused to believe you were running any kind of shady operation. He defended you, informed me that I was a blind fool, and called you wild. In that order." His gaze turned serious. "I don't like being called a blind fool, but I only have myself to blame for it."
"It seems that I'm not the only one who's been driving blind around here."
"Ah." He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and nodded, his smile back. "Touché, Juliette. Well played."
Heat swirled in her belly at the sound of her name on his lips. She smoothed back her hair and tightened the belt of her robe. "I really did plan on a quiet, boring, uneventful night, sitting in front of the television with my bowl of pasta, you know. Nothing seems to go the way I plan these days, but I'm kinda getting used to it." She shrugged resignedly. "I don't mind as much as I used to."
"I'm sorry I kept you from your dinner."
"It's one of those dishes that gets better with age. Kinda like me." His eyebrows shot up and he laughed; she blushed at her forward response. Stop talking, Jules.
"Then I'm glad I could be of service to you. Go eat. I've got things under control out here. Suspicious activity eliminated." He actually sounded a bit flustered.
"Thank you," she nodded. "And on behalf of myself and the neighborhood, especially in regards to the preservation of Mrs. Cork's virtue, I thank you too."
"You're welcome, Ms. Gustafson."
"I liked it better when you called me Juliette." It was out before she could catch it.
"Well, then, Juliette, you're welcome." He descended the three steps on her stoop, then half turned back. "Goodnight, Juliette."
She watched him walk away and knew that Trevor was right. Victor Jarrett was a good guy. The night could have gone a lot differently had he been a man of lesser caliber. He climbed into his car, and she waved as he drove off, the second—and hopefully the last—man she was sending away for the night.
She'd missed her whole episode, but her pasta was surprisingly good.
