At Peace

Chapter One My Neighbor

I stared at the dark ceiling and listened to Axl Rose demanding to be taken to Paradise City.

The song was sweet, as was the AC/DC, Poison, Whitesnake and Ratt that had preceded it but it wasn’t sweet at…

I turned to look at my alarm clock on the nightstand…

Three thirty-three in the morning.

The party had started at twelve twenty-two. I was okay with that, seeing as it was a Friday. I figured in this neighborhood they’d cool it at one thirty, maybe two. I also figured, if it went beyond that, Colt would go and have a word. Alec Colton was my neighbor; he lived across the street and one house down. He and his girlfriend, February Owens had a new baby and he was a cop. I couldn’t imagine he’d put up with a trip down memory lane, 80’s hard rock style, until nearly four in the morning, not with a new baby and all that entailed to your sleep schedule (or lack thereof).

But the music hadn’t stopped.

My neighborhood was quiet or, at least, it had been for the four months Kate, Keira and I had been living in it. It was February. Who had loud, late parties in a quiet neighborhood in February?

At least Kate and Keira were at sleepovers. If they’d been home, I would have lost it way before now.

But, I lost it…

I looked at the clock…

At three thirty-four in the morning.

I threw back the covers and went to the bathroom, snatching Tim’s old, plaid flannel robe off the hook on the back of the door. His Mom bought him that robe. He’d had it before we’d been married. Now it was soft as plush, worn in but not worn out and it was still super warm.

Shrugging on the robe, I stomped out of my room, through the open plan study into the living room that fed into the dining area that fed into the kitchen. Then I went to the side door in the kitchen where a tangle of footwear littered the floor.

Both Kate and Keira were early bloomers. They were now both my height, even Keira, though she was only fourteen, and we all wore the same shoe size. I yanked out Keira’s hot pink wellingtons with the big daisies on them and pulled them over the thick socks I had on to ward off the night chill. I jacked the thermostat way down at night, saved on heating, saved on utility bills. Money wasn’t exactly flowing and raising two teenage girls, money was an important thing to have. Then again, it was even without two teenage girls, though I hadn’t really known a time in my life when there weren’t kids in it. One day I was a kid, the next I was a wife and mother.

Never regretted it, not a single day, not until one year, three months, three weeks and two days ago. Then I didn’t really regret it but life sure as hell changed.

I disabled the alarm, unlocked the side door, stomped into the night and stopped dead.

I had no idea where the music was coming from but I wouldn’t have expected it to be coming from my next door neighbor. This was because whoever that was, they were never home. In the four months we’d lived there, I’d seen a shiny, black, new model Ford pickup truck in the drive a few times, maybe two, three. I’d seen the lights on in the house once. Other than that, no one home.

But now, it was lit up like a beacon, the music was way louder standing outside. So loud, it was a wonder the windows didn’t bow out with the sound.

But there was no shiny, black, new model Ford pickup truck in the drive. Instead, clear as day because of the lights blazing from the house, I saw a shiny, red, new model Porsche.

This all struck me as a surprise. No word, no sound, no nothing from that house in four months and now it was lit up, loud music blaring and there was a non-American car in the drive. As far as I knew the only neighbor on the block who didn’t own American was February and she owned a convertible Beetle. Everyone else, including me, had American-made.

And no one on this block could afford a Porsche, not in their lifetimes.

Even living there for such a short time I knew my neighbors because this was a small, Indiana town. We’d lived there a week and we’d met all our neighbors. They’d come over with cakes, cookies and casseroles. We’d been invited to Christmas parties. We waved and called hellos, or good-byes, or even walked over to have a gab if we were out shoveling the walks or getting in our cars to go somewhere or we were coming back. We chatted when we ran into each other at the grocery store, post office, Frank’s restaurant or a high school basketball game. Kate, Keira and I had lived there four months and it felt like we’d been there fourteen years.

But I didn’t know my neighbor with the shiny Ford pickup who lived next door and I didn’t know them because they were never home.

Now, whoever they were, I was going to meet them.

I stomped through the snow, hearing it crunching underfoot even with the music. The top of the snow had refrozen with the frigid night but I didn’t feel a thing, I was too angry. I had to work tomorrow, be at the garden shop at eight which was only a few hours away. I’d been woken up with AC/DC’s “Hell’s Bells” and had been tossing, turning and fuming ever since. Now my blood was boiling and I was going to have to take care not to lose control. I had a temper, unfortunately. I didn’t blow often but when I blew, I blew.

And one of the reasons I was angry was because if Tim was here he’d be doing this. He’d have done it three hours ago, approximately halfway through “Hell’s Bells”. Tim liked his sleep but it wasn’t that. He didn’t tolerate anything that might bother his girls. If it woke me up, it would wake him up and he would know I’d been disturbed and that would tip it for him and he’d be out the door like a shot. He’d take his gun and he’d take his badge and he’d take his pissed off, big man, hotshot cop attitude and he’d put a stop to it, make no mistake.

Fuck, but I missed him.

I made it to my neighbor’s front door and didn’t delay. I lay on the doorbell and knocked on the door, knowing they’d never hear one or the other and even with both it would be a miracle to be heard over that sound.

It was now Van Halen. David Lee Roth was singing “Panama”. Another of my favorites. It was a memory song. Good times were had when that song was played, good times being ruined by that song being used to piss me right the fuck off.

I knocked louder and kept my finger pressed to the buzzer.

“Hello!” I shouted to the door.

It was thrown open, the blazing lights from inside blinding me for a second, then I focused, my blood cooled about a hundred degrees and I stared in complete shock.

“Who are you?” she asked on a shout over the music.

Holy shit, it was Kenzie Elise. Kenzie Elise. Kenzie freaking Elise.

I’d seen nearly all of her movies (except when she started to branch out and do those crappy art house films which made little sense to me or the critics, even though she was doing them trying to become known as a actor rather than a rom com sweetheart and she kind of failed at this endeavor).

I loved her movies, especially the rom coms (the thrillers were pretty good too). I loved her. She was awesome.

But now, with her standing in a crackerbox house, in a crackerbox neighborhood, in a small town in Indiana, I was staring at her in shock.

Kenzie Elise couldn’t be my neighbor. That was impossible.

But there she stood, tall because she was really tall anyway but she was also a step up and she was wearing sky-high, platform stripper shoes with straps that wound up her skinny calves. And skinny they were. She was ripped; every muscle in her body could be seen. As could her breastbone, prominent and, I had to admit, immensely unattractive. I could see all this because she was wearing an emerald-green, lace teddy, deep-cut down her non-existent cleavage, high-cut up her bony hips. She had to be ten, fifteen, maybe even twenty pounds underweight. So skinny, it was a little scary. But she had that trademark mane of wild, long, strawberry blonde hair, cornflower blue eyes and cute-as-a-button face.

And she was standing in the doorway of the house next door, the blue eyes in her big head on her stick-figure body staring down at me.

“Who are you?” she repeated and I jumped, coming out of my trance.

“Um… your neighbor,” I replied. “Could you turn the music down?”

“What?” she shouted but when I was going to respond, her blue eyes left me and looked over my head.

I saw lights flash on the house and I turned around to look too.

A shiny, black, new model Ford pickup truck was turning into the drive.

Shit!

I turned back to see she was smiling, really pleased about something. Her face had gone soft and knowing in an intimate way that made me feel highly uncomfortable.

From the look of her Daddy was definitely home. I was big time third wheel of this particular party and I needed to get out of there.

“Listen, can you turn the music down?” I asked on a shout but she ignored me, her eyes riveted over my shoulder.

I’d seen the lights go out and now I heard a door slam.

“Excuse me!” I yelled over the music, getting a bit desperate. “I live next door,” I lifted my left arm to point at my house, “and your music is really loud. Can you turn it down?”

“Hi lover,” she purred and how she purred over that music I couldn’t imagine but she did it.

I turned around and froze.

Standing behind me was a man, a big man, big in every way. He was tall, taller even than Tim and Tim had been six foot two. He was also broad; his shoulders in his black leather jacket were wide and unmistakably powerful.

And he’d been beautiful, once. It was plain to see, under what he was now, that his features had once been perfect, high cheekbones, an appealingly sharp slant to his square jaw, a strong brow. Now there were lines coming in arrays from his eyes and more around the sides of his frowning, full lips.

And there were also scars down his left cheek, two from about a quarter of an inch under his eye that curved over his high cheekbone coming closer together and ending where, if he had a dimple, his dimple would be. These scars were not puckered or disfiguring outside of the actual marks. They just marred the faultless male beauty that had once been his face, making it, with the addition of the lines, rugged and interesting and more than a little scary.

All of this, with his dark, unruly, way overlong hair, was enough to make him look sinister in a compelling, magnetic way.

And then there were his eyes. Sky blue eyes. Sky. Fucking. Blue.

Kate and Keira had their father’s gray-blue eyes, striking as they were framed with Tim’s long, dark lashes. I’d never seen eyes as beautiful, as striking, as breathtaking as Tim, Kate and Keira’s.

Until now.

He was using those eyes and that rugged face to glower at a point beyond me. Actually glower. And he was doing this in a way that I felt a chill glide down my spine. He scared me so deeply, being so dark, so scarred, so huge, so obviously furious that I was rooted to the spot. I couldn’t move even though I really wanted to.

Then he moved. He strode forward right by me and automatically, as if compelled to do so by the sheer force of his aura, I turned as he walked passed. I watched as he planted a big hand in Kenzie Elise’s emaciated breastbone and he pushed her off.

My mouth dropped open as she flew back on her platform stripper shoes, her arms flying out to the sides to find purchase as she wheeled backwards. There was nothing to grab onto and she tripped gracelessly off the side of her shoe but righted herself before going down.

I stared, unable to do anything else. It was like watching a hideous accident caught on film and aired on television. You didn’t want to see but you had no choice but to watch because, no matter how your brain screamed at you to do it, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Without stopping he stalked into the house and disappeared. Then the music abruptly stopped.

“Cal –” Kenzie Elise started, her hands lifted, placating.

“Shut the fuck up,” I heard his growl, his voice low, deep, rumbling and as sinister as his appearance. I heard it but I didn’t see him and Kenzie’s back was turned to me. He was still out of eyesight but, wherever he was, she was watching him.

All of a sudden I realized my goal had been attained. The music had stopped. Therefore it was time to go home and let this domestic situation play out without an audience.

I turned to leave but heard his voice again.

“You.”

Stupidly, I looked into the house to see his eyes on me.

“I –” I began to make my explanations that I was going to go home but he came at me and I stared as he did. His powerful body was moving in my direction and I was caught, seeing the danger but somehow my limbs were useless even though my brain screamed at them to move.

Faster than it seemed possible, he was right in my space, his big hand was wrapped around my upper arm and he pulled me into the house. This didn’t hurt, not his hand on me or him dragging me into the house and it probably didn’t because I didn’t struggle and I didn’t struggle because I knew this man could break me like a twig.

So I found myself standing in my next door neighbor’s house, me in hot pink daisy wellingtons, a nightie and Tim’s robe; my neighbor in faded jeans, black motorcycle boots, a black t-shirt and a black leather jacket; and Hollywood movie star Kenzie Elise in a barely there, emerald green, lace teddy and platform stripper shoes.

How did this happen?

It was like a dream, a weird, bad dream that you woke up from and felt strange and unsettled and it left you thinking, What the fuck?

But, it was happening, I was there, breathing, conscious and all I could think was, God, I miss Tim.

“Stay,” my neighbor commanded to me in his deep, scary voice and I tipped my head back to look into his clear blue eyes and I could do nothing but nod.

Then he let my arm go and stalked into the depths of the house.

“Cal, darling, I just wanted –” Kenzie Elise started but he disappeared from sight so she stopped speaking.

I wondered why she didn’t go after him instead of standing there with me in the room, the front door open, wearing nothing but that teddy that left little if anything to the imagination.

Then again, in his frame of mind, I probably wouldn’t follow him either.

It was at this point I wondered why she didn’t run to her Porsche and get gone.

I didn’t run because he’d told me to stay and I didn’t think it was a good idea to defy him. He didn’t seem mad at me, not at that juncture, and I wasn’t fired up to make him that way.

She didn’t look at me and I eventually pried my eyes away from her but I was able to do this because he returned, carrying in his arms a bundle of clothes. He walked right by her, right by me and right to the door where he threw the clothes into the snow.

My mouth dropped open again.

“Cal!” she shouted. Rushing on her stripper shoes to the door, she peered out at her clothes then whirled back around again to look at him, her eyes never once hitting me. She was avoiding me or ignoring me. I didn’t know which but I thought both were good ways to play it.

He had her purse in his hand and he was sauntering back into the room. He yanked out a set of keys as she turned back to him.

“You threw my clothes in the snow!” she shrieked then jumped to the side as he tossed her purse at her. It was open and stuff flew out everywhere as it sailed through the air and then more stuff flew out when it landed on the floor.

“Cal!” she screeched, bending, bony knees to her chest, ass to the ground and scrambling to get her things.

I started to bend too, to help her but stopped when his voice sounded.

“Don’t.”

My head snapped back to look at him and his eyes were pinning me to the spot. He was so angry, visibly livid, and so frightening, I forgot how to breathe.

I slowly straightened, forcing air into my lungs as Kenzie scrambled on the floor, now on her hands and knees in her teddy and stripper shoes, shoving stuff into her purse.

“This is insane,” she snapped and she was definitely right.

He was taking a key off her keychain and had this task accomplished by the time she made it to her feet with her purse again intact which was lucky for her because he tossed her keys to her without hesitating to make sure she was prepared. She lunged to grab them, bobbled them but kept them in hand.

“Out,” he ordered tersely.

“Cal –” she started.

“Get the fuck out.”

“This scene is ridiculous,” she hissed, leaning toward him which, I thought, was not a very good idea.

“You’re right,” he agreed.

She changed strategies so fast I wasn’t keeping up.

Her voice was a purr again when she began, “Darling, I thought –”

“What, Kenzie?” he asked, his eyes moving the length of her, his lip curled in disgust. “You thought what? Fuck, woman, I had better head in junior high. You think I’d come back for more from your mouth? Sloppy. So sloppy, I was fuckin’ embarrassed for you.”

At his words I’d drawn in breath but Kenzie’s face had gone paler than her signature flawlessly-pale-skinned pale.

When Kenzie stood still as a statue and didn’t speak, he noted. “You’re still here.”

“I –” she started.

“Need to get a fuckin’ clue,” he finished for her. “Christ, how many times do we need to do this? It was a mistake, biggest fuckin’ mistake I’ve made in years. When I was doin’ you, I faked it. I had to jack off in the shower to get off after I was done with you.”

I swallowed, wanting really badly to be anywhere else, anywhere but there.

“You faked it?” she whispered, sounding horrified and beaten, her voice like a little girl who, way too early in her young life, just found out there was no Santa Claus.

“Yeah and if your head wasn’t so far up your ass, you woulda noticed. Instead, you keep playin’ out this fuckin’ drama and, swear to Christ, it happens again, it’s not gonna make me fuckin’ happy.”

He seemed to be pretty unhappy currently but I’d just met him, maybe he could get more unhappy which meant I never wanted to be near him again.

“Cal, I –” she started again but he leaned forward and her mouth slammed shut.

“Not gonna say it again. Get. The fuck. Out.”

Thankfully, she’d had enough. She turned, avoiding my eyes, and walked in her teddy and stripper shoes out the open front door into the snow and bitter cold.

I stood unmoving as he stalked to the door, slammed it and, to my extreme discomfort, locked it.

I swallowed again.

Then I said softly, “I’d like to go home now.”

He turned to face me and his eyes leveled on mine.

I pressed my lips together and my stomach clenched.

He didn’t speak and I didn’t know what to do.

Finally, his eyes dropped and I watched as they slid, slowly, from my face down my body to my feet and, just as slowly, starting back up to my face.

During this journey I realized that my robe had fallen open and he could see my nightie. Pale lavender satin, short, hitting me at the upper thighs but there was a three-inch hem of smoky gray lace below that. The same lace was at the bodice over the cups of material covering my breasts. The nightie fit close at my chest and midriff but there was room to move around my hips and thighs. It was nowhere near as risqué as Kenzie’s teddy. It left something to the imagination and that was good, unless you had an imagination.

Carefully, I pulled the edges of my robe together and his eyes speeded up to hit mine and I knew the instant they did, without any doubt, he had an imagination.

My mouth went dry.

“I’m Joe Callahan,” he stated.

“Hello Joe,” I said quietly.

“Cal,” he corrected me and I nodded but remained silent.

When this stretched the length of the Porsche firing up and reversing out of the drive, Joe Callahan prompted, “You are?”

“Your neighbor.”

His heavy, dark brows went up. “Does my neighbor have a name?”

I shook my head and his heavy, dark brows drew together.

“You don’t have a name?” he asked.

“I think I want to leave,” I told him.

His face got hard but his voice got soft when he said, “Listen, buddy –”

“No, please, Joe, I want to leave.”

“Cal.”

“Whatever, I’d like to leave,” I repeated.

He started toward me and I backed up, lifting a shaking hand and he stopped, his eyes dropping to my hand before cutting back to my face.

“I live next door, that’s it,” I said softly. “I wanted the music to stop. It’s stopped. Now I’d like to leave.”

His eyes held mine and something was happening in them, I just didn’t know what and, after witnessing that scene, listening to the way he spoke to her, what he said, how he said it and the utter humiliation he inflicted, I didn’t care. Then his gaze dropped to my body again, he closed his eyes and stepped to the side.

I wasted not even a second. I ran to the door, unlocked it, threw it open, ran out and across the snow to my house. I threw myself through the side door, closed it, locked it, threw the chain and then armed the alarm.

Then, quaking head to foot, I slid off the wellies, made my shaky way to my bedroom and got in bed with Tim’s robe on, pulling up the covers to my neck.

I turned my head to the frame sitting on my nightstand. I could barely see it in the dark but I didn’t need to see it, I had the picture it held memorized. Tim and me, close up, he was behind me, both his arms around my shoulders, wrapped across my upper chest, his jaw pressed to the side of my head, my head slightly turned into him. He was looking at the camera. I had my eyes closed.

We were both laughing.

“Miss you, baby,” I whispered to the frame, my voice shaking as hard as my body still was.

The frame had no reply, it fucking never did.

The next morning, Joe Callahan’s house was quiet and the shiny, black, new model Ford pickup was gone.

It wouldn’t come back for three weeks.

It was four o’clock in the afternoon, I’d been at the garden shop all day and during the day it had snowed.

I was sick of snow and I wished I’d picked Florida or Arizona or somewhere that didn’t have snow when I’d packed up my girls and fled Chicago.

Furthermore, Kate was driving now. She’d turned sixteen and she got her license and I bought her a car. Tim would have been pissed I bought her a car. Then again, he’d have been pissed I bought myself a Mustang. As a cop, he’d seen too many accidents so he was all for staid, sturdy cars that were built so tough you could drive them through a building and only have to buff out a few scratches. He might have driven like a lunatic (which he did), but he wasn’t a big fan of me doing it (which I didn’t unless I was in, say, a Mustang) and he wasn’t a big fan of spoiling the girls.

Then again, with a dead Dad, spoiling them had become something of a habit.

And anyway, I didn’t have Tim anymore to help me take them places and pick them up. I also didn’t live in a household with two cars unless I bought one for Kate.

So I did.

She was a good driver, responsible, my Kate. Keira, now, Keira would probably be picked up joyriding when she had her learner’s permit with me in the car. Keira was a magnet for trouble. Kate would rather die a thousand bloody, painful deaths than break a rule or get into trouble. Keira would make a deal with the devil for a killer pair of shoes and not even blink.

Even if Kate was responsible and a good driver, I still hated it when she drove in snow.

This was what I was thinking as I drove home from the Bobbie’s Garden Shoppe, my now full-time job. I found out that morning that I was now full-time since Sabrina had her twins a week ago. She’d called Bobbie the night before and told Bobbie that her maternity leave was indefinite.

“Thank God, the bitch could moan,” Bobbie had said this morning when she gave me the news and asked me to go from part-time to full-time. “Saves me from firing her ass, ‘cause, when she wasn’t moanin’, she was jackin’ around even before she was luggin’ them twins around. Yeesh, two babies in that belly of hers, looked like seven.”

Bobbie was not wrong about that, any of it.

But I was too busy thanking God for the full-time job. Tim’s life insurance policy had been used up on my Mustang, Kate’s car and taking a whack off the mortgage because of the down payment I put on the house. It had also gone out the door with the move. I had his pension, which helped, but not much.

I’d put the money I made on selling Tim and my house into savings for the girls’ college. Tim’d had to pay off student loans forever and he wanted the girls to have their college paid for. We’d been saving but we didn’t have near enough for the two of them. I thought Tim would have wanted that, the house we’d bought together, fixed up together and lived in together as a family being sold and the money paying for the girls’ future. Using that money from our house was like him and me giving it to them and I liked that idea and figured Tim would too.

Even with a low mortgage and no car payments, I still had a teenager driving and insurance was a bitch. Utilities, groceries for three people and we were living in a small town but it was part-farmers, part-blue collar and part-affluent. The affluent part meant all the kids tried to keep up with the Joneses with designer gear, jeans, purses, shoes, the right makeup, the important accessories like MP3 players and cell phones. Hell, Keira’s cell phone bill, considering she texted seventeen thousand times a day, nearly broke the monthly bank even though I told her time and again not to do it.

Bobbie paid pretty well considering, and she had full benefits for full-time, which was more important. Her garden center was enormous, the biggest in three counties and everyone went there. She sold it all, lawn furniture, craft and hobby stuff, pet supplies, not just plants. But I worked the plants, I was good at it, always was and spring was coming. Even with the snow, it was getting close to gardening season and things, always steady, were definitely picking up for Bobbie.

I turned on my street, deep in my inspection of the roads which, I noted with some relief, had been mostly cleared. The spring snow was wet and sloshy, not icy, thank God. Kate would get home okay.

I took in a relieved breath and it caught in my throat when I saw the shiny, black, new model Ford pickup in Joe Callahan’s driveway.

“Shit,” I whispered on my exhale.

I drove passed it, turned into my drive and parked under the awning that came out from my two car garage. The previous owners had torn down the one car garage and put in a two car one with a double awning at the front. This worked since the garage door opener didn’t work and I didn’t have the money to replace it and I further didn’t enjoy cleaning snow off my car.

The previous owners had also built an extension all along the back of the house. This meant we had an extra bedroom with full master bath and an open plan study that ran off the living room/dining room area. Most of the other houses on the block had extensions too. And two car garages or the garages had added awnings. They also had built on back decks (our place did too, again along the back of the house) or above ground pools or playsets. You name it, it was there. It was a family neighborhood, established, middle-middle income folks or old-timers who’d been there for ages and stayed there because their mortgage was paid off. Families just starting out or couples who liked where they lived so, when they needed more room, they just built on. Yards were huge, there was plenty of room and anything they did, they did it house proud so it only upped the standard for the entire neighborhood.

The only house that had no add-on, except a back deck, was Joe Callahan’s. It was still a two bedroom crackerbox, kitchen, dining room/living room and two bedrooms with a full bath.

I’d been lucky to find a place on that street.

Lucky, except for Joe Callahan.

I went into the house, dumped my purse and headed back out.

I needed to shovel. Part of living in that neighborhood was taking care of it. You shoveled. Joe Callahan’s neighbors on his other side, Jeremy and Melinda, cleared Joe’s front sidewalk part of the time, the other part I did it. It wouldn’t do for anyone to let down the ‘hood and since Joe wasn’t there, someone had to do it.

No way I’d do it that day, though. No way in hell. He could shovel his own damned walk.

I went out to the garage and grabbed my leather work gloves and the snow shovel.

You could say I pretty much missed Tim a lot. When I was in a fight with Keira which was too often and Tim used to be able to handle her better than me, definitely Daddy’s little girl then again they both were. When Kate would get wound up by an assignment, an assignment that was something she could do no sweat, but she wanted to do it perfectly, better than any kid in the history of kids could do and Tim could settle her down too. When I was in bed at night, alone and wanting more than my vibrator to take care of business, wanting Tim’s hands, his mouth, his cock and, maybe more than all those, the sweet nothings he would whisper in my ear.

And when I had to shovel the freaking snow.

I started at the front stoop and made my way down the walk that led to the drive, the snow heavy and wet but at least it was easily removed. I was shoveling a line down our drive, which would take for-freaking-ever to clear, thinking of the price of Bobbie’s snow blowers and how much my discount would be and if she’d put them on an end of season sale when Colt’s GMC pulled into his drive.

Feb Owens and Alec Colton were pretty famous. I’d known them before I moved in and I’d known what happened in that town before I’d moved there. It was sick what happened to them, that serial killer obsessing on Feb and Colt and killing people that Feb knew. Everyone knew about it, it made national news and she was so gorgeous, and Alec Colton so hot, that made the story bigger news.

But I found shortly after moving in that they were cool. They were also happy. It was like that whole deal didn’t touch them. At the time I moved in, she was at the end stages of pregnant and they’d been high school sweethearts, separated by something I didn’t know and finally back together.

I’d married my high school sweetheart so I got that, totally, their happiness. Then again, Tim got me pregnant at seventeen so I kind of didn’t have a choice.

Still, I wouldn’t have chosen anything else. Not then, not ten years later, not until someone shot him and even then I would have still chosen Tim. I would have just chosen Tim having a less dangerous job. And I definitely would have chosen not to get served what I got served after.

I shoveled and watched Colt swing down from his truck.

Then I stopped shoveling when he turned my way and called, “Hey Cal.”

My body turned to stone.

“Yo,” a deep voice said from right behind me.

Stiffly, I turned and stared at Joe Callahan standing right there, this close behind me. I hadn’t heard his approach. He was wearing jeans, a black thermal and his black leather jacket. In the daylight, as gray as that daylight was, he was different. The sinister was gone. The only thing left was the rugged and interesting.

“Hey Violet,” Colt called and I stiffly turned back.

“Hey Colt,” I called to him and watched February, carrying their little boy, Jack, coming out of their house and her head was turned to see who Colt was talking to.

“Wow!” she yelled. “Hey Cal!”

“Feb,” Joe Callahan’s voice rumbled.

“You in town awhile?” Colt asked, taking Jack from Feb and expertly planting the baby in the crook of his arm while his other arm slid along Feb’s shoulders.

“Nope, leave tomorrow,” Joe Callahan answered.

“Got time for a beer at J&J’s?” Colt asked.

“Yep,” Joe Callahan answered.

“Vi? What about you?” Feb asked me.

I’d been to Feb’s bar, J&J’s Saloon, a half a dozen times. Her family ran it which meant I met them too. It was a nice place. It had been around awhile so it was worn in, the kind of joint you liked to stay and drink a few. Everyone in town hung there and Feb’s family made you feel welcome.

I liked having a drink there, shooting the shit with Feb, who was nice, and her brother Morrie, sister-in-law Dee, and Mom and Dad, Jackie and Jack, who were all just as nice as her.

Still, there was no way I was going when Joe Callahan was going.

“Thanks, I have something on,” I answered.

“Another time,” Feb called, I nodded, they both lifted a hand in farewell and headed toward their house.

“Later, Cal,” Colt called.

“Yeah,” Joe Callahan called back.

I went back to shoveling, deciding I’d pretend he wasn’t there.

This effort failed when his big hand curled around the handle of the shovel.

I stayed bent to my task but tipped my head back to look at him.

“How you doin’, buddy?” his voice rumbled, it was a soft rumble and not pissed off or post-drama that involved a Hollywood movie star, it was a lot different and my stomach, for some strange reason, pitched.

“Can you let go of my shovel?” I asked.

His answer was to pull the shovel out of my hands.

My stomach pitched again, this time for a different reason, slightly afraid and I straightened and turned to him.

“Can I help you with something?” I asked.

“Your name’s Violet,” he told me.

“Yes.”

“Violet,” he repeated quietly.

“Yes,” I repeated too, not liking him saying my name quietly because I kinda did like his rumbly deep voice saying my name quietly.

He took a step into me and I stood my ground. He couldn’t exactly cause a scene in my driveway, not with Colt home across the street. Joe Callahan might be big, and he might even be bigger than Alec Colton, but I figured no one messed with Colt. It might get ugly but it’d be a fair fight.

Joe Callahan’s neck bent so he could look down at me and he started speaking as if we’d been having a long conversation, I’d been asleep the first part and woke up during the middle. “She makes six million dollars a movie, two movies a year, four times that in foreign endorsements for everything you can imagine, hair shit, ice cream, you name it, they pay her enough, she sells it.”

He was talking about Kenzie Elise.

I had absolutely no interest in this and started to tell him this fact. “Joe –”

He cut me off. “Anywhere she goes, people ask for her autograph, take photos of her, grovel and do shit you wouldn’t believe just to get her attention. Because of all that, she’s so far up her own ass it’s a wonder she can see. Problem is, she’s got a lot of company up there.”

“I don’t care about this,” I told him.

He continued talking like I didn’t even speak. “I don’t shit where I live normally. She played me, I had no fuckin’ idea she was what she was until I got played then I wanted no part in that.”

“I think I got that,” I reminded him of the fact I was there while he made that point to her.

“It happened once, once was enough. The sex was shit, buddy.”

“I got that too.” And that was an understatement, I definitely got that.

“She gets no for an answer never. It doesn’t happen to her. She gets what she wants when she wants it, always. She wanted me. She’d been playin’ games like that to get my attention for six months. It was affecting my work, which I was not thrilled about, but I could deal. That night, she invaded my home. Stole my keys, had one made, found out where I lived and came in uninvited, playin’ her games. Uncool.”

I had to admit, he wasn’t exactly wrong, this was uncool. I knew this. I knew this better than he could understand. I knew exactly how uncool this was.

That didn’t change the fact that he humiliated her to the point of making her scramble around on the floor in a teddy to pick up her stuff and walk into the cold night to gather her clothes from the snow. That kind of humiliation was extreme and uncalled for.

Before I had the chance to explain this to Joe Callahan I heard cars approaching and I looked up to see Kate’s little, white Ford Fiesta followed by a bright yellow pickup coming down the street.

Joe and I stepped off the drive into the snow of the yard as the two cars pulled into the drive. Kate and Keira got out of the Fiesta but I was staring at the strapping, tall boy-man who folded out of the pickup.

Keira skipped through the snow to me and she did this quickly.

“Hey,” she said and I tore my eyes from the strapping, tall boy-man to see my last born staring up at Joe Callahan looking like she was gazing at whoever was her current boy band heartthrob (and I didn’t know who that was, Keira went through crushes like she did clothes which was to say swiftly and at random).

“Hey,” Joe said back.

“I’m Keira,” Keira announced.

“Cal.”

“Cool,” Keira breathed and looked at me then blinked, leaned in and whispered, “Kate’s got a boyfriend.”

Oh shit.

My eyes sliced to the strapping, tall boy-man who had walked to Kate, slung an arm around her shoulders and they were now walking to us.

Their eyes were on Joe.

“You’re Joe Callahan,” the boy-man said, staring at Joe like he, too, was seeing his current hero, be that football star, baseball star or the like.

“Yep,” Joe answered.

“Awesome,” the boy-man whispered.

Kate tore her eyes from Joe and looked at me. “Mom, this is Dane. He’s here to study. Is it cool with you if we do it in my room?”

My body locked and I stared at my first born.

It was fair to say that it was not cool with me that she and this strapping, tall boy-man who thought Joe Callahan was awesome studied with my sixteen year old daughter in her room. It was fair to say that if Tim was standing beside me, and not Joe Callahan, his head would freaking explode at such a question. It was fair to say Tim’s head would explode because, when he and I were supposed to be studying in my room, we were, instead, making Kate.

Fuck!

Now what did I do?

I couldn’t say no in front of Dane. He’d think I was the un-awesome, uptight Mom and Kate would be embarrassed. No way Kate should ask me this question in front of Dane and make me look like the un-awesome, uptight Mom and force me to make the choice of doing what would give me peace of mind, therefore asking them to study, say, in the study or embarrassing her in front of her new possible boyfriend who was strapping, tall and also good-looking therefore likely very popular which would be important to any girl but especially important to my girl who had just been forced to leave the school she loved where she left behind a million of her friends she’d known forever to move to a school four hours away, in a small town in Indiana where she knew no one.

Fuck!

“Sure,” I said through clenched teeth, Kate beamed, I tried not to groan and Kate, Dane and Keira headed toward the house. “But Kate,” I called after her, “I want your door open.”

Keira giggled. Dane grinned. Kate looked at me, her eyes skidded to Joe then back to me and her cheeks got pink.

“Okay,” she called back.

Thank God.

The front door closed behind them and Joe advised, “You should give her condoms.”

My eyes flew to his and I blinked.

“What?” I asked.

“Condoms, buddy, you of all people should know you should give her condoms.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She yours?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s drivin’ which means you had her, what, when you were fifteen, sixteen?”

“Eighteen.” By the time of her birth, of course, her conception was another matter but I didn’t share this with Joe.

He just looked at me then again he didn’t really need to say more, his point was made.

“Can I have my shovel back?” I asked.

He didn’t give me my shovel back.

Instead he said, “Come to J&J’s tonight, I’ll buy you a drink.”

This wasn’t really a question but I decided to treat it like one. “Thanks, but, no.” Then I repeated, “Can I have my shovel back?”

He turned fully to me and again stepped into my space. It took a lot but I held my ground and tipped my head back to look at him. I had to tip it back far; he was that close and he was that tall.

“I’m tryin’ to be neighborly,” he said quietly.

“Neighborly would have been not draggin’ me into your house and treatin’ me to that scene.”

“I needed a witness and you were the only one available.”

“A witness?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because Kenzie’s a pain in the ass, if she can make trouble, she will and the bitch can make trouble for me. I got a witness as to the way things went down, and I’m guessin’ she’s not hot to share that scene with anyone, she’ll keep her mouth shut. I don’t, she can share whatever she wants to share, make the whole thing up. I was right, she’s keepin’ her mouth shut. She doesn’t then I produce you who says it like it was.”

“Produce me?”

“It’s not gonna happen, she’s not gonna say shit.”

“Produce me to who?”

“What?”

“Who would you produce me to?”

His head cocked slightly to the side and his brows drew together. “Clients.”

“What clients?”

“Potential clients who might be swayed into not hirin’ me if they hear some bullshit Kenzie cooked up.”

“What kind of clients?”

He got closer and I really wanted to edge back but I didn’t when he asked, “Buddy, you serious?”

“Yes.”

“I’m in security.”

“Security?” he nodded and I went on. “What kind of security?”

“Kenzie Elise security.”

I stared at him, feeling my lips part and my eyes get wide.

I had Security to the Stars living next door.

Wasn’t that just the shit of it? There I was, in my predicament and I had Security to the fucking Stars living next door and I hated him because he was a huge jerk. I couldn’t have made him a plate of cookies when I saw the shiny, black, new model Ford pickup in the drive and charmed him with my rapier wit. No. I had to get embroiled in a situation when he was scraping off a movie star who had fallen in lust with her mysterious, rugged and interesting-looking bodyguard at the same time finding out myself during said situation that he was a huge jerk and falling in instant hate with him.

“So, seeing as you do what you do, and considering Dane’s reaction to you, I guess you’re pretty famous around here?” I asked and he shook his head.

“Not famous, people just know what I do and sometimes who I do it for. They’re famous, not me.”

“That stuff rubs off.”

“Not really.”

“Dane looked pretty impressed.”

“He’s seventeen. That ain’t hard to do with a seventeen year old.”

“Still I’d guess, around here, you don’t often hear no either.”

“I’m not ‘round here often.”

God, he had an answer for everything.

“Even so, no on the drink, okay Joe?” I said. “Now, can I have my shovel back?”

Just like he’d done that night, he studied me for awhile, something happening behind those blue eyes, something I didn’t get.

Then he gave me my shovel, turned and walked away.

I gave up on the drive, it would take forever and there was a tall, strapping boy-man in my daughter’s bedroom. Therefore, I shoveled the sidewalk at the front of the house and went inside and did all sorts of things loudly, such as make dinner or call questions to Keira even when she was right in the living room so Kate and Dane couldn’t forget I was close.

When Dane left after he ate dinner at our house and I found out I kind of liked him, I watched out the window as Kate walked him to his pickup.

Then I forced myself not to watch because firstly, I didn’t want to see and secondly, I was not an un-awesome, uptight Mom who would watch her daughter and her new boyfriend out the window.

But as I was turning away, my head whipped back and my eyes narrowed on the drive.

Except for under my car, Kate’s car and Dane’s pickup, the drive had been shoveled clean of snow.

I stopped looking out the front window to look left, out the window at the side over my kitchen sink facing Joe’s house.

The house was dark and there was no shiny, black, new model Ford pickup in the drive.

There wasn’t one the next morning either.

Or the next.

Or the two weeks after that.