“Ashley,” Cole said.
I nodded. “He got her pregnant, and then he married her. Instead of me.” My voice wavered. “And the despicable thing is he said he felt he had to do the honorable thing since there was going to be a child.
“But he’d already cheated when he asked me to marry him. Apparently, honor didn’t matter then.” I felt Cole’s hand on my back, a gentle pressure that was meant to comfort, and weakened what remaining defenses I had left. I looked up at him. “I already had a job for the summer, so I stayed until the fall, and then I left. And never came back. Well, only on occasion and never for more than a few days.”
“Until now,” he said, giving me a partial grin.
“Yeah. Until now,” I repeated. “My future plans are undecided at the moment.”
He removed his hand and leaned against the counter behind him. “Because of Kenny?”
I shook my head. “Oh no. He’s not part of my life anymore.”
Cole’s gaze zeroed on the flowers and giant bag of kettle corn Kenny had brought. “Is that so?”
“Okay,” I motioned to the gifts. “I don’t know what that is. And honestly, I’m not ready to deal with it now either.”
“That’s fair.”
“My turn,” I said, turning to face him. “How did you end up in Rockfish Bay?”
“Bad luck,” he said dryly.
I laughed, feeling lighter inside than I had in a long time. It felt good to talk to someone about Kenny other than my mom and Fern. Cole hadn’t made me feel like I was pathetic. That it was okay to feel the way I did. That I was okay.
“Work brought me here. I was with the DEA, working undercover. I followed a drug trafficking operation here from where I was living in central California. After the bust, your dad convinced me to stay.”
“He’s good at that.”
“Yes, he is,” Cole agreed, with a far-off look in his eyes.
“But that’s not why you stayed, is it?” I ventured there was another reason.
“No, my wife left me,” he said candidly, and I felt the pain in those few words.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly, wishing I had something better to offer.
“It’s okay. I think I knew it was coming. Being undercover, I was gone a lot, and even when I was around, I was working long hours. And so, she found someone else,” he admitted.
I felt there was more to the story, but knew it took a lot just for Cole to share what he had with me. “I was ready for a fresh start and I figured that being a sheriff in a small town would be less stressful, and let me have a more normal life.”
I snorted, and slapped my hand over my mouth.
He chuckled. “I know, and look how that’s turned out.”
“Do you like it here?” I asked seriously.
His eyes seared into mine. “I guess you could say it’s growing on me.” It was clear there was a veiled meaning with the way his gaze devoured me, and I had no idea how to respond.
“Did you like it here?” He turned my question back on me, only in the past tense.
“I did.”
“Then maybe you could again?”
“Maybe,” my voice came out in a whisper.
He pushed himself away from the counter. “I should get going.”
What? He was going to flirt with me like that, then just leave? “Okay,” I mumbled weakly.
In two steps he was right beside me. Leaning down, he whispered in my ear. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t have any pants from college that fit, either.”
My eyes snapped to his as I felt a blush creep up my neck. He winked. “Good night, Charlee.”
Chapter Seventeen
As soon as I heard the click of the front door closing behind Cole, a huge rush of air escaped my lungs. Finally, I could breathe again. And eat.
The two attractive men that had descended upon my evening sure knew how to suppress a girl’s appetite, because my stomach was tied up in knots. But now they were gone, and it was just me and Moose, and I was going to make up for the interruption.
A somewhat pleasant interruption, but still. It may not have been wise to share as much as I did with Cole, but at the same time I assumed he’d already heard a similar version of the story. And I’d learned a few things about him. Not that it mattered, since he lived here, and I didn’t, but unless I’d completely misread his signals, he seemed interested in wanting me to stick around.
Standing in front of the fridge, I stared at the contents inside, then glanced back at the kettle corn on the counter. It really was delicious, and I couldn’t even remember the last time I ate it, since they only sold it at the cannery, and I avoided that place like it had been contaminated with the Ebola virus. Why not?
I closed the fridge and reached for the bag of sugary, salty popcorn. It didn’t disappoint. After devouring close to half of the giant bag, I decided I’d better call it quits. Besides, I had work to do, and I didn’t need to feel bloated on top of it. Then again, it was a little late for that.
A quick glance at the clock revealed it was just after eight. I had no clue what constituted Sting Ray’s usual bar hours, and by city standards eight was too early to go out, but here in Rockfish Bay when almost everything closed by nine or earlier, maybe there was a decent chance he would be there. It was worth a shot. Squeezing back into the jeans I’d worn earlier that day, I donned my leather boots and wool peacoat to help ward off the November night chill.
Ten minutes later, I found myself sitting in my SUV in the parking lot outside of The Black Oyster Bar. The place could have been the poster child for a classic hole-in-the-wall dive bar. Essentially, it was a dump.
