South Island PD: Dark Blue Part 6

"Especially not with Jackson. If I slept with him and things went bad after that, my only good memories with a guy would be ruined."

"So you're going to avoid the only guy who's ever made you happy just so he can't have the chance to mess up?" Mariah's brow rose even higher.

Belle bit her lip. "No, not necessarily. But before I sleep with anyone, I want to be sure they're worth taking the risk on that it means something to them."

Mariah dropped her gaze. "Right I can see that."

Belle fidgeted in her seat, shifting to an even less comfortable position on the couch cushion. She hated talking about her last relationship. Any feelings she'd had for her ex-fiance were long dead, but it seemed as if the embarra.s.sment would never die.

Sometimes, when she closed her eyes at night, she remembered the sting of calling her parents and telling them the wedding was off. It'd been the single most humiliating conversation of her life even worse than the one where she'd confronted her unfaithful fiance.

Kyle. Belle had dated him for over a year back in Atlanta. She'd also agreed when he'd asked her to marry him, only to later find out that he'd been s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g other women regularly throughout their entire relationship. When she'd confronted him he hadn't seemed sorry, only annoyed that she'd found out.

She'd been a joke to him, and she'd taken it so seriously. Meanwhile, he'd been getting casual on a regular basis.

How could she have been so blind?

"I know you hate talking about it," Mariah said.

"Wouldn't you?" Bell's reply came out sharper than she'd meant it to.

Mariah blinked. "Well, yeah"

Remorse started to creep in, and Belle shook her head. "Never mind. Sorry I snapped."

"It's okay. I'd have my panties in a bunch too if I was being stalked." Mariah grinned.

"Right the big green d.i.l.d.o is to blame for my b.i.t.c.hiness." Belle couldn't help grinning back.

"Seriously though, you're right you've been messed around with too much. I don't blame you for not wanting anything casual."

Belle nodded. "I think He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named soured me on casual, probably for life."

Mariah agreed, though neither of them spoke his name they had a standing agreement not to.

"You dodged a bullet anyway," Mariah said. "Who wants to be married to a product developer? I don't even know what that means, but it makes me think of pastel shirts and dorky ties. Give me a hot man in uniform any day."

Belle smiled despite herself. She had dodged a bullet. As humiliating and hurtful as breaking off her engagement with Kyle had been, marrying him and finding out afterward would've been a thousand times worse.

"Jackson is hot," she admitted, "but we never had anything more than s.e.x, and casual just isn't for me anymore."

"You were friends, too. And how do you know his feelings for you are casual?"

Belle shrugged. "We had s.e.x twice in one night. That was it. Not exactly a foundation for the kind of love that lasts a lifetime."

"Yeah, but only because you waited until the day before you had to head back to school for the fall semester to get together with him. You did that on purpose, so you could disappear the next day. You never gave him a chance to be serious about you."

"It's not like I planned it it just happened. I'd liked him for so long, and I felt like such a pariah, still being a virgin at twenty-one. I didn't want to graduate from college and start my adult life with no experience, so even if Jackson and I couldn't keep seeing each other, I was glad it happened."

"If all you wanted was to have s.e.x, you could've waited. You could've waited just one more day and had your pick of all the guys on campus."

Belle wrinkled her nose at the thought of grabbing a random frat boy and having s.e.x with him just for the sake of it.

"You wanted it to be Jackson."

She nodded. "Even though we couldn't date... I knew I could trust him, and who wouldn't want to sleep with him?"

Though he was even hotter now, Jackson had been gorgeous at twenty-three.

"He might've wanted more than just a night with you then you just couldn't stick around to find out. But you're back now, and you're both more settled. You two could give things a chance."

Mariah's gaze drifted past Belle to the kitchen, where the flowers were on display, evidence of Jackson's presence. "He showed up at your door with flowers after writing you a speeding ticket. That took some b.a.l.l.s. Seems pretty obvious to me that he wants more than what you gave him years ago."

Belle sat still and silent, lost in thought. The idea of calling Jackson, getting together with him and seeing where it might lead was supremely appealing.

At the same time, the thought made her heart slam against her ribs, sparking a twinge that reminded her of what it felt like to have it broken.

The same twinge she'd felt when she'd left the island the day after she'd left a piece of herself with Jackson.

CHAPTER 6.

Belle indulged in an afternoon out with Mariah on Sat.u.r.day. After brunch at a new restaurant on the island, they crossed the bridge to Charleston and did some shopping. Unlike Mariah, who'd come away from the trip with several new outfits, Belle had only bought one thing: a decorative clock to hang in her kitchen.

The trip had been more about fun than necessity anyway, so as she crossed the bridge from Charleston back to South Island, she didn't feel as if she'd wasted the morning.

"Don't speed," Mariah said. "Or do, if you want an excuse to run into your favorite officer again."

"Please, I can't afford another speeding ticket, let alone more points on my license. My insurance rate would probably double." It was true, but her traitorous heart flip-flopped at the thought of rolling down her window so Jackson could look her in the eye.

"Right. Have you called him yet?"

"No..."

She hadn't done it, but she could hardly go a minute without thinking about it.

She couldn't help the way her gaze gravitated to the side of the road, where Jackson had hidden his cruiser just past where the bridge met solid ground. If he was there, she'd be able to see his vehicle as she drove by.

Belle was wearing sungla.s.ses, so hopefully Mariah wouldn't be able to tell if she stared.

"Ooh," Mariah sighed.

Belle braced herself for teasing as Mariah leaned forward in her seat.

"Oh, s.h.i.t." Mariah's seatbelt strained across her chest, and her head blocked Belle's view of the right side of the road.

Belle's stomach lurched as she realized that Mariah's tone wasn't teasing.

"What?" she demanded.

But she didn't need Mariah to fill her in the cause of her distress was apparent.

There was a police cruiser parked at an angle on the shoulder, and it wasn't alone. A pick-up truck sat just feet from it, its headlights shattered and its grille ma.s.sively dented. The cruiser was in much worse shape, its entire front end crumpled. Auto gla.s.s and bits of colored plastic were scattered over the asphalt like glittering confetti, and as Belle stared, a tow truck rolled onto the side of the road and stopped.

There was no officer, no civilian driver and no ambulance or first responders. It looked as if the truck had hit the police car and the crash victims had already been removed.

"Do you think that's Jackson's car?" Belle asked. It was a stupid question, of course Mariah would have no idea. But the words had just tumbled out, leaving a sour taste in her mouth.

"Maybe not," Mariah said. "It's not like he works every shift, or even every day."

But he was working day shift, and the cruiser was parked in his hiding spot. Belle's stomach clenched, and there was no sign of the b.u.t.terflies that'd been flitting around there just seconds ago. Now, thinking of him brought a wave of fear, quickly chased by regret.

The idea of something happening to him scared her, the fear penetrating a deeper place in her heart than she'd realized she'd given him.

"Hey," Mariah said, touching Belle's arm. "Do you want to pull over somewhere so I can drive?"

Belle shook her head. "No, we'll be at my place in a few minutes. Besides, I'm fine."

"You're white as a ghost," Mariah said, "and that's okay. Even if there's nothing going on between you now, you and Jackson were friends."

Belle nodded, accepting Mariah's tact. When they reached her apartment, Mariah announced somewhat flamboyantly that she was going to use the restroom.

Alone in her kitchen, Belle eyed the bouquet Jackson had brought her. He'd written his phone number on the card tucked among the lilies on a plastic p.r.o.ng.

She was done waffling over whether to call him.

What if he'd been in the car and had been hurt? What if, G.o.d forbid, he'd been in a fatal accident? He was a cop, after all. It was a daily possibility.

Her imagination ran wild, and although she knew she was dwelling on the most dramatic scenarios possible, she also knew they'd haunt her until she knew that he was all right.

Shoving aside her pride and doubts, she plucked the card from the bouquet and got out her phone.

After dialing, she cradled the phone against her ear, her heart in her throat. Visions of crumpled metal and crushed gla.s.s filled her mouth with a sour taste, and she couldn't wait to rectify her ignorance surrounding the wreck by the bridge.

She held her breath through the first ring, then the second and third.

"h.e.l.lo?"

She finally exhaled. "Jackson. It's Belle."

"Belle?" His voice brightened, though it retained the husky undertones that so easily sent little shivers down her spine. "What's up?"

"I got your number from the card." Duh. She frowned and caught her dulled reflection in the microwave door.

"I'm glad you called."

A spark of pleasure flared inside her, but was quickly snuffed out by fear. Obviously, he wasn't dead or lying on an operating table, but he still might've been in the accident.

"I drove by a wreck just past the bridge, where you were monitoring traffic the other day. It looked like a truck hit a South Island Police cruiser sitting in that same spot. I was afraid it was you."

There was a moment's silence.

"I'm off today. I know what you're talking about, though. The officer in the car suffered some head trauma, but he should be okay. The truck driver wasn't seriously injured."

"Oh. Thank G.o.d." She felt genuine relief, though it paled in comparison to the relief she'd felt when she'd realized Jackson hadn't been in the wreck.

"Yeah, it could've been bad."

More words danced on the tip of her tongue, but it was hard to decide exactly what to say.

"Now that you know I'm alive and well, is there anything else you want to talk about?"

His words, combined with the teasing tone of his voice, brought a smile to her lips.

"Actually, I was thinking of calling you soon anyway. I enjoyed seeing you the other day."

After the melodrama her imagination had conjured up surrounding the wreck, confessing her feelings seemed non-dramatic in comparison.

"I enjoyed seeing you too, Belle. I'd like to see you again."

His reply made her smile. And what would it hurt to agree, to see if he was fishing for anything more than a casual fling? Mariah might be right.

"That sounds good to me," she said after a moment's pause.

"Have you given any thought to where you'd like to meet?"

"Not really. Have you?"

"We could grab dinner tonight. You still love seafood?"

"Of course."

"What do you say we hit up Moreno's?"

One of the best local seafood places, Moreno's boasted an ocean view and even had its own beach access ramp. "Okay."

"It all right if I pick you up at seven?"

She agreed without hesitation. When she got off the phone a minute later, she finally had what she'd never gotten with Jackson: a date.

Mariah emerged from the bathroom a convenient twenty seconds later. Her lips were freshly glossed and her olive skin was flushed artfully pink over her cheekbones. Apparently, she'd redone her make-up.