cruiser was in much worse shape, its entire front end crumpled. Auto glass 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 butterflies 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 prong.
She was done waffling over whether to call him.
What if he’d been in the car and had been hurt? What if, God 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 glass 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.
“Hello?”
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 God.” 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,
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 butterflies 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 prong.
She was done waffling over whether to call him.
What if he’d been in the car and had been hurt? What if, God 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 glass 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.
“Hello?”
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 God.” 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,
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