BEAUTY AND THE BADGE Read online

  As soon as I turn the key in the lock and push the door open, I feel at home. The lavender-and-eucalyptus sachets my grandmother taught me to make when I was a child mix with the scent of the cedar-wrapped beams on the ceiling, a warm welcome after a long drive. Yesterday, Millie let in the cleaning crew I hired to give the place a onceover, so there’s a hint of lemony fresh cleaner in the air too.

  Before I go any farther, I stop and shoot off a text to Rob and Karen:

  I made it safe and sound. Going to go sit and watch the sunset. I’ll call after I bring in my luggage. Love you both!

  As happy as I am to be here, there’s some bittersweet mixed in. The last time I was here, Grandpa was with me. We’d known it would be his final trip to the island, which meant it had been an emotional time.

  Walking through the house, I open the rear slider and step out onto the deck. My mind’s eye immediately conjures an image of Grandpa sitting on one of the white Adirondack chairs that look out to the water. As tired and gaunt as he’d been from chemo and radiation, the sparkle I’d always loved to see in his eyes was present the entire time we were here.

  “There’s no place like this,” he said.

  I grinned as I tucked my hands into my fleece jacket, since the wind coming off the water was especially brisk. “You love it so much, why didn’t you ever come back here to live permanently?”

  He turned and smiled at me before he looked back at the water. “First, I stayed in California, because I was young and it was different. Different to young people is always better, whether it’s true or not. After that, I stayed, because I met your Gran, and she was born and raised there. She loved spending a month here each summer, but making it permanent would’ve changed the way she felt about it. My Gracie was a city girl through and through. Plus, I knew that after your momma died, Gracie needed to stay where she’d raised her more than ever. She had such good memories of your mom’s school years; she wanted to give that to you too.”

  “She did good,” I assured him. “You both did. I had a great childhood.”

  I had too. My parents died during a trip to Hawaii to celebrate their five-year anniversary when their helicopter tour ended with a crash. Since I was only three when they died, my memories of them had long since faded. What I knew about them came from photographs, videos, and my grandparents.

  “I’m glad you feel that way, sweet girl. When you were little, it made sense to keep you there, but as you grew older, I wondered if we’d made the right choice. The tranquility of the Cove always called to you. If the opportunity ever presents itself, you should consider moving here permanently.”

  Tilting my head back, I look up at the sky. “Thanks for the great advice, Grandpa. I miss you.”

  The soft breeze that whispers past my face and the sound of the ocean lapping against the shore are the only answer. Even still, I know he approves of my decision.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ____________________________________

  ASHLEY

  “I PACKED A lunch for you,” Millie says as she walks into the house through the open sliding door. “It’s leftover chicken stir fry with rice, and I threw in a pack of Abe’s Twinkies. Lord knows that man doesn’t need the extra sugar,” she grumbles.

  Abe is her husband, and if he weighs more than he did the day they got married, I’d be a monkey’s uncle. He’s what my grandmother called elder-fit, which I think was her way of saying he was hot. Gross, but I know she had a point.

  Millie is a welcome sight in her uniform of choice—a bright pink Hawaiian-print blouse, a pair of navy polyester pants with a crease down the front, and crisp, white Bobos. Her short silver curls are perfectly styled, and her rose-colored gold-rimmed glasses are hanging on the beaded glasses holder she wears around her neck. Last night was book club night, so I didn’t get to visit with her when I arrived. At seventy-three, Millie is more active than a lot of teenagers.

  I smile at her as I set my nearly empty mug of hot chocolate down on the white Formica counter. “You didn’t need to do that, Millie.”

  “Oh pish, child,” she scolds. “Don’t ever tell an old woman what she doesn’t need to do. Don’t you know we stay alive to take care of people?”

  “I—”

  “Don’t answer that,” she orders. “If you do, it means you agree that I’m an old woman.”

  “Oh, I—”

  “Shh. Anything you say now will seem like you’re trying to make me feel better about being decrepit.”

  I’m trying to decide how to proceed, when she bursts out laughing. “Heavens, Ashley! Your face. Did people not joke with you in California?”

  “Not like you do,” I admit.

  “Well, get used to it, because you’ll be getting a lot of this,” she says as she points to herself.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” I answer. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you too, dear. I keep thinking of how happy your grandfather must be that you’ve made your way here for good. The same is true for your grandmother, you know,” Millie says. “She only ever wanted you to be happy, and you’re always happiest here.”

  I smile softly. Millie understands my love of Charlotte’s Cove, because she feels the same. “I think they’re happy too,” I tell her.

  “Now that we’ve established this is a good thing, I need to tell you something serious,” she announces.

  I’m startled by the sudden change and that the expression on her face is, in fact, serious. “Okay,” I say slowly, wondering what’s up.

  She gestures to me before she says, “Now, it’s a fact that Felicity Falls wore pantyhose and a polyester dress nearly every day that she was at the front desk at the station, so I understand why you’re wearing this outfit. And honey, it’s lovely, really. If you were in your sixties, that is. Luckily for you, Tyler Jameson isn’t uptight in the way Chief Perry was. He wore Felicity down quick too. Within two months of taking over, he had her wearing pedal pushers and sweater sets. The skirt and top you have on are too formal for the new and improved Charlotte’s Cove Police Department.”

  My brow furrows as I look down at my long-sleeved, cream-colored top with buttons up to just below my neck. My skirt is a pleated navy number that ends below the knee, and my sensible cream-colored heels are in no way alluring. The tan pantyhose I’m wearing round the outfit out terribly. I really do look like a spinster, but that’s what I was going for. I spent three hundred dollars buying mix and match business wear on a website that specializes in modest-looking clothing, because I thought I knew what to expect. Charlotte’s Cove has never been big on change.

  “So I should just wear… um, what, exactly?”

  “Tyler’s pretty casual. As long as you’re in something appropriate to deal with the public, he’ll be happy.”

  That means I can use the clothes I wore to work in LA, which is a plus. I have more of that stuff than I do the schoolmarm attire I bought. Hopefully I can return some or all of it, because it’s awful. “I’ll go change then. I’m glad you came over so I didn’t spend an entire day in this. It’s not the most comfortable outfit in the world.”

  “In combination with the bun hairstyle, it’s also a tad Little House on the Prairie,” Millie teases.

  I laugh, because she’s not wrong. After she leaves, I head down the short hall to the bedroom and quickly get ready for work, again. Unsure of exactly how casual the new chief really is, I put on a floral cotton dress that ends above the knee and a pair of petal-pink Rothy’s. I’m frugal about a lot of stuff, but footwear isn’t one of those things. Assessing my outfit with a critical eye, I decide it’ll have to do. I then take my hair down and restyle it into a softer, less severe bun, leaving some soft tendrils to frame my face. With that out of the way, I swipe on a bit more of my favorite nude lipstick.

  Glancing at the clock, I groan. Even the idea of being late to work makes my stomach rumble. Hadley would’ve gone up one side of me and down the other if I’d arrived anything less than fif
teen minutes early each day, and it’s definitely scarred me. Hurrying to the kitchen, I pick up the lunch Millie left for me, grab my car key, and race out the door.

  First day of work, here I come.

  _______________

  SINCE IT’S NOT yet summer, traffic on the island is non-existent, which means I arrive at work twelve minutes early. Not bad. Parking outside of the precinct, I can’t hold back the smile that spreads across my face. The brick building is postcard perfect, the same as it was when Chief Perry was in charge. On either side of the glass doors to the entrance, there are lilac trees. To the right of the building, just above the large window that looks out onto the parking lot, four-inch polished brass letters tell anyone who didn’t already know that they’re at the Charlotte’s Cove Police Department. To the left of the building is a small outdoor space, consisting of a paved seating area with four benches circling a beautiful Japanese maple. Everywhere you look, there are beds of fresh, red mulch full of pink and yellow tulips. Not coincidentally, they match the plantings across the street at the multi-denominational church and the elementary school just down the block.

  A lot of time and effort goes into this town, and it shows. This is what I was missing in Los Angeles. Here in the Cove, the bright, blue sky is unimpeded, unlike the layer of smog so thick it was often impossible to tell where the mountains were in LA. The clean, crisp air combined with the feeling of community makes me feel better and better about my decision with every passing minute. Taking my lunch from the passenger seat, I make my way into the precinct.

  The smell of wood cleaner and something citrusy greets me as I walk inside. The front counter has had an upgrade since the last time I was here back during the summer before my senior year of high school, when I got a ticket for speeding. Four miles over the limit, but Chief Perry was a stickler for the rules. When I came in to pay the fine, the counter had been a navy Formica. Now, it’s a tan granite with black veining. The other change that jumps out at me is the entire space is no longer painted crisp, stark white. Everything is a creamy khaki color now, except for the back wall, which is navy blue.

  “Are you Ashley?”

  Startled, I turn toward the speaker. Holy. Cow. This guy is gorgeous with a capital G. He’s at least six feet tall, so I tilt my head back to get a better look. His brown hair is on the lighter side of the spectrum and it’s styled in a way that says he’s not about products. That’s refreshing on the heels of L.A. men, many of whom spend more time on their appearance than most women. His eyes are a soft brown with a bit of hazel, and his lashes are to die for. It’s not fair. No man should have lashes so perfect.

  His jawline is what one would call chiseled, but I’ll just cut to the chase and call it hot. He’s clean shaven, and his lips are stupidly kissable. Looking down at his body, I lick my lips. His arms are big and muscular, and the khaki cargo pants he has on do nothing to hide he’s got drool-worthy thighs. I can think of something else he’s got that has to be drool-worthy. I bet it’s—

  Oh. Crap.

  Wait a minute.

  Khaki pants.

  Black shirt.

  My eyes dart to the left breast of the black polo shirt. Sure enough, the CCPD logo is on it. And beneath the logo, there’s a word that pulls me up short.

  Chief.

  Oh wow. Of course the hottest guy I’ve ever seen on the island—or anywhere else, for that matter—just has to be my boss.

  I need to stop looking at him like he’s filet mignon and I’m on a no-meat diet.

  “Yes, I’m Ashley,” I confirm. I hope my voice doesn’t sound all please kiss me like the heroes in the movies would kind of breathless, but that might be wishful thinking. I definitely don’t sound normal. Anxious to take the attention away from myself, I turn it on him. “You must be Chief Jameson.”

  He clears his throat. “Guilty. Call me Tyler, though. I’m not big on formality.”

  His voice is as sexy as the rest of him. Husky and rich with that perfect amount of hot on the back end. If male phone sex operators were in high demand, Tyler Jameson could have a whole new career.

  Crap. I can’t think about my boss and phone sex—or any kind of sex—at the same time. Time to get it together if I don’t want my first day to be my last.

  “Okay…, Tyler.”

  Something flashes in his eyes that makes it feel like the air in the room has thickened. We stare at one another in silence for what feels like an inordinately long time. When the sound of the phone ringing cuts through the air, I nearly jump like a frightened cat.

  “It’s not quite nine yet, and that isn’t the 911 line, which means it’s not an emergency,” Tyler says calmly. “Let that go to voicemail while I show you around.”

  I force myself to focus on work and not how hot his ass looks in cargo pants as he walks me around the precinct. I appreciate that he’s thoughtful enough to start the tour in the kitchen area so I can put my lunch in the fridge. Hadley would’ve ignored my needs and not cared if I wound up with a horrible case of food poisoning from unrefrigerated food so long as I was at my desk the following day. Tyler is already heads and tails above my last boss, and it’s only the first few minutes of day one.

  The precinct isn’t huge, so the tour only takes about ten minutes. To the right of the front desk, which is where I’ll be, is a hall that leads to an open space with sixteen large cubicles for the officers. To the left of the cubicles is a conference room, and to the right is Tyler’s office. We head to the lower level, where three holding cells, two desks, and a phone are located.

  “We don’t use the cells much during off-season, so those desks aren’t assigned to any one officer,” Tyler explains. “When summer rolls around, that’ll change, but if last summer was any indicator, the number should still be low. I think we averaged about sixty to seventy arrests per month last year, and most of those were either public intoxication or drunk driving. I know you spent almost every summer here, so you have a frame of reference for what to expect. That’ll help you get used to the more laid-back lifestyle. From personal experience, I can tell you the change from the constant go-go-go is worth it.”

  “Where were you before this?” I ask.

  “Seattle PD. It’s a great department, but city life never felt like a good fit for me. I like law and order, and in Charlotte’s Cove, those two things are the norm instead of the exception. Some might say it’s boring, but it isn’t to me, at all. I like having roots and knowing the people I’m protecting.”

  “I get that. Looking back, I realize I stayed in Los Angeles for as long as I did because I was born and raised there, and it was what I knew. Moving out here always seemed like a pipe dream. Turns out having a gun to your head gives you clarity and makes things a lot clearer.”

  His expression clouds and he winces. “Fuck. I forgot Felicity mentioned you were in a store holdup. Were you hurt?”

  The way he looks me over makes me a little weak in the knees. “Not physically,” I answer. “I lived over the convenience store that was robbed, so the feeling of safety I normally felt inside my home was gone. LA is too big and too chaotic for me. Charlotte’s Cove has always been my happy place, and I own a home here, so it made sense to at least consider it. After Felicity interviewed me for the position and you gave the okay to offer me the job, I felt like it was a clear sign that moving here was the way to go.”

  “Did anyone come with you?” he asks, his voice gruff. “Boyfriend? Friend? Friend with benefits?”

  I know there’s a faint blush on my cheeks as I shake my head. “No, none of the above.”

  The grin that spreads across his face sends a blast of heat through my body.

  “I’m glad.”

  The way he’s watching me is making my pulse race. We stare at each other in silence for a few seconds before I realize I need to pull myself together and act like an office manager as opposed to a groupie at a Backstreet Boys concert. “Um, glad?” I ask.

  He grins like I’ve amused him in some wa
y. “Glad you decided to move here,” he says. “It was the right decision.”

  “I, um…” I blink a few times as I try to form a coherent string of words. His attention is making it hard to think. “I think it was the right decision too,” I finally manage.

  Internally, my brain is shouting that I’m in danger of coming off like a tongue-tied weirdo. Sucking in a breath, I straighten my shoulders and give myself a firm mental slap. Tyler needs to see I can follow the bouncing ball and take this job on, so that’s what I need to focus on.

  I’ll save thinking about how hot he is for later.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ____________________________________

  ASHLEY

  ONCE WE GET back upstairs, it doesn’t take long to comprehend why Tyler was so happy about my computer skills. Six months after he took over as chief, he got the town council to agree to upgrade the systems in the department. There are new computers for all the staff, and there’s also a system up at the counter that streamlines the paying of tickets and fines. Unfortunately, Felicity wasn’t good with computers and didn’t have a desire to be, so Tyler wound up entering a lot of the information himself after hours. I can’t hold back a laugh when he admits she’d tear off a piece of paper from her yellow legal-size notepad at the end of each day and leave it for him so he’d know who paid what.

  “That was the system all these years?” I ask. “A slip of paper?”

  His husky chuckle makes my nipples pucker. “Actually, it was done in notebook logs. When I got here, there were thirty-two years of notebooks in the basement, and it didn’t look like too much more would fit. With this system, it’s easier to track and send out warnings to anyone who didn’t pay. You just click a button on Mondays and it will collate a list of what’s late.”

  To people who understand how to use programs like this, it’s a time-saving cakewalk. To someone like Felicity, it must’ve seemed like gibberish.