Chasing Carly (Holiday Cove 3)

She sucked her lip back in, obviously realizing that it wasn’t working, and jerked her arm out of my grip. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to come to stay with you.”

“Because I make rules?”

Alesha crossed her arms. “Because you always have a huge stick up your ass. All I want to do is have a little fun! It’s Summer! But no! My stuck-up prissy do-gooder sister hasn’t pulled the stick out, yet!”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Don’t you fucking start with me or I’ll put your ass back on that plane and call it a day.”

“See? Hardass!”

“It’s called being an adult, Leash. You should try it sometime. Daddy isn’t going to always be there to soften the blow when you mess up your life.”

She set her lips in a defiant purse and glared at me. “You mean like when he bought you a restaurant just so you could have a job somewhere?”

I was done playing games. “Come on. We need to get your luggage and then get out of here. I have to get back to work.”

Alesha muttered something under her breath as I tugged on her arm, dragging her toward the baggage claim. I did my best to block out her pitiful grumbling, knowing that whatever she was complaining about wasn’t my problem. It was my job to keep her safe and out of trouble. It wasn’t my concern whether she liked me or not.

Which was fine with me since I didn’t think I’d be winning any Sister of the Year awards anytime soon.

2

Nick

* * *

It had started out as a quick, one-tank trip outta town. A drive to the coast, look around, and go home and get back to work. But two weeks later, I was standing in an empty apartment, looking at the peeling paint on the walls and the cracks in the ceiling, and smiling to myself because that day trip had turned into the opportunity of a lifetime and I was finally busting out of the shit hole.

I dropped the key and the spare on the counter with my final rent payment, let myself out of the apartment one last time and went down to my truck that was weighted down by cardboard boxes that contained everything I owned.

“Adams? Hey, man, wait up!”

I turned at the familiar voice and offered a smile to Sgt. Parker Lane as he jogged across the street to where my raised F-350 was parked. “Hey Lane. You hittin’ it early today?” I jerked my chin from the doorway he’d just stepped out of. Bud’s Taproom. “Not even three o’clock yet.”

Parker shrugged. We both knew there was nothing else to do in Fallon. It was work until it’s time to drink, and then sleep until it’s time to work kind of place.

“I didn’t know you were leaving town,” he said, his eyes roving over the heaped pile of boxes in the bed of the truck. Everything was roped down and secure, but it still looked like a road hazard.

“Yeah. New job out on the coast.” I pocketed my hands in the back of my worn jeans.

“Damn.” Parker shook his head. “Sad to see you go, man. First, you’re out of the unit, now this?”

“It’s time to move on,” I shrugged. “I can’t stay here and tend bar forever. There’s nothing in this town unless your active duty and I’m not. And I have no intention of changing that.”

“I hear ya.” He nodded, but his understanding could only go so far. Parker was a lifer. He came from military stock and wouldn’t be looking for an exit anytime soon. “There a girl involved?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Nah. Just the job. I’ll be working for Aaron Rosen. He’s ex-Navy. Good guy. His pops opened an air museum out there and he took it over after his old man passed on.”

“Why not work at the Air Park? Same thing. Right?”

I’d tried to finagle my way into the Fallon Air Park. “They don’t want me. They don’t think I’m qualified or some bullshit like that.”

Parked nodded sagely. “Well good luck, man. Don’t be a stranger. Next time you’re in town, give me a call. I’ll buy ya a round.”

“I will, man.” I clapped him on the shoulder and he turned to jog back across the street to the bar. Before he slipped inside the banged-up metal door, he looked back and gave me a parting salute. I returned it with a grin and he went into the tavern.

There were few things I’d miss about my life in Fallon. It had never felt like home. And I sure as hell wouldn’t miss my cheap ass apartment with its busted appliances, pest control issues, and noisy neighbors. But Parker was a good buddy. I’d miss him.

I hopped up into the cab of my truck, fired it up, and pulled away, putting Fallon and the memories I’d made there in the rearview mirror