by Sophie Oak
Her lips curled up slightly. “Max speaks highly of you. He says one day you want to retire and help him with the horses.”
“It’s all we’ve ever wanted,” he admitted. “Has he brought you out to the stables yet?”
“No, we’ve stayed around town so far.”
Likely because Max didn’t want to rub his face in the relationship. But if Rachel was going to be a part of Max’s life, he had to get used to her. “You should come out. Our horses, well, they’re like old friends. We grew up around them. Our grandfather raised and trained them in Virginia. Of course he trained thoroughbreds for races. We train working horses.”
“Somehow I can’t see Max mixing with the Kentucky Derby types.”
“No, that would be interesting. We’re more rodeo types. But nothing in the world can make you feel as alive as taking a ride in the early morning light when the whole world feels like it’s waiting there for you.” Nothing except maybe kissing her. That would make him feel alive, too. Kissing her and then shifting her toward his brother to make sure he got his turn because he needed both halves of himself to be happy in order to feel whole.
“That sounds lovely. I would like to, but I know…” She looked away.
“You know what?” He was afraid he knew what she was going to say next.
“I know about the sharing thing,” she replied, her jaw firming. “I’m sorry but I don’t think that’s for me.”
Well, she couldn’t have it made more plain. She wanted Max and not him. “Rachel, if you’re worried I would try to force myself on you…”
She put a hand up but not before he’d seen her wince slightly. “Not at all, Sheriff. I’m sure you’re very much the gentleman. I need to get back to work. It’s eight dollars, please.”
Damn it. “Okay. Hold on. I’ve got some cash in the desk.”
He couldn’t send her on her way with a shitty two-dollar tip. She’d walked all the way over. There should be a delivery fee for her.
She looked haunted. That was the word he’d been looking for. He’d seen that look in the eyes of women who’d been abused before and she was worried he would hurt her. He couldn’t flirt his way around that.
He grabbed a five out of his desk drawer and passed it to her. “Thanks for walking it over, Ms. Swift.”
She looked like she was going to say something, but then her mouth closed again and she nodded. “You’re welcome, Sheriff.”
She walked out and he couldn’t take his eyes off her until the doors closed.
There was a groan from the cell. “Uh, I think I’m going to be sick.”
Yep, it was that kind of day.
* * * *
Max strode into the Movie Motel lobby. He hoped no one saw him because he was carrying out the plan, and that meant he was also carrying two dozen red roses and a bottle of champagne.
Did she like champagne? What if she was more of a beer girl? When they’d had drinks that night at the lodge she’d had a glass of some kind of red wine. Cab something.
Damn it. He needed Rye. Rye remembered those things.
What would happen when their anniversary came around and Max couldn’t remember it?
His brother would remind him. Hell, his brother was helping him and Max knew what it had to cost Rye. But he had to see if this thing with Rachel could work. Maybe that wasn’t fair to Rye, but he couldn’t walk away from her and he couldn’t give her an ultimatum. He wasn’t even sure how that would go.
Now see here, Rach, if you want me you gotta take my way more reasonable brother and you have to love us equally and forever because we’ll fall apart if you don’t.
Yeah, that made sense. How could he explain to Rachel that Rye wasn’t merely his brother? That ever since the day they’d been born it was like someone had split their soul down the middle and shoved the halves into different bodies? That would likely get him kicked to the curb and quick.
“Hey, Max.” Gene Holloway had run the Movie Motel for the past twenty years. He was a jovial man. Max could remember all the times he and Rye and Callie and Stef would ride their bikes out and sneak into the show. Gene had never tossed them out, merely called Max’s mom to make sure no one worried and then gave them popcorn and let them watch the movies on lawn chairs.
It had been a good town to grow up in. It would be a good place to raise kids in.
Was he thinking about kids?
Rachel had him…what was that fancy word? Discombobulated. That was it. He was that thing.
“Those are some mighty pretty flowers, Max. Teeny put those together for you?” Gene asked as he moved behind the front desk.
“Marie did, but Miss Teeny recommended the champagne.” He set the champagne and flowers down. “I was hoping you could do me a favor, Gene.”
“Of course, but you didn’t have to bring me champagne and flowers,” Gene replied with a smile. “I’ll help for free.”
Max chuckled. “They’re for Rachel.”
“I suspected as much.” Gene tapped on the keyboard to wake up the computer.
“I need to get into her room so I can make everything pretty for her. Romantic-like, you see. And if you have champagnes glasses, I could use a couple. I forgot. I don’t want to have to use Styrofoam. I think Rye would tell me that’s not romantic.”
Rye had presented him with a whole game plan. He would surprise her with the flowers and champagne and when he came to pick her up, he would wear a tie, a real tie and not a bolo or something that snapped into place. Rye had been very certain about that. Real tie.
“I’ve got two open rooms right now.”
Gene obviously did not understand him. “I don’t need a room. I need to get into Rachel Swift’s room. Now I know that’s not normal protocol, but I’m planning something special for tonight. She’s my lady and my brother came up with this whole plan to treat her right. Me treating her right, not Rye.”
He felt like he had to admit that. Like it was some dirty secret everyone should know. He was Max Harper and he wasn’t sharing with his brother.
And that felt wrong.
Gene frowned. “You’re talking about the girl from Stella’s? The one with the reddish hair?”
“Yes. Rachel Swift. She’s been here for a few weeks,” he explained. “I need to get into her room so I can…” This was the weird part. This was the part he needed his brother for. “I need to put rose petals on the bed and make sure everything is all romantic-like. I’m not supposed to be a douchebag who doesn’t even care about his surroundings. Now that is Rye talking, not me. I think the surroundings are fine. I mean there are four walls and it’s clean and the sheets are nice, but Rye’s a pretty princess. That boy is super high maintenance, but he supposedly knows more about how to treat a woman than I do.”
Gene looked back at his screen. “She doesn’t have a room here. I’ve seen her at Stella’s but never here, Max. You know I would do anything for you, but I can’t let you into a room that doesn’t exist.”
He straightened up. Why would Rachel lie to him? She’d been plain about her plans. He was going to meet her at eight p.m. tonight here at the Movie Motel where she’d been staying for the weeks she’d been in town.
Why would she lie?
Where had she been staying?
A nasty suspicion started to play around in Max’s head.
She was too good to be true. She was smart and funny and she wanted him. No one wanted him. He was obnoxious and she’d yelled at him that first day. No one wanted him for anything but sex.
Why would she lie? Because she had another life. Because she had a man she did love…someone who wasn’t an obnoxious prick. God, was she married, and did she have a couple of kids?
His stomach turned. It made sense. Why, why would she pick him except that he was a sex machine who made all the woman cry out in pure, unadulterated satisfaction. She was using him for sex.
He was falling madly in love with that woman and she was using him for sex.
He’d been willin
g to betray the only human being in the world who understood him and she was using him for sex.
“Max?” Gene frowned his way. “Are you okay? You look a little crazy right now. Should I call Rye?”
Oh, Rye would find out. Rye would learn that his twin was a fucking idiot. Rye would figure out his brother wasn’t smart enough to know when a woman was using him.
“Don’t you call him. I’ll handle it myself.”
But he heard Gene on the phone as he stalked out of the motel, the flowers in his hand. He left the champagne behind.
He wouldn’t need it.
Chapter Five
Rye Harper sighed as he looked at the clock. It had seriously been the longest day of his life. He’d been happy to see the state police come pick up his asshole, should-have-made-it-to-the-toilet prisoner so he had some peace.
Was Max doing what he’d told him to do? He’d been explicit. Max needed to buy two dozen red roses from the Trading Post and a bottle of nice champagne, but he shouldn’t forget two glasses because all Gene had out at the Movie Motel was coffee mugs. Coffee mugs weren’t romantic.
He was supposed to take three of the roses and pluck the petals and spread them over the bed. Another rose would be used to make a path from the door to the bed where Max would place the champagne and glasses in a nice bucket of ice and be waiting for her when she came back. Then he would kiss her and explain to her that he had the whole evening planned out complete with dinner being delivered. That was where Rye came in. He would pick up two lovely steak dinners from the Lodge. He would knock on the door, shove the food at Max, and then run back to the first place that had a decent bottle of Scotch.
Awful fucking day.
The phone rang out at his secretary’s desk.
“Callie! Phone!” Rye yelled from the comfort of his office. Yes, he could get it himself, but he was feeling selfish and Callie had taken an extra-long lunch. He was going to sit in here and brood. He needed brooding time.
A short figure with dark hair flew past the open door in her attempt to get to the phone. She was pushing her smart glasses further up on her nose.
“Got it!” she screamed before she answered the phone. “Bliss County Sheriff’s Department.” Her voice was now brisk and professional.
Rye listened for a second while drumming his fingers along the desktop. Yep, he would drown himself in Scotch and then he wouldn’t have to think about Max in bed with Rachel.
“No, Mel, I’m sorry. I don’t have any CIA connections,” Callie was saying in a soothing voice. It could only mean one thing.
Rye let his head fall to the desk. No time for brooding. He would have to go out to Mel’s and pretend to check for bugs again. If he didn’t, the old fellow would sit in Stella’s diner for hours telling anyone and everyone who came in that Bliss was a focal point for the coming invasion. The locals might ignore him, but he tended to freak out the tourists, and it was tourist season. The last thing he needed was to get called into another meeting of the Bliss County Chamber of Commerce, where he regularly got raked over the coals.
“Hey, boss.” Callie interrupted his thoughts, and he lifted his head off the desk.
Rye tried to look like he wasn’t moping. “Yeah, I know. I gotta get my ass out to Mel’s and look for alien technology. Get the Detector 3000.”
Callie snorted. “I’ll make sure to get that for you. I’ll also tell Stefan that we’ll need to move up to the 4000 model soon. Mel is worried because alien technology apparently changes often.”
Stefan Talbot was an artist who worked with everything from oils on canvas to metals. He was also a childhood friend of Rye’s. And Max and Callie’s. The four of them had been the closest kids in age in the small town while growing up. They’d come to rely on one another for everything, including the problem of how to deal with Melvin Hughes. Stef had been the one to come up with the idea of the Detector 3000. It was a Wii controller with some modifications to make it seem much more impressive. Stef had added lights and it now made some high-tech sounds. Mel had been impressed, but after six months had wondered if there wasn’t an even more sophisticated device.
Aliens, after all, were tricky bastards.
“I’ll let him know.” Rye reached out for his hat. “Anything else? Did Logan go out and talk to the nudists?”
Max had pitched a small fit about his nudist encounter a couple of days before, and Rye had made a note to send his deputy out to handle it. Rye attributed the fact that the fit was such a small thing to his brother’s state of sexual satisfaction. He wondered briefly how he was going to handle it if Rachel started staying the night at their house. How was he going to stand sleeping alone when Rachel was right next door?
“Yes, and they prefer to be called naturists.” Callie’s mother had run the naturist community for years. It was Callie who always reminded him to be tolerant toward the clothing-challenged. “Logan went out this morning, and it’s a good thing, too. We’ve had four reports of 503’s since yesterday afternoon.”
Rye groaned. A 503 was Bliss County’s code for a naked penis sighting. A 504 referred to naked females, but strangely, almost no one ever called that in. “Yeah, they’re all about the nature walk right now. It’s wildflower time. I hope they don’t go too high into the mountains. I would hate for the damn bears to try to mate with one of them.”
Callie laughed. “I was talking to Bill, and he was excited about all the activities they have planned for the summer. You should know that the men are planning a warrior-in-the-buff outing. There’ll be lots of chanting and drumming.”
The sheriff sighed. Bill Hartman owned the land the commune was on. Rye was about to give him a call when he noticed how enthused Callie looked. Callie loved that commune and all the people who lived there. They had made sure her mother had been comfortable while she lost her long-term battle with cancer. Callie was perfectly comfortable spending a lot of her free time with the naturists. Rye shook his head as he looked at the woman who was as close to him as a sister. He always made sure he called before he showed up at her cabin to avoid getting a show.
“Put it on the calendar, please. And remind me to buy some industrial-strength earplugs. If they keep Max awake, he’ll make the bears look soft and cuddly.” If he even noticed over all the noise Rye was sure Rachel made. She looked like a screamer. The quiet ones were always tigers in bed.
“I heard Max has a new girl.” Callie’s tone was soft, and Rye heard sympathy creeping into her voice. “You okay with that?”
Callie had been his assistant for five years. She’d taken the job when he became the sheriff. Rye knew not much got by Callie Sheppard.
“Sure,” Rye lied, plastering a smile on his face. “I think it’s great that Max is happy.”
He felt her eyes on him. It was the look of a too perceptive little sister figuring out exactly what her big brother didn’t want her to discover. Callie shook her head. “Do you honestly think this whole ‘dating apart’ thing will work out? Don’t you think you’re fighting your nature a bit?”
“Tell Max that,” Rye said morosely. He didn’t even try to keep things like that from Callie. She tended to see through him. “He’s the one who wanted to stop trying. His reason? He doesn’t think I’ll ever find what I want as long as he’s around. Then he goes out and finds Rachel.”
“And you like her, too.” Callie’s brown eyes watched him, studying his responses. At times like this, she reminded him of a cute little owl.
Rye shrugged. “She’s okay, I guess.”
“Right,” she said, seemingly unconvinced.
Callie started to play with her shoulder-length brown hair. Rye recognized that look. Callie knew something and wasn’t sure she should tell. Callie was the worst gossip in the county, and it looked like Rachel was already on her radar.
“Spit it out.”
Callie bit her bottom lip, and her eyes slid away from his face. “I don’t know if I should.”
Rye was unwilling to play games. He w
anted to know what was up with Rachel. It was obvious she was in trouble, and he needed to be ready for it. She belonged to Max, and Max’s happiness was important to Rye. “Tell me or you’re fired.”
Callie rolled her eyes. “I’m terrified of that threat. Fine. It isn’t anything bad. Rachel seems like a real sweet girl. I simply think she’s lying about a few things. She told Stella she was staying at the motel on the outskirts of town.”
Rye shrugged and released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “That’s not bad. It’s clean, at least.”
“That’s just it, Rye,” Callie continued. “I talked to Gene yesterday. He says she’s never been in. That motel is his baby. Even if he hadn’t checked her in himself, do you honestly believe he wouldn’t remember her name?”
No, he didn’t believe that for a second. Why would Rachel lie about where she was staying? He thought about the trace he’d put on her earlier this morning. He’d put her name into the system along with her plate number. He hadn’t turned up anything yet, and that was slightly disconcerting. Her Texas driver’s license had come up clean, but he’d gotten nothing else. She didn’t have so much as a traffic ticket. The license listed her address as an apartment in Houston, Texas. Rye was going to call the police there and ask a couple of questions, but first he needed to figure out where she was staying here.
The phone rang again, and Callie went to answer it.
Rye walked to the closet and took out his soon-to-be obsolete Detector 3000. He made sure all the bells and whistles were working. He sighed while he straightened his tie. It was important to present a professional image when dealing with the crazies of the county. The key was to look like he took them seriously.
Callie was slightly breathless. She hung up the phone as Rye walked into the main office. “You might want to hold off heading to Mel’s.”
“Why?”
She winced. “It appears that Max showed up at the motel with a bunch of roses and was promptly told that Rachel didn’t live there. He’s been yelling ever since.”
“Shit. I sent him there. He’ll take it to the worst possible place. What’s his ETD?” It was Rye’s own code. It referred to Max’s estimated time of destruction.