Huckleberry Lake

by Catherine Anderson

  Once they were inside his truck, Wyatt said, “Unlike most people, I can’t safely converse while I drive. If you’d like to listen to music, I won’t mind if you turn on the stereo.”

  She smiled and shrugged. “You forget that I spend most of my shifts inside a truck with a police radio blabbering at me. I appreciate silence inside a vehicle. It gives me a chance to clear my mind and let my thoughts wander.”

  Wyatt couldn’t imagine what it might be like to hear people talking nonstop over the airwaves all day. He was pretty sure it would give him a bitch of a headache. “All I get is silence. That would drive me crazy.”

  He said nothing more until they reached West Main and he nosed his pickup into a parking spot. As he turned off the ignition, he glanced over at her and grinned. “How’s that for luck? We’re only a few feet from the door.”

  She gave him a thumbs-up. “That’s one of the many reasons I love living in Mystic Creek. In the Seattle area where I grew up, there are so many people that parking spaces are normally at a premium.”

  She didn’t wait for him to walk around to open her door. Instead she exited the vehicle when he did, and they met on the sidewalk. The Cauldron had gotten a recent facelift. Sissy and her mother, Doreen, had done extensive remodeling inside but hadn’t been able to afford to have the exterior brick sandblasted and revitalized right away.

  “This place is starting to look pretty uptown,” he said, mostly because he was nervous and could think of little else to say.

  Erin nodded. “I love what they’ve done with the interior, too. I hadn’t moved here yet when the renovations were done, but Sissy had the foresight to take before pictures. The difference is amazing.”

  Wyatt pushed open the door and stepped aside so she could enter first. A wave of delicious smells wafted to his nostrils, and his stomach growled. He hoped it hadn’t been a loud sound. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m hungrier than I thought.”

  She laughed and said, “That makes two of us. I can’t wait to see the specials she’s offering this evening.”

  The café was busy, with local people lined up on stools at the bar and most of the tables already taken. Wyatt hung his Stetson on the rack near the front door and led Erin to a corner table where they could enjoy the fire without sitting so close that they grew too warm. Surrounded by skillfully mortared river rock, the firebox held a crisscross of burning logs, the flames licking up over the wood, a brilliant blue at their base and then turning from orange to yellow. The stones, which rose to the ceiling, were divided midway up by a log mantel that displayed antique cooking utensils. Above them hung a gorgeous painting of Mystic Creek and the natural bridge near the town center.

  “Sissy struck just the right note with her choices of décor,” Erin said as she laid her coat on an extra chair at their table. “I envy her that ability.”

  Wyatt stepped around to the back of her chair, which prompted her to look over her shoulder at him and say, “You don’t have to help me. I’ve got this.”

  “I insist. A gentleman always seats a lady before he sits down himself.”

  She rolled her eyes and allowed him to assist her. As he leaned over her, he got a whiff of her hair, which she’d loosened from the band she’d worn earlier and brushed to lay over her shoulders in a silky cloud of dark chestnut. The scent of vanilla wafted to his nose. Given that the other aromas in the building had already spiked his appetite, he wished she didn’t smell like something good to eat.

  The moment they had taken their seats, Sissy’s husband, Ben Sterling, advanced on their table with menus. The couple’s infant son was cradled against Ben’s chest in a baby sling. He was a cute little guy with his daddy’s tawny hair and whiskey-colored eyes flecked with green.

  “Oh, how darling!” Erin exclaimed. “He’s grown since I last saw him.” She reached up to touch one of the baby’s chubby fists. “How old is he now?”

  “Just turned six months,” Ben said, his face glowing with pride. “We wanted to name him Jeremiah Paul after my pop, but Jeb’s son was already named after him. Sissy’s a big fan of To Kill a Mockingbird, so we settled for naming him Jem, my dad’s nickname when he was a kid.” Just then his daughter, Katie, appeared. Well, her face appeared. She peeked through the inverted V of her father’s slightly spread legs and peered up at Wyatt as if he had a third eye in the middle of his forehead. He grinned and mouthed the word hello to her. Her chubby cheeks dimpled in a quick smile that revealed tiny baby teeth, and then she hid her face against her daddy’s denim pants leg. Ben leaned slightly sideways to see around his infant son to locate his daughter. “Katie, here, just turned two. Sissy says our next one better be a girl, because her mom’s nose is out of joint. She wants a granddaughter to be named after her, too.”

  “My goodness!” Erin exclaimed. “You and Sissy must already be the busiest couple in town with two little ones, a restaurant, and a ranch to run. I can’t believe you’re thinking about another child.”

  Ben’s burnished face creased in a broad grin. “Oh, yeah, we’re pretty busy, all right. But we wouldn’t have it any other way. I grew up in a large family, so I always wanted at least three kids. Sissy has no siblings, and she resented that growing up, so she wants a large family, too.” He shrugged and cupped a protective hand over the back of his son’s head. “And honestly, it’s not so bad when we bring the kids with us to the café. All our customers know them, so somebody’s always ready to lend us a hand.” He inclined his head at Erin’s menu and then made eye contact with Wyatt. “When you’re ready to order, just wave me down. I’ll be back in a second to take your drink orders.”

  As Ben walked away, leading his daughter along beside him, Wyatt wished the guy would have stayed. Erin seemed nervous now that it was just the two of them, and he shared the feeling. Two people didn’t instantly feel comfortable with each other merely because they had agreed to be friends.

  Wyatt read all the menu choices. He was a huge fan of Sissy’s beef bourguignon, but he’d had that the last time he was in, so he decided on the spaghetti and meatballs. Sissy simmered the sauce for twenty-four hours, and her meatballs were homemade delicacies. A person couldn’t go wrong.

  Ben returned for their drink orders. Erin asked Ben to select a nice red wine for her. Wyatt thought maybe a goblet or two of vino would take the edge off his nerves, so he asked Ben to make it a full bottle with two glasses. Then he said, “And I’m ready to order my meal.” He directed a glance at Erin. “Have you decided, or am I rushing you?”

  She shook her head. “No, no, I’ve decided on the spaghetti.”

  Wyatt smiled. “Great minds think alike.” To Ben, he said, “Make that two spaghetti dinners.”

  As he settled his gaze on Erin again, he immediately regretted his choice of entrée. Eating spaghetti was almost always messy. He didn’t want to end up with spaghetti sauce on his chin.

  “Spaghetti is messy,” he said. “Maybe I should have gotten the beef bourguignon so I won’t embarrass you.”

  Erin’s blue eyes widened. “Oh, dear. You’re right. It probably will be messy.”

  Wyatt winked at her. “Which must mean you don’t possess talent for rolling noodles around a fork with a spoon.”

  “No. I shouldn’t have ordered spaghetti. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “It’s fabulous spaghetti. Let’s just both agree not to watch each other eat.”

  She nodded. “Agreed!”

  Ben returned with their wine. Wyatt tasted a small sample, approved the selection, and the restauranteur poured a measure of the merlot into each of their goblets. Erin took a sip of hers, swallowed, and waited for Ben to leave before saying, “I’m so glad you got a whole bottle. When I suggested that we try to be friends, I didn’t think I’d feel this nervous.”

  Wyatt wondered if she’d picked up on his tension and was only trying to help him relax. But when he searched her ex
pression, two realizations struck him. Erin truly did feel on edge, and there wasn’t a trace of guile in her eyes to suggest she was given to artifice. He felt some of the tension ease from his neck and shoulders.

  “I didn’t think I would, either,” he confessed. “But except for that one time months ago when we met for dinner at the Straw Hat, we’ve never been around each other very much.”

  “No. Out at the ranch, you always run the minute you see me.”

  Wyatt chuckled. “I’m sorry. I guess that is how it must have looked, but believe me when I say that it was nothing personal.”

  She took another taste of her wine. “I was flirting with you back then. I promise not to do that anymore.”

  Wyatt hoped that she wouldn’t. He considered himself to be a strong-willed man, but his sense of purpose faltered when this woman came on to him. He lifted his glass in a toast. “To friendship. Only friendship.”

  She pressed the edge of her goblet against his and agreed by saying, “Only friendship.” Then she smiled and said, “That’s going to be so much easier. When you sent me a text last autumn to meet you for dinner, I thought you meant it as a date and almost had a heart attack.”

  Wyatt frowned slightly, trying to remember why he had felt it was necessary to dine with her that evening. Then he registered what she’d said and focused his gaze on hers. “A heart attack? Why?”

  “I was in uniform, and I didn’t want to meet you looking that way. I raced over to the Morning Grind, and Julie switched clothes with me. Then she did my hair and makeup.”

  “Wow. I had no idea.” Wyatt did remember how different Erin had looked that evening, though, and he also recalled feeling relieved, because he preferred women who didn’t fuss very much over their appearance. He liked certain perfumes as long as the application was light. He was okay with a touch of makeup. But he wasn’t into bedhead hairstyles, false eyelashes, too much mascara, or bright red lipstick. In short, he had been more attracted to the Erin in uniform than he had been to the dolled-up version of her that evening, and to him, that had been a good thing. “You looked great,” he said, which he told himself wasn’t really a lie. Most guys would have been salivating. It was just that Wyatt had a lot more trouble resisting Erin when she didn’t put so much effort into it. “I can’t for the life of me remember what it was I needed to talk to you about that night.”

  She dimpled one cheek in a saucy grin and settled a twinkling gaze on him. “I think you wanted to give me a quick course on camping basics. I got you an electric coffee grinder as a gesture of apology for the way I behaved when we first met, and I thought you could use it at base camp.”

  Wyatt laughed and said, “Oh, yeah. I remember now. I was afraid you’d show up with a hair dryer, a curling iron, and an electric blanket.”

  She leaned slightly forward. “I wasn’t that clueless.”

  “You were pretty clueless,” he insisted, thinking as he spoke that she had an almost magical ability to convey by expression when she was emphasizing a word. When she talked, her whole face went into action. It made conversing with her really enjoyable for him, which was a rare occurrence. Perfect for me, he thought, and then he slammed the door on that nonsense, because, as he had explained in detail to Kennedy, no woman would ever be perfect for him. “And you did good up on the mountain,” he added. “You packed light. You got the things I told you to buy, but other than that, you brought only the bare necessities.”

  “And I nearly had a meltdown about feeling obligated to arrest Uncle Slade for making a pet out of a black bear.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know about that. Well, I did know Slade could get into huge trouble if you saw Four Toes, and I knew the bear scared you out of ten years’ growth in the cook shack, but I heard nothing about a meltdown.”

  The animated expression on her face vanished, and he thought her eyes darkened with what he believed was sadness. He hoped it was only an illusion created by the flickering amber from the fireplace. “That was the night I realized how much I hate being in law enforcement.”

  “Ah.” He could think of nothing else to say.

  “Vickie was the only person who saw me during my meltdown.” The genuineness of her smile had vanished with the light he usually saw in her eyes. “She gave me good advice.”

  “And what was that?”

  “To quit law enforcement and go back to school for another degree.”

  “Ouch. That’s costly, isn’t it?”

  “And life altering. I’m thirty-two, and I’d really like to have children. If I go back to school, I’ll be hard at it with classes for at least two years, and afterward I’ll be saddled with paying off student loans while I travel around to find clinical work. By the time my life is back to normal, I’ll be too old to safely bear a child.”

  “A lot of women are having kids when they’re older now,” Wyatt pointed out. “And who knows? You might meet the right guy at the university.”

  “Not likely. Granted, there are a few older people who return to college in their thirties and forties, but they aren’t the norm.”

  Ben arrived just then with their meals. Carrying a fold-out serving table in one hand and balancing a large tray on his shoulder, he grinned and said, “She outdid herself on the marinara, folks. It’s always good, but my mouth waters when she takes wonderful and inches it up to extraordinary.”

  In that moment, Wyatt realized that he no longer felt nervous, and he couldn’t attribute the change to the wine, because he’d barely touched it yet. It was due to Erin and her ability to dispense with airs and pretense. He leaned back in his chair as Ben set an individual platter on the table in front of him. As Ben served Erin, he inquired about the wine. Wyatt had a side view of his face and couldn’t see the motion of his lips, but he could see Erin’s mouth and was able to determine from her responses what Ben was saying.

  After they were served and Ben departed once again, Erin plunged her fork into a meatball, trimmed off a bite with her knife, and then rolled her eyes as she tasted it. “Oh, wow! Messy or not, Wyatt, I’m so glad we ordered this. Most times when I come here, I can’t eat all that I’m served. It’s always great the next day for lunch or dinner. But I never have leftovers with Sissy’s spaghetti. I shamelessly devour the whole meal.”

  “It’s one of my favorites, too,” he admitted. “My mom makes fabulous spaghetti. Like Sissy, she simmers the marinara a full twenty-four hours.”

  She arched her finely drawn brows. “My mother doesn’t, and hers isn’t very good. Or maybe it was the tension at the table that interfered with my appetite. She was always after me during meals about my manners and worried that I’d soil her tablecloth.”

  “My mom doesn’t get bent out of shape about spills on her tablecloth. She’s pretty relaxed.”

  As he spoke of his mother, he found himself wishing that Erin had been raised by someone just like her. She was a loving and patient woman who would have made sure Erin had a happy and normal childhood. Only that would have made Erin his sister. How in the hell could that ever work?

  With a start, Wyatt realized that this cozy dinner for two had all kinds of crazy thoughts about Erin forming in his mind. Not good. He needed to keep his head on straight and remember that they were friends, only friends, and could never be anything more.

  Determined to relax and enjoy her company, he did what he did best and encouraged her to talk. Producing words himself had become a lot easier over the years, but combined with lip reading over the course of an evening, it wore him out. He would say something here and there, he decided, but only enough to make her feel that they were having a normal conversation. The rest of the time, he would just take in what she had to say and watch her. He really enjoyed watching her, especially when she laughed. He liked the way she tipped her head back and let the sounds flow up her throat. Since he couldn’t hear laughter, he gauged the sincerity of it by watching the person
. A lot of women flashed a demure smile and allowed their shoulders to jerk only three times. In his estimation, that wasn’t real. It was a practiced social gesture and gave no visible measure of how amused someone actually was. Erin just went with it, and he lost track of how many times her shoulders jerked because her breasts jiggled each time and distracted him. She clearly didn’t emit a dainty laugh. Hers came from the gut, and he knew it was a warm, natural expression of mirth.

  “So, there, you see? My uniform is a man deterrent.”

  With a start, Wyatt realized he’d stopped reading her lips to admire her breasts and had missed a large portion of what she’d said. “Oh, well. A man who can’t see beyond the uniform probably isn’t worth having, anyway.”

  Judging by the way her chest rose and fell, he thought she sighed with discouragement. Or possibly defeat. He wished he could think of something to say that might boost her self-confidence and reassure her. “When the right man comes along,” he added, “he won’t even see the uniform. He’ll see only you.” He took a moment to refill their wineglasses and realized that they each still had yet another glass to go before they could call the bottle a dead soldier. “You’re lovely, Erin. A guy would have to be blind not to notice that.”

  Her cheeks went pink. “Thank you. That’s very sweet.”

  Just then, Ben Sterling came to remove their plates and the bread basket, which was almost empty. Wyatt remembered taking the first bite of his spaghetti, but from that point forward, he’d been so engaged in their exchanges that the remainder of the meal had passed in a blur. It wasn’t often that he could relax and enjoy a woman’s company so much.

  Ben returned with dessert menus. “You can’t leave without trying one of Sissy’s offerings. Her mom makes some of them. Sissy, the others. My personal favorite is Sissy’s cheesecake. She adds caramel sauce, and the crust is caramel as well. It’s like taking a bite of pure heaven.”

  Erin placed a hand over her midriff. “Oh, I shouldn’t. Do you know how many calories are in cheesecake?”