Rumor Has It

by Cindi Myers

  “Nice to meet you, Patrice.” He accepted the bill from her. “So is Ms. Reed a mean teacher?”

  “She’s not too bad.” She looked at Taylor, then back at Dylan. Taylor could almost see the questions bouncing around in her brain. She took the bills Dylan handed her. “I’ll be right back with your change.”

  “That’s okay.” He waved her on. “You keep it.”

  “Thanks.” She turned and darted away.

  Dylan handed Taylor her burger. “I guess it’ll be all over town by tonight that we were out together.”

  She nodded. “Considering how many people saw us leave the reunion together on Saturday, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  She considered the question. On one hand, it would be nice to keep her trysts with Dylan secret—something they did just for themselves. They might have done so in an anonymous big city, but never in Cedar Creek, Texas. She shrugged. “We’ve already agreed it’s useless to try to keep a secret in this town.” She remembered Alyson’s warning about discretion. “Besides, that doesn’t mean they have to know everything we do.”

  “No.” He swirled a French fry through a puddle of ketchup. “They’d rather make up their own story anyway.”

  “Let them. It doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” She spoke with a nonchalance she didn’t quite feel. Words did matter. Didn’t the fact that she felt compelled to lay to rest old rumors prove it?

  They fell silent, eating, the reminder of what would come later hanging in the air between them, a promise and a temptation. She finished her burger and crumpled the wrapper. “I’m curious. How did you end up in L.A.?”

  “My original plan was to move back here after I’d finished college and law school. But after my parents died, things felt too uncomfortable to come back.” He glanced at her. “I guess you heard there were some hard feelings between my dad and some of the townspeople.”

  “I heard some people were upset about a book he wrote—about the Civil Rights movement?”

  He nodded. “A Ranger Remembers. It won a Texas PEN award for nonfiction, but instead of being proud of him, folks whined about how he’d made the town look bad.”

  She saw the impact of that old hurt in his hunched shoulders and tight jaw, and her stomach clenched in sympathy. “Surely not everyone felt that way.”

  “No. But the ones who did object made a lot of noise.” He stared out the side window, so she could no longer read his expression. “I know it hurt Dad, though he never would have said so.”

  “I can see why you didn’t want to stay in town after that.”

  He took a long sip of soda and set the cup aside. “I got an offer from one of the big law firms out in L.A. I’d always wanted to see the West Coast, so I thought it was a great opportunity.”

  “And was it?”

  “It was interesting work. Lucrative work. But I never really fit in to that Hollywood lifestyle.” He shrugged. “I guess I’m a small-town boy at heart.”

  “So what are your plans now?”

  “Get my practice going here. Fix up my parents’ old place, get involved in the community again. After living so many years among strangers, it feels good to walk around town and see so many familiar faces.”

  He angled toward her, his back against the truck door. “And you’re off to Oxford. When?”

  “January. It’s a special year-long program focusing on Shakespearean sonnets.”

  “‘When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear times’ waste.’”

  His voice was low, husky, lending an unexpected eroticism to the words. Heat pooled between her thighs and she shifted in her seat away from him.

  “Did I get the lines wrong? It’s been a long time.”

  She shook her head, unable to meet his eyes. “No, you got them right. I’d forgotten you liked poetry.” Had he chosen that particular sonnet for a reason? Did he, too, have regrets about the past? Their past?

  She was aware of his eyes lingering on her, his glance like a caress across her skin. She set her empty cup on the dash and brushed crumbs from her lap, anxious to change the subject. “Anyway, I’m excited about this opportunity. It will be fun to see a little more of the world before I settle down in one place.” She flashed him a sly smile. “I have a few things I want to do first.”

  “Oh, yeah?” He leaned toward her. “Such as?”

  “Such as drive up to Inspiration Point with you.”

  “Best idea I’ve heard all day.” He disposed of their trash, then started the truck and headed to the west side of town, to the bluff overlooking the lake that had been the preferred make-out spot for several generations of Cedar Creek youth.

  He guided the truck up the rutted dirt road and parked against the line of boulders that marked the edge of the bluff. When he switched off the engine, the night silence closed around them like a curtain. Taylor looked out the windshield, at the beads of light marking the houses on the lake’s far shore.

  Dylan rolled down the window, filling the truck with the scent of honeysuckle. He patted the seat beside him. “We have to do this right. Slide on over here.”

  She unfastened her seat belt and moved closer to him. He draped his arm around her, gathering her closer still. “I seem to recall everyone always said they were coming up here to watch the sunset, didn’t they?” he said.

  “Or the fireflies.” She snuggled closer. It felt good to sit here with his arm around her. Her earlier nervousness had vanished, replaced by a deep contentment.

  “Does old Officer Mullins still patrol up here?”

  “Old Mullet Face? He died two years ago. A heart attack. There are some younger officers on the force now. Even a couple of women. From what I hear, they still keep an eye on this place.”

  He glanced around them. “We seem to have it to ourselves tonight.”

  “It’s a weeknight.” She shifted to look at him. “Did you ever come up here when you were in school?”

  “A few times.” He met her gaze. “Did you?”

  She shook her head. “Despite my reputation, I never dated after I moved here.” How could she, after the rumors started? Besides, the only boy she’d ever been interested in had only thought of her as a friend.

  “You missed out on one of the rights of passage of growing up in Cedar Creek. We’ll have to fix that.”

  He leaned forward and switched on the radio. Soft music filled the air. She recognized a song that was popular ten years ago.

  He angled his body toward her and she tilted her face up to his. She was a young girl again, breathless with anticipation, waiting for a great mystery to be revealed.

  Despite what had happened between them last night, it was still a mystery. Each moment they spent together revealed new facets of their personalities, new revelations about their bodies.

  She closed her eyes and filled her senses with the gentle pressure of his lips, the warm caress of his tongue, the brush of his hair across her cheek. She slid her arms around him, deepening the kiss, memorizing the sweet-salty taste of his mouth and the masculine roughness of his cheek. He slid his hand up to caress the back of her neck, then moved with teasing slowness to the side of her breast, the warmth of his palm burning into her.

  She tried to move closer, her thigh pressed against his thigh, her body arched toward him. Her eagerness startled her. She’d intended to take things more slowly this time. But the close confines of the truck lent a different kind of intimacy to the moment—a delicious thrill of the forbidden.

  As if sensing her impatience, he moved his hand at last, shaping his palm to her breast, stroking the aching tip with his thumb. He bent to trail slow kisses down her neck, his tongue flicking across her fevered skin, mimicking the movement of his thumb. Her body hummed with a music he was making, a melody of unvoiced longing for something she couldn’t quite name.

  She pulled back enou
gh to allow her to slide her hand beneath his T-shirt, her fingernails grazing his muscled stomach, pulling the fabric of the shirt up to his shoulders. Pushing back farther still, she bent and kissed her way across his chest, until she found the pebbled nub of his nipple and took it into her mouth.

  He smelled of expensive cologne, laundry starch and the faint hint of male sweat. As she flicked her tongue across him, he squirmed and sucked in his breath, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. She smiled, elated that she could arouse him this way.

  Gently but firmly, he pushed her back until she was half lying across the seat. He made quick work of her buttons, and parted her blouse to reveal her lacy white bra. With one finger, he traced the swell of her breast above the lace, then dipped one finger beneath the fabric to curl around her nipple. She gasped and arched against him.

  Moonlight through the windshield cast much of his face in shadow, but she saw his smile and heard the snap of his jeans as he unfastened them, then felt his hand sliding the hem of her skirt above her hips.

  She closed her eyes and pressed her body to his, silently encouraging him.

  Bright light razored into the cab like a bucket of ice water freezing their desire. A voice boomed somewhere just beyond the light, shattering the night’s peace. “What do you two think you’re doing in there?”

  5

  DYLAN STRAIGHTENED, hitting his elbow on the steering wheel. Muttering curses, he shielded his eyes against the light’s glare and squinted toward the voice. “Who’s there?” he demanded.

  “The police. You’d better get out here right now.”

  Taylor made a whimpering sound and scrambled to button her blouse. Oh, hell, Dylan thought. The gossips will have a field day with this one. “Get in the back,” he told her. “I’ll take care of this.”

  She dove toward the back seat and he opened the door and climbed out, pulling his T-shirt down as he did so. The light lowered and a tall lanky man in the blue uniform of the Cedar Creek P.D. confronted him. “What the—Dylan Gates, is that you?”

  Dylan peered closer at the cop. Something about that crooked nose and dimpled chin looked familiar. “Pete Alavero?” Laughter burst out of him at the idea of the chief troublemaker of his high school crowd now upholding the law he’d once been so determined to break.

  Pete relaxed, hands on his hips. “I heard you were back in town, but I didn’t expect to find you here, of all places.” He nodded toward the truck cab. “Reliving old times?”

  “Something like that.” Old times he’d wished had been, anyway.

  Pete laughed. “The girls always did go for you, didn’t they? The rest of us were happy to tag along and pick up the leftovers.” He glanced at the truck again. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me who you’re with?”

  “Now, Pete, you wouldn’t expect me to kiss and tell, would you?”

  Pete stepped forward to slap him on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you again. I hear you’re a big-city lawyer now and everything.”

  “Make that a small-town lawyer. I’m opening up a practice down by the courthouse.” He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the truck. “And you’re a police officer. Who would have thought?”

  Pete shrugged. “Surprised myself, but it’s a good job.” He looked around them, at the lights below. “I guess you could say Old Mullet Face himself is responsible for me being here. He hauled me in one night for drag racing over on Dump Road and told me if I didn’t straighten up soon I’d know the meaning of real trouble. I spent the night at the jail and he stayed up talking to me. By morning, I’d decided to enroll in the police academy.”

  Dylan nodded, warmed by the idea that people here still cared enough to look after their own. He’d come back home looking for that kind of caring. “I’ll bet you make a good cop,” he said.

  “I guess I stay on the kids around here about as much as Mullet Face stayed on us. We hated it at the time, but looking back, I can see he was really just watching out for us.” He shifted his weight to the other hip. “Sorry I missed the reunion. I was working.”

  “I missed seeing you, too. What else have you been up to? Do you have a family?”

  Pete’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “I married Becky Sue Waltham a few years back. We’ve got us two little boys. What about you?” He cast another speculative look at the truck.

  Dylan shook his head. “No, I haven’t settled down yet.”

  “Still sowing a few wild oats, is it?” Pete cocked one eyebrow.

  “I guess you could say that.” He shifted, suddenly aware of his untucked shirt and undone belt and the almost-naked woman waiting for him. He felt seventeen again, caught out in something daring and even dangerous. “So, uh, what happens now?”

  Pete glanced around them. “It’s not like anybody else is up here. And I reckon you’re old enough to look out for yourself.” He chuckled. “I know how it is sometimes. To tell you the truth, Becky Sue and I have been up here a time or two ourselves. When you’ve got two little ones running around, sometimes you have to get a little, you know, creative, to keep the fire going.”

  Dylan stifled his own laugh, trying to block out any image of skinny Pete and the well-endowed Becky Sue getting it on in the police cruiser. Some images were best kept private.

  Pete took another step back. “It was good seeing you again, Dyl. Let’s get together for lunch sometime.” He waggled the flashlight toward the truck. “And tell your lady friend hello for me. Hope I didn’t spoil things for you.”

  Dylan shook his head. The only thing Pete had spoiled was this insane plan to act like teenagers again when he and Taylor were both adults with adult responsibilities. He was all for helping Taylor work out her past, but they’d have to find a more discrete way to do it. The last thing he wanted was her reputation dragged through the mud the way it had been years ago. He owed her that much at least.

  TAYLOR CROUCHED in the ridiculously small back seat of the pickup, her calves cramping and her bra strap rubbing a groove into her arm. Her hair was in her eyes, her nose itched and she could feel a scream of frustration gathering in her throat. She could hear the indistinct murmur of Dylan’s conversation with the cop, low and easy, like two friends catching up on old times. While she hid out back here like some high school girl afraid of being caught by her angry father.

  She leaned forward on her elbows, trying to get comfortable, but only ended up with the seat-belt buckle jabbing her in the hip. Go away! she silently urged the cop.

  Her plan to re-create those old rumors had been going so well before they were interrupted. As she’d done the things she’d only imagined as a teenager, she’d felt a little of her old bravado creeping back. She was ready to enjoy this moment, with this man—to savor everything he made her think and feel.

  When had she lost that daring side of herself? When her classmates’ rumors and jeers had taunted her? Or was it when Dylan had turned away from her and she’d been left to face the lies alone? Despite her best efforts, she’d never quite made it back to that fearless girl again. And then she’d found her diary and Dylan and had seen a chance to recapture that part of herself.

  So what was she doing now, hiding in a back seat? To protect her reputation? Why should she care about that when she was going to be leaving? What was wrong with letting people see this other, secret side of her before she vanished out of their lives forever? If nothing else, it would give them something entertaining to talk about.

  And it would give her wonderful memories to savor on future evenings alone.

  With a grunt, she shoved up onto her hands and threw her leg over the front seat. She pushed open the door and half fell against Dylan. By the time he helped her stand, she’d managed to straighten her skirt and paste a big smile on her face. “Hello, Pete,” she said, recognizing her former classmate. “Imagine meeting you here.”

  Pete’s goggle-eyed glare was worth every minute of discomfort she’d felt. His mouth fell open and he juggled
to keep from dropping the foot-long flashlight he held in his right hand. “T-Taylor?” He glanced at Dylan, then back to her. “I, uh, I didn’t know you two were seeing each other.”

  “We met up at the reunion and it’s been like old times ever since.” She clung to Dylan’s arm. “And now you’ve caught us being naughty.”

  Pete flushed a shade darker as his gaze flickered to the neckline of her blouse, which was still unbuttoned at the top. “Yeah, uh, well.” He took a step toward his patrol car. “Like I was telling Dylan, no harm done. Y’all just…be careful. Okay?” He saluted them with the flashlight, then hurried toward the cruiser and climbed in.

  Taylor clung to Dylan, shaking with silent giggles. When the lights of the police car had faded into the distance, he turned to her. “What was that all about?” he asked.

  She shook her head and climbed back into the truck. “Did you see the look on his face when he saw it was me? I wish I’d had a camera.”

  He slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door, frowning. “By morning, it will be all over town that we were up here together.”

  “I imagine so.” She smoothed her skirt over her knees. “Like old times.”

  He angled toward her. “Is that what you want? For all the talk to start again?”

  She leaned over and put her hand on his. “I’m leaving town in a few months. It doesn’t matter to me. But what about you? Does it matter to you?”

  He shook his head. “Only that it might hurt you.” He turned his hand over to cup her fingers in his palm. “I know it hurt you before.”

  “Only because I let it.” She leaned closer, her face inches from his so that she could see the glint of moonlight on his cheeks and the faint shadow of beard on his jaw. “What I want is the chance to do things over and to do them right this time.” She slid toward him, until her thigh touched his. “Before, I worried so much about what everyone thought of me, I forgot about what I really wanted anymore. I don’t want to make that mistake again.”

  He stared at her, eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted, his voice a whisper. “What do you want?”