Close To The Fire

by Suzanne Ferrell

  Deke seemed to be processing what she said, which had her replaying her words to see if she’d said anything odd that would send off his alarm bells. A moment later he nodded, and leaned back in the booth once more. “So what’s the kid’s story?”

  “I can tell you why I’m here to talk with him, but not anything about Kyle’s personal life, past, present or future.” She gave him her patented, this-subject-is-closed look, the same one she gave nosy neighbors of her elderly clients or abusive parents or husbands making rude threats.

  Deke didn’t get upset, just nodded. “Fair enough. From what I can tell, he seems like a conscientious kid. Lorna certainly likes him or she wouldn’t have hired him.”

  “True. Lorna was always a good judge of character.” She remembered how nervous she’d been when she’d applied for a job at the age of fifteen. Lorna had sized her up one side and down the other with her one brow arched like Mr. Spock and her lips pressed in a thin line. You’ll have to do a lot of heavy lifting between the supplies and tubs of dirty dishes. I won’t tolerate any whining. You work here at the Peaches ’N Cream I expect you to work as hard as me. And she had, but Lorna was a tolerant boss and a fair one. She paid above minimum and everyone shared all the tips, even the dishwashers, so she knew Kyle was going to make a decent wage while he worked here. He’d also get free food and some free life lessons.

  “Kid’s got a protective instinct, too. Stopped a six-foot ball player from crashing into Rachel this afternoon, without blinking an eye after he hit the ground.”

  “Ah, the incident.”

  “Yep. Kid laid him out flat.” The corners of Deke’s mouth lifted in a half-grin.

  “And you enjoyed every second of it.” She couldn’t help smiling. He always did have a warped sense of humor and strong sense of karmic justice.

  He shrugged, a true grin on his face now. “Can’t say I didn’t like seeing the prima donna end up on his ass. Will do the guy and the team some good for him to realize he has to give a hundred percent.” He paused a moment, his face growing a little more pensive. “Thing is, the move Kyle made on Tanner was instinctual. Said he never played football, but he ran the interception route to perfection, hit Tanner with his shoulder—hard enough to hurt, but not injure him—caught the ball, and landed with as little impact to his body as possible.”

  “Sounds like a natural.”

  Staring out the window, he reached up and rubbed the thick scars that laced his neck and jaw. How he must have suffered during the healing process. An ache started in her chest, and she blinked back the moisture that threatened to fill her eyes. She’d known he’d been injured in the fire that killed Bill. He’d been in the hospital for months refusing to see anyone, even her. The pain at that rejection after the loss of her brother had cut her deep, wounded her in ways he could never imagine. For the first time she got to see those scars up close. They stretched over his throat and she had to wonder if that was why his voice was a deeper, scratchier version than the one she remembered.

  “I thought so, too. Funny thing was, when I asked him about joining the team he turned me down flat. No discussion, as if joining the team wasn’t an option.”

  “So you wanted to try an end around and catch him here?”

  “True.” He gave a soft laugh at her use of a football analogy.

  What did he expect? She’d grown up with the testosterone trio of him, Gage and her brother. Football was a second language to her.

  “Might be better than cornering him in front of his parents.”

  “Since he’s a residence of Colbert House, I have the ability to grant him permission to play on the team and sign any medical waivers,” she held up her hand when his eyes lit up like he’d just won the lottery. “That is, if he really wants to play. The three main rules he must follow to stay at Colbert House is first to stay out of trouble, second is to get passing grades and third is to have a job. You’d be asking him to add a time-intensive sport to his already full plate.”

  Deke looked around the room and she followed his gaze as it landed on Kyle, cleaning off a table of dirty dishes, smiling at something Rachel said as she passed by, then hefting the heavy tub of dishes off to the kitchen. Slowly he turned back and gave her a whisper of the grin she’d so adored as a teen. “Something tells me the kid can handle it.”

  * * * * *

  Sylvie Gillis paced the front of the Dye Right, stopping every third time to peek out the window and check her watch. It was Tuesday night, the night the Deputy Junkins walked the streets of town and checked that all the storefronts were secure. The first week she worked late on a Tuesday she’d seen him.

  The memory made her smile. She’d been in the back cleaning up the wash bowls and rods from perms they’d done that day when he stepped inside to check with the owner Twylla that everything was okay. He looked very out of place in such a dainty women’s salon—seemed to take up half the space in the waiting area. Not one too shy to meet new people, she’d hurried out of the wash area to where Miss Twylla stood talking easily with the big man.

  And oh, she did like big men.

  “Cleetus, this is my new girl, Sylvie Gillis,” Twylla said, introducing them. “Sylvie, this is Cleetus Junkins. He’s one of the deputies here in Westen.”

  “Nice to meet you, Deputy,” she’d said, holding out her hand with her newest nail art.

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” he’d said, taking her hand in his big firm one.

  And oh, she did like men with firm handshakes.

  “Pleasure’s all mine,” she said with just a bit of a flirty giggle.

  The man blushed from head to toe.

  And wasn’t that the sweetest thing?

  From that moment on she’d been determined to get to know the deputy better. That’s why she’d been volunteering to close up on Tuesdays. Even if there were no late-night clients, she did some extra cleaning just to get a few minutes to talk with Cleetus. Of course, she had to do most of the talking. He seemed not quite sure what to say to her flirting.

  Tonight he was late. Maybe she should just close up and head home. She’d hoped he might at least walk her down the street to the little rooming house where she stayed. She uttered a little sigh. The man was not only the size of a mountain, but apparently moved as fast as one, at least when it came to the world of romance.

  She turned out all the lights but the one near the front door—Twylla always kept that one lit. Grabbing her bag from where she’d set it by the front door, she flipped the open sign over to closed and stepped outside.

  “Evening, Miss Sylvie,” a deep voice said from over her right shoulder.

  She jumped and turned with a little gasp. “Dear Lord, Deputy Junkins, you startled me.”

  “Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said with a little grin, telling her he actually had meant to surprise her.

  And wasn’t that just the littlest bit intriguing?

  Well, he might be getting interested, but as her mama always said, best to keep a man guessing, keeps them from thinking you’re a sure thing. So as she turned her back and locked the door, she put a pout on her lips and scrunched up her brows a bit—not enough to look really mad, but enough to make him think she wasn’t very happy about his sneak attack.

  “I was going to ask you if you’d walk me home, but I don’t think I will if you’re planning to scare me like that,” she said, giving him a disgruntled look from head to toe, then strode off in the direction of her rooming house.

  “Wait a minute, Miss Sylvie,” he said, catching up with her in less than a few strides. “I really didn’t mean to…I was hoping…I mean I’d planned to…um.”

  She came to a halt and stared at him with one hand fisted on her hip. “Is there something you wanted to say to me, Deputy, or are you just planning to scare me more?”

  For a moment all he did was stare down at her. In fact, she was beginning to think he’d been shot with a freeze-ray from some sci-fi show, but then he swallowed. “Ma’am, I’m tr
uly sorry that I surprised you. I’d meant to stop by the Dye Right and ask if you’d want to join me for a slice of pie over at the Peaches ’N Cream?”

  He looked so sad that she might refuse him—like a giant puppy dog.

  “Pie?” she said, giving him an opening.

  He smiled. “Yes, ma’am. Miss Lorna makes the best pies in the whole world. It’s nearly apple picking season, but I know for a fact she’s got some strawberry-rhubarb today.”

  “Well, I do like a nice piece of pie.” She unclenched her fist and slid her arm into the crook of his elbow. “Just remember I’m still mad at you.”

  “Oh, yes, ma’am, Miss Sylvie. I know you are,” he said, leading her across the street in the direction of the café.

  * * * * *

  In the shadows of the big oak tree across the street, he watched the pair inside the café. When she made him smile, he ground his teeth together.

  How dare she flirt with someone else? She was his goddess, had been since the first time she looked at him with those blue eyes. It was one of the things he loved about her.

  He took a drag from his cigarette, his anger rising with every moment he watched her with another. And it was righteous rage he felt right now.

  She belonged to him. From the moment he first laid eyes on her, he knew they were destined for one another. Fate had decreed it. He wasn’t letting someone else come between them.

  He stepped into the alley and slowly headed home. Time to make plans.

  Secrets. That’s what he needed. Everyone had some. Even his new enemy. He’d find them, and when he did—he glanced at the glowing embers on the end of his cigarette—he’d make sure the guy burned.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Lorna said you wanted to talk to me,” Kyle said to the couple as he approached their booth. He knew the coach from practice earlier in the day. Didn’t have a clue who the pretty lady was, but she had kind eyes.

  The coach slid out of the booth and held out his hand. “Didn’t get a chance to introduce myself this afternoon, Kyle. Name’s Deke Reynolds,” he said in that raspy voice of his.

  Kyle shook the man’s hand, a sick feeling settling into his stomach as he tried not to stare at the man’s burn scars.

  “This is Miss Wilson.” Deke nodded towards the lady, who smiled.

  “Nice to meet you, Kyle,” she said, extending her hand. He shook it quickly.

  “Why don’t you join us for a bit?” The coach motioned him to slide into the booth and Kyle got the idea it really wasn’t a request as much as an expectation that he had no choice but to do so. He took the spot just vacated by the man.

  “That was some catch you made today, Kyle,” Coach said, sliding in to sit next to the pretty lady.

  Before he could apologize again, Rachel walked over to the table and slid a burger and fries in front of him, smiled, then turned to stare right at the big man. “Mom said to remind you guys he only gets an hour for his dinner break.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, brat.”

  She laughed and walked away. The corners of Kyle’s mouth twitched and he focused on shoving a fry in his mouth so the adults wouldn’t see how much he admired her ability to put them on warning.

  “Too much sass in that kid,” the coach muttered.

  “She has a lot of her mother in her,” Miss Wilson said and the twinkle in her eye made Kyle relax. Whatever this woman wanted, she didn’t seem to be ready to ship him back to some juvie squat house in Columbus, or worse, up north in Cleveland. He’d spent one cold-ass-snow-up-to-your-balls winter there and didn’t like the prospect of doing it again anytime soon.

  “You said you never played defense this afternoon. Did you play offense sometime?” Deke directed the conversation around to football once more.

  Man, the guy was like a dog with a half-chewed steak. Kyle took a drink of the soda Rachel had set down with his plate. “No, sir. Never played football.”

  The man’s right eyebrow lifted in question. “Never? Not once?”

  “No, sir.” He took a big bite of his food to keep from saying more. He’d figured out years ago it was best to let the other people, especially adults do most the talking. You learned information that might keep you out of trouble that way. You could also read when a situation was going to escalate to punching and you could move faster.

  “How’d you figure out to take Tanner out?”

  He chewed slowly, studying the man. The scars on his neck and lower face were like thick cords. He knew what they were from. He’d seen them on someone else a long time ago. Burns. Wonder what he’d done to get them. Between the scars and the man’s intensity, he suspected he could be a bad-ass when he wanted. This was not someone you blew off with a grunt.

  “Like I said this afternoon, I didn’t want him plowing into Rachel and the food. The guy wasn’t paying attention to where he’d end up. Hel—” he glanced at the lady, “I mean, heck, he wasn’t even really trying to catch the ball.”

  “Which would’ve nailed Rachel,” Deke filled in for him.

  “Right. So I just checked the angle and took off at a dead run, turned to reach out for the ball and knock him out of the way at the same time.” He took another drink of his soda. “Like I said earlier. I’m sorry I interrupted the practice.”

  “I’m not here to give you grief, kid,” Deke leaned back in the booth, angled so he could look him straight in the eyes. “If you wanted to, you could really help me out.”

  The big man wanted his help? Yeah, right.

  “Doing what?” he asked, more out of curiosity than any real interest in getting involved.

  “My defense is pretty solid, but having a safety or corner who can take out the offense’s main wide receivers is something we’re lacking.”

  Tempting as the idea was of being able to strip the ball away from glorified a-holes like that Tanner guy, he knew better than to get involved in anything resembling a commitment. Nothing in his life had ever been that permanent.

  “Can’t. Got to work.” He took another big bite, leaving the ball in the man’s court.

  “True. But Lorna is a big supporter of the high school team. If you decide you want to give it a try, I can talk with her to work your schedule around practice and games.”

  He wiped his mouth and set the burger down. “Coach, I see what you get out of this, an extra player to fill the roster. The team gets a player not afraid to take some pain to stop the offense. Not really sure what I’d get out of it.”

  The lady across the table half choked on her tea then smothered a smile with her napkin.

  Deke shot her a half-warning, half-amused look, before focusing back on him. “I could tell you being on the team would get you the attention of the cheerleaders,” he glanced across the café at Rachel then back. “But somehow I don’t think you’re too interested in them. I could tell you being on the team will get you some great friends, but that may or may not happen. I could tell you being on the team will get you a scholarship to college, but I have no idea what your grades are going to be like, so I won’t lie to you.”

  He paused and leaned in on one elbow to stare straight into his eyes. Kyle didn’t read any bullshit in them, just the honest truth. “I will tell you that every day in practice you’ll run routes against Tanner and the other receivers. You’ll get a chance to take the ball every day.” Then he lifted the corner of his mouth on the unscarred side. “You will have a chance every day to knock the crap out of each and every one of them.”

  “Deke,” Miss Wilson said, her eyes wide. “You can’t tell him that.”

  “Sure I can, Libby. It’s the truth. What guy doesn’t want to knock the arrogance out of some other guy? It’s a male thing.” He finished his drink and set his napkin on the table. “You think about it, Kyle, and let me know what you decide. I’m going to leave you to talk with Miss Wilson now. Listen to whatever she has to say. You can trust her.”

  The coach slid out of the booth and headed over to the now nearly deserted lunc
h counter.

  Kyle nodded and refocused on eating his dinner, surreptitiously watching the lady across the table as she stared at the coach’s retreating back, a sort of hunger and sadness in her face.

  Wow, bet there’s a story there. And none of his business, that was for sure. He’d gotten close to a foster family once, only to have them turn their backs on him the moment his past was known. The pain at their betrayal had cut him almost as deep as losing his mom. Never planned to trust anyone like that again.

  * * * * *

  Libby had always loved the slow ripple of muscle in Deke’s retreating form.

  Gage might’ve had the nickname of Gunslinger on the football field, but she’d always thought Deke moved more like one of those old-time western cowboys—slow, measured and dangerous. There’d been a time when just seeing him approach her would have her body heated like a hot August day. Her hands had known every inch of his body intimately. Now the scars on his neck and jaw had her wondering what changes lay beneath his clothes, but that was something she’d never know. Despite the quiet conversation they’d had tonight, too much of the past lay between them. Even if he could ever forgive himself for Bill’s death, he’d never forgive her the secrets she kept.

  With an internal sigh, she forced her attention away from the man of her past and on the young man seated opposite, quietly devouring his dinner.

  She wasn’t fooled by the apparent focus he had on his food. There was a wariness about him. She’d seen it in others over the years. Those waiting for the next bad thing to happen. Women expecting a loud male voice or a strong slap for any minor infraction of rules that changed daily. Children who didn’t know safety at home. Runaways expecting a stranger to commit violence in every shadow.