by Ann Charles
“You leave Deputy Dipshit to me.”
Claire recoiled a little at the zealous light in her sister’s eyes. It matched the manic smile that flashed over her flushed features. “You’re creeping me out. Are you feeling okay?” She reached out and rested the back of her hand on Kate’s forehead. She felt warm but not overheated.
Kate whacked Claire’s hand away, her arm swinging like she’d been taking lessons from the monkeys in Ronnie’s circus show. “I’m coming with you to interrogate Dory.”
“What? No. That’s a bad idea.” She’d rather go alone than take this pregnant orangutan with her.
“Ronnie already told me that I could.”
Damn their sister’s big mouth! Claire sent a laser beam glare over her shoulder at her sister, who had disappeared for the moment along with Grady.
“We should leave right after breakfast,” Kate continued. “I’ve found three potential addresses for a D. Hamilton within a hundred mile radius.”
“Kate,” Claire grasped her sister by the shoulders, forcing her to meet her gaze. Kate’s left eye twitched several times. “You need to stop this madness. You’re pregnant. Now go home and get some rest. You’re working too hard.”
“She’s right,” Butch concurred from over Claire’s shoulder. “And that shirt is way too tight to wear while serving drinks to the crowd here tonight.”
The sound of his voice had Kate bristling in an instant. “And miss out on the biggest tips of the week? I don’t think you two understand how much money a baby costs. I do. I’ve done the math. I need to work at snagging as many tips with this,” she flashed Claire and Butch a big toothy smile, “and these” she pointed both thumbs at her breasts, “as long as they still bring in cash for me. As soon as my belly starts showing, the good tips will dry up, along with my appeal to the male sex. After that, it’s stretch pants and drippy boobs until the baby is born.”
Claire pinched her lips together to keep from laughing at her usually cool and sophisticated little sister. Pregnancy was turning Kate into Daisy Mae Scragg, Li’l Abner’s voluptuous, barefooted hillbilly woman. Dress Kate in a polka dot peasant blouse and all they’d need was a shotgun for a proper weddin’. “You mean droopy boobs.”
“No, drippy. I’ve heard they can start leaking colostrum before the baby is born.”
“Then what?” Butch asked.
Kate’s forehead wrinkled. “After drippy boobs?”
“No, sweetheart.” He was working to hold in a smile, Claire could tell. “After the good tips dry up.”
Kate shrugged. “I’ll have to come up with a Plan B.”
“Maybe Ronnie can get you in at Dirty Gerties now that she’s made friends with the owner.” Claire turned to Butch. “I’m sure there’re men out there who’d pay to see a pregnant stripper, right?”
“I’m going to tell Mom what you just suggested.”
“I take it back,” Claire said, laughing as she dodged Kate’s attempts to pinch her. “I was joking.”
“We’ll see how hard you’re laughing when you’re helping pay for diapers.”
“Kate, you worked at the school today,” Butch said. “You need to get off your feet and let your body take a break.”
“Do you realize that women in some third world countries work in fields up to the moment of delivery, pause to push out their baby, and then get back to work?”
“There will be no delivering our child anywhere other than a hospital, where both of you will be safe if there are any complications.”
“I’m not saying I want to have this baby in a field.” She sniffed. “I just want everyone to stop treating me like I’m a Fabergé egg sitting on a shelf. I don’t break easily, damn it. Between Mom checking on me night and day in Gramps’s Winnebago and everyone else acting like I’m some delicate flower, I’m getting fed up with things.” She tucked some loose tendrils of hair up into her crooked bun. “Look, I know I’m pregnant and I have to be more careful, but that doesn’t mean I need to live in a bubble.”
“Fine.” Butch jammed his hands in his pockets. “How about you have a seat out here with your sister and take your shift break.” It was a command more than a question. “Let me get you something to eat and drink while you’re at it.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Yes, you do, starting with better health insurance.”
Kate did a doubletake. “What are you talking about?”
“I signed you up for a low deductible health insurance plan. A nurse will be stopping by the bar this coming week to give you a quick physical.”
“Butch, I can barely pay for the shitty insurance with an astronomical deductible that I have. There’s no way I can afford this other insurance.”
“I’m paying for it.”
Kate opened her mouth and then closed it when nothing came out. Tears filled her eyes instead. She turned away, dabbing at her face with her waitress apron. “Damn you, Valentine Carter. I told you I don’t want your handouts.”
“This isn’t a handout, Kate. I got a deal on a good plan because I’m a small business owner.” After holding out a chair for Kate at a nearby table, he turned to Claire. “Matter of fact, I can have up to ten employees on the plan, so I was thinking your sisters could sign up, too.”
“What?” Claire asked, taking the seat next to Kate. “Why include us?”
“It’s the least I can do. Since Sophy’s diner closed down, my lunch crowd has tripled. I couldn’t have handled it without the three of you helping me out.”
“I only did it for the free beer,” Claire said with a smile.
Butch squeezed her shoulder. “Right and I’m sure Ronnie is in it for the amazing pay. Think about it for now. I have a little window of time before I have to have everyone signed up.” At Claire’s nod, he grabbed the two glasses of cognac and told Kate, “I’ll be right back with something for you to drink.”
After he’d left, Kate scooted her chair closer to Claire’s. “What should I do about Butch and this insurance stuff?”
Claire shrugged. “Take it. I don’t know about you, but short of marrying Mac, this is the best chance of landing decent coverage I can find.”
Kate’s eyes widened, locking on something over Claire’s shoulder.
Claire pinched her lips together. Crap. “Mac is standing right behind me, isn’t he?”
Kate nodded.
“Lord knows you wouldn’t want to have to resort to marrying me for health insurance coverage.” Mac leaned down and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.
Dang it! Men needed to quit sneaking up on her. She faced Mac, grimacing. “That’s not what I meant.”
One of his eyebrows inched up. “And here I was holding on to that health insurance trump card, hoping to blackmail you into a trip down the aisle with me.”
Crud nuts. How was she going to fix this? She opened her mouth with the hope that something brilliant would roll off her tongue.
Mac beat her to the punch. “I’m kidding, Claire,” he said, but the hint of coolness in his gaze gave her doubts. “I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going?”
“I need to make a phone call.”
“For work?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been thinking about that mine.”
Was that why he’d been frowning out at the desert off and on for the last hour? “You mean Humdigger mine?”
“Yeah. I’ll be back in a shake, Slugger.”
As soon as Mac was out of earshot, Kate leaned toward Claire. “What are you going to do about Mac?”
Huh? “Well, I was originally thinking about keeping him chained down in Joe’s office to use as my personal sex slave, but now he’s damaged goods with that messed up shoulder.”
Kate reached out and flicked Claire on the ear. “I meant about his promotion deal, you dork.”
“Brat!” Claire rubbed her ear. She’d told Kate about Mac’s phone call the other night when Kate had found her sitting on the porch steps in
the moonlight fretting about her future. “I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of how being with him day after day will change your feelings?”
“That’s one way of putting it.” She rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “I’m afraid that if I don’t have anything to do besides sit around hour after hour and wait for Mac to come home each night, I’ll turn into one of those housewives who requires antidepressant pills along with bon-bons to find her happy place.”
“So what? You’d rather continue to be a handywoman at Ruby’s R.V. park than travel around the country with Mac?”
“Maybe.” Claire looked down at her hands: the cuts, calluses, and broken nails. “Yes.”
“But you love Mac.”
“I know, but what if I go with him and start hating my life? Worse, hating him? How long until I sneak out some bathroom window during one of our so-called romantic anniversary dinners and run off to Bora Bora?”
Kate grimaced. “I’ve heard it’s really expensive there.”
“Okay, some other affordable tropical island.”
“Maybe you should go up to Alaska. If the oceans rise due to climate change like they’re predicting, you could lose your island home.” Kate pursed her lips. “I should probably make a point of taking the baby to Bora Bora before the oceans rise and it’s underwater.”
“Oh my God. Do you hear yourself? I’m gonna ship you to Bora Bora until the kid is born, ya nut job.”
“You’re the nut job. Mac is offering you the opportunity not to have to work, but you’re going to turn him down because you’re afraid you might get a little bored?” Kate crossed her arms over her chest. “You know what I say? Quit being a bonehead about this. Tell him to take the damned promotion. He’s been working his ass off for this opportunity for years. You can find a frickin’ hobby to occupy yourself while you’re on the road. Hell, you like college so much, you can take classes online and get your Ph.D.”
Wow. Claire sat back feeling whiplashed. “Got a little hostility tucked up under that apron there, dear?”
“Sorry.” Kate blew out a sigh. “I’m willing to fly out to Bora Bora tomorrow if you still want to ship me there. I hope they have coconut milk there, because I think this baby is making me lactose intolerant.”
Claire reached across and squeezed her sister’s arm. “Come on, chin up. Butch will be back any minute.”
Kate sucked it up, even conjuring a smile. “Mac’s going to want an answer soon, you know,” she told Claire. “He deserves your honest feelings about this. Don’t do like Mom did and pretend you want the future he’s offering. You’ll make him hate you in your old age.”
“I know, I know.” Claire drained the last of her drink. “I wish I could figure out how to tell him the truth without making him hate me in our young age.”
Chapter Twelve
The quiet, steady rumble of Mabel’s engine calmed the chaos that had been whirring in Claire’s head all night at The Shaft. The rhythmic thump-thump of the tar strips lining the road weathered away the tension in her shoulders.
“Where are you sleeping tonight?” Mac asked as he drove over the bridge that led into the R.V. park.
The General Store’s porch light hailed, a beacon in a starlit desert ocean of greasewood and prickly pear. The crunch of gravel under Mabel’s tires stilled. He killed the engine. Silence filled the car, interrupted only by their breathing and the soft whispers of clothes on leather.
She stared across the front bench seat at Mac. His face was streaked with shadows, cloaking his eyes. After the noise and disruptions she had suffered through on The Shaft’s patio this evening, she’d sooner spend the night sharing a bed with her soused mother and her Don Juan loverboy than deal with the worrisome weight of this damned promotion of his.
But she’d missed Mac last night … and every night over the last week when he’d been in Tucson and she’d been here. Maybe she could come up with something that would take his mind off the promotion for one more night. “Are you up for some company?”
“Depends on the company.”
“I was thinking of it being me.” She leaned back into Mabel’s warm leather embrace. “Maybe my tool belt too.” She saw him smile in the feeble light. “Maybe a little nakedness thrown into the mix.”
“I like your tool belt. I like it a lot. And nakedness is always good when we’re talking about you and me alone.” He shifted slowly, his breath catching in pain as he turned his body toward her and leaned back against the driver’s side door. “Will this be a one-woman show? Or do I get to be part of the act?”
“What about that?” She pointed at his sling. “I don’t want to hurt you.” She’d already done enough with her curiosity up in that mine.
“I’m bruised, Slugger. Not broken.”
“Yeah?” She rested her palm on his thigh. “So you’re not going to make me resort to cheesy pickup lines to get you to surrender to my whims?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I should make you work for it a little.” He caught her hand.
Because of his bruised body, she planned on doing almost all of the work tonight, but verbal foreplay was always fun. “Okay, let’s see what I can do after a couple of beers.” She thought for a second and threw out one she’d heard several times over the years. “You know what would look good on you? Me.”
“Lame. You’re obviously a novice.”
“Really, Mr. Expert? What do you have in your arsenal?”
“Hold onto your heart, Slugger, and get ready to be wooed.” He flipped her hand over and tickled her palm with his thumb. “Hey, beautiful, how about you and I go in a dark room and see what develops?”
Claire giggled and threw back, “I’m no photographer, but I can picture us together.”
“Nice one. Beat this.” He pulled her toward him, his mouth hovering over hers. “Your lips look lonely. Would they like to meet mine?”
“Definitely.” She kissed him, taking her time reacquainting herself with his mouth. When she pulled back, she inhaled the warm spicy desert scent of his cologne, everything inside her quivering with an eagerness for more. “Is your car battery dead, Mister, because I’d like to jump you?”
That made him chuckle and reach for the door handle. “I hope you know CPR, Slugger, because you’ve stopped my heart.”
Claire joined him at the base of the General Store’s porch steps. “If you were a burger at McDonalds, you’d be McGorgeous.”
His laughter rippled out over the dark desert landscape. “That was bad. This one is worse: Did you have Lucky Charms for breakfast? Because you look magically delicious.”
“Oh, God. Where did you hear that one?” She unlocked the door and led him inside. The single fluorescent nightlight Jess had left on for them bathed them in a harsh flickering light.
“Your stepfather and Chester were throwing their favorite lines back and forth one night during Euchre.”
She grimaced, locked up behind them, and then spun him around so he was pinned against the door. “My lips are like Skittles. Want to taste the rainbow?”
He bent down and did just that, taking his time turning her inside out. When he pulled back, he stared down at her, his gaze intense. “Do you have a sunburn or are you always this hot?”
“Stop, drop, and roll, baby.” She rubbed against him, careful of his shoulder. “You’re on fire.”
So was she, both with corny pickup lines her brain had soaked up over the years and with a need for him that made her whole body feel fluid and pulsing. Catching his hand, she towed him across the store and through the makeshift curtain, weaving around small buckets of drywall mud, boxes of screws, and piles of tools and sanding blocks.
“Did you sit in a pile of sugar?” he asked from behind her. “Because you have a pretty sweet ass.”
She grinned over her shoulder at him. “Someone actually used that one on Kate a couple of weeks ago.” She kept her voice at a whisper level in case Jess was listening in at the top of the stairwell.
“What did she do?”
“Accidentally dumped his drink in his lap.” Claire tugged him into the bedroom and closed the door. She leaned back against it, hitting him with her best attempt at flirty eye batting.
“Is there something wrong with your eyes?” he asked.
“I think so, because I can’t take them off of you.”
His chest rumbled, sounding a little like Mabel. “Damn, you are full of cheesy one-liners.”
“Did I win the match?”
His eyes narrowed, challenging. “I don’t know about that. I was feeling a little off today, but you definitely turn me on.”
“That’s sort of lame.”
“How about this one?” He cleared his throat. “Is your name Daisy? Because I have a sudden urge to plant you right here.”
“Who taught you that one? Chester?”
He nodded. “Here’s another of his—I know where there’s a good party. They’ve got liquor in the front and poker in the rear.”
She snickered. “Chester’s the worst. He taught me this one while we were tearing apart the rec room: If you were a floorboard, I’d take out all of the nails and screw you.”
“You’re pretty good at imitating his voice and everything.” Mac pulled on her jean jacket. “Take this off.”
She shrugged out of it and peeled off her shirt while she was at it.
His breath caught as he looked down at the fancy, black lace bra Kate had let her borrow since her chest had swollen right out of it. “I’m not staring,” he said, whistling quietly. “I’m just stuck in a loop.”
She’d heard that one before, too, only she’d had her shirt on when that guy had tried to use it on her and had kept it on after shooing him away. “Oh, dear, let me guess,” she reached out and tipped his chin up so his hazel gaze met hers. “You’d like to herd your cattle in my fertile valley?”
“May I end this sentence with a proposition?” he came back without missing a beat.
Her laugh came out low and husky, her whole body feeling light and zingy with lust. “I’m no Wilma Flintstone, baby, but I can make your Bedrock.”