“Ouch.” Alan grimaced. “Even after I’ve spent all morning making the streets safe for you women?”
Lynn rolled her eyes and refused to comment. Then she dropped her hands to her hips and managed to look incredibly bored.
“Can I get a hamburger?” he asked, giving her his best lady-killer smile. “With everything on it.”
“I don’t know,” she answered with a shrug. “Can you?” Turning on her heels, she retreated to the kitchen.
“And fries!” Alan called after her.
Maureen laughed at their antics. She couldn’t help herself. Not when Alan sat there grinning like a schoolboy, his eyes dancing as though he’d never had a serious thought in his life.
Then he turned those eyes on her, and for a moment, she lost herself. What would it be like to let go with this man? To know those wonderful caramel eyes saw nothing but her. To run her fingers through the hair tickling the back of his collar. To taste his lips on hers …
“You should smile more often.” Alan’s voice, no longer laughing, penetrated her thoughts. “You have a great smile.”
Maureen blushed. She wanted to turn away, but it was too late. He held her with eyes shades darker than they’d been moments earlier. Thought fled her mind, and she felt the heat. It radiated from him, scorching her, promising her things she shouldn’t want. Then he released her, and she turned away quickly, back to cleaning up.
For a while, neither spoke. Maureen fumbled with mustard bottles, chiding herself for letting down her guard, for thinking—even for a while—that she was safe around this man. Alan sat motionless, his gaze intent on the sugar dispenser he rolled between his palms.
“I don’t blame you for not wanting to go to Lynn’s meeting tonight,” he said, breaking the silence. “Sounds like a real yawner. Especially since you’re new in town.”
Maureen shrugged, refusing to look at him again. “It’s not that.” If he could pretend nothing had happened, then so could she. But it annoyed her how quickly he switched back to light chatter. “I just don’t like leaving Katie in the evening after working most of the day.”
Alan nodded as if he understood. “Hard on kids, having a working mother.”
“Yes, well, we all have to eat.” She meant to sound casual. Instead, her words came out flippant, showing her irritation. At herself. At him. At the situation. Turning away, she grabbed the large mustard jar from the refrigerator and set it on the counter.
“Did you work when your husband was alive?”
Maureen sighed. “Yes, Alan, I had a job.” She was almost used to all the questions. Almost. “This is the twenty-first century, you know. Women have careers, just like men.”
“Whoa! “Alan raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “I didn’t mean to step on toes here.”
Maureen took a deep breath and curbed the sharp retort that sprang to her lips. Get hold of yourself. Showing Alan just how much he got under her skin wouldn’t do her, or Katie, any good.
“Sorry,” she said after a moment’s pause to regain her equilibrium. “I shouldn’t have jumped on you. I guess I’m just a little tired today. Katie kept me up most of the night.”
“Is she all right?”
“Fine. You know how kids are. They wear you out being sick in the middle of the night. Then the next morning, when you’re dead on your feet, they’re perfectly healthy.”
Alan chuckled. “Well, I don’t know much about other kids, but I know Katie can certainly wear you out.”
“Yes, well, she loves the way you romp with her on Sunday nights.” Another fiasco, trying to keep Katie from attaching herself to Alan. It made no difference how much distance Maureen kept between them, every Sunday he and Katie spent the evening tumbling around Rita’s living room.
“We’ll have to get her on a real horse soon,” he said.
Maureen started to object, but stopped herself. She didn’t plan on being in Wyattville long enough for Alan to get Katie on a horse.
“Here you are, traitor.” Lynn emerged from the kitchen and placed a platter of food in front of Alan. “It’s on the house, if you can convince Maureen to go with me tonight.”
He laughed. “Not a chance. I know better than to get between two stubborn females.”
“Lynn,” Maureen said, her voice sharper than she intended. “I don’t want to go.”
“Okay.” Lynn lifted her hands in surrender. “I know when I’m licked. You don’t want to come tonight.” She moved over to the counter and began replacing yellow lids on the bottles Maureen had just filled. “But what about tomorrow? It’s your day off, and we’re going to start gathering everything in the school gym. You can bring Katie.”
“I can’t,” Maureen said. “I’ve got plans for tomorrow.” She regretted the words the minute they were out of her mouth. She kept forgetting where she was. This wasn’t Miami, but Wyattville, Washington, where everyone knew what everybody else was up to. Now she’d have to come up with something pretty quick.
“Plans?” Lynn crossed her arms suspiciously. “What plans?”
Maureen looked from Lynn to Alan and back again. “I’m going to Seattle tomorrow.”
“Seattle?”
Now that she’d said it, Maureen decided it was a great idea. She’d planned to go for weeks now, and this was the perfect opportunity. It would get her out of the festival preparations, plus allow her to access back issues of the Miami Herald on the Internet using the library’s computers.
“Whatever for?” Lynn asked.
Maureen hedged. Forgetting the mustard bottles, she slipped from behind the counter and started gathering salt and pepper shakers from the tables. “I have some personal business to take care of.”
“What kind—”
“Lynn,” interrupted Alan, “she said it was personal. Don’t you think you’re being a little nosy?”
“I’m not being nosy …”
“Yes, you are,” Maureen said, suddenly very tired of this town and all its good intentions. She just wanted to be left alone.
“I tell you what, Maureen,” Alan said. “I need to go that way myself tomorrow. I’d be glad to give you a lift. It’ll save you the bus fare.”
Maureen’s hand froze as she started to grab a salt shaker. “Thanks, Alan, but I can’t—”
“Why not?”
She turned to look at him, meeting his gaze as steadily as her sudden attack of nerves would allow. “I couldn’t impose on you like that.”
“Don’t be silly.” His mouth smiled while his eyes challenged. “I’d enjoy the company.”
“Well …” Maureen hesitated, feeling the trap close around her. She threw a glance at Lynn, who watched the exchange with interest. Looking back at Alan, she saw determination written across his features. “I might take a while,” she said, making one last attempt to get out of this. “Hours.”
“No problem.” His smile broadened. “I’ll need several hours myself.”
Maureen knew she’d lost. She couldn’t refuse Alan’s offer without arousing his and Lynn’s curiosity. Yet how could she let him drive her to Seattle? Even if she could avoid telling him why she needed to go to Seattle to use the library’s computers instead of those at the Internet Café here in Wyattville, and he gave her the time she needed to search online for articles, how was she going to handle spending hours alone with him in a car? She took a deep breath and told herself she’d just have to deal with it. She had no choice. Besides, there was the added benefit of saving the bus fare.
“Sure,” she finally said, “that would be great.” Alan caught the frustration in Maureen’s eyes and couldn’t help but smile. She no more wanted to accept a ride from him than she wanted to jump off the nearest cliff.
That was just too bad.
He’d avoided her for weeks, hoping time and distance would bring her around, make her more receptive to the attraction between them. It hadn’t worked. She continued to turn cold and bristly whenever he entered the room.
Of course, he
would have left her alone altogether if not for the moments she’d let her guard down. The times when he’d looked into her eyes and seen the heat. The woman wanted him as much as he wanted her.
Getting her away from Wyattville might be the answer.
Alan showed up at Rita’s house at eight o’clock the next morning as promised. Maureen opened the door for him, looking soft and vulnerable, as if she’d just crawled out of bed. Her gaze drifted down the length of him, her cheeks flushing prettily in the morning light.
“ ‘Morning,” he drawled, letting his own gaze linger at a point just above the opening of her blouse, before moving on to her mouth. “You look ready to me.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath and saw the slight quiver of her lips. Taking a step closer, he looked into her eyes. “What do you say? Ready?”
“No.” She took a step backward and her hand sprang forward as if to stop him. “Yes. I mean, just about.”
Grinning, he moved in a little closer, capturing her wayward hand in his and bringing it to his lips. “It’s a great day for a ride.”
That did it. She jerked her hand from his grasp and visibly pulled herself together, closing herself off to him. “Is it?” She raised a questioning eyebrow to him while taking another, larger step backward.
Alan suppressed a chuckle. “Sure looks that way to me.”
He wanted nothing more than to press her up against the nearest wall and kiss her senseless. Sooner or later, he would do it, too. He’d just about run out of patience. But for now, he would let her stiffen her spine and put ice in her voice if it made her feel safer. But he wouldn’t wait forever.
Removing his hat, he decided it was best to change the subject. “Are you going to make me wait out here?”
Maureen hesitated a moment longer before stepping back from the door, allowing him to enter. “Rita made us coffee and sandwiches to take along. And I need to tell Katie goodbye.”
“I thought she was coming with us.”
“Rita offered to watch her.” He saw uncertainty flicker across her features. “I thought it would be better than dragging her along.”
That surprised him—not that Rita had offered, but that Maureen had agreed. He’d never met a more protective mother. But he was glad Katie was staying home. She was a real sweetheart, but he wanted a little time alone with her mother. Maureen Adams remained a puzzle he wanted solved.
A half hour later, laden with a thermos and basket of food, Alan led the way outside.
“I hope you don’t mind the Jeep,” he said, storing the food under a blanket in the back. “It’s a little windy, but I prefer it to driving one of the department’s cruisers into Seattle.”
“That’s fine.” Maureen climbed in without looking at him. “The breeze will feel good.”
Alan nodded and slid into the driver’s seat. “Let’s go, then.” He started the engine and headed west, toward the mountains. As the town fell away behind them, he picked up speed.
Taking a deep breath, he marveled at the perfection of the morning. Maureen was right. The breeze did feel good: clean and exhilarating. Behind them, the sun climbed toward midmorning, casting rays of rose-colored light on the mountains. On a morning like this, everything seemed right with the world.
Stealing a glance at Maureen, he thought how fresh she looked with the wind whipping through her hair. It reminded him of the day in the playground when he’d watched her with Katie. She’d had the same look about her, the same glow.
She caught him looking at her and blushed slightly before turning away. “How long will it take?” she asked.
Alan shifted his attention back to the road. “About three hours to Seattle. But I need to make a stop first.”
“Oh?” She turned sideways on the seat, grabbing her hair in one hand to keep it out of her face.
“Sorry,” he said. “I should have warned you to bring a scarf or something.”
“It’s okay. I like it.”
He believed her. The smile on her lips flickered gaily in her eyes, and she seemed more relaxed than he’d ever seen her.
“So,” she said, interrupting his thoughts, “where do you have to stop?”
“The Simmons ranch.” He probably should have warned her about his little side trip. Of course, then she might have used it as an excuse to turn down his offer of a ride. And he liked having her with him.
“That’s the boy Millie and Rita talked about a few weeks ago? The one you kicked out of town?”
So she remembered. “I believe the word Millie used was ousted.”
“Yes, ousted. Same boy?”
“Yep. His name’s Joey Simmons.” Alan stole another glance at her. “Thought I better have a word with his father.”
Maureen sat quietly for a few moments. “Is what Millie said true? Does the boy keep his family fed?”
“Maybe.”
Alan thought about the rifle in the back of Bud’s pickup. He was sure Joey had more than a passing familiarity with the weapon. After all, generations had lived off the wild game in these parts long before there was a hunting season. Someone like Bud Simmons would simply ignore the fact that times had changed. He wouldn’t think twice about sending his son out to bring home dinner—no matter the time of year.
“Boys grow up fast out here,” he said aloud. “Especially with a man like Bud Simmons for a father.”
She didn’t say anything to that, but turned away, lost in her own thoughts.
“The thing is,” Alan continued, wanting her to understand, “nothing justifies Joe breaking the law. It isn’t right, and it will get a lot worse than his driving without a license.”
“But surely if he has no choice …”
“He has a choice, and so does his old man.”
He felt her gaze on him. Glancing her way, he saw she watched him intently, frowning, as if trying to see through him. It made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t read the expression in her eyes. Did she understand about Joey? Then she looked away, back to the scenery, without a word.
He considered saying something else to try to explain how he saw things. Then he changed his mind. What did he care if she understood or not? This was his town.
About forty-five minutes later, he pulled off the highway onto a service road. After a few miles, he turned onto the route leading to the Simmons ranch. It was little more than a dirt track, twisting and turning beneath a forest of huge conifers.
Alan loved this country—the quiet, the rich smell of earth and evergreen. He glanced at Maureen and realized she, too, was absorbed in their surroundings. He wondered how she saw it. She was a city girl, but that didn’t mean she was immune to the beauty around her. For reasons he refused to dissect, he wanted her to see it as he did.
The trees parted, and they drove into a clearing that was the Simmons place. Alan pulled up and stopped the Jeep in front of the house. He sat for a moment, his thoughts drawn back to his reason for being here.
“Wait here,” he said, never taking his eyes off the house. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
He caught Maureen’s nod out of the corner of his eye. Climbing out of the Jeep, he headed for the house. At the door, he hesitated. The place looked worse than he’d anticipated. But then, what had he expected? He hadn’t been out here for years, not since the day Simmons reported his wife missing. It hadn’t exactly been a showplace then, but it had been a working ranch, well-tended and in good shape. Now it looked like a dump.
Remembering that Maureen waited for him, he pushed his thoughts aside and knocked. For a moment, it seemed no one would answer. Maybe no one was home. He knew better. Word was, Simmons hardly left his house anymore. Besides, his battered old pickup was parked out front.
Alan knocked again. Louder. He heard movement inside, nothing definite, more like a shuffling.
“Bud,” he called out. “It’s me. Alan Parks.” More movement from inside. “Open up. I need to talk with you.” Silence. “Come on, Bud. I know you’re in—”
; The door flew open. “What the hell ya want, Parks?”
Bud Simmons stood before him, a shadow of the man Alan remembered. He had always been big, six-four if he was an inch. The last time Alan had seen him, he’d been a combination of hard muscle and gut. Not a trim man, but powerful. Someone you wouldn’t want to go up against. Now Simmons seemed shorter—shrunk into himself—and all stomach. His face was a white pasty mask, his eyes bloodshot, and his nose bulbous and red-veined. A wreck of a man. If his ranch had fallen into disrepair, then Bud himself had totally decayed.
Forcing a smile past his shock, Alan nodded a greeting. “Bud. Long time.”
“Yeah, not long enough.” Simmons seemed to gather himself, pulling up to his full height.
Noticing the gesture, Alan braced himself. “Need to talk to you, Bud.”
“What about?”
“About your boy, Joey.”
“He ain’t here.”
Alan took off his hat and glanced around the yard before returning his gaze to Simmons. “Can I come in?”
Simmons didn’t budge.
This was going to be harder than he’d anticipated, Alan thought. He wished he hadn’t brought Maureen along. If things got out of hand, he didn’t want her around. “It’ll only take a few minutes,” Alan insisted.
Finally Simmons shrugged and moved away from the door, back into the house.
Alan stepped inside. He took a moment to accustom his eyes to the dim light before proceeding in the direction Simmons had headed.
He found the older man sprawled in a recliner, surrounded by empty beer cans, the television blaring. A quick survey of the room showed the place to be in decent shape—better than the outside. The room was clean, or nearly so. It occurred to Alan that Bud’s closest neighbor, Widow Cellar, must have paid a recent visit. There had been a time when people thought Jean Cellar would be Bud’s salvation, but that was a while back.
Walking over to the television, Alan shut it off.
“Hey,” said Simmons, “you ain’t got no right—”
“I need to talk to you.” Alan drifted around the room, taking in its contents. Stopping before a hand-built wooden shelf, he picked up a framed photograph. The picture was of a family: a man, a woman and two kids. Replacing the picture, he turned back to Simmons. “It’s about Joey.”
Keeping Katie (A Mother's Heart Book 1) Page 6