I realized I had been lost in both the wonderful feeling of Jake’s fingers kneading out the knots in my muscles and my musings, so I quickly said, “Gran is doing amazingly well. Between my father getting out of prison and moving back home and Tony courting her, Gran’s memory has made a nearly miraculous improvement.”
“That’s terrific.” Jake moved his hands from my neck to my back and continued the massage. “What does Birdie’s doctor have to say about that?”
“She says she’s never seen anything like it.” In order to enjoy Jake’s attentions more fully, I leaned my forearms on the counter and rested my head on them. “Her theory is that Gran’s problems were due to stress and loneliness rather than true dementia.”
“That takes a lot of pressure off of you.” Jake kissed my nape, sending a pleasurable shiver down my spine. “You don’t have to worry so much about getting home as soon as you can or her being alone.”
“Thank goodness.” I turned to face Jake. “Is Tony still having chest pains?”
“Not in the last month.” Jake leaned his forehead against mine, and I enjoyed staring into his gorgeous blue eyes. “The cardiologist didn’t find any indications of heart problems, so he thinks it was a pulled muscle.
“Since both our elderly relatives are doing so well”—Jake’s lips brushed my ear, sending another delightful tingle through my body—“I was thinking maybe we could get away for a weekend.”
My pulse raced. I wanted to spend an uninterrupted two days with him. I really did. But was it a good idea? I’d told myself that it would be too slutty to sleep with either Noah or Jake until I committed to one of them. Being alone with Jake might be too tempting to resist the chemistry between us.
I didn’t answer Jake. Although my libido was begging me to make a decision and end my bedroom drought, I just wasn’t sure which guy was the right choice.
Frustrated with myself, I got up, went in the back room to grab stock for the paperback spinner rack, and started to fill in the empty slots. Jake silently watched me until I finished, then waited for me to close up the store.
As he and I walked out to the parking lot together, he glided his hand under my ponytail, cupped my neck, and slid his other palm up my inner arm. My nerve endings fired, and I leaned in and closed my eyes.
His lips skimmed mine in a barely there kiss and my mouth opened, wanting more. Jake took my invitation, and I tasted coffee and cinnamon. I pressed against his hard length. His hands abandoned my arm and neck to gather me closer, turning the kiss from sweet to wild.
After what felt like both a nanosecond and an eternity, Jake pulled back. I couldn’t stop the small sound of protest from escaping my lips, and he kissed my forehead before releasing me.
“Text me which weekend works for you, and I’ll make reservations.” Jake gave me an unyielding stare.
“I haven’t said that I’d go.”
“You haven’t said you wouldn’t, either.”
“Fine.” I raised a brow. “I’ll let you know my answer when you pick me up Saturday night for our date.”
Jake nodded, got into his truck, and drove away.
As I slid into my Z4 and headed to the Mexican restaurant, I exhaled loudly as if I’d been holding my breath. Had I just agreed to decide between Noah and Jake by the end of the week? And what would Jake do if I still couldn’t choose?
* * *
Mexilicious had been open only a few months, and neither Poppy nor Boone had eaten there yet. I’d been there once with Jake and was looking forward to their homemade tortilla chips and salsa.
The restaurant was in a large building located at the end of a small strip mall that also boasted a dentist’s office, a pet boutique, a nail salon, and a chiropractic clinic. The outside of the eatery was nothing special, but when customers walked through the front door, they had a pleasant surprise.
The interior was bright, with a contemporary feel to the colors and furniture. The cork flooring was pieced together in an Aztec-like pattern with glass and pebble tiles scattered throughout. Wheat grasses grew in oval-shaped planters that hung on the walls, and black-and-white photographs of Mexico completed the decor.
Since I was the first of our little group to arrive, I requested a table in the back corner and waited for my friends. Boone was usually on time, but prying Poppy away from Gossip Central might take a while. Even though the bar was closed today, she’d have a million excuses to do just one more thing before she left.
Settling in to wait, I ordered a basket of tortilla chips and a Diet Coke. Although I really wanted a margarita, I’d wait to have it until my friends arrived.
The diners were a mixture of Shadow Benders and people off the interstate. Most of the locals in the place stopped by to chat with me, and I had to turn down several persistent offers of company. Small-town folks didn’t like seeing anyone eating alone, and they were determined to rectify that situation whether I was willing or not.
Twenty-five minutes went by, and I had polished off nearly all the chips, before Boone and Poppy finally strolled through the door. Poppy had a mutinous expression on her beautiful face, and Boone’s smile wasn’t as wide as usual. Clearly, they’d had a tiff.
I waved them over to me, and when Boone took the chair next to mine, he hissed, “She’s in a mood.”
His bright white teeth contrasted with his bronze complexion. He claimed that his skin was naturally that color, but Poppy and I knew differently. We probably should have tried to talk him out of using the covert tanning bed he kept in his back bedroom, but we both had equally unhealthy addictions.
Mine was coffee and Poppy’s was men that were no good for her. She had the more interesting bad habit, but in the long run, mine was probably less dangerous. A racing pulse versus none at all.
Poppy assured us she was careful, but it seemed as if the guys she dated were getting wilder and wilder. I was afraid one of them might really hurt her. And I didn’t mean emotionally.
Glaring at Boone, Poppy plopped down facing me and snapped, “Why couldn’t we have met at Gossip Central like we always do?”
“Because we’re in a rut.” I motioned for the server. “You hardly ever leave that place anymore.”
“Why would I have to go anywhere else?” Poppy pursed her lips. “I have everything I need. Internet, take-out delivery, and BOB.”
“Bob?” Boone asked.
“Battery-operated boyfriend,” I explained as the waitress arrived, then seeing Boone’s mouth open, I shot him a quelling glance, turned to the server, and said, “A pitcher of margaritas and another basket of chips, please.”
“We are not in a rut.” Poppy was like a tiger with a gazelle in its jaws, refusing to release the notion she might be wrong. “It’s just that I need to be at the bar in case there’s a delivery or something.” She glanced around, frowned at several men who dared to smile at her, and said, “Besides, it’s more private.”
“We’re not discussing state secrets.” Boone paused as the waitress returned with our drink and appetizer order. He thanked her then looked at me and raised a brow. “Are we?”
“Of course not.” I picked up the pitcher and poured, hoping tequila would help everyone relax. Booze may not solve problems, but then again neither does water, so we might as well indulge. I shoved a glass in front of each of my friends and said, “Try the tortilla chips and salsa. They’re both homemade.”
Boone reached for the basket, but Poppy concentrated on her margarita.
Figuring it would be best to approach Poppy’s issue after she’d had a couple of drinks, I said, “Jake got his first PI client today.”
If this were a different type of case, I wouldn’t be able to talk about it to my friends. But considering there had been a police report, which would end up in the community news section of the Banner on Wednesday, Jake wasn’t as concerned about confidentiality as he was about me
pumping my pals for information about the missing woman.
Boone barely took time to swallow what he was chewing before squealing, “Tell us everything!”
“Do either of you know Elliot and Gabriella Winston?” I asked.
“In a way.” Boone’s hazel eyes crinkled. “But I can’t say how.”
Immediately, I flashed back to what Vivian Yager had said about Elliot’s wife going to an attorney to protect her share of the marital assets.
“Because Gabriella is your client,” I said. With only a trio of lawyers in town, there was a one-out-of-three chance she’d gone to Boone.
“How did you . . .” Boone’s mouth clamped shut. He crossed his arms and shook his head. “I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.”
“You just did.” Poppy snorted, her mood apparently improved by Boone’s discomfort.
“Did not.” Boone sneered.
“You two need to grow up.” I shook my head. Sometimes it felt as if I were the only adult in our group.
“I may behave myself in public.” Boone smirked. “But I’m never growing up.”
“I suppose that would be asking a lot,” I said, chuckling.
Boone smiled, then said, “Why are you asking about the Winstons?”
“Gabriella is missing.” I took a sip of my drink. “Depending on whose theory you believe, she’s either been kidnapped, left Elliot of her own free will, or her husband killed her and hid the body.”
“Wow! Just wow.” Boone straightened. “Although I can’t say why I think so, I’m pretty sure the first option is the only viable one.”
“Why?” Poppy’s voice rose. “Because no one gives up on their marriage?” She glanced at me, then skewered Boone with a look. “Name one couple any of us knows personally who have been together for more than five years and are still in love.”
We’d had this conversation before, and I was glad Poppy was talking to Boone instead of me, because I still couldn’t come up with an example. Certainly no one in my immediate family. My mom was hunting for husband number five, and I wasn’t convinced my grandparents had ever been truly in love. They’d loved each other, but I wasn’t sure if they’d been in love.
Although Poppy’s parents had celebrated their thirty-sixth anniversary in June, it would be hard to claim that Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid still had any passion for each other, especially since the chief seemed to spend every waking moment at the police station.
Then there was Boone’s family. His parents were still married and even lived together, but the only time in the past twenty-five years his folks had spoken to each other was when Boone had been arrested for murder. Once he was cleared of the charge, Mr. and Mrs. St. Onge had gone back to communicating through e-mails and texts.
When Boone was silent, I said, “Uh, guys. Can we get back to the case?”
Poppy and Boone apologized in unison, but before we could get on track, the server came to take our dinner orders. Once the food had been negotiated, it took me a second to remember where we were.
“Okay, then.” I refocused and looked at Poppy. “Do you know the Winstons?”
“Elliot is the one trying to open that wildlife park outside of town. He occasionally has meetings at Gossip Central,” Poppy answered. “And Gabriella was in the bar once with a bunch of women from the country club for a bachelorette party.”
“Did you pick up any interesting tidbits when they were there?” I asked.
“Elliot is willing to do just about anything to get that park up and running.” Poppy made a face. “He was even flirting with that woman on the county board who looks like she’s about a hundred years old.”
“Dolly Clover?” Boone asked. “She’s actually fairly young, in her fifties, but she just doesn’t do anything to try to make herself attractive.”
“Good to know.” I raised a brow, then turned to Poppy and asked, “Besides trying to sweet-talk Dolly, did Elliot do anything that was suspicious?”
“No.” Poppy rolled her eyes. “But he’s got a one-track mind.”
“About the park?”
“Definitely. With him it’s all”—Poppy put her hands to her cheeks and singsonged—“lions and tigers and bears, oh my!”
“How about Gabriella?” I asked Poppy, glancing at Boone, who clearly was dying to join the conversation but bound by lawyer-client confidentiality, he had to bite his tongue.
“Gabriella seemed to like both booze and men,” Poppy answered. “She said her philosophy was that if she was stuck with lemons—i.e., her animal-obsessed husband—she’d order a lemon drop martini and pick up a hot guy.”
“Well, it was a bachelorette party,” I reminded her.
“True.” Poppy smiled meanly. “But none of the other women left with the male stripper.”
CHAPTER 8
Jake had struck out at the first motel. Neither the desk clerk nor the maid had recognized Gabriella Winston’s picture. As he drove to the next place on his list, his thoughts turned to his last words to Devereaux.
Everything inside of him had screamed that he insist that they make firm plans for their weekend alone. Instead, he’d gritted his teeth and accepted that she wasn’t ready to commit. At least she’d agreed to give him an answer about the getaway by Saturday. And although there had still been some uncertainty in those pretty blue-green eyes of hers, there also had been a flicker of desire and a flash of acceptance that it was time to make a choice.
She needed to decide between him and Dr. Dull. Jake had been patient for nearly eight months, and his tolerance had almost reached its limit. Each evening she spent with Underwood was torture for Jake. The idea of another man’s hands on her lush hips or his mouth on hers was enough to drive Jake over the edge.
He’d actually found himself reaching for his gun a few times before getting himself under control. Jake snorted. What had he thought he was going to do? Shoot his competition?
Unfortunately, whenever he’d told Devereaux it was him or Underwood, she had stuck out her cute little chin and repeated the word no until he finally gave up. When he pushed, she had always said that she understood if he couldn’t wait for her, but she just wasn’t certain yet.
At least after this afternoon’s conversation, it had seemed as if she would finally make a decision. Too bad he wasn’t totally certain that he would be Deveraux’s pick.
Jake’s breath hitched and his heart gave an agonizing squeeze at the picture of her walking down the aisle toward Underwood. He rubbed his eyes, trying to banish that image from his mind.
He was so lost in thought, worried that Devereaux would return to her first love rather than choose him, that he missed the crossroad for the next motel. He adjusted his Stetson, made a three-point turn, and headed his truck back toward the junction.
Jake suddenly smiled, realizing that he had an advantage on Underwood. He knew that the finish line was in sight. The good doctor still thought they were in the middle of the race.
He grinned and gripped the steering wheel tighter. Actually, he had two advantages. While Dr. Dweeb was across town working in his clinic, Jake’s office was in the same building as the dime store. He would be able to spend time with Dev every single day this week. And when she made her choice, he’d be the one who was front and center in her mind, as well as, with any luck, in her heart.
This was one of the major reasons why he’d rented that particular space. After he’d nearly wrecked things with Devereaux by having his ex-wife living with him for the past few months, Jake had vowed to put Dev ahead of everything else in his life. Underwood still hadn’t grasped that necessity.
Jake’s smile widened. He loved Deveraux, and down deep he truly believed she loved him. Dr. Dumbass was only an old habit that Dev needed to break. And Jake was just the man to help her do it.
Whistling, he pulled his pickup into the motel’s lot. He parked, then for a m
oment he leaned back and imagined that Deveraux was in his arms. He loved the feel of her soft curves and the smell of her fiery, yet sweet perfume. It floated around her like a hint of their future, which would definitely contain both sugar and spice.
As Jake got out of the cab and strolled into the tiny office, he reluctantly set aside his daydreams of the feisty cinnamon-haired woman he hoped would one day share his bed, his name, and his life, and concentrated on the case. There was something off about Gabriella Winston’s disappearance, but before he could work on any other angle, he needed to follow normal procedure for a missing person.
Being on the private side of law enforcement felt a little strange. He’d never thought about quitting the marshal service and settling down in Shadow Bend. But after he’d been injured, he’d finally spent enough time with his great-uncle to see that Tony needed help on the ranch. And then he’d met Deveraux, who had shown him that there was something more in life than the adrenaline rush of chasing bad guys.
A year ago, if someone had asked Jake if he would ever become a rancher or a private investigator, he would have said no effing way. Hell! Eight months ago, his fondest desire was to heal enough to get back to hunting down the perps.
But that was before he kissed Devereaux. No woman had ever affected him the way she had. All of a sudden, being a marshal didn’t seem as wonderful if it meant spending time away from her.
Jake had wanted to be a U.S. Marshal since he was twelve years old. In sixth grade, one of his teachers had shown the class a documentary about them, and Jake had been fascinated. However, when he’d realized that his uncle wasn’t getting any younger and neither was he, suddenly, leaving the marshal service hadn’t seemed so far-fetched.
Once he admitted that his leg would never be a hundred percent again, he knew it was time to do something else. And the possibility of starting a life with Deveraux had clinched the deal.
Lions and Tigers and Murder, Oh My Page 7