“Doesn’t sound very appetizing.”
“Philistine!” the man grumbled. “Once the mixture is the right consistency, you add in water and behold!”
“Behold what?”
“Don’t you know anything about pie crust?” the man asked.
Ben nodded. “Some taste better than others.”
“My sister’s is superior.”
The hair on the back of Ben’s neck stood up. “Your sister?”
“Sofia.”
Ben’s gut iced over as the pieces slipped into place. “It’s Sofia Stellini!” he barked into his headset, turning the man over to the security guards. “All hands on deck—ballroom!” His heart pounded as he sprinted through the crowded lobby.
He hit the closed doors hard, ignoring the shards of pain tearing through his shoulder. Weapon drawn, he zeroed in on a dark-haired man who had to be a blood relative to the man he’d just carted outside.
He couldn’t get off a clean shot off. Peggy was in the way. “Drop the knife!”
The man ignored him, raising the blade higher so the tip grazed her chin. The sight of her bleeding, galvanized Ben into action. “Close in,” he said, never taking his eyes off the knife or the man wielding it. One of the scenarios they’d gone over was trapping the assailant using one of their great-grandfather’s favorite methods—the square—where they’d close in on the perpetrator from all corners while the lawman on point would keep his weapon leveled on the outlaw.
Too bad, it wasn’t the late 1870s, otherwise he could bring the Stellinis in, dead or alive. Right now, Ben was close to killing a man just to watch him bleed—a first because he’d always believed that the law would take care of punishing the criminals he and his brother brought in. The U.S. Marshals always got their man, but that man didn’t always stay behind bars.
Ben intended to make sure this one did. “Miz McCormack,” he said quietly, hoping to distract Stellini. “I never had a chance to thank you for that pie.”
*
Peggy’s eyes filled. “Too bad, Marshal Justiss. It’s the only one I’ll ever bake for you.”
“Come on now, sweet thing,” he soothed. “You know you’ve been wanting to send me another one, maybe a berry pie this time.”
She sniffed. Stellini’s grip loosened a hair’s breadth, and she shifted slightly. “I’m not wasting any more of my grandma’s super-secret pie crust or her recipes on the likes of you!”
“What’s so secret about her pie crust?” Stellini asked, with a glance at his sister, the diminutive redhead at the station across the room. “You probably use shortening. Amateur!”
Peggy couldn’t look Ben in the eye or run the risk of distracting him. Her chin burned where the knife had scraped across it, but she had no intention of letting the man cut her again. Digging deep for a casual tone, she asked, “If you wanted my recipe why didn’t you just ask for it?”
He shifted his grip on the knife so he could tilt her face around when he asked, “And you’d tell me? Just like that?”
Praying that the knife wouldn’t cut too deeply into her arm, she used a move she learned in self-defense class. Her hands shot up and out, breaking Stellini’s hold.
White-hot pain sliced across her forearm. The room began to spin. A shot rang out, and Stellini fell against her, knocking the wind out of her as she hit the floor.
“Peggy?”
Pain kept time with the pounding of her heart as she struggled to catch her breath.
“That’s it, sweet thing,” Ben’s deep voice crooned, keeping pressure on her arm. “Relax and just breathe,” he repeated over and over until she could.
The EMTs were on the scene by the time she could breathe without sounding like a wounded bear. The gash on the outside of her arm was going to make it hard to roll out any pie crust. She must have said that out loud, because the EMT paused to stare at her. “You’re not going to be doing any cooking until they patch you back up in the ER.”
Her breath snagged as her chest tightened. “Can’t,” she whispered. “Gotta compete.”
Ben moved to stand beside the gurney she’d been strapped to. “First things first, Miz McCormack.” A warm, callused hand grabbed hold of hers. “There will be other contests.”
She shook her head at him. “I need to win this one.” The realization that she wouldn’t be able to bake her pie for the judges had tears gathering and slowly falling.
Ben reached over to capture a tear on the tip of his finger. “Why didn’t you wait for me to make my move?”
She shrugged, then looked up. “You’re mad at me?”
He frowned. “You didn’t learn that move in any self-defense class.”
“Yes,” she insisted, “I did.”
“Not when the assailant was holding a knife,” he snarled. “You could have lost the use of that arm. Still might if he cut through enough tendons and nerves.”
Her stomach heaved at the thought. She closed her eyes and began to breathe deeply. She didn’t want to barf all over the man glaring daggers at her. When her stomach settled, she opened her eyes. “I did what I had to do.”
“Funny thing about that,” Ben said. “Stellini said the same thing when his sister came tearing across the room to smack him with her wooden cutting board.”
“You’re making that up,” Peggy grumbled.
He shook his head. “You were too busy trying to catch your breath to notice.”
“I thought they were working as a team against me.”
“Not Sofia,” he clarified. “Just her brothers, Fabio and Enzo.”
“He’s right, Ms. McCormack.” The soft voice off to her left had her turning her head to see who it was.
“Then you didn’t want my grandmother’s pastry blender, or her pie crust recipe?”
Sofia tossed her head, and her long, fiery ponytail swished from one shoulder to the other. “I have my grandmother’s recipe. She always used two knives to make her crust.”
When Peggy noticed Ben staring at Sofia, a hitch beneath her heart sent the message to her aching head. Marshal Ben Justiss wasn’t interested in Peggy or her pies. She was too tall, blond, and had given him nothing but grief since she’d overnighted that damn buttermilk pie to him.
Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Maybe we can have a pie bake-off of our own when my arm heals.”
A finger poked into her good arm. “Here’s my card. Email me when you get home. We can have the bake-off at your diner.”
Peggy watched the set of Sofia’s jaw as the woman continued, “We will ask this man to be the judge.” Sofia whacked Ben on his shoulder, but didn’t notice the color leach from his face. “Si?” Sofia asked.
“Si… er, yes,” Peggy agreed, before adding, “Be prepared to lose.”
Sofia’s eyes flashed with anger. “Hah! You will be the one to lose,” she promised, spinning on her heel, stalking back to her station.
“Where do you hurt, Ben?” Peggy asked loud enough for one of the EMTs to hear.
“I thought no one else was injured?” He scanned Ben from the top of his head to the toes of his boots.
“You’ve got a nasty greenish-gray cast to your face, Marshal,” the other EMT said. “Sit down before you fall down.”
Ben’s brother and cousins must have been close enough to hear the conversation. They surrounded him, muscling him into the nearest chair.
“It’s his right shoulder,” his brother told the EMTs. Looking at Peggy, Matt added, “He dislocated it on assignment a couple of months ago.”
Peggy realized that would have been around the time she’d sent Ben the pie.
“It’ll be fine once it goes back into place. I can do it myself,” Ben grumbled, but finally sat.
“Not on my watch,” one of the EMTs told him, as the other one quickly immobilized Ben’s injury.
“Damn,” he groused, “didn’t see that one coming.”
His cousins were grinning at him, while his brother was shaking his head. “Wait until the guy
s at the department hear this.”
“We’re still on suspension, bro,” Ben grumbled.
“Yeah, but I heard a rumor that Buzz Johnson has been under the microscope himself.”
“Really?” Ben perked up at the news that their boss was being investigated. It was about time. Their boss had been gunning for the Justiss brothers since he’d discovered their family history as U.S. Marshals.
“Does that mean we can go back to work?” Matt asked.
Ben chuckled. “Thought that’s what we were doing here.” He glanced at Peggy. “All that’s left to do here is the paperwork.”
“After we go for a ride,” one of the EMTs said.
Ben didn’t let go of Peggy until they loaded her into the waiting ambulance. Muscling his way closer to her side, he grabbed hold of her hand again. “Peggy?”
She looked at him.
“I’m sorry, you were hurt.”
She closed her eyes. Not what she’d thought he was going to say.
“If you had waited—” Ben started to say.
“Yeah, yeah,” Peggy grumbled, interrupting him. “I wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Well you know what?” she asked, glaring at him.
“What?”
“It hurt a hell of a lot more when you never called or emailed to tell me you received the pie I sent you.”
“I was going to, but the assignment we were on went south and I dislocated my shoulder—”
“You couldn’t pick up the phone?” Peggy couldn’t believe how much Ben’s excuses cut right through to the bone. He obviously didn’t feel anything for her. As the siren wailed and the ambulance sped down the Strip to the hospital, she lectured herself to move on with her life and get over the man crowding too close to her injured arm.
When the ambulance hit a bump in the road, Ben jostled her arm. She gasped in pain. The EMT immediately moved Ben aside and checked her injury. “It’s bleeding again,” he said, reapplying pressure to her wound. “Hang in there. Another mile, and we’ll be there.”
Peggy wished she were back home in Apple Grove, surrounded by her family and friends. People who actually gave a damn about her, unlike the silent lawman riding in the back of the ambulance with her.
Her sister Kate was probably elbow-deep in lunch orders, trying to keep up without Peggy there to help. “I never should have entered that damned bake-off.”
“Why did you?”
“Why do you care?”
Ben fell silent, as if he was trying to come up with a reason for asking. When he seemed incapable of conversation, she closed her eyes again, opening them when the ambulance came to a halt at the ER doors.
*
Two hours later she was patched up and medicated, with prescriptions for antibiotics and painkillers in her hand. How was she going to call for a cab when her phone and pocketbook were back at the hotel?
“Need a lift?”
Matt Justiss stood just inside the ER entrance, Stetson in his hands, waiting for her answer.
“What about your bone-headed brother?”
Matt grinned. “He’ll have to call somebody else for a lift.”
Peggy thought that sounded wonderful to her. “I’d appreciate it. I left my phone and wallet back at the hotel.”
“Thought as much,” Matt said, as they walked toward the door. “After we finished up the paperwork, I figured I’d head on over here to see if I could be of assistance.”
Peggy was surprised to see the younger Justiss brother smiling at her. “What?”
“I can see why my brother’s stuck on you.”
That comment had her spinning around a little too quickly. “Are you nuts? He hates me.”
Matt’s smile broadened. “Big-time stuck on you.” He held out his arm. “Just lean on me, if you need to, Ms. McCormack.”
He nodded to a shiny black, extended cab Ford F-250. “Let me help you.”
Once she was sitting on the bench seat, she started to feel guilty. “Maybe you should see if Ben is ready to go.”
Matt cheerfully answered, “He only drives. Hates to ride shotgun.”
Peggy sighed. “What about the backseat?”
“He’d have to be drunk or unconscious to ride in the back.”
“What about the truck bed?”
Matt’s crack of laughter filled the cab and lightened her heart. As he put the truck in gear and eased the clutch out, she heard somebody yell, “Where the hell are you going with my truck?”
She looked out the window and saw a red-faced Ben vibrating with anger trying to chase after them. “Matt, stop!”
Matt shrugged, but didn’t stop.
“He might trip and fall on his bad shoulder,” Peggy rasped.
Matt slowed down. “And that would bother you? I thought you didn’t like my brother.”
“I wish I didn’t,” she whispered.
Matt parked the truck and got out.
“Where are you going?” Peggy asked. “I can’t shift with all these stitches in my arm.”
Ben opened the driver’s door and got in. “My truck,” Ben snapped out, “I’m driving.”
Peggy was about to argue when she noticed the sling. “You can’t shift with that arm.”
Matt got in behind her and leaned forward. “It’ll take teamwork, Peggy. He’ll work the clutch, and you shift with your left hand.”
“Remind me to punch him when my shoulder feels better.”
Peggy was about to say something when Ben grumbled, “Pay attention. I’m clutching here.”
Matt laughed. “My brother’s a good team player,” he told her. “He just sucks at relationships.”
Ben growled, but was concentrating on working the clutch without also shifting. “Damn hard to do. Wait, I’ll pull over and take this sling off.”
“No!” Peggy said, moving the gearshift when he depressed the clutch again. “I’ve got it. Quit stomping so fast on the clutch and my shifting will be smoother.”
Ben turned to glare at her, and to her surprise, his glare softened to a look of admiration.
“What?”
“Told ya,” Matt called from the backseat. “Big-time stuck!”
“Hmmpf.” Peggy didn’t believe it for one minute.
“He’s right,” Ben rumbled.
For a heartbeat, Peggy thought he was going to tell her he cared.
“I really suck at relationships.”
Peggy figured she’d have gray hair before the frustrating man sitting next to her admitted to having feelings for her. “Well you suck at common courtesy too.”
He didn’t look away from the road ahead of them. “Clutching here.”
Peeved at the thick-headed man, Peggy snapped, “Shifting here.”
Matt laughed again and Ben swerved to the side of the road. “Shut up, Matt!” he hollered over his shoulder. He depressed the clutch and held it to the floor, coasting to a stop.
“Where are you going?” she asked when Ben turned the truck off and got out. He didn’t answer. She turned around and asked Matt, “Where is he going?”
Her door swung open wide, and Ben reached inside and grabbed hold of her left hand. With a yank, she was plastered to his chest. She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but bumped her arm and hissed out a breath.
“Easy,” Ben soothed. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
“Yeah?” Peggy said. “Well, you’ve already done that and more, cowboy. I can walk back to the hotel from here.”
Ben tightened his grip. “No.”
She narrowed her gaze and glared up at him.
He didn’t move, didn’t blink.
“What now?” she demanded, irritated beyond belief when his gaze shifted down to her lips and his eyes darkened to a deep blue. “Whatever you’re thinking, you can forget about it.” She struggled but couldn’t break the hold he had on her.
“I’ve been wondering if you taste as sweet as your pie.”
“You are not going to kiss me!”
He smiled and the knots in her chest
eased. “Wanna bet?”
The catcalls coming from inside the truck sounded farther away with each soft press of his lips against hers. “Well I’ll be,” he said, easing back and smiling down at her.
Peggy couldn’t feel the top of her head and wasn’t sure her feet were still on the ground when Ben bent his head to kiss her again. “You taste sweeter than your buttermilk pie.”
“That’s not much of a compliment.” She tried to push away from him.
He didn’t budge. “I wonder if you’re as delicate as your pie crust.”
Peggy knew she was in way over her head.
“You two want to get in before that policeman over there arrests you two for disturbing the peace?”
Ben laughed and opened the back door, and helped Peggy inside, sliding in next to her. “To the hotel, bro. Miz McCormack and I have some catching up to do.”
“Just because I let you kiss me doesn’t mean I’m letting you do more than that.”
The desire swirling in the depths of Ben’s hazel eyes had her as breathless as his kisses.
“Wanna bet?”
“I thought you didn’t gamble?”
“I’m not the one gambling, you are.”
Peggy laughed. He was making her crazy. She could use some crazy in her life. “I never gamble on a sure thing.”
He smiled down at her. “I was stuck on you from the minute I walked through the door to the Apple Grove Diner and you smiled at me.”
“You were hooked on my pie.”
He shook his head and tilted her chin up with the tip of his finger. “Nope. On you, Peggy McCormack.” His mouth hovered a breath away from hers. “Kiss me back, sweet thing.”
And she did.
8
finding a hero
Christina Skye
Her room had been empty when she left.
Maddie Munro was dead certain of that.
Now someone was inside. A man.
She stood frozen, listening to low muttered laughter drift down the hall from the bedroom.
Then she saw her open bathroom door.
Romantic Times Page 14