by Candis Terry
He said nothing as he stuck the cuffs into his utility belt and then turned toward the back entrance to unlock the door. She watched him flip on the lights and then stroll over to the coffee pot like he’d done it a million times.
“Exactly why is it you have the keys to my parents’ bakery?” She tossed her jacket on the chair by the door and followed him to the prep counter where the coffeemaker sat next to the stack of baking sheets she’d washed before leaving earlier. The scent of sugar floated around them as he reached for the box of filters and dumped in a few scoops of coffee.
“They gave it to me when I worked for them.”
“You worked for my parents?” She came up beside him and planted her hands on her hips. “When?”
“After you left.”
That settled over her like a tsunami. “So, you like, what? Decorated cupcakes?”
He grinned. “Your mother always said I made a mean raspberry torte.”
She tried to picture big bad Matt Ryan wearing a white apron and dusting confetti candy bits on a birthday cake. The image didn’t fit any better than her being back in Deer Lick.
“I don’t get it. If you needed a job, why didn’t you just keep working for your uncle?”
“Because after you bailed, your folks needed me.”
Ouch. Okay, so her parents needed someone to help them out. She had left them short-handed. At the time she hadn’t exactly considered what kind of situation her departure would put them in. She’d been selfish. And now, the thought of how’d she’d left them high and dry stung.
But Matt hadn’t said they needed somebody, he’d said they needed him. That was different. And that didn’t sit well with her at all. She nudged him out of the way and tugged the glass carafe from his hand. “I can do that.”
He pulled up a stool and sat down. “I miss her.”
Kate looked up in time to catch a wistful look darken his eyes. “My mom?”
“Yeah. She was a good friend.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him and chuckled deep in his chest. “Of course, I did everything I could to keep on her good side. You did not want to piss off Letty Silverthorne.”
“Seriously. She was never the kind to easily forgive and forget.”
“You’re a lot like her in that sense.”
She fought the urge to punch him. Unfortunately he was telling the truth. “That’s what Kelly tells me. She thinks Mom and I are cut from the same fabric.”
“I can see that. Your mom was a good woman.”
She pushed the electrical plug into the outlet. “Does that mean you think I’m a good woman too?” Fishing was so pathetic. But these days Kate would take whatever compliments she could wring from someone.
He gave her that smile that made her heart flip like an IHOP flapjack.
“Make a full pot of that and I’ll help you drink it.”
“Nice deflection, Deputy.” She looked up. “You sure? Seems to me you’d want to call it a night.”
He watched her, seemed to study her actually, before he answered. “I’m in no hurry.”
His scrutiny made her uneasy and only managed to scramble a million questions through her mind. Some she could sift out. Others were best left tucked in her brain for safe-keeping.
Apparently she’d missed a lot of Matt Ryan’s life. And though she’d thought of him once in awhile, her reflections on what he’d done with his life had never consumed her. She’d been much too busy building a career. She bit her lip as she waited for the carafe to fill with water. He sat there on that stool like he owned the place. His dark hair a bit messy like he’d run his fingers through it. The expression on his handsome face unreadable.
Curiosity nipped at her with sharp little teeth. A sure sign she should just let things go. A sign she chose to ignore. She’d never discovered the identity of the blond by his side at her mother’s funeral. Now seemed as good a time as any to ask the big question. “No little woman to go home to?”
He looked up from the newspaper he’d found on the counter. “Not yet.”
“Huh. I figured you’d be married by now.” She ended her comment with a chuckle.
“Something funny about that?”
“Actually . . .” She chuckled again and pushed the coffeemaker ON button. “. . . I also figured by now you’d be bald, pudgy, and a grease monkey still working for your uncle.
His blue gaze intensified as stared at her without blinking. “Guess you figured wrong.”
Boy did she. She turned toward him, leaned against the counter and folded her arms. “I never imagined you, of all people, would go into law enforcement. I mean, you do have a pretty wild background.”
“People grow up, Katie. And people forgive.”
“It’s Kate. Nobody calls me Katie anymore except my dad.”
“Is there anything about you that’s still part of the girl before she left?”
She shrugged. “Not much. Hard to remain a small-town girl in a city that eats them up and spits them out.”
He shook his head. “Can’t figure out why anyone would ever want that kind of life.”
Sometimes neither could she. But she’d eat worms before she’d let him know. “Because it’s exciting. It’s fast-paced. It’s glamorous. Do you know I have an entire loft stuffed with couture and a collection of designer jewelry most other stylists would kill for?”
He stared at her as though she were speaking Martian.
“But it’s not just about the clothes. It’s about the red carpets, the star-studded galas, champagne, caviar . . .” Those moments made it easy to forget all the hours she spent on her knees. In cat hair. Sewing crystals on the pants of an unappreciative pop princess. “. . . never a dull moment, you know?”
He leaned back and folded his arms. His biceps expanded. Kate knew those muscles were from hard work and not a workout machine. Which made them way more sexy.
“Guess I’m okay with dull.” He shrugged. “But then, that must have been one of the things you hated about me back then.”
Looking for an escape from the intensity in his eyes and the sting in her chest she said, “I never hated you. I just wanted something more than this town could give me.”
He stood and came toward her. “You mean something more than I could give you.”
Her heart tripped. Yes. “Honestly, Matt. I’d been waiting for that scholarship for two years. When it came, I left. I never added you into the picture. We were young and what happened between us was . . .” Incredible. Unforgettable. Unbelievable. “. . . a mistake.”
Unexpected and old feelings rushed back as he stood next to her. She reached for the carafe. Carelessly poured the coffee into the cup. And missed.
Hot drops of liquid splashed over her hand and she jerked it away just in time before the entire contents burned her. The cup crashed to the floor. “Ow, damn it.”
“Are you okay?” He took her arm and held her hand up to examine it.
“I’m fine.” Except for the warmth of his palm surrounding her wrist. Except for the heat radiating from his body. Except for the hard jolt of desire that reared its horny head.
He looked down into her eyes, looked at her mouth and lowered his head. Mesmerized she watched it happen, in slow motion, until his amazing lips brushed her hand with a kiss and every fiber in her body went into a meltdown of need.
Then he gave her the look—that sexy half-lidded look that once had her ripping off her shirt and shucking her panties.
“I never saw it that way,” he said.
“What?” Her hand, still cradled in his palm, tingled and she had no idea what he was talking about.
“A mistake.” A slow smile curved his lips. “Us.”
Now what in the hell was she supposed to say to that? Especially since her heart seemed to be trying to beat its way out of her chest.
“I had dreams,” she said, easing her hand from his. “Didn’t you? Didn’t you ever wish you could get out of Deer Lick? Didn’t you ever wonder what the rest of t
he world might be like?”
“Me? Nope.” He shrugged, leaned down, and picked up the shards of glass. “I’m like a tree. I’ve got roots that go way down deep. And I don’t plan on digging them up.”
“Never?”
“Never.” He took a step closer to toss the broken cup in the trash can behind her.”
“God, this place would drive me crazy.” She shook her head, to shatter her overpowering imagination. “It doesn’t even have a movie theater. How can anybody live in a town without a movie theater?”
“We never missed it as kids.” He leaned a hip against the counter. “Most people use those mail-in DVD places. That way you don’t have to worry about someone’s cell phone going off and interrupting the movie. You can watch it from the comfort of your sofa or even your own bed. I guess that’s where I differ.”
“Why’s that?”
He gave her that look again. “The last thing I want to do in bed is watch a movie.”
She laughed. “I’m not even going to ask. But I’m sure you don’t spend much time there alone.”
“Jealous?”
“You wish.” Kate reached for another cup and glanced over her shoulder. Arms folded across his chest he stood there, watching her.
“Don’t pretend like you know anything about me anymore, Kate. You don’t.”
“I never said I did. I just assumed.”
“Don’t.” His eyes narrowed. “How would you like it if I assumed you slept your way to the top of your career? Don’t they have something called a casting couch?”
“I don’t sleep around.” She folded her arms. “Besides, I’m a stylist, not an actress.”
“Says who?”
Kate watched her parents’ quaint log cabin come into view as the patrol car rolled to a stop at the curb. Her mother had decorated the small front porch with pots of golden mums. An autumn wreath with an orange satin bow hung on the front door. Her mother had a knack for all those homey touches. Which had been only one of the issues that had driven her and her mother apart. Kate had never been into gingham and cute. She’d always been more a fan of silk and fabulous. Still, she had to admit, the homey touches gave an air of welcome you just couldn’t achieve with rhinestones and feathers. Her chest tightened as she glanced across the darkened cab to Matt. He’d been silent since they’d left the bakery.
She’d never gotten that cup of coffee. Matt had suddenly been in a hurry to get back to the station. So she rode the entire way home with the window down, hoping the cold air would drive the leftover Guinness from her system. Yet even now, as Matt put the SUV in park, opened his door and got out, her head spun like she was on a merry-go-round at full speed.
And she wasn’t exactly sure it was from the ale.
Always the gentleman, Matt came around to her side, opened her door and helped her down from her seat. Her cowboy boots landed on the dewy strip of grass bordering the sidewalk. The warmth of his palm encircled her arm until she took a step backward and his hand dropped to his side.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said. “And for not arresting me.”
He nodded that beautiful dark head. “Next time you might not be so lucky. I’m usually only good for one get-out-of-jail-free ticket.”
She smiled. “Well, I appreciate it.” More than ready to be away from his overwhelmingly male presence she stepped toward the sidewalk then turned with a wave. “Thanks again.”
With one foot on the street and one on the curb he stopped, looked back at her, then came toward her with his hands in his jacket pockets. “Let me ask you something.”
Uh-oh. “Sure.”
“You’re successful, right?”
She gave a half-hearted shrug. “I’d consider myself that, yes.”
“And you go to all these star-studded parties and hang out with celebrities and rock stars?”
“Absolutely.” Where was he going with this?
“Yet you tell everyone you’re too busy for a relationship.”
“Says who?”
“Your sister. Your brother. Your . . .”
Traitors. “Okay, okay, I get it.”
“Are you?”
She folded her arms. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you’re so damn eager to tell everyone about your fabulous lifestyle . . . how’s that really working for you?” He paused, the glint in his icy blue eyes visible even in the dark of night. “What keeps you warm at night?”
“A silk comforter.”
He grinned down at her.
“Are you insinuating that I don’t have a life?” She propped her hands on her hips. “Because I do. I have a life. I can promise you that.” Liar, liar, pants on fire.
He smiled in a non-convinced way that made her want to use those smirking lips for something else. “I do,” she insisted. “And I have an original Valentino hanging in my closet that I plan to wear to the People’s Choice Awards next year. How many women can say that?”
He chuckled as he walked away. While he slid into the driver’s seat, he asked through the open window, “Tell me something, Kate. Exactly how many orgasms is that worth?”
She was so not going to let him get the best of her. “I guess that all depends on how you wear the gown. With or without panties.”
He grinned and put the SUV into gear. Before he drove off he said, “Now there’s something worth thinking about.”
Kate gritted her teeth as the taillights grew smaller in the distance. She’d love to be able to shout out “Liar!” but the accusation wouldn’t fly. He was right. She was too busy to even buy herself a vibrating gift. Sure, she’d had sex in the past ten years, but she’d also had lovers who were more into their own satisfaction than hers.
Matt Ryan did not fit into that category.
Not even when he’d been barely above drinking age.
Resigned to the sinking reality that orgasms were a small part of her past and there seemed little hope for them in the near future, she walked to the front porch and quietly unlocked the door. Since it was late, she didn’t want to wake anyone. Or, at least, she didn’t want anyone to wake and see what a hot mess she’d become.
When she eased the door open to the living room, she found her father fast asleep in his recliner, a framed photo of her mother clutched to his chest.
Kate stood there, looking at him. Looking at the restless expression on his face. And she could not stop the tears that welled in her eyes.
Poor daddy. Her soul ached for him.
She didn’t know what to do to help this man she loved with all her heart. She wasn’t wise enough to know how to help him find peace. So she did the only thing she could think of at the moment. She gathered up the crocheted afghan her mother had made for one of his birthdays and covered him, tucking the soft knotted yarn beneath his chin. Then she kissed him on top of his balding head.
“Night, Daddy,” she whispered. “I love you.”
He exhaled softly as she tiptoed away. When she reached the bedroom door, he murmured, “Sweetheart, I knew you’d come.”
Kate gripped the doorknob. There was a smile in his voice. In that instant, Kate knew she wasn’t the only one her mother visited. A warm tingle spread through her heart. Maybe there was something to be said about this soul mate thing her mother claimed existed.
She slipped inside the bedroom, careful not to wake her sleeping sister, and let the leather jacket slide down her arms. She sat on the edge of her bed, toed off her cowboy boots, and wondered.
Could there actually be someone out there just for her?
And if so, would she ever find him?
CHAPTER SEVEN
While the sun dipped below the peaks of the Rockies, Kate sat behind the desk in the small bakery office and interviewed yet another unqualified applicant eager to fill her mother’s baking shoes. A week had passed since her siblings had gone back to their normal lives. Dean’s football team had won their Sunday night game. Kelly had called and implied she was pantyhose deep in good fact-finding
on the killer and promised she’d get back as soon as possible. In the meantime Kate was still stuck in Deer Lick.
It had also been a week since Matt had so kindly reminded her of her nonexistent sex life.
That she wasn’t so happy about.
While Chelsea Winkle, current student body president of the senior class of Deer Lick High and head cheerleader for the Deer Lick Destroyers, explained her method of decorating Halloween spider cupcakes, Kate’s mind wandered. The meeting she’d had that morning via Skype with Josh and Inara had almost imploded.
The pop singer needed to wear something spectacularly casual to the red carpet premiere of Hugh Jackman’s latest action flick. Again, her client complained about Kate’s modest choices. After an hour long power struggle, they set up Josh’s computer so Kate could look through her wardrobe storage for something alluring but not too sexy that might please the difficult diva. They’d finally agreed on a Dior animal print halter dress Kate had been saving for herself. Oh well, anything to keep the styling machine moving in her favor.
Chelsea abruptly ended her monologue. Kate stopped doodling on Chelsea’s application, looked up, and smiled at the teen who fit the perfect example of an all-American girl—blond hair pulled up in a ponytail, blue eyes, naturally straight teeth, and a dusting of freckles across her nose. The teen grinned and nodded at Kate as though she’d just divulged the secrets of the universe.
“So . . . Chelsea . . . have you ever taken a professional cake-decorating class?”
“Oh. No. I just get all my terrific ideas from my mom’s Better Homes and Garden magazines. You should see the one I found last Christmas for peppermint pie.”
“Wow. Sounds . . . interesting. Have you ever worked in a bakery before?”
Chelsea’s blue eyes widened. “Gosh, no, Miss Silver. But I help my mom bake chocolate chip cookies for my dad all the time.”
From a package, no doubt. Kate stood. “Thanks for coming in, Chelsea. I have a few more interviews before we can make our final decision.”
Chelsea stood too. “Oh. Okay. Well, I hope I get the job. I really, really, really need the money for the cutest prom dress I saw over in Bozeman. I can’t afford it without a job.”