by Candis Terry
“You sit right here until I put some shoes on.”
“And then what?” she asked, looking up into those dark, amazing eyes.
“And then I’m really going to make you smile.”
If that was true, then why was he putting on his clothes?
James had never considered himself a smart man. But the fact that twice in one week he’d managed to put Kelly Silverthorne in the position to be hanging onto him for dear life and pressing her small but perfect breasts against his back was sheer genius.
Her fingers dug into his stomach as she leaned in and spoke close to his ear. “Did I happen to mention that I don’t really ride on motorcycles?”
“You do now.”
He hit the accelerator on the Softail and sped toward their destination, taking every back road possible to make the enjoyment last longer.
He may not be all that smart.
But he definitely wasn’t stupid.
On a particularly sharp curve, Kelly leaned into him. “Where are we going?”
“You sure ask a lot of questions.”
“Occupational hazard,” she said over the roar of the engine.
“Then how about you just trust me?”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea at all.”
“Yeah, well, try to do it anyway.”
The wind felt great against his face as they whipped along the lake road and the headlight swept past dense stands of tall aspens and towering pines. Past enormous resort homes. Past private docks and colorful boats bobbing on the lake. Everything about the moment made him feel alive. Everything about the woman holding onto him made him want more than he had a right to desire.
But that wouldn’t stop him.
He’d wanted Kelly almost from the moment he’d seen her way back when. Of course, in those days he’d been just a kid and hadn’t understood the whole heart-pounding, electricity-snapping-through-your-body thing. He understood it now. And he wanted more. He’d go to hell with a smile on his face just to hold her as often as he could.
Several miles down the road James felt the tension leave Kelly’s arms, and she began to relax. He wondered if she was smiling yet, because he certainly was.
“Okay,” she shouted over his shoulder and above the roar of 1800 cc’s of power.
“Okay what?”
“This is fun.”
“Yeah?” He grinned. “Are you smiling?”
“Almost.”
Pleasure danced in his veins. “Then prepare to let it all go . . . His hand tightened around the grip and he hit the throttle. “Now.”
Behind him Kelly let out a squeak, then a giggle, then a full out “Yesssss!” as she grabbed onto him and held tight.
Man. He was getting smarter by the mile.
The bike followed the curves up to Lookout Point as smooth as aged whiskey. When they reached the top James found it gloriously vacant of the usual carload or two of teens who’d snuck away to make out and fog up the windows of their second-hand cars.
He rolled the bike to the edge and cut the engine, swung his leg over the seat, and held out his hand. Kelly grabbed hold and got off the bike a little wobbly. Fortunately for him that meant she practically fell into his arms. Every man’s dream. A hot blonde fresh off a badass bike.
“Oops. Sorry.” She caught herself, smiled, then used her hands to tidy up her windblown hair. “I must look a mess.”
He captured her hands and stopped her from taking away that wild, fresh-out-of-bed look he loved so much. It made him think of her straddling him. Naked. Her mass of curls falling like a curtain over her breasts. Looking down at him like she had to decide where to lick him first.
“You look perfect.” Better than perfect. “Come on.” He took her by the hand and led her to the edge of the clearing that overlooked their town. Overhead the stars twinkled, and in the distance a campfire glowed in Founder’s Park.
“Wow.” She took a long look in both directions. “I’ve never seen the town from this angle before.”
“Come on.” James stepped back. With the glow of the moon highlighting her halo of ivory hair she looked as innocent as an angel. But nobody was that innocent. “This is the number one make-out spot in Deer Lick. You don’t expect me to believe you’ve never been up here.”
She held up her hand as if she was swearing in. “On my honor I have never been up here before.”
“Then where did you go?”
“To make out?” She laughed. “Do you even remember me in high school?”
Did he ever. He could still picture her walking down the hall, her books clutched tightly to her chest, her snug jeans accenting every step she took. But his memories went far beyond the classroom fare. He’d become a master of conjuring up fantasies about her. “Of course I remember you.”
She folded her arms and looked out over the town again. “Then how could you think I’ve ever been to any make-out spot?”
He cupped her shoulders and turned her to face him. He brushed her hair back, enjoying the softness against his skin. “Why do you sell yourself short all the time? I’ve always thought you were pretty amazing.”
Her chin came up. “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment.”
“I know.” His gaze touched her face, slid down her body, then came back up to her luscious mouth. God, he could almost taste her. “That would be totally unlike you.”
Her sweet scent came up and tickled his nose, and he found himself drawing her slightly closer. “Did you enjoy the ride?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
He smiled back. “That’s what I was hoping to see. You should smile more often, Counselor. It looks good on you.”
Without any direction from him, his hands drew her closer until her breasts pressed against his chest and his insides caught fire. Her smoky-green eyes looked up at him, full of desire. Expectant. He wanted nothing more than to give her one more thing to smile about.
“Just so you know, I’m not seeing Brianna anymore,” he said before he knew the words were even out of his mouth. “Or anyone else for that matter.”
“It’s really none of my business,” she said, her lips just a whisper away from his.
He shouldn’t kiss her. But since he was the king of talking himself into things he shouldn’t do, he drew her closer, lowered his head, and then the phone in his back pocket rang.
Damn it.
Spell broken, she backed away from him and he had no choice but to yank the phone from his pocket and answer.
“This better be good,” he growled into the speaker. But the news he heard from the other end of the line wasn’t good.
It was bad.
Really bad.
Kelly followed James through the doors of Mercy Hospital, barely able to keep up with his long, urgent strides. He’d offered to take her home. But when he’d told her his brother had been talking with a girl at a kegger and her boyfriend had taken offense and beaten Alex until he was unconscious, there was no way she’d let James face the situation alone.
The admitting attendant, a woman who looked sweet and motherly, looked up as they entered the emergency-room lobby. “Room 104, Deputy Harley.”
“Thanks, Alice.” He pushed through the double doors into a sterile hallway cluttered with IV poles and rolling prep trays. His boots hit the tile floor hard, and Kelly couldn’t help but notice that tension stiffened his broad shoulders.
James went straight to Room 104 as if he knew the way, had been there before. When he entered the room he stopped short, and Kelly almost plowed into his back. He stood motionless for a moment, pulling a deep breath into his lungs before he continued into the room. When Kelly could finally see around his big body, she had to cover a gasp.
“All this just for talking with a girl?” she whispered.
James nodded. “Guys can get pretty territorial.”
That was just plain stupid. But Kelly wasn’t about to voice that opinion. Right now the man in front of her needed her moral support. Or a tranquilize
r.
On the gurney lay Alex, pale as a ghost, except for the purple bruises and swelling on his handsome young face. Some kind of maternal-instinct thing kicked in, and she immediately wanted to find the culprit who’d done this and take them down. The logical side of her recognized that teenage boys did not usually get their asses kicked without some kind of provocation. Just talking to a girl didn’t seem like a fighting offense. The story would come out later. Now was the time to heal.
James went to the side of the gurney and gripped the steel rails with white-knuckled hands. For several long heartbeats he just stood there and looked down at the unconscious young man for whom he was responsible. Then he dropped down hard to the chair and buried his face in his hands. The gesture expressed his emotions as loudly as if he’d voiced them.
Failure.
Defeat.
Everything inside Kelly shifted. She knew that feeling. She knew it well. And when she’d had to face it, she’d been alone.
She moved further into the room. Went to James’s side and laid her hand on his shoulder. “He’s going to be fine.”
“Is he?” James didn’t look up. His shoulders lifted on a sigh. “This is my fault.”
“How can it be your fault?”
“I pushed him out of the house tonight. If I hadn’t done that . . .”
Kelly swallowed and decidedly shared the guilt in his decision to push Alex out the door. If she hadn’t gone over to his house . . . “You’re doing the best you can.”
“I’m not, really.” His voice was low and tight with emotion. “When he first came to live with me I probably didn’t act all that happy to have him around. He was eleven. And needy. And I had just started to get my life together.” His hands tightened on the bedrails. “Guess I never lost that selfish streak.”
“It’s never too late to change,” she said, dropping down to a squat beside him. “You need to find what’s missing inside of Alex. Maybe that will help heal a part of yourself as well.”
James turned his head, his eyes as warm as his smile. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a really nice person?”
She smiled back. “No. And don’t tell the criminals I prosecute that either.” She reached forward and covered his hand with hers. “I’m here for as long as you need me. Okay?”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.” She pulled up a chair and sat beside him until the doctor came in and announced they were keeping Alex in the hospital overnight. He’d suffered some cracked ribs, and since he was still unconscious it was apparent he’d suffered some head trauma. They wouldn’t release him until they were sure he’d be okay. And she wouldn’t leave until either James or the doctors kicked her out.
Hours later, James finally convinced her to go home and get some sleep. She’d only agreed when he’d promised to call her with any updates on Alex’s condition. When she’d realized that maybe James just needed to be alone with his thoughts, Kelly stood outside the hospital entrance and pulled her cell phone from her back pocket to call her dad and ask him to pick her up. She hated to wake him, but Deer Lick did not have the population to merit a taxi service. So one either drove by car, horse, or recreational vehicle to their destination. Behind her the automatic doors of the lobby whooshed open. Kelly turned to see who might be coming out and was surprised to find one of the clowns she’d observed at the Founder’s Day parade.
“How are you?” The woman’s cheerful voice made Kelly smile.
“I’m good, how about yourself?”
The woman stopped beside her. Growing up, Kelly had always thought clowns were a little creepy. Now, knowing the magic they created, she admired the clown’s pink hair and jeweled eyebrows.
“I hate to admit it,” the clown said, “but tonight I’m a little tired.”
Beneath all that makeup, it was hard to tell the woman’s age or whether she might look a little weary. She just looked . . . happy.
“I’m Priscilla Stewart,” she said, extending a fingerless yellow glove. “Aren’t you Kelly Silverthorne?”
Surprised, Kelly shook the extended hand. “Have we met?”
“Yes, but I haven’t seen you for years. I was friends with your mama. Served on the Ladies Auxiliary with her.”
“Oh. Well, it’s nice to meet you. Again.” Kelly laughed. She just couldn’t help herself. Priscilla’s smile just urged a like response. “What are you doing here so late? Visiting someone?”
Priscilla nodded, and the mini-sized purple-and-orange top hat wiggled in response. “Almost every night. For over fifteen years.”
“Seriously?”
The clown lady laughed then used her thumbs to smooth the frown lines on Kelly’s forehead. “Don’t stress, pretty girl. I like coming here.”
“I don’t mean to be nosy, but—”
“You’re wondering why I would do that.”
“Well, kind of.”
“The answer is simple.” She took Kelly’s hand. “Sixteen years ago I lost my husband to cancer. It was a long, slow process. At the end, I came to this hospital every day, looking for some ray of happiness to break through the pain. When I needed a break from gazing down at the man I loved, knowing he’d be leaving me soon, I walked the halls. I chatted with families of other cancer patients. I grabbed onto what little comfort I could find before I went back to hold his hand again.”
She took a breath and her smile lifted even higher, though it quivered a little at the corners. “After Martin passed away, I sat in my house for almost a full year, feeling sorry for myself. Drowning in my melancholy. My memories.” She stroked Kelly’s fingers and gave her hand a little squeeze. “Then one day, I was watching TV and the local news had on a group that perked me right up. That day I discovered the Clowning Around folks and I jumped in with both feet.” She leaned forward and winked with her long purple eyelashes. “My clown name is Twinkie, by the way.”
Kelly smiled. “Nice to meet you, Twinkie.”
“Yep.” Twinkie let go of Kelly’s hand and hiked up her invisible suspenders. “After I learned how to be a clown, I came up with my persona, and I signed myself up to come read to the kids in this hospital. Each night, at the end of the story, when they smile, I smile. I can’t change the world, but if I can make a difference for even one child who feels that need for comfort as I did sixteen years ago, well . . .” She gave a shrug of her wildly striped shoulders.
“It makes you happy,” Kelly finished.
“Yes, it does.” Twinkie gave Kelly a tweak on her chin. “You know . . . we’re always looking for new blood.”
“Oh. I’m not really the clown type.”
“That’s what we all say, darlin’. Until we put on the makeup and the big shoes. Then it’s . . .” She did a little dance. “Showtime!” Priscilla/Twinkie headed to the parking lot. “Let me know if you change your mind. You take care now,” she said with a wave of those fingerless yellow gloves.
“You, too.” Kelly watched the woman’s loudly striped overalls and big pink clown shoes head toward a compact car near the back of the lot.
When they smile, I smile.
Kelly thought of the big man inside that hospital, sitting by his brother’s bed. Waiting with a heavy heart.
Find your hidden talent.
Find something to do that makes you and others smile.
Everything inside Kelly started twitching around like she had overindulged on jumping beans. Her fingers flexed and unflexed. And her heart picked up a rhythm that felt a whole lot like Entry of the Gladiators.
When the lone clown in the parking lot reached for the door handle of her car, Kelly’s heart gave a leap. “Twinkie! Wait!”
Twinkie looked up, a smile already on her face. “Well, come on then.”
Before Kelly knew it, her feet were flying toward the clown in the parking lot. Greasepaint appeared to be in her future.
CHAPTER TEN
As bridal showers went, the one Kate held for Emma had been tasteful and elegant. If Kelly didn’
t know her sister had spent ten years of her life styling celebrities for red carpet events, she would have pegged Kate as a party planner. There were white linen tablecloths, centerpieces with blue hydrangeas, delicate finger sandwiches, and a cupcake tower. Emma sweetly blushed through each naughty nightgown she opened, and admitted that Dean would love every one of them.
Of course he would.
As bachelorette parties went, Kate left tasteful and elegant off the menu.
The Naughty Irish, Deer Lick’s most well-loved bar, owned by family friends Maggie and Ollie Barnett, offered everything from basic well drinks to Moose Drool and Guinness. Tonight, for the bachelorette and her posse, the Irish also offered sloe screws and sex on the beach. Kelly had been impressed that her sister had strayed from the gauche and over-used penis-cake design. Since Emma was marrying their brother, the thought of a penis cake was just wrong in so many ways. Instead Kate went for a sassy pink-and-black zebra cake. A little funky, but nothing that would embarrass the bride-to-be. Though god only knew how uber-nice Emma ended up with one of the biggest playboys in the universe.
Make that ex-playboy.
The minute Dean had met Emma, he tossed his partying days as precisely as he’d thrown a football into the end zone.
The décor of the Naughty Irish leaned toward a non-traditional blend of dark wainscoting, green walls, and deer antlers. Neon beer signs provided interior lighting, and for those who chose a game of billiards, the P in the Pepsi stained-glass light above the pool table had been knocked out.
A week had passed since the night Alex Harley had been beaten to within an inch of his life. Kelly had gone to the hospital the following day but found he’d been released. She’d called James, who informed her that his brother was currently being cared for by his mother’s caretaker at her home and that the doctors thought he would be just fine. He thanked her for her concern. She offered her help if he needed it, and that was the last she’d seen of or heard from him. She knew he was busy, and she had no right to intrude on him when he already had his hands full. But she did miss that smile and all those innuendoes that seemed to flip every switch in her body like a nuclear meltdown.