* * *
JEFF SAT ASTRIDE his Harley and watched Jodie stroll toward him along the sidewalk. Just looking at her made his chest tighten, as if a phantom fist squeezed his heart. Wearing snug jeans, a white turtleneck, an embroidered denim jacket and high-heeled boots that elevated her petite stature to almost five foot five, she was a walking dream. When she tossed her head, flinging an errant curl away from her face, sunlight glinted in her eyes with their intriguing mix of green and brown that reminded him of spring leaves against willow bark.
He slid off his bike and jammed his hands in the pockets of his old leather jacket to keep from reaching for her. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” She eyed his cycle with obvious trepidation. “I’m not sure I can stay on that thing.”
“Just hang on to me and you’ll be fine.” He reached onto the rear seat and unfastened his new leather jacket and extra helmet. “But you’ll need these.”
“I have a jacket,” she protested.
“Denim won’t protect you against wind chill.” He held up the leather garment.
Jodie slipped her arms into the sleeves and almost disappeared into the too-big jacket. Its hem hit her below the hip. She raised her arms to her sides, her hands lost in the long sleeves. “It’s huge!”
“The more it covers, the warmer you’ll be.” Jeff folded the sleeves back to expose her hands, zipped the jacket to her chin and resisted the urge to enfold her, jacket and all, in his arms. “Now for the helmet.”
“I’ll do it.” Jodie took the headgear from him, jammed it on and threw him a crooked grin. “I’m ready for my close-up now, Mr. DeMille.”
“You look—” He’d started to say “great,” but at the cool glance she shot him, he amended it to “all set.”
“No one will mistake me for a biker babe in this getup,” she said with a laugh. “Shoot, they can’t even tell I’m female.”
“I don’t think that’s a problem,” Jeff admitted in the understatement of the year. Anyone not legally blind would note the seductive curve of her calves, the trimness of her ankles, and the delicacy of her hands. Jodie was unmistakably one hundred percent woman, and if he didn’t mount his bike soon, she’d observe his body attesting to that fact.
He swung onto the seat, steadied her with his arm as she climbed behind him and kick-started the engine. “Lower your visor to protect your eyes,” he shouted above the Harley’s roar. “And hold on tight.”
With Jodie clinging to him, he eased the powerful cycle slowly through town and opened it wide on the highway. The verdant beauty of the countryside in summer, the rush of chilly mountain air on his face and the warmth of Jodie, spooned against his back and legs, were a heady combination. With his teenagers settling in at the farm and the team functioning like a well-oiled machine, he should have felt that all was right with his world.
But there was one major glitch.
Since his talk with Gofer, Jeff had lain awake nights trying to think of a compromise that would work for him and Jodie. And for all his efforts, he had come up with zilch. But he hadn’t thrown in the towel yet. And the pressure of Jodie’s arms around his waist and the heat of her legs against his urged him to enjoy the day and worry about the future later.
Across the North Carolina line at Cashiers, he pulled into a convenience store, where the first draw was scheduled. After he and Jodie had each selected a card from the deck held by one of the ride volunteers set up at a card table near the door, he went inside and bought huge cups of coffee.
Jodie stripped off the leather jacket and helmet and accepted the drink with a pinched look.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
“I’m a little stiff,” she admitted.
He should have realized that gripping a cycle on winding mountain curves flexed muscles Jodie didn’t use often.
“Let’s walk to limber up,” he said. “We made good time, so there’s no hurry.”
They crossed the intersection to a farmers market on the corner and wandered among the stands of fresh vegetable and flowers, bags of boiled peanuts, and jars of sourwood honey. The shops that lined the highways were packed with tourists, and within a few minutes Jeff spotted car license tags from eight different states.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
Jodie nodded. “I just needed to work out the kinks.”
“If you’re not up to the rest of the ride, I can take you back now.” The last thing he wanted was to interrupt their day together, but he didn’t want her uncomfortable, either.
“I’ll be fine.” She gazed up at him, eyes shining in the sunlight, that same flyaway curl dangling over her eye.
He tucked the lock behind her ear and ran his knuckles down the silky smoothness of her cheek. “You’re doing great. Sure you’ve never ridden before?”
“You’d be surprised at all the things I’ve never done before.” Regret weighted her tone.
“You should make a list,” he suggested, “of everything you want to try. Then do them and check them off one by one.”
Her answering smile was crooked and twisted his heart. “And who’d raise my child and run my business while I’m running through my list?”
“Don’t think of it as a list. Pick one thing at a time. Say, one a week. At the end of a year, you can look back on over fifty new experiences you’ve had.”
She shook her head sadly. “You make it sound so easy.”
He thrust his empty coffee cup into a nearby trash receptacle, grasped her by the shoulders and gazed into her eyes. “What’s easier is not trying, living exactly the same from day to day. Until you’re old enough to realize that life has passed you by and you haven’t done the things you wanted. Accepting that fact won’t be easy.”
His own words jolted him. He wanted to live his life with Jodie, wanted to share those new experiences with her, wanted to look back with her in their old age on a life spent together.
“What would be the first thing on your list?” he asked.
“Dancing,” she replied instantly. “Before Brittany, I loved to dance.”
He couldn’t help grinning. “Your wish is my command. Let’s go.”
He turned her toward the convenience store, grabbed her hand and hurried her along.
“Where?” she asked.
“To finish the poker run. There’s a jukebox at Ridge’s. We’ve got some dancing to do.”
“But...” She stopped short and dug in her heels.
“But what?”
“It’s been fifteen years.” Her face flushed. “I don’t remember how.”
“It’s like riding a bicycle. It’ll all come back to you.” Hell, he hoped so. The last time he’d danced had been at a honky-tonk outside the Parris Island Marine Base over a decade ago. But he’d risk looking like an idiot for the chance to hold her in his arms.
“And when you’re too tired to dance,” he added, “we’ll find us a quiet table and make the rest of your list.”
“Only if you make one, too,” she insisted.
“Oh, yeah,” he agreed. And he knew exactly how he’d fill in the number-one slot.
* * *
WHEN JEFF PARKED his Harley in front of the darkened café later that night and gave Jodie a hand to dismount, she wished their day together could have lasted forever. For a few brief hours she’d forgotten the demands of her business, the responsibilities of parenthood. And she’d felt like a teenager again.
After the first stop, she’d relaxed a bit, so her muscles hadn’t cramped as badly after that, and she’d enjoyed the journey along the narrow mountain highways with sunlight dappling the roads through the thick summer foliage of the overhanging trees. The best part of the ride, however, had been snuggling against Jeff, the steady rhythm of his pulse beneath her palms, the heat of his body mingling with hers, and his heady scent that enveloped her from his proximity—and his borrowed jacket.
Once they’d reached Ridge’s, they’d gorged themselves on the Upstate’s best barbecue, colesla
w and French fries. Then Bud Sawyer had tapped his spoon against a glass for quiet and requested everyone to sign the petitions in support of Archer Farm. By the time the winning poker hand was announced, Bud had over one hundred signatures, even if a few were stained with Ridge’s famous barbecue sauce. The petition support had pleased Jodie, until Jeff confided that Agnes Tuttle had already collected three times that many.
With a full house Brynn had drawn along the route, she held the winning poker hand and donated her cash prize to the children’s Christmas fund. But she and the officer from Walhalla had shifts to work, so they left immediately after eating.
The rest of the crowd slowly drifted away, but Jeff had shown no eagerness to depart. Instead he’d fed a handful of change into the jukebox and drawn Jodie into his arms. Time had stood still as they’d slow danced around the cramped wooden dance floor at the back of the restaurant. The supper crowd disappeared, the bar filled with its Saturday night regulars, and still Jodie and Jeff danced. Between the blaring music and the noise of the crowd, they couldn’t have heard each other speak, but Jodie had no desire for talk. All she wanted was for Jeff to hold her and the music to last forever.
The music made her recall that her mother and father loved Anne Murray and played her songs often at home. The lyrics from one favorite ran through Jodie’s mind as Jeff guided her expertly around the floor.
Can I have this dance for the rest of my life...
A glance at the clock above the bar brought her back to reality. Her mother was staying with Brittany, and Jodie didn’t want to keep Sophie up late.
“I have to go,” she shouted above the din.
Jeff hadn’t protested, although the heat in his eyes threatened to dissolve her where she stood. He bundled her into the jacket and helmet again, and they roared into the night with the Harley’s headlight cutting through the darkness like a shining blade.
In front of the café, Jodie removed the helmet, shrugged off Jeff’s jacket and handed them to him. “I had a wonderful time.”
“We didn’t get around to making your list,” Jeff said. “There’s still time tonight.” He glanced up to her apartment, where lights shone in Brittany’s windows.
“I’ll have to pass on the list.” A worry that Jodie had tucked into the back of her mind resurfaced with a vengeance. “But I would like your advice on the software you gave me.”
Jeff removed his helmet and hooked it over the handlebar. “Having problems?”
“I’ll say.” But Jodie wasn’t sure the difficulty lay in the computer program. She hoped Jeff could prove her wrong.
She led the way upstairs, and Jeff followed.
Sophie greeted them and hurried to depart. “I have cookies to bake for fellowship hour at church tomorrow,” she explained.
In Jodie’s bedroom, Jeff sat at the computer and called up the financial reports for the café.
“I’ve been over these countless times, and I’ve worked them out on paper, too,” she explained. “No matter what I do, I can’t reconcile the figures.”
Jeff concentrated on the screen and after checking and rechecking, he turned to Jodie with a frown. “You’re more than six hundred dollars short.”
“Damn.” Jodie sank onto her bed, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “I was hoping I’d miscalculated.”
Jeff shook his head. “Any idea where it went?”
Jodie blew out a deep breath. “There’s only one explanation. Someone’s stealing from the register.”
“This ever happened before?”
“Never.”
“Any suspects?”
Jodie shook her head, and a thought hit her, one she didn’t want to contemplate because it only increased the queasiness in her stomach.
Jeff must have seen the distress in her eyes. “What?”
“There is one coincidence. The shortages began the day after Daniel started work.”
At the sound of a strangled cry, she turned toward the door. Brittany stood on the threshold, and the look she threw her mother was withering. Before Jodie could speak, Brittany rushed into her room and slammed the door with a force that made the windows rattle.
Chapter Eleven
Sundays at the café were a madhouse.
Tourists flocked in early on the way to spend a day in the mountains. By the time the travelers were thinning, early church services ended and locals flooded the restaurant. By four o’clock, when Jodie closed for the day, she was beat. The fact that she’d lain awake the previous night, reliving her incredible day with Jeff and the unforgettable good-night kiss they’d shared, and also worrying over the missing money, added to her exhaustion.
The last customer had paid his tab and gone. Maria and the wait staff had left, too, but Jodie was too weary to rise from the chair where she’d finally collapsed to lock the door and hang the Closed sign.
The bell over the front entry tinkled, and Jodie glanced up to see Jeff enter. She was tired, but not so worn-out that her pulse rate didn’t leap into hyperdrive at the sight of him, vividly reviving the memory of last night’s farewell embrace.
Today, in the Archer Farm uniform of cargo shorts, work boots and olive-drab T-shirt, he looked so good, she wanted to fling herself at him.
Fortunately, she didn’t have the energy.
“Hey,” he greeted her.
“Busy day?”
“A hundred months of Sundays like this and I can retire,” she said with a tired grin.
“Daniel here?”
Jodie glanced around. “No. He’s not out front?”
Jeff shook his head. “He always waits there. I thought he might be working late.”
Jodie pushed to her feet. “I’ll check the deck. Maybe he and Brittany are out there.”
Within seconds she returned. “No sign of them out back. I’ll look upstairs.”
“This isn’t like Daniel.” Concern added a harshness to Jeff’s voice, and a frown etched the rugged angles of his face. “He’s always where he’s supposed to be when he’s supposed to be.”
“He’s a teenager,” Jodie reminded him with a smile. “And easily distracted, especially by Brittany.”
But she wasn’t smiling when she clattered down the stairs a moment later, grasping a sheet of her daughter’s lavender notebook paper that had been folded, addressed to her and propped on the kitchen island.
“Daniel didn’t steal the money,” Brittany had written in her looping, immature script. “We’re leaving to find someone who cares.”
“They’re gone,” she told Jeff.
His eyebrows knotted in puzzlement as he read the note. “Where?”
For months Jodie had witnessed Brittany’s alienation and building resentment, helpless to defuse them, and wondered when the looming crisis would occur. She’d feared it was only a matter of time before her daughter took out her pique at Jodie by attempting to contact her paternal grandparents again. Brittany had constructed a fairy-tale image of the Mercers as the perfect grandparents, who would welcome her with open arms, side with her against her overbearing, didn’t-have-a-clue mother, and allow the teen total freedom. Although Jodie had tried to provide a realistic picture of the senator and his wife, Brit refused to believe her.
Guilt racked Jodie. She should have stayed at home Saturday and tried another heart-to-heart talk with Brittany instead of dancing the night away with Jeff like a fool with no responsibilities. She was a mother, first and foremost.
And she’d blown it, big-time. Now Brittany had run away.
Jodie pushed her fingers through her hair and tried to order her swirling thoughts. “Brittany overheard us talking about the missing money last night. She must have assumed we were going to charge Daniel and convinced him to run away with her.”
Jeff muttered a curse beneath his breath. “Everyone’s innocent until proven guilty. I had planned to sit down with him this afternoon to find out what he knows.”
He strode toward the front door, took out his cell phone and made a h
urried call. Jodie couldn’t help overhearing his conversation with Gofer, advising the psychologist and the rest of the staff to be on the lookout for Daniel and Brit, in case they had headed toward the farm.
Jeff ended his call and turned back to Jodie. “I have to find Daniel. Fast. If he’s caught violating parole, he’ll be sent to adult prison.”
Already panicked over Brittany, Jodie shivered with revulsion at the knowledge of what prison would wreak on a sensitive kid like Daniel.
“Any idea where they’ve gone?” Jeff asked.
“Columbia’s my best guess. Brittany’s under the illusion that her grandfather, the senator, gives a damn. I’m sure she thinks he’ll help them.”
“Will he?”
Jodie scowled. “I doubt he’ll even speak to her. He’ll probably call the police, which definitely won’t help Daniel.”
“How long have they been gone?”
Jodie tried to remember when she’d last seen Brittany or Daniel earlier that afternoon. “Maybe an hour. Maybe less.”
Jodie thanked God Jeff was with her. She was too tired to think straight. And too frightened for her daughter to handle this alone. A sudden clap of thunder shook the building, and the skies opened again, resuming the heavy rains that had saturated the area the previous week. Weather reports were forecasting floods if the deluge didn’t ease soon.
“We’ll be soaked on the Harley,” Jeff said. “Can we take your van?”
Jodie nodded, followed him out of the café and locked the doors.
“I’ll drive,” Jeff offered.
Without protest, Jodie tossed him the keys. Between exhaustion and worry over Brittany, she’d be an accident waiting to happen if she drove.
As soon as they had entered the van and fastened their seat belts, Jeff handed her his car phone. “Better alert your parents. If the kids haven’t left town, they might go to your folks. And call Brynn.”
“She’ll involve the police—”
“That’s a chance we have to take. Is there a bus out of town today?”
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