by Gina Wilkins
He tried to speak calmly, reasonably. “I understand your desire to see more of the world. That’s perfectly natural. A lot of people enjoy traveling—in pairs or in supervised tour groups. But traveling alone is dangerous and reckless. Almost an invitation for disaster, especially if you’re serious about going into those back villages.”
“You mean, like the disastrous mistake I almost made the last time I traveled alone?” she asked a bit too sweetly. “Well, you can stop worrying about me, Case. I don’t make the same mistake twice.”
He held on to his patience with an effort. “What I’m trying to say,” he said from between clenched teeth, “is that you can still have your adventures after we’re married. We’ll go to Europe for our honeymoon, if you like. I can show you places you wouldn’t find on any package tour. I’ll take you to those damned out-of-the-way villages and isolated locations—and I’ll keep you safe there. Australia, Asia, the Caribbean—just say where you want to go and I’ll take you.”
Her eyes had widened. “You’ve been to all those places?”
“Most of them.”
“And you can afford to travel there now?”
He shrugged. “I have money. I haven’t spent much of my earnings for the past few years—other than my car, I have simple tastes. And I’ve been told I have a shrewd head for investments.”
“Like the Fielding place? Is that an investment?”
He winced. “You’ve heard about that already?”
“Sherry’s already spending her commission. That place costs a fortune, Case.”
“As I said, my investments are doing very well, bringing in a more than comfortable income,” he said a bit stiffly. He didn’t want to believe that Maddie’s feelings toward him would be influenced by finances—but he thought she had a right to know he could support her. As traditional husbands were supposed to do, he reminded himself.
“I have enough to buy and maintain the house, with enough left over to allow some travel. I thought I’d concentrate on investments full-time once we get settled in. Maybe set up a small financial-consulting practice. Surely some of the farmers and small-business owners in this area could use some financial-management advice.”
Maddie suddenly shook her head. “I’m sorry. Your finances are none of my business. I was just...surprised. I didn’t realize the government paid so well.”
“For certain assignments, they do. And, as I said, I’ve a head for investments.”
“Good for you. Then you shouldn’t have any trouble at all finding a wife,” she said brusquely.
Case wondered if she was deliberately trying to make him angry. “I have no intention of buying a wife.”
“If you’re counting on your charm to win you a wife, you might want to reconsider,” she suggested airily. “Not many modern women go for the arrogant, bossy, take-charge type.”
“You didn’t seem to have any complaints about my charm—or lack of it—in Cancú,” Case retorted, thinking pensively of those long, passionate kisses in the moonlight.
The memories must have been reflected in his eyes. Maddie blushed. “I repeat,” she muttered. “I don’t make the same mistake twice.”
JoNell plopped a pizza onto the table between them, oblivious to the tension that was so thick Case felt as though he could slice it with a pizza cutter. “Need anything else?” the waitress asked.
Case and Maddie both shook their heads.
“Enjoy your meal,” the gruff waitress said perfunctorily as she moved away.
Case cleared his throat. “Look, Maddie, I know I’ve handled everything wrong since I came to town. I’m very sorry I hurt you in Cancú, and I’m sorry I’ve caused you discomfort in front of your family and friends here. To be honest, I thought everything had been settled in Cancú. I thought you’d be waiting for me, ready to take up where we left off. I suppose that was rather arrogant on my part—”
“Yes, it most certainly was.”
He nodded. “All right. I’m sorry for that, too. But can’t we put the anger and hurt feelings aside—at least for tonight? We were great together in Cancú, you have to admit that.”
What might have been a sad, wistful expression flitted through her eyes, so quickly he almost missed it. Her voice was a bit gruff when she spoke. “We had fun,” she agreed. “But it wasn’t real, Case. It was nothing more than a vacation romance that almost got out of hand.”
He wanted so badly to heatedly dispute her casual dismissal of what they’d shared. It hurt, he discovered, to have her speak about it that way. He managed to speak calmly. “I don’t agree. I think it was very real. I know it was for me.”
She looked away, so that he couldn’t tell what she was thinking by her expression.
When she remained silent, Case spoke again. “All right. We’ll agree to put Cancú behind us—for now. We’ll start over, if you like. I want a chance to prove to you that what we found before is still there, that it can be just as good between us in Mitchell’s Fork, Mississippi—or anywhere else.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “What are you suggesting?”
“Dating. Going out, getting to know each other again. I know you’re busy at the restaurant, and I don’t expect you to neglect your job or your other obligations, but I’m sure there will be time for us to be together. Apparently, you have found time to date in the past few months,” he couldn’t resist adding stiffly.
The corners of her mouth twitched, but she didn’t quite smile. “I don’t know, Case—”
“I won’t push you,” he promised, tempted to cross his fingers beneath the table. At least he would try not to push, he silently vowed. “I only want to see you. Will you give me that chance?”
“You aren’t going to forbid me to see anyone else, are you?” she asked, her question holding an underlying challenge.
He phrased his answer very carefully. “I won’t pretend I’ll like it if you date anyone else—but I certainly have no right to forbid you to do so.” Yet, he added mentally.
She nodded emphatically. “Exactly.”
“So?” Case prodded, impatience barely reined.
She reached for a slice of pizza. “I’m out with you now, aren’t I?”
“Does that mean you’ll go out with me again?”
She smiled. “I guess we’ll just have to see how tonight goes first. Isn’t that the way dating usually works? One outing at a time?”
He supposed he’d have to be content with that. As she’d said, she was with him tonight. He intended to make the most of it. He lifted a thickly topped pizza slice onto his own plate. “This looks good,” he said. “I can’t remember the last time I had pizza.”
She seemed relieved that he’d changed the subject.
* * *
MADDIE WAS RELIEVED that Case had changed the topic from their complicated relationship to more innocuous subjects. For the next half hour, they talked about Mitchell’s Fork. It seemed that Case was almost insatiably curious about the town he’d impulsively decided to make his home. He asked questions about the history of the area, the prevailing industries, the median income, the social climate, the politics.
She struggled gamely to answer his questions candidly, explaining that, like most small towns, Mitchell’s Fork had both its charms and its drawbacks. The people were friendly and warm, but blatantly nosy, she said—as if he hadn’t already noticed. The area was beautiful, natural and unspoiled, but poor. The politics were also typical of small towns, operating primarily on the nepotistic good-old-boy system.
“Your Aunt Nettie seemed disgusted with that system,” Case commented.
Maddie nodded. “Most people are. They just won’t take the necessary steps to make changes.”
“For example?”
“Well, every four years for the past two decades, they’ve elected the same man for mayor—Bobby Sloane. The guy’s a joke. A smarmy ex-used-car salesman who wouldn’t know the truth if it slapped his jaws, as Aunt Nettie would say. He’s owned body and soul by M
ajor Cooper, the plant owner you heard about yesterday. Everyone despises Sloane, but they’re all afraid to vote against him. He’s coming up for reelection in November, and although I’ll vote against him, I can almost guarantee you he’ll win again.”
Case frowned and shook his head. “That’s crazy.”
“That’s politics,” she reminded him. “Look at the situation in D.C.—the incumbents who’ve been in office for years and years, no matter how many scandals or indiscretions they’ve been exposed in. It’s the same here. As for our sheriff—Buck McAdams—well, he’s an even bigger joke. Every stereotype you’ve ever seen or read of the incompetent lawman was probably based on McAdams.”
Case was frowning even more deeply now, and Maddie realized this wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear about her town. What had he expected, she wondered in exasperation? Mayberry? He most definitely had an idealistic view of “normal life,” as he put it. How long would it be before he ran back to the excitement of his former life-style?
“What about the local press?” he asked. “Doesn’t the town newspaper make any effort to expose these guys for what they are?”
“The Mitchell’s Fork Weekly News?” Maddie asked wryly. “Have you seen it yet?”
“Well, no...”
“The hottest news you’ll find in that little paper is that Mrs. Underwood’s sister from Cleveland visited her last week and was welcomed with a tea at the Ladies’ Charity Club. There will probably be a whole page of photos to accompany that story—you know, Mrs. Carson in the new linen suit that she drove all the way to Memphis to buy, Mrs. Bakerman serving her famous strawberry shortcake, Mrs. Nowlin with her granddaughter, Heather, last year’s Junior Miss Mitchell’s Fork—”
Case held up a hand. “I get the idea.”
“Still think you want to settle down here?”
“Sure. But don’t you think it’s time a few local citizens got involved in making some changes? If everyone hates the system, as you said, then surely—”
Maddie stopped him by shaking her head. “You just don’t get it, Case. If you want to be accepted, you’ll stay out of it. No matter how much the locals may complain about the system, they’re not going to take kindly to an outsider who comes in and starts advocating change. The Fieldings—the ‘Yankees’ who built the house you’re looking at—tried that at first. Trust me, it didn’t endear them to Mitchell’s Fork.”
“But—”
“Well, well. If it ain’t Mr. Speed Limit.”
The insolent drawl broke into their conversation and caused both Maddie and Case to turn curiously toward its source. Maddie cringed to see Danny Cooper and two of his obnoxious friends standing near their table, eyeing Case in obvious challenge.
Seventeen-year-old Danny was a startlingly handsome young man—almost too pretty, Maddie had always thought. His finest feature were his eyes, which were a clear, intense blue fringed in long, curling lashes. Though she’d heard others wax poetic about those eyes, Maddie had never been quite comfortable on the few occasions when she was the focus of the boy’s attention. There was a streak of meanness in Danny that Maddie could almost see lurking in the crystalline depths.
She knew the two kids with Danny, as well. Dark-haired, dark-eyed Kale Sloane—the mayor’s son—and Steve Langford, a lanky, disjointed boy with a bad complexion and a perpetual sneer. These were the three who had beaten up Jeff. How had Case gotten involved with them already?
Case glanced at the boys, then turned to Maddie. “Have another slice of pizza,” he urged her. “There’s plenty left.”
It was obvious that he had no intention of acknowledging the teenagers.
Apparently, Danny wasn’t discouraged. “Hear you’ve been telling folks you’re some sort of spy or something,” he said to Case, his tone making his disbelief clear. “Driving that fancy car, pretending you’re going to buy the Fielding place—what kind of scam you running here, mister?”
“My dad says he don’t believe you’re a spy,” Steve piped in. “He says you’re up to no good.”
“My dad’s mayor of this town,” Kale said, not to be left out. “He don’t hold with liars and con men.”
Maddie snorted.
Kale looked at her suspiciously, but she resisted the impulse to tell him exactly what she thought of his father. He was just a kid, she reminded herself. An obnoxious one, but a kid, nonetheless.
Case was still ignoring the boys, but his face had gone so hard and cold that Maddie wondered if the kids were stupid not to recognize a potentially dangerous man when they saw one. She assumed their courage was a combination of bravado and beer.
“Danny Cooper, if you and your friends ain’t going to order, then you best be running along,” JoNell called out aggressively, hands on her ample hips. “We don’t want no trouble out of you boys tonight.”
“We’ll leave when we’re ready,” Kale retorted, tilting his cowboy hat farther back on his head.
Case’s eyes narrowed. Maddie reached out quickly to cover his hand with hers, sensing that he was close to the edge. “JoNell can handle them,” she assured him.
Sure enough, JoNell was bearing down on the boys like an angry mother bear.
“Shoot, I’m bored with this place, anyway,” Danny drawled, edging toward the exit. “Only a bunch of old wimps hanging around in here tonight.”
“Out,” JoNell repeated, pointing a stern finger toward the door.
The boys left, though at a leisurely pace that implied they were leaving only because they wanted to, not because they’d been told to.
“Sorry about that, Maddie,” JoNell said, including Case in the apology by nodding to him. “Someone oughtta introduce those boys to Mr. Kennedy’s ‘board of education,’ if you know what I mean.”
“Mr. Kennedy was a teacher JoNell and I had in junior high,” Maddie explained after the waitress moved away. “He had a big wooden paddle that he called the board of education. That was before corporal punishment was banned in public schools, of course.”
“I’m not so sure it should have been,” Case muttered, looking out the window beside him at the fancy pickup truck that was just leaving the parking lot with a defiant squeal of tires.
“I don’t approve of using violence against children,” Maddie said primly. And then she smiled. “But in Danny’s case, I could make an exception....”
Case chuckled. “Yeah. Me, too. If you hadn’t stopped me, I just might have made that exception right here.”
Suddenly aware that she was still holding his hand, Maddie flushed and removed it, annoyed to find that her fingers seemed to be tingling from the contact. She laced her fingers in her lap. “I was just making sure you didn’t do anything foolish,” she said firmly. “You’re an adult and they’re a bunch of wild kids. Nothing good could come of a confrontation between you.”
Case muttered something unintelligible, but let the subject drop. Maddie released a long breath and turned her attention back to her dinner, feeling as though a potential crisis had just been narrowly averted.
Case Brannigan was definitely out of his element in Mitchell’s Fork, she thought with a touch of melancholy. Surely it wouldn’t be long before he realized it, too.
* * *
CASE MADE a slight detour on his way to Maddie’s house after dinner. Though curious, Maddie didn’t ask where he was going, since he looked as though he had a specific destination in mind.
She looked at him with a lifted eyebrow when he turned onto a gravel road leading to a favorite local fishing lake. Bordered on either side by dense woods, the rutted road curved and twisted, ending in a concrete boat ramp at the water’s edge. Case pulled over to the side of the road, turned off the headlights and killed the engine.
It was dark in the car, the only illumination coming through the windows from the full moon above them. They were the only humans around at the moment; the only sounds outside the vehicle came from frogs, crickets, owls and other nocturnal wildlife.
“I found thi
s place when I was driving around exploring this afternoon,” Case said. “There were a couple of older men sitting on the banks fishing, and a man and a woman in an aluminum boat out in the middle of the lake. They all looked so relaxed, I couldn’t help envying them.”
“Fishing is a favorite pastime around here,” Maddie agreed, trying to pretend it didn’t bother her to be alone with him like this. The interior of his sports car suddenly seemed very small, very intimate. She tried not to notice. “My father and I have fished here many times. The lake is stocked with bream and bass and crappie. We have a family fish fry at our place every fall.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Yes. Do you like to fish?”
“It’s been years since I’ve tried. I’ll be lucky to remember how to bait a hook.”
“I’m sure it will come back to you.”
“Yeah. Probably.” He looked at the moon-swept water thoughtfully. “Maybe I should buy a boat.”
Maddie shifted in her seat. “Maybe you should hang around a while longer before you invest in expensive fishing equipment,” she suggested. “You might just find out that you hate it here.”
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s not the Norman Rockwell town you’ve imagined, Case. I thought you’d already figured that out by now.”
He shrugged. “So the town has its flaws. So do I. If the local folk can get used to me, I can get used to them.”
Maddie shook her head in exasperation at his sheer stubbornness. “I don’t understand you,” she admitted.
He turned to her. “I know,” he said gently. “But you will.”
“Oh, Case. What am I going to do with you?”
She’d meant the question rhetorically. She should have known he would take it literally.
“Marry me,” he said.
She sighed.
He laughed softly. “Will you at least kiss me?”
It was a good thing Maddie was still strapped in her seat, because her knees went weak at the liquid seduction in his husky voice. How many times had she heard just that tone in her dreams of Cancú? How many times had she reached out for him in her sleep, only to be devastated to find herself alone again?