by Sandra Owens
“You’re making changes too fast,” the mayor said when we were alone.
He and I both knew that wasn’t his problem with my new budget. I was tempted to come right out and ask what Moody had on him, but he’d deny it to hell and high water.
“Another year under Moody’s control, and he would have run your police department out of business. You brought me here to do a job, and I need to know now if you’re going to let me do it.”
Jenkins sighed. “Of course, I am. I just think you should ease into things. We’ll talk about this some more, maybe schedule it for next month’s meeting.”
I thought the mayor was caught between a rock and a hard place. Not my problem though. “Easing into things isn’t my way, Mayor.” I’d hoped not to have to resort to playing dirty, but I was willing to if it meant getting my police department in shape. “This morning I was cleaning out some files, and I came across this.” I laid the arrest report on his daughter in front of him.
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “What do you plan to do with it?”
My guess was that he’d thought it had been destroyed. I’m also sure Moody was keeping it for leverage. “It’s a copy. Do whatever you want with it.”
“And the original?”
I really hated dirty games, but the only way to fight a fire was with fire. “Locked away for now. You help me get my budget put through Thursday night, I’ll give it to you.” The last thing I wanted to see was respect in his eyes for doing this, but there it was. I was playing the game the way he understood it. Christ, I hated politicians and their backroom deals.
“Done.”
“A word of warning. If I or one of my officers ever catches your daughter driving while under the influence or finds drugs on her person, I will see that she is prosecuted.”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Conrad. And you don’t have to worry. She’s cleaned up her act.”
I hoped so. Stephanie’s arrest had been buried, and she hadn’t even gotten a slap on the hand for getting caught driving while high on coke. Even worse, a gram of cocaine had been found in the pocket of her jeans. But I was willing to give her a clean slate.
“I guess I’ll see you Thursday night, unless you want to meet one more time to go over everything before the review meeting.”
“No. Present it as is.”
“Thank you.” I stood. “As far as my officers are concerned, their raises were your idea.” I could afford to be gracious now that I’d gotten what I wanted, and it also helped get the bitter taste out of my mouth for having to resort to dirty play.
I had made it to the door when he told me he expected to see me at his Saturday barbeque. Damn, I guess Stephanie got to her father.
15
~ Jenny ~
After getting the yard work done, I came in with my dad for lunch. On my plate was a present wrapped in Christmas paper. “What’s this?”
My dad pulled out my chair. “It’s your Christmas present.” He nodded at my mom. “You tell her.”
I slid onto my seat and waited for my parents to sit. Christmas was a hard time for us. My parents had loved Christmas as much as Natalie and me and had always made it a special time for us with lots of family traditions. The first Christmas after Natalie had died, we couldn’t bear to stay home and had gone to a beach in Florida where it was warm and hadn’t felt at all like Christmas.
We’d continued doing that, but this year I wouldn’t be with them. Because we no longer celebrated Christmas, I had been able to book my flight to leave the day after Autumn’s wedding without feeling guilty for not being here for the holidays. My parents were leaving for Florida the week before Christmas.
My mother leaned her elbows on the table and folded her hands in front of her. “Open it first, and then I’ll explain.”
I eased a finger under the tape. I was one of those people who opened gifts carefully so I could save the bows and wrapping paper. Natalie would always tear into her packages with impatience, eager to see what was inside. Halfway through getting my present open, I paused, smiled, and then tore into it the way Natalie would have.
“That was so Natalie just then,” my dad softly said.
When I glanced up at my parents, both had smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes. I blinked against the stinging in mine. I opened the box, and inside was a white envelope. Inside that was a check. I pulled it out, looked at the amount, and gasped.
“I can’t take this.” I waved the check for ten thousand dollars in the air. “This is too much.”
“Yes, you can, honey.” My mother cleared her throat. “We’d planned to give each of you five thousand dollars toward your world tour, and we still want to do that. Half of that is for you and half for Natalie. You’ll just be spending it for her now.”
I burst into tears. My parents pushed their chairs away and came around the table, pulling me into their embrace. From the day Natalie had been diagnosed with a grade IV brain tumor—one her specialist had likened to a runaway freight train with no hope of stopping it—bone-deep sadness had permeated our home. She’d been given eight months to live, but she’d managed to last for eleven. Those extra three months had been a wonderful gift.
Because I was her identical twin, my parents had insisted I get tested nine ways to Sunday to make sure I was okay. I was, but the realization that life was fragile and could be stolen away at any moment had only made me more determined to follow my dream, mine and Natalie’s. I was doing it as much for her as for myself.
“I’m blessed to have you both as my parents,” I said through my tears.
My dad rested his chin on my head. “We were the ones blessed to have you and Natalie as our daughters, sweetheart.”
I gave a broken laugh. “Can’t argue with that.” We hugged once more and then returned to our seats. “Remember when Natalie was mad because I got chosen to spend the day with you, Daddy, on take-your-daughter-to-work day?”
He grinned. “Yeah, I flipped a coin and you won. I told her that the next year, it would be her turn.”
“Oh, I was so angry with her for what she did,” my mom said.
“You were?” I snorted. “I’m the one she pretended to be for my English test and purposely failed it.” I’d been so tempted to tell my seventh-grade teacher that I’d been with my daddy, and that it had been Natalie taking the test, but then she would have been in even more trouble.
My mom, my dad, and I laughed, and it felt really good. We reminisced some more as we ate lunch, and then we ended the day sitting on the sofa together, paging through the family album, something we hadn’t done since Natalie died. It would have hurt too much, but today, the remembering was healing.
And soon I would stand on a distant shore and feel her with me again like she’d promised.
“Nice place,” I said Tuesday night after walking into Dylan’s apartment. “Autumn’s fiancé lived here before he moved in with her.”
“It will do until I build my log house. If I’m still here next year.”
“If you’re still here?” I followed him into his kitchen. The living room area and kitchen was a great room with tall windows that looked out over a gorgeous mountain view. There was a fireplace against one wall, and I could imagine curling up on his leather sofa, a fire burning, sipping a glass of wine while watching the snow fall.
“My contract’s for one year. If they’re happy with me, they’ll extend it. If not, they won’t. Red wine or a beer?”
“I think wine tonight.” I scooted onto a stool at the granite-topped island. It would be awesome to live in a place like this, but I was saving my pennies. My apartment was a tiny one-bedroom, the cheapest I could find that I was willing to live in. No view, no fireplace, no cathedral ceilings.
“So you have to prove yourself? I didn’t know that’s how it worked.”
He kicked off his shoes, pushing them against the wall with his foot, then pulled the white button-down shirt out of his jeans. Why I found that totally sexy,
I don’t know. Taking my cue from him, I slipped off my sandals.
“For the first year. If they offer to renew my contract, it will be for five years at a time.” He grabbed the bottle of wine in one hand and two wineglasses in the other. “Let’s sit on the balcony.”
“I envy you your balcony,” I said. “And your view.”
“It is nice, isn’t it?” He poured wine into each of our glasses, then handed me one. “My view in Chicago was of the Sears Tower, and I didn’t have a balcony. I’m enjoying this one.”
He seemed subdued tonight, and I wondered if he was missing the city or maybe his friends. What if he had a girlfriend? But would he take off and leave if he did? And I didn’t see him as the kind of man who would mess around on a girlfriend.
“What made you decide to leave Chicago?” The silence stretched as I waited for him to answer, making me wonder if he was going to tell me. It was a simple question, or at least I’d thought so.
“My wife died. I decided it was time for a change of scenery,” he finally said.
His voice was flat, his gaze on the mountains rising up on the other side of the valley. I waited for him to say more, but when he didn’t, I let it go even though I was really curious. How long ago had she died? Had he loved her, mourned her, cried tears for her? How had she died? Suddenly in a traffic accident or slowly because of some god-awful disease like cancer? I’d lived through Natalie’s suffering and understood that kind of heartbreak. But I didn’t ask any of those questions. It was obvious the subject was closed.
“I’m glad you chose Blue Ridge Valley.”
The hint of a smile appeared on his face. “I’m even happier with my decision after meeting you, Red.”
Well. Okay then, Dylan. Just go and wake up the butterflies nesting in my stomach. We fell into silence again, but it was a comfortable one this time. I sipped my wine, watching Dylan out of the corner of my eye. He seemed to be sloughing off whatever had caused him to be moody.
“Hear that? That was my owl.” He put his feet on the railing, tipping his chair back.
“I love listening to them. There’s one that lives somewhere near my parents’ backyard. I actually saw it once, sitting on a tree stump. He just sat there, staring at me with big, unblinking eyes.”
“Haven’t seen mine yet. Are there certain species of owls that live in the Blue Ridge Mountains?”
“Beats me. We’ll have to google it sometime.”
Dylan set down his empty wineglass, reached over, and rested his hand on my thigh. Mercy, I loved it when he touched me. He made me tingly whenever he did.
“I’m sorry for my shitty mood. I have a lot of things on my mind, but I’m better now that you’re here.”
I put my hand on top of his, giving him a smile. “I aim to please.”
“Trust me, Red, you please. Getting hungry?”
For you? God yes. “I could eat.”
“How good are you at making a salad?”
“I’m a master salad maker.”
“We’ll leave the rest of the wine and glasses here for later.” He stood, pulling me up with him, then tugged me against his body. “First, I need a kiss.”
I lifted onto my toes and put my mouth on his. He groaned as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tighter against him. Our noses bumped, and he chuckled, angling his head as he took possession of my mouth. His kisses were lethal, setting my body on fire, making me ache for him. He devoured my mouth, possessing me like no man ever had. It was entirely possible I’d never kiss another man again because after Dylan, why bother? I put my hand on his chest, felt his heart pounding against my palm, and my own heart thumped hard, answering his.
“Dinner,” he gasped, pulling away. “I promised to feed you.”
“Okay.” His kiss had stupefied my brain to mush, and that one word was about all I was capable of. The man did love to kiss. He took my hand, leading me to the kitchen, which gave me time to recover from the hottest kiss on record. I was also worried. I liked him too much. That was a problem because I didn’t want to take off on my world tour, my heart missing a man, any man.
16
~ Dylan ~
I’d almost lost control. That wasn’t me. I was always in control, but Jenny Nance was getting under my skin. Kissing her had set my blood on fire, and I’d come close to taking her down to the floor of the balcony with me. I’d almost called her and canceled tonight. The sour taste still in my mouth with how I’d strong-armed the mayor to get my budget on Thursday night’s agenda, topped by catching Moody stealing the department blind, had put me in a bad mood.
As if that wasn’t enough, I hadn’t slept well. I’d gone so far as to take out my phone to call Jenny before remembering I didn’t have her number. So here she was, and I was glad. Already my mood had improved, and not just because I’d kissed her. Being with her soothed me.
“Want some music?” I asked, letting go of her hand when we walked into the kitchen.
“That would be nice.”
She opened the refrigerator, pulling out the makings for a salad. I liked that she didn’t wait to be told what to do, and there was another thing I realized I liked about her. Jenny Nance was comfortable in her own skin, knew who she was and what she wanted. Like her travel-the-world dream. Nothing was going to get in her way of that. Good for her.
It also meant that she wasn’t looking for a man to put a ring on her finger, which made being with her for however long we enjoyed each other’s company easy. I wouldn’t hurt her, and she wouldn’t hurt me.
When she’d told me about her twin sister, I’d wanted to wrap her in my arms and take the hurt away. But I knew firsthand that there were no words or actions that could ease the pain of losing someone you loved. I understood why she was so determined to see the world. She had an unbreakable promise to keep.
“Jazz, blues, or R&B? Sorry, I don’t have any bluegrass CDs.”
“I can only listen to bluegrass at a festival. You pick.” She rummaged in one of the kitchen drawers. “Where’re your knives?”
“Second one down.” I went into the living room and put on some blues. “What’s your favorite music?” I asked, coming back into the kitchen. And please don’t say country.
“Some country, and I also like southern rock—you know, Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Marshall Tucker Band, ones like those. Oh, and soft rock and love songs.” She glanced up from dicing a tomato. “Really, there’s not much music I don’t like… except rap. Not crazy about that.”
“That makes two of us.” Conversation was easy with her, and by the time we finished dinner, I knew her favorite color, purple, her favorite food, lobster drenched in warm butter, and the food she hated the most, green peppers. She had me laughing with her stories of some of the residents of Blue Ridge Valley.
“Here’s another one,” she said, amusement lighting up her green eyes. “Every Sunday, Preacher Seamus calls on someone to open his service with a prayer. One time he asked Old Man Pickens. Everyone bowed their heads and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Then people started peeking their eyes open just in time to see the ass end of him crawling out the window.
“He’s never been seen at the Baptist church again. He converted to Methodist with a promise from Reverend Joe that he’ll never be called on to speak a prayer. Now Preacher Seamus claims Reverend Joe owes him one parishioner. Reverend Joe asked for a volunteer to switch to Baptist, but none of his people want to change because the Baptists don’t dance or drink.” Her lips twitched. “At least not in public.”
“That’s hilarious, Red. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of your hometown stories.” I was definitely glad I hadn’t canceled our dinner. She insisted on helping me clean up the kitchen, and we had that done in short order.
“You cook a good steak,” she said as I poured her a glass of wine after we’d returned to the balcony.
“That’s about the extent of my cooking abilities. Wait, I can make a mean omelet, too.” I glanced over at her. “You ev
er decide to stay over, which is my greatest wish, I’ll prove it.”
“No green peppers?”
“For you, I’ll leave them out.”
She laughed. “You’re sweet, you know that?”
“I’ve been called a lot of things, but sweet has never been one of them.” I noticed that she was snuggling up into herself. The temperature had dropped considerably since we’d been out earlier. “Cold?”
“A little.”
I patted my leg. “Come over here.” Without hesitation she set down her wine and then straddled my lap. “Hello,” I said, my gaze on her mouth.
“Hello to you. Want to kiss me?”
“Silly girl.” I slipped my hand under her hair, cradling her neck, and tugged her to me. She nestled against my chest as I claimed her mouth. I let go of her neck and wrapped my arms around her back. She was soft and warm, and tasted like the wine she was drinking. It wasn’t long before I was burning for her, but I didn’t know how far to take this. If she wasn’t ready yet, then I needed to stop now.
“Jenny…” When she started to unbutton my shirt, I caught her hand. “Are you ready for this? For us?”
Her gaze locked on mine. “I think so.”
I had no idea what her hesitation was all about, but I think so wasn’t good enough. “No, Red, we’re not doing this until you know it’s what you want.” I pulled her head to my shoulder. “The second you’re sure, you call me. I don’t care if it’s four in the morning, okay?”
“I’m sorry, Dylan.” She picked at the top button of my shirt. “I honestly don’t know why I’m hesitating. I want you. I really do. It’s just that… well, it’s different with you.”
“How so?” I wrapped a lock of her hair around my finger while wondering if I’d ever walk normal again.
“You’re different from any man I’ve been with before. Not that there’s been many, but you’re special.”