Still, she reminded herself, slipping on her parka and snagging her purse and car keys on her way out, none of this was Gary Jackson’s fault. He could be a nice guy. She should give him a chance.
Thirty minutes later, covertly checking her watch, she knew she’d been wrong. From the instant she’d walked into the Corner Bar and taken a seat in the booth across from him, Gary Jackson had talked nonstop. About his law practice, what kind of car he drove, what stocks he’d invested in, where he lived and what kind of furniture graced his abode, blah, blah, blah. Every single time she thought he might be winding down, he’d start on another tangent. About himself, of course.
No wonder the guy couldn’t find a date. She’d be willing to bet he’d jumped on the chance when her mother had offered her as the sacrificial lamb.
Poker-faced, she sipped her soft drink and tried to keep from yawning. Even on a weekend date, the man wore a button-up shirt and tie, along with a wool sport jacket and slacks.
“Anyway, when they asked me to help out with the Mark Walsh investigation…”
Finally, something interesting. “You’re helping out with that? How? You’re a lawyer, not a criminal investigator.”
She’d barely got the words out before Gary was off and running. Not about the Mark Walsh case, which she might have been interested in hearing, instead, he rambled on about how anyone, even the lowliest criminal, needed an attorney and how lucky the people of backwater Honey Creek, Montana, were to have him. Because he was the best, the brightest, the most like a shark, etc.
While she sat, steaming and wishing she could drink alcohol. Since she couldn’t, she practiced scathing remarks she’d like to say but couldn’t.
Finally, she’d had enough. “Excuse me,” she tried to interrupt. Either Gary had gone hard of hearing or was so involved in what he was saying that she had to repeat herself three times. In the end, she simply got to her feet, waved her hand at him, and headed toward the restroom. She could have sworn he continued talking to the air after she’d left.
This was a disaster. If it weren’t that her mother would find out, she’d sneak out the back and leave him talking to himself.
The hallway to the restrooms was long and blessedly deserted. She took her time, aware that every second away from Gary was a second of peace and quiet. Finally she had no choice but to make her way back.
“Eve?” a deep familiar voice called her name.
Looking up, her heart skipped a beat. Her body, numbed by Gary’s endless rambling, came gloriously, fully awake and alive. “Damien.” She tried to sound casual. “What are you doing here?”
“Hoping to run into you,” he answered, making her blush. “And here you are.” He sounded so pleased, she had to smile. “Do you want to join me for a drink and a snack? Just to talk.”
Talk about tempting. She had a brilliant idea. “I can’t join you, because I’m here with someone.” Quickly she told him about her mother’s scheme and Gary Jackson. “I want out of this, but I can’t get him to shut up long enough to tell him so. Please, join us for dinner. Maybe then he’ll get the hint.”
Expression serious, he studied her face. “This is the second time I’ve helped you out, you know. After this, you’ll owe me a date, just the two of us.”
“Done.” She’d have agreed to almost anything to end the torture of Gary, but a date with Damien seemed more like a reward than a payment of a debt. “So that means you’ll help me out? I hate to ask, but…”
His smile took her breath away. “Sure, I will. But first, come here.”
Pulse kicking back up, she didn’t move. “No.”
“Chicken.”
“Maybe,” she acknowledged. “But I need to know what you mean.”
“A simple kiss. That’s all I want.”
“Here?”
He glanced around. “Sure, why not? We’re in a dark hallway and unless someone comes down this way, no one will see.”
Temptation. She realized suddenly that there was nothing she wanted more than to kiss him. But not the kind of kiss she could do here, standing in a hallway in the Corner Bar.
“My kiss,” he reminded her. “Yes or no? Your call.”
Moving closer, but standing far enough back that no part of their bodies touched, she leaned in, intent on making this a quick, touch-her-lips-to-his, peck-type kiss.
Instead, he yanked her up to him. “Real kiss,” he growled. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our last one. Now lay it on me.”
At first she couldn’t move. Paralyzed by indecision and the knowledge that the blind date from hell waited in the other room, she let panic immobilize her. For maybe all of three seconds.
Then she reached up and pulled him down to her. Slanting her mouth over his, she kissed him like they were alone in her bedroom, kissed him like she’d secretly been longing to do ever since she’d seen him, kissed him openmouthed and insistent and full of pent-up longing and desire.
When she finally raised her head, they were both breathing hard.
“There,” she said, trying for a light teasing tone. “Now will you join me for dinner?”
Eyes dark and glittering, he nodded.
“Come on then.” She took his arm. “Let me introduce you two. My date thinks he’s an expert on the Mark Walsh investigation, though for the life of me I don’t know what he has to do with it.”
From the sudden tension in Damien’s body, she judged she’d said the wrong thing. But there was no time to fix it since they’d almost reached the table.
Gary stood, appearing comically surprised that she’d already returned. Or, she surmised, watching his eyes widen as he saw Damien, shocked that she’d brought back an escort, especially one as big and muscular and male as Damien.
Speaking briskly, she made the introductions. “Gary Jackson, Damien Colton. Damien, Gary.”
The two men shook hands. Then Damien pulled out a chair and, instead of taking a seat, turned it around and straddled it. “Let me buy you both a drink. What are you drinking, Gary?”
“Scotch on the rocks, neat,” Gary responded. Since Eve knew he’d been drinking a beer, she shot him a look, which he promptly ignored.
Trying not to watch Damien, trying not to think about that kiss and what else she wanted to do with him, she watched Gary instead. For once, eying Damien, her formerly talkative date appeared at a loss for words.
Signaling the waitress, Damien ordered. “Scotch for him, Coors Light for me, and a Shirley Temple for the lady.”
“How’d you know that’s what she was drinking?” Gary asked.
Damien shrugged. “Eve and I go way back. She was telling me you’re involved in the Mark Walsh murder investigation? How so?”
“Part of my job dictates that I occasionally have to do pro bono work as a public defender. When—and if—the police find any suspects, I’m on call in case they can’t afford an attorney.” He spread his hands. “They won’t even realize how lucky they are. I was the best criminal attorney in Fargo before I moved here and switched to private practice.”
Eve glared at him. “So you’re actually not working on the case then. You’re just prepared to help if they need you?”
Before he could answer, Damien stood, waving. “Maisie. Over here.”
Wearing a full-length fake fur and stiletto-heeled boots, Maisie Colton looked like a glamorous movie star. She breezed up to their table, giving Damien a quick hug before turning to face Eve and Gary.
“Hi, Eve,” she said dismissively, turning to Gary, eyeing his clean-cut features and business attire. “Who are you? I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Maisie Colton, meet Gary Jackson. Gary, this is Maisie, Damien’s sister.”
To Eve’s amazement, Gary’s face turned beet-red as he took Maisie’s perfectly manicured hand. “My pleasure,” he murmured, kissing her hand.
It took every bit of Eve’s self-restraint to keep from rolling her eyes. She didn’t dare glance at Damien to see his reaction.
>
For her part, Maisie appeared to be eating it up. Fluttering her long lashes, she took a seat, perching on the end of the bench. “I can’t believe I haven’t met you. Have you been in town long?”
Gary had to lean across the table to hear her breathy question, jabbing Eve with his elbow in the process.
“You know what?” Eve said, pushing to her feet. “I think I’m going to have to call it a night. It was nice to meet you, Gary.”
“Likewise,” he said, never tearing his gaze away from Maisie’s perfect features. “Have a nice night.”
“Excuse me.” Damien nudged Maisie to get up so he could get out. “I need to be going, too.”
Maisie slid out without protest, taking her seat back immediately after Damien stood. As Eve turned to go she saw Maisie reach across the table and capture Gary’s hand.
“They deserve each other,” Damien said, helping Eve on with her coat. “Let me walk you to your truck.”
“This will be all over town by morning.” Glancing around, Eve saw half of the place watching her and Damien and the other half staring at Gary and Maisie.
“Gossip. Don’t worry about it.”
“Easy for you to say. You forget, I run a beauty shop, aka gossip central. I will hear about this on Tuesday, both from my customers and from my mother.” She brightened. “Though at least I can blame Maisie for the failed date. That way I don’t have to tell my mother that I thought Gary was a jerk.”
One hand on the door handle, Damien stopped and studied Eve’s face. “You seem to spend a lot of time pretending to be something you’re not. That’s not the Eve Kelley I remember.”
Stunned, she could only retort with the first thing that came to her. “Maybe your memory’s faulty.”
Brushing past him, she slipped out the door.
She should have known he wouldn’t give up that easily.
“Eve, wait.”
“Oh, won’t this give them something to talk about,” she groused.
“Why are you so worried about what people think?”
“I’m not.” With a sigh, she acknowledged her lie. “Okay, maybe I am. A little. But you have to understand what will happen when I open the salon tomorrow. Every one of my customers, whether or not they have an appointment, will be stopping by to ask about this.”
“Are you sure you’re not exaggerating?”
Tilting her head, she thought for a second. “I’m sure.”
“What about him?” He jerked his head toward the bar. “Is he all right to leave with Maisie?”
“Oh, sure.” Unable to suppress a grin, she shook her head. “Who knows? Maybe they’re perfect for each other.”
“Maybe. Eve, I—”
Suddenly skittish, Eve took a step back. “Damien, I’ve got to go.”
One corner of his mouth lifted in an amused smile. “Have a nice night. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
This stopped her short. “Tomorrow? For what?”
“Our date. Remember?”
Her stomach rolled. “You didn’t say it would be so soon.”
He took a step toward her, causing her to move back. “Eve, what are you so afraid of? Is it me?”
Oh, God, did he really think she was like some of the other people in town, frightened of him because he’d been in prison?
“It’s not that. I told you, I don’t want or need to get involved with anyone right now.”
“We don’t have to get involved.” He held out his hand. “Just friends.”
Blood humming, she stared at him. Then, slowly, she took his hand. “Friends,” she said. Because the feel of his large, calloused hand enveloping hers made her want to touch more of him, she jerked her hand free. Moving so quickly she slid on the snow-covered ice, she headed for her car with the sound of his very male laughter following her.
Watching Eve drive away, Damien debated returning to the Corner Bar and finishing his beer. Finally, he decided against it, not wanting to interfere with Maisie and her apparent fascination with Eve’s blind date. Still, he had to see if his sister wanted a ride home.
Entering the bar’s warmth, he headed for the booth. Maisie and Gary were so engrossed in conversation that neither noticed his approach.
“Maisie, I’m about to head home.”
“Oh.” She pouted, slanting a look of invitation at Gary under her long eyelashes. “Then I guess I have to go.”
“I can drive you home later,” Gary gallantly offered.
In response, her brilliant smile was designed to blind. Tongue in cheek, Damien watched as the other man fell for it, hook, line and sinker. Poor guy could barely form a coherent thought, he was so taken with Maisie.
Kind of the way Damien felt about Eve.
Saying his goodbyes, Damien headed back into the cold and climbed into his pickup.
On the way home, acting completely on impulse, he turned down the road that led toward Eve’s place. Yellow light beamed from the windows, warm and inviting. Cruising to a stop in front of her house, he eyed the beautiful log home. What would she do if he went up and rang the doorbell? Would she let him in or turn him away?
Debating, he finally put the truck in Drive and turned around, this time heading back to the Colton ranch.
Arriving at home, he parked and went around to the back door, knowing this way he had a better chance of avoiding Darius if he were skulking around and drinking. Coming in through the mudroom, off the back downstairs bathroom, he opened the door quietly, trying to make as little noise as possible, and just about ran into Jeremy, Maisie’s fourteen-year-old son.
Even with the lights off, Damien could see the boy had been crying. Tears still glittered on his adolescent cheeks.
“Are you okay?” Damien asked, hating the inane question, but not sure if his nephew would welcome his intrusion.
“No.” Jeremy sniffed, swiping at his face. “I’m not okay.”
Which meant either Darius or Maisie had done something. And, since Maisie was still in town with Gary Jackson, his money was on Darius.
“What’s the matter?”
“Darius,” Jeremy snarled. “Darius is what’s the matter.”
The first time Damien had heard his nephew address his grandfather by his given name, he’d been startled, but Maisie had told him Darius had forbidden the use of any name relating to grandfather. Figured. He’d always refused to allow his own children to call him Dad or even Father.
“What about Darius?” Damien asked cautiously. “What’s he done now?”
“What hasn’t he done? He makes my mother look like a saint. He’s crazy.”
Instantly wary, since he’d thought pretty much the same thing, Damien scratched his head. “Maybe so,” he allowed. “But you still haven’t told me what happened.”
About to speak, Jeremy made a gagging sound and jerked away. He ran for the toilet and hunched over it while he threw up.
Alcohol? Food poisoning? Damien tried to remember all the crazy stunts he himself had tried at fourteen. He’d only been home a few months, but from what he’d seen of Jeremy, the kid appeared to be a real straight arrow.
Waiting patiently, Damien handed his nephew a paper towel to wipe his mouth.
“You’ve got to help me,” the boy blurted. “Darius said he’s selling my horse.”
“What?” Damien drew back. “Why? What’d you do?”
Selling someone’s horse was the worst possible punishment for a cowboy on a ranch. A horrible suspicion occurred to him. “Were you drinking or using drugs?”
“No.” Now Jeremy appeared shocked. “Of course not. Darius caught me smoking cigarettes out by the barn.”
Cigarettes? “When did you start smoking?”
“I didn’t. I just wanted to try them to see what they were like.”
“Ah, I see. I’m guessing he took them away?”
“No.” The teenager gagged again, staggering back to the commode and retching. This started him crying again. Through his sobs, he glared up at Damien. �
��Darius made me eat them.”
“Eat them? I don’t understand.”
“He fed me the cigarettes. One by one. Made me chew and swallow each and every one of them, even the one I’d started to smoke.” The kid started looking green again. He swallowed hard. “And now I’m sick.”
Stunned, Damien couldn’t understand his father’s logic. “That’s…”
“Crazy. I know, right?”
“Yeah.” Damien, too, had tried cigarettes around that age. He hadn’t liked it, and had never picked up a pack again, even in prison, where there were so little pleasures that men took whatever they could get.
He waited until Jeremy seemed all right.
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Half an hour. Why?”
“Just wondering where Darius is.”
Anger flashed again in the teenager’s eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Where’s everyone else?”
Lifting one thin shoulder in a shrug, Jeremy gagged again. “Dunno.”
Which meant no one else was around. Duke was probably out with Susan and Wes and Finn had long ago gone home. Damien and Maisie had both been in town.
Jeremy had been left on his own with Darius. Sure, Sharon had probably been here, but the woman stayed in her room ninety percent of the time.
Damn. Damien wanted to punch something. Or someone. He really didn’t want another confrontation with Darius right now.
“If he sells Charger, I’m going to run away,” Jeremy vowed. “I’ve raised that gelding from a colt.”
“I know you have,” Damien soothed. “I’ve heard he’s a fine stock horse, too.”
“He ought to be.” Jeremy lifted his chin, furiously wiping at his tear-streaked cheeks. “I’ve spent the better part of three years working with him.”
“That long?”
“Yep. Darius gave him to me for my eleventh birthday.”
“That settles it. You can’t take back a birthday present.”
“I know. But you know what he said? If he gives, he can sure as hell take away.”
“I’ll talk to him,” Damien heard himself promise. “I won’t let him sell Charger.”
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