by Diana Palmer
“No!” she interrupted. “No, no, no! Cash Grier said we’re properly watched and nothing is going to happen to us. You can’t stay by yourself. You know that.”
His sensual lips made a flat line.
“Go ahead, grumble, but if you try to go home I’ll have your investigator fetch you right back here,” she said, dark eyes flashing.
He glared. She glared back.
“What’s the matter, do you think I’ll poison you when you aren’t paying attention?” she asked with dripping sarcasm.
He drew in a rough breath. “I’m more concerned about a bullet coming through the wall.”
She moved closer to the bed. “Listen, Hayes, I love the kids and my great-aunt. I’d never willingly put them in danger. But if you go home, there’s a good chance that they’ll get you. I can’t believe you don’t know that.”
“I don’t want anyone hurt on my account.”
She smiled. “I’ve been taking care of myself and the others for some time now,” she pointed out. “Dawn was sickly. She couldn’t even take care of Julie when she was born, much less Shane. I did that for her. She was such a sweet person. I still miss her.”
“You miss your stepdad, too?”
She nodded. “He was wonderful. After my mother died, I couldn’t have asked for a more caring parent.”
“How did she meet him?”
“At a fair,” she laughed. “She was pregnant and alone, and he was dashing and handsome....” She paused at his expression. “No, I know he wasn’t my real father,” she said. “My mother was always honest with me, up to a point. She never would tell me who my natural father was. I did try to dig into old records to find out, but I couldn’t even get her to tell me where she lived before she met my father—well, the man I always called my father.”
“It must have hurt.”
She pondered that. She shook her head. “I figured she had good reasons for not wanting me to know,” she said. She smiled sadly. “Most likely, he was married and she didn’t want to get him into trouble with his family. It doesn’t matter. I had a wonderful childhood and loving parents, even if my father was a stepfather. A lot of kids have it worse than that.”
Hayes nodded. “My parents fought like tigers, all the time,” he confessed after a minute. “I don’t know why. They couldn’t get along for ten minutes. It made things really hard on Bobby and me.” His face hardened. “Bobby couldn’t take it. He had a sensitive nature and he took it all to heart. He turned to drugs to escape, and they cost him his life eventually. I hate drug dealers and drug lords more than I hate anything on earth,” he added with flashing dark eyes.
“I don’t blame you,” she said softly. “I know you loved your brother.”
He gave her a long, cold glare.
She held up a hand. “We’ve been here before,” she said wearily. “I had nothing to do with it....”
“Like hell you didn’t,” he said icily.
“How?” She lifted her hands eloquently. “I never used drugs or even associated with people who did!”
He bit his lip. He almost drew blood.
Minette stared at him. She began to piece things together in her mind. The way he hated her. The way he’d treated her for so many years, blamed her for Bobby’s death when he had to know that she knew nothing about drug use.
“Hayes,” she said softly, “you have to tell me what you know about me. What won’t you tell me?”
All at once, his face smoothed out like an ironed cloth. He blinked. “What do you mean?” he asked innocently. “Cash tricked me into promising I’d have the damned therapy,” he said suddenly, changing the subject.
“He did?” She let it drop. He was behaving very oddly, but she’d think about it later. “Good for him!”
He grimaced. “I guess I need to be able to use my arm, even if I don’t use it for shooting.”
“You use it for the shotgun,” she pointed out.
He sighed. “Yes.”
“Aunt Sarah can drive you to the sessions,” she said. “She’s already volunteered.”
“That’s kind of her.”
“It’s no sacrifice.”
He studied her curiously. “I still don’t understand why you invited me to come here,” he said quietly. “I’ve treated you very badly, for a long time.”
“Coals of fire,” she promised.
He chuckled. “Is that it?” he asked, without revealing that her great-aunt had already imparted that tidbit of information.
She nodded enthusiastically.
“Well...it was a kindness.”
“Alternatively,” she said pertly, “perhaps I’m a closet masochist. I love being persecuted.”
“Unlikely.”
“Can I get you anything before I start supper?”
“I thought Sarah was cooking.”
“She was, but I have a yen for chicken and dumplings. Just between us, I can’t cope with her idea of it, so I do it myself.”
“That’s one of my favorite dishes.”
“Mine, too.”
“I hope you keep a gun in your desk drawer,” he said suddenly.
She arched both eyebrows. “So I can shoot the typesetter?”
“I was thinking of anyone barging in with a gun.”
“I remember reading something that President John Kennedy was credited with saying, many years ago,” she said suddenly. “He said that if someone was willing to trade his life for yours, there was no way to avoid being killed. It was true then, and it’s true now. Besides all that, I believe very strongly that when your time’s up, it’s up.”
“Yes. I believe that way, too.”
“Is that why you keep walking into gun battles?” she asked blithely.
He glared at her. “Both times, I didn’t realize there was a second shooter.”
“Both times, you should have.”
“Lady,” he said between his teeth, “you don’t know hell about gun battles.”
“No, it’s more than that,” she said. Her eyes held his. “You blamed me, you blamed Rachel Conley, you blamed the supplier, you blamed your parents...but you blame yourself more, don’t you, Hayes? You think you should have known how badly Bobby was involving himself with drugs, and you should have stopped him.”
He didn’t say a word. His face was like stone.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” she asked very quietly. “You’re looking for ways to punish yourself because he died.”
“That is none of your business.”
She moved closer to the bed. “You couldn’t have stopped him,” she said solemnly. “One of my friends in high school had a father who was an alcoholic. He literally drank himself to death. His mother tried everything, absolutely everything, to stop him, from jail to ministers to psychiatrists—he was even told that if he kept doing it, he was going to die. He hid bottles from them in all sorts of places, and one day when they were at church, he drank too much and mixed the alcohols with pills, and he died. His wife tried to commit suicide, because even though it wasn’t her fault, and everyone knew how hard she’d tried to stop him, she blamed herself. It took years of therapy to convince her that he had a choice and he made it.” She moved another step closer, because he looked less threatening now. “People make bad decisions. We can try to protect them, but we aren’t always successful. You did your best, Hayes. That’s all anyone can do. And you’re no more to blame for Bobby’s death than I am. It was his time. Nothing would have made any difference.”
Chapter 5
Hayes didn’t say anything for a minute. He just stared at Minette.
“That’s what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?” she prodded gently.
He drew in a breath and averted his eyes. “Not consciously,” he said finally.
He was silent after that, but she knew she’d started him thinking.
“I’ll just get to work on supper,” she said, and pulled the door shut behind her.
* * *
A couple of hours later,
she presented Hayes with a nice plate of chicken and dumplings and a green salad, with a small portion of apple cobbler for dessert.
He thanked her, but he was subdued. It wasn’t until she came back to pick up the supper dishes that he became more communicative.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he began.
She smiled.
“Maybe I did feel guilty,” he said after a minute. “Bobby was almost a generation younger than me. I was old enough that I should have noticed when he used drugs.”
“You weren’t living at home then,” she replied quietly.
“I was over there every weekend,” he argued.
“It’s not the same.”
He leaned back against the pillows. His thick blond-streaked brown hair was clean and its disheveled look made it even more attractive. He had a day’s growth of beard, which gave him a swashbuckling air. His spotless white T-shirt that he wore with burgundy flannel pajama pants made him look very masculine and showed off his rodeo-rider physique to its best advantage. Minette thought he was the handsomest man alive. She wasn’t letting that show, of course.
“My dad was sharp,” he continued. “But perhaps he didn’t want to look too close. He said Bobby was hanging out with one of the town’s bad boys, but Bobby said he was trying to rehabilitate the kid.” He laughed humorlessly. “Dad was a churchgoer and he believed that anybody could be turned from a wrong road. Bobby convinced him. Hell, he convinced me, too.”
“You and your father looked for the best in people, despite working in a profession that generally teaches you to do the opposite,” she pointed out. “I’d know about that. Working in newspaper doesn’t exactly point you to the best behavior of the population in general.”
“True.”
“And to be honest, Hayes, your father was beginning to feel his age.”
“He had plenty of health problems at the end, especially his heart,” Hayes commented. “He didn’t take care of himself, although I did my best for him.”
“You did your best for both of them,” she said.
“Did I?” The expression in his eyes was wistful. “I was so occupied with my job, even then. And I was only a deputy sheriff at the time.”
“You have to be one of the most prosperous lawmen in Texas,” she laughed.
He shrugged. “I inherited wealth. It doesn’t mean I’m going to sit down and entertain.”
“Me, neither,” she replied with a smile. Her parents had left her well provided for.
“Workaholics,” he mused.
“Count on it,” she agreed. “I never liked the idea of fancy clothes and even fancier houseguests. I’d rather make mud pies with the kids.”
“You really do that, don’t you?” he asked, impressed.
“They’re sweet children,” she said gently. “I enjoy them more than I can say.”
“It’s a big responsibility.”
“Yes, but I don’t mind it,” she said, smiling.
He was watching her in an odd way, his dark eyes intent on her face, so intent that she flushed.
He saw her sudden color. That made him arrogant. He smiled slowly, and held her eyes until she became embarrassed. “I’d better get these in the dishwasher,” she faltered, picking up the plate and cup and moving to the door. “If you need anything, you can call us.”
“Thanks.” He was still watching her with that odd half smile as she fumbled her way out the door.
Minette was confused. Hayes had never really talked to her, except to lay blame and make snide comments. Now, he was looking at her in a way he never had before, so that she was uncomfortable being near him.
It didn’t help that she’d lost her heart to him years ago when she was at school with Bobby. Hayes had always been the sun in her sky, which was why his antagonism had hurt so much.
But he seemed different now. He was less argumentative than he’d ever been, and he seemed more inclined to be friendly.
* * *
It was Minette who had to drive him to therapy the following week when Aunt Sarah had a doctor’s appointment.
She used the SUV when she drove the kids around, but she also had a pickup truck. It was funny, because she could have had a fancy sports car or any other sort of second vehicle, but she liked trucks.
“Isn’t it cool?” she asked as she drove out of the yard. “It’s got all sorts of toots and whistles, but what I like most is how sturdy it is.”
“It’s sturdy all right,” he chuckled. “In fact, I drive one almost identical to it, except for the color. Yours is black and mine’s white.”
She laughed, trying not to blush when she realized the similarities. She hadn’t given it a thought until just now. “What a coincidence.”
“You’ve got this, and an SUV. Don’t you like cars?” he asked.
“I do, but I sit higher in trucks. I keep the SUV for the kids, because they’re safe. And also,” she added with a laugh, “there’s that entertainment system so that Julie and Shane can watch movies while I’m driving. It makes for calmer travel.”
“What’s this interest in safety?”
“I covered a wreck last spring. You remember, the Danes boy who died after he was sideswiped by an old SUV?”
“Yes. It was a tragic case.”
“He was in a lightweight little sedan. The SUV was all metal.” She grimaced. “I couldn’t get the picture out of my mind.”
“So you bought an SUV and a truck?”
She nodded, pausing at a red light. “They’re not great on gas, because they both have V-8 engines,” she explained. “But I like this truck because it’s powerful and I don’t have to worry about someone hitting me when I’m driving it. It has all sorts of safety features.”
“You could probably find a car with the same features.”
“Yes, but it would be some flashy, expensive thing.”
“And that matters because...?” he prodded.
She grimaced. She pulled back out into traffic. “See, the thing is, I don’t want the kids to get ideas about luxury making them better than other kids. I do have top-of-the-line vehicles for them to ride in, but they aren’t flashy sports cars. I buy their clothes out of a midrange department store and I don’t give them fancy presents even at Christmas. I give them the sort of things any middle-class parent would. Wealth is no measure of worth.”
“I approve,” he said with a faint smile.
She laughed. “My parents would, too. They brought me up the same way. I was never given expensive presents.”
“Come on. There must be one frivolous thing you’d die to have.”
She smiled. “No. Not really. Well, there’s one...”
“What?”
“I love cameos. Those old-fashioned ones that women used to wear on dresses or on a necklace. I could wear it on the suits I keep in my closet for special occasions and church. But it always seemed like an unnecessary expense.” She laughed. “It’s nothing I’d buy myself. Even for Christmas.” She glanced at him. “What about you?”
“Oh, I’m easy. I like ties.”
She glanced at him with wide eyes until she realized he was holding back laughter.
“I might as well like them, it’s all I get,” he pointed out.
“Someone should have a word with your deputies,” she replied.
“Their wives,” he chuckled. “What do you get a guy who has everything? A tie. But the thought is what counts.”
“So what would you like?”
“A really good spinning reel,” he said with a sigh. “I love to fish.”
“Really?” She was surprised. She’d never known him to mention a hobby.
“I like to hunt, too, but I can never spare the time. Fishing’s easy. I keep a reel in the truck and stop by the river on my lunch hour when I have a few minutes to spare. I don’t catch much, but once in a while I pull out a bass or bream.”
She laughed. “I love to fish.”
“What? You?”
“Really. My stepfather used to take me with him. I learned how not to talk. He was very serious about that. We sat on a creek bank for two hours once without a single word. Not that we ever caught much. He liked lures. I wanted to fish with worms but he said that was bad bait.”
“Worms are good bait.”
“I know. But it’s hard to argue when you’re only ten.”
“I guess it is.” He grimaced as he saw the hospital coming up fast. “I don’t want to have to do this,” he muttered.
“You want to use that arm, though, don’t you?” she asked pertly.
He glared at her.
“Fine. We’ll go home and you can learn to fish one-handed....”
“Crackers and milk!” he burst out.
She gaped at him.
He looked uncomfortable. “I give talks about drugs to little kids,” he pointed out. “What if I got used to bad words and they slipped out at school?”
“I think probably the kids would know more of those words than you do, Hayes,” she said ruefully.
“Could be, but I’m not using them.”
She smiled. “Don’t sound apologetic. I like it.”
“Do you?” He smiled at her in a new way, one that caused her to go too close to the curb and have to back up.
She pulled up to the entrance and unfastened his seat belt for him. “If you’ll call me, I’ll be here in five minutes,” she promised.
She’d had to lean closer to unfasten the belt. When she started to sit up again, his face was very close, so close that she caught her breath and her heart ran wild.
“You’re very nervous around me,” he said in a deep, velvety tone. “Why?”
“I’m not...n-nervous,” she stammered, flushing. “You’ll be late!”
“Will I?” His eyes narrowed. They held hers until she thought her heart would suffocate her.
“Yes,” she said.
“Then I’ll see you later, Minette.” The way he said her name made her even more uncoordinated. It was a mercy when he finally turned away, got out of the truck and closed the door. But before he closed it, he smiled at her again, and in a way that kept her distracted all the way back to work.
* * *
She went on her lunch hour to pick Hayes up at the hospital. Despite his objections, they rolled him out to the curb in a wheelchair.