“Hmmm,” Miki said, trepidation clear on her pretty face. “I’m used to some pretty good coffee. And, having formerly worked in the food industry, I’d have to say I’m a rather picky connoisseur.”
“Trust me,” he promised.
She pressed her lips together. He hoped she was hiding a grin rather than a frown. Seeing her hesitation, he pasted his best ‘I don’t want to date you’ look on his face. It must have worked, since she gave a slow nod and shifted the books in her arms. He pointed toward the far end of town, and they started walking together down the sidewalk.
“Can I carry those for you?” he offered. Realizing what he’d said, he gave a mental groan.
Great going, Ross. He hadn’t tried the ole ‘can I carry your books’ line to get his hands on a girl since LucyAnn Randall back in ninth grade. Then again, it’d worked just fine with LucyAnn. Not that he expected some hot necking behind the Dairy Queen with Miki. He eyed her full lips, curved in a shy smile, and had to admit, the necking did have appeal.
“I’ve got them,” she said, not letting go of her books.
Did that mean she’d turn him down if he offered a tour of the abandoned Dairy Queen?
“I visited your library. I was surprised at how well stocked your metaphysical section was. I’ve never seen one that extensive, even in L.A.”
He grunted. Damned town and its fascination with magic. Ignoring her silent question, he reached over to move her hand to see the titles. A flash of heat sparked when he touched the smooth warmth of her soft skin. Like watching lightning in a clear blue sky, it was both powerful and surprising. He hadn’t felt anything so... electric in years. He frowned. It was just static, that’s all. Telling himself to ignore the wiggy sense of deja vu, he quirked a brow at her instead.
“You’re thinking of putting me out of business?” he asked, with a nod to the home improvement books.
Confused, Miki glanced down, then laughed. “Believe me, I’m hardly a threat. So far the extent of my home improvement skills is changing light bulbs.”
With a quick glance for cars, Gideon cupped her elbow to guide her across the street. At the lack of electrical charge when he touched her, his shoulders relaxed. Wigginess gone, he gave himself over to the feel of her body close to his. He liked that she was tall. Tall enough that he’d be able to pull her flush against his body. That when he pressed her to him, he’d feel her curves.
When he kissed her, he wouldn’t have to bend, but would be able to mimic lovemaking on their feet, with his sex pressed against the juncture of her thighs.
After a brief pause, Gideon reluctantly released her arm. He didn’t want to, but walking into the store with a raging hard-on probably wasn’t wise. After all, he grimaced as they reached their destination, the town gossips were going to have a field day as it was.
“You’re not really offended, are you?” Miki asked.
He looked at her and frowned. Offended? Since gossip was a way of life in Rossdale, he didn’t see what good it would do to be offended. Then he realized she meant the books.
“Nah, I’m not offended. I hate to be the one to tell you, though, that there’s a lot more repair needed on that house than you’ll find in those books.”
He pulled open the wooden door to the store, and gestured her in ahead of him.
She, however, didn’t move. Instead, she stared, jaw sagging, at the window display.
“What?” he asked.
“Oh my. What... What are those?”
Gideon followed her gaze to the Ode to Rossdale. The display featured everybody in town who’d wanted to be included. At least a hundred figures were on display.
“Spud Dolls,” he told her, a hint of pride in his voice. And why not? They were, after all, the town’s main source of fame and income these days.
“Spud? As in potato?” She squinted and pressed her lips together like she was trying to hold back a laugh.
“Hey, they are big business. Each one can be custom designed, complete with hair color, outfits, everything.”
“This is actually a business?” Her shock was clear in both her tone and the widening of her eyes. “They look like Mr. Potato Head mated with one of those ugly troll dolls with all the hair.”
“The Spud Doll Factory keeps Rossdale alive,” Gideon claimed, not willing to admit she wasn’t far from the truth. He was pretty sure the dolls had been inspired by a bottle of Jack Daniels, a troll doll, and a steak and potato dinner. “They grow on you.”
“Um, okay.” Her tone said she’d rather grow fungus, but she didn’t argue. Just entered the store with a bemused smile on her face.
“Oh, my,” she breathed when she stepped over the threshold. Wide-eyed, she looked around the store like she’d fallen onto a different planet and wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad thing.
“Welcome to the heart of Rossdale,” Gideon said uncertainly. He remembered introducing another woman to Rossdale. Just the memory of her disdain was enough to rock him back on his heels. Was Miki the same? Were the women he was the most attracted to doomed to hate his town?
“This is...”
He winced and held his breath.
“Simply adorable.” She shot him a look and shrugged. “I told my brother when we drove through that I thought it looked like a movie set from the outside. Inside it’s even better. Look at the colors, the warmth here.”
Like a kid in a candy store, or a guy at the Corvette dealership, she darted from display to display. At a curved hat stand, she fingered one woven monstrosity and grinned at Gideon. Then she moved on to a banged up antique dresser. Gideon didn’t understand the fascination with the old musty looking clothes tumbling from the drawers, but Miki oohed and aahed. She traced one finger over the delicate rim of the china cup displayed on the dresser.
“It’s all so perfect. Just what you’d expect to find in a small town. It just screams history.”
“Since I think my great-grandma wore that dress hanging there, I suppose you’re right about the history,” Gideon agreed.
Miki stepped close to him and gave a deep sigh.
“That has to feel so good. Being able to trace your roots in such a tangible way.”
“Good? Some days, I suppose.” He tilted his head toward her and then gestured with his chin for her to head through the store. They passed the canned goods, the fruit display and the fishing gear on the way to the back wall. “Doesn’t your family have a strong history?”
“Oh, yeah, they’ve got a doozy of a history.” The snicker in her voice had him curious to hear the details, but before he could ask, she continued. “But as strong as my family’s tied to their past, they’ve never been big on staying in one place. Or hanging on to mementos. Things like your grandma’s dress, that make the past a living thing. You know? Something tangible.”
“Those tangible reminders aren’t always a good thing.”
“Of course not. That’s what makes it even more special,” Miki said with a smile. Gideon could tell a lot from that look, the curve of her lush lips and the sparkle in her midnight eyes. She was a woman who appreciated both the good and the bad. Who would accept, unconditionally, if she loved.
That might have scared him if he wasn’t so sure he was cured of believing in love.
Just to prove she wasn’t that fascinating, Gideon let her tour the rest of the store on her own. He stood in the pseudo-sports aisle, fingering a worn aluminum baseball bat and eyed the two dusty fishing rods. Mage Lake had some of the best fishing in the state. Not that it mattered. Rossdale was doing so poorly, the store couldn’t give away the equipment.
Gideon was mulling over the chances of people overcoming their phobia of the lake when he heard a commotion at the back of the store.
With a frown, he headed toward the raised voices.
“What’s going on?” he asked when he saw Fred staring Miki down like she was a shoplifter. She had a bag on the counter, and it looked like she was refusing to take the credit card Fred kept poking at h
er.
“Whatch’ya need, Gideon?”
Ignoring the questions in the old man’s eyes, Gideon made his way to the counter. He stopped, just behind Miki and in a glance, surmised the problem.
“You have a credit card machine, Fred. Why don’t you just use it?”
“Darned thing costs money. You know that. Store policy, no credit cards except from locals.”
“But I explained, I’m local,” Miki ground out, her frustration obvious in tone and in the stiff set of her shoulders. “I’m living out on—”
“I know, I know. The old Henderson place. Don’t matter. You ain’t local yet, missy.”
“Fine, I’ll write you a check.”
“Don’t take out of town checks.”
“I’ve only been here three days, I haven’t had a chance to open a local account yet.”
Fred just jutted out his lower lip and set his jaw.
“Look, Fred, I’ll vouch for her. Go ahead and take Miki’s card, or her check, whatever. I’ll make sure it’s good.”
Miki turned to glare at him.
“My credit is stellar. I don’t need anyone to vouch for me.”
He liked the way independence sparked in her eyes. Her lower lip stuck out in a way that just begged him to lean down and nibble on it. But Fred was getting enough of a free show as it was, so Gideon refrained.
“You want to buy that bag?” he asked, gesturing to the rainbow colored mesh tote thing she had on the counter.
“Yes.”
“Fred here ain’t gonna budge unless I vouch for you.”
“You can’t vouch for me, since you have no more idea than Fred here if I’m good for the money or not. So it’s not vouching. It’s charity. And I don’t need charity.”
The only reason Gideon didn’t roll his eyes was fear she’d punch him in front of Fred. She had that look about her, like she would be wild when she was riled up. Damned if he didn’t want to rile her and see.
When they were alone.
“Got cash?” he asked instead.
“Not with...” she trailed off. She squinted and pursed her lips, mumbled something, then reached into her back pocket. “Yeah. I forgot. I’ve got a twenty.” Not meeting his eyes, she turned and handed the money to Fred.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
Fred’s gaze danced between the two of them, curiosity clear on his wizened face. Questions Gideon knew the gossip chain would have a heyday with.
To forestall the inevitable, Gideon said, “We’re here for a couple cups of coffee.”
“Gonna have to be to go,” Fred said shortly. “I’m getting ready to clean the cups.”
Gideon followed Miki’s glance at the small tower of white ceramic mugs, all spic-and-span tidy. He heaved a sigh. Damned if it was going to be easy to romance a lady with the rest of the town trying to run her off before she could even get her mail delivered.
“To go is perfect,” was all he said.
Five minutes later, Miki sauntered down Main Street again, this time alongside the hunky, off-limits handyman. Fragrant steam rose from the lids of their disposable coffee cups and her books were in her rainbow-hued mesh bag. Good thing she’d remembered the cash back on her dresser. Even better that her translocation spell had actually worked. Because even the best witch couldn’t conjure cold, hard cash.
And her reward? She was going to relax and enjoy her sexy tour guide. Miki eyed the golden boy next to her and took a contented sip of her coffee.
“Where are we heading?” Miki asked him as they passed the diner again. The diner diva stood at the counter filling saltshakers and glaring at them. Miki resisted the urge to charm the salt so it’d spray back in her face.
“I thought I’d show you a little of the town.”
“I’ve seen this part,” she reminded him as they passed her car. “There doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of town to tour. I’m surprised, though, even as small as it is that you don’t have more tourists coming through.”
“We used to. Rossdale was a pretty big tourist mecca, being right off the highway and all. Up until about eight years ago, the County Fair was held right outside town. We had a lot of summer people who’d come stay for the fishing. Winter people for the skiing.”
“What happened?”
“People stopped coming.”
Maybe it had something to do with the crappy welcome they got, Miki mused.
They turned onto the side road and a few steps later, reached an archway of twisted wrought iron, proclaiming it to be the Town Square. Passing through the rusted arch, Miki saw a waist-high cobblestone wall that ran the perimeter of the square. Walkways of the same stone wove in and out of beds of dead grass and weeds, all leading to the center. It was like something out of Sleeping Beauty’s castle after the witch had thrown her tantrum. Dead brambles, weeds, and broken tree branches gave the square a depressing feel.
“Wow. Gardener’s year off?” Miki asked as she gaped at the derelict space.
“It doesn’t seem to matter what we do. Nothing will grow here. Believe me,” Gideon insisted with a strained laugh, “there are some avid gardeners who’ve done their damnedest. But no matter what they plant, it dies. They cut away the weeds, and almost overnight, they grow back.”
He seemed to be waiting for her to laugh, or at least express some level of doubt at his words. She supposed to most people, they would sound ridiculous.
Instead, she looked around again, a contemplative gleam in her eye. She ran a hand over the decaying wooden back of a bench and breathed deeply. Why was the square keeping people away? What was it protecting?
Gideon’s brow furrowed. She glanced at him and gave a little laugh, as he seemed to expect.
“So you’ve abandoned it? Nobody comes here anymore? It feels... well, alone.”
His frown deepened. “Alone?”
“That sounds silly, doesn’t it,” she said quickly. She felt the color wash her cheeks and shrugged, waving a hand to indicate the gazebo. “It just seems like this must have been a fun place at one time. It has so much potential.”
“People eventually gave up on prettying it up. We mostly ignore it now. They even moved the Town Meeting to the library, instead of the hall there,” he said with a nod toward the small, Tudor-style building at the far end of the square.
“Isn’t that a little extreme? To just ignore part of your town?” And such a shame. There was such potential for beauty here. Miki gazed around, her mind’s eye seeing flowering vines, rose bushes in full bloom and an abundance of lush, green grass. With a little work and determination, the square would be beautiful.
She breathed in the rich scent of the earth, and closed her eyes as sensations rushed through her. It was so powerful, so... possible. Like a whisper, the energy wrapped around her. Soft, just a hint of power. Miki’s skin tingled and her breath hitched. There was so much here. Could be so much more here. Like a flower bulb, long neglected, it needed nurturing to re-bloom. Miki’s stomach clenched in excitement. The sound of another big truck, loud and lumbering, pulled her attention back to Gideon.
“That’s not extreme by Rossdale standards,” he said, reminding her of her question about the town ignoring the square. “You might have guessed, the town has a few quirks.”
“Like a predilection to sudden fits of cleaning?” she taunted.
Gideon’s grin made Miki’s stomach do a whirling little dance. Whoa, baby. Poison, remember. The man was off limits. After enjoying his company for the last half-hour, she was having trouble remembering why, though.
“That’s nothing,” Gideon assured her. “The fact that it’s a feline-free town is a lot quirkier, if you ask me.”
“Feline-free? You all hate cats?” Miki’s eyes widened in shock. Who hated cats? What kind of town was this?
“Nah. Actually most people around here like pets. But somewhere about a dozen or so years back, cats started running off. Even bribes of fish and milk won’t keep them here. People go out of town, bring in a
cat and it’s gone within a month.”
“I wonder why?” Miki mused.
“Nobody seems to know.”
In accord, they moved toward the once white gazebo in the center of the square. In all its graying glory, missing boards, and sagging lattice, it still commanded attention. He took Miki’s hand to help her over the broken step.
In the center of the gazebo was a stone and brick wishing well, encrusted with dirt and choked by weeds.
“Odd place for a well,” she commented. She traced her fingers over it, rubbing at the moss-covered plaque. The copper square felt warm, odd since the Town Square was so gloomy and chilled. It was too oxidized to read, but if Gideon’s glare was anything to go by, it wasn’t a legacy he was proud of.
“Is it special,” she asked.
Gideon gave the plaque another dirty look, and then shrugged.
“It was a monument of sorts,” he answered, his tone reluctant. “Rossdale’s founding fathers built the well. They built this whole square, actually, but the well is center.”
With an odd look in his eyes, he watched her as she turned and leaned her butt against the edge.
“Legend has it that the well is the center of the town,” Gideon explained. “According to the old-timers, it doesn’t seem to matter what people build, or where. Every time anyone’s checked, the well is dead center.”
“How is that possible?” she wondered.
How intriguing though that there was so much more to Rossdale than met the eye. She’d have to talk to Ryan when he came back around, see if he sensed anything. It was either a very whimsical town, or one with a hint of magic.
“Who knows,” Gideon shrugged. He set his empty coffee cup on the weathered wood railing and shifted closer to her. Miki’s breath stuck in her throat and she bit her lip to keep a nervous giggle at bay.
“You know,” he pondered, obviously ready to change the subject. “I don’t think it’d be too much of a stretch to call this our first date. So now that we’ve got that out of the way, why don’t you reconsider going to dinner with me.”
“This wasn’t a date,” Miki protested. Oh, no. This was just a reward for standing up for herself. She wasn’t dating Gideon. She couldn’t.
Holding Out For A Hero: SEALs, Soldiers, Spies, Cops, FBI Agents and Rangers Page 66