by Jodi Thomas
Finally, he turned around and headed back to Harmony. When he parked in front of the duplex, he turned off the car and faced her. “W-what’s your name?”
“My daddy calls me Trouble.” She laughed. “What do you think?”
Closing his eyes, Beau thought about his dream of making it big in the music world. Out on that back road, he’d almost given it all up for a girl he didn’t even know. Maybe she’d have been worth it, maybe not. “Trouble fits,” he whispered.
He opened and closed his hand atop the steering wheel. Even now he wanted to touch her. No, he wanted more. The longing to feel her move under him was driving him mad. And what did he know about her? She had a daddy. She had money. The Ford was a cream restoration. She lived around here somewhere. That’s it.
“You feel it too,” she whispered. “That pull. That need. Like we’re addicts within reach of a drug whenever we’re near each other.”
“Y-yeah,” he answered without looking at her. “I-I felt it the m-moment I-I saw you.” No memory would ever be so pure in his brain.
“All I know about you is you play and sing beautifully, and you stutter. The stuttering doesn’t bother me, by the way. Doesn’t dilute the attraction.”
She took a deep breath. “How about we just take a drive now and then? No touching. Not even any talking if you like. Just driving for a while, until we get used to each other. Right now I feel like if we get too close for too long we might both spontaneously combust.”
“I-I don’t know if I’d care but y-you’re p-probably right.” He stepped out of the car. “I-I’m at the bar Saturday night.”
“I know. Look for me when you walk out. If I’m there, I’m there.”
He watched her until the taillights of the old Ford vanished, then turned and headed toward the duplex. On the porch, the guitar stopped him and he found himself picking out a haunting tune. For once, the words didn’t come, only the music danced in his head. Finally, he grinned thinking he knew one more thing about her. She had more sense than he did. She’d stopped.
As always, he reached into his music for comfort. The beat pounded against his heart making him not feel so lonely. He played letting the melody drift out over the wind and blend with the sound of the evening train rolling through Harmony and the hoot of a night owl in the hundred-year-old elm. All the sounds around him, all the feelings, all the words he’d never be brave enough to say moved with his fingers across the strings of his music and he knew with no doubt that a part of him would love Trouble for the rest of his life.
Chapter 20
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON
RICK MATHESON WAS FLIRTING WITH ONE OF HIS NURSES when his cousin-in-law, the sheriff, walked in with Trace Adams. The cute little nurse was pretty, but she couldn’t hold a candle to the two tall women who stood before him now. Trace and Alex carried strength and power with grace. In the three days the doctor and Alex had insisted on him staying under guard while at the hospital, Rick caught himself listening for Trace’s voice and looking for her when he woke.
She’d gone with the sheriff to check out a break-in at his office. They’d claimed someone had trashed the place but except for a few open file cabinets, it sounded pretty much like he’d left it. Besides, whatever file they were looking for was probably stuffed away between his bed and the wall at Winter’s Inn Bed-and-Breakfast.
Alex didn’t want him going back to the bed-and-breakfast before the window was replaced and the alarm system was fully operational.
He’d been trapped in the hospital room since Sunday and was starting to get cabin fever. No one except a few of the staff and the sheriff’s office knew about what had happened Sunday when the window at the bed-and-breakfast had shattered. The fall he’d taken when Trace plowed into him to save his life had cost him more stitches and bruises, but at least he was alive. Glass from the window had also rained down on him adding another layer of scrapes and cuts over his already battered body.
But the real pain for Rick was his pride. He’d stood there, a target, while someone had tried to kill him again. He felt like the tackle dummy on a practice field waiting for the next hit.
“Evening, Sheriff,” he said as he tried his best to smile at Alex. “Little late for a visit, isn’t it, or are you taking the night watch over me?”
The sheriff waited until the nurse closed the door. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Sure. I’ve been telling you that for two days.” He suspected a trap. “I’ve also made it plain that I’m not going to a safe house or another town or jail. Whoever is trying to kill me is a coward and I’ve no intention of running.”
“I know.” She shrugged. “I’ve thought about it and until we find whoever it is, you’re probably as safe at Winter’s Inn as you are anywhere. At least in Harmony we can keep an eye on you. If you ran, the guy might follow and we’d be on unfamiliar ground.”
Rick wondered why he didn’t feel any happier. He wanted to go back to the bed-and-breakfast. He’d won the argument. At least for now. But no one, including him, seemed to be happy about it. The waiting, the being constantly on guard was beginning to wear on everyone. “I don’t like the idea that someone is trying to murder me, but I’ve got a job to do.” He’d hoped his words convinced Trace of how important he was, but he doubted it. In fact, he was surprised she’d hung around. He figured she’d have been on the road again as soon as the snow cleared.
Alex opened the closet and pulled out his jeans. “The shirt you had on was ruined with all the blood. Put on your pants and keep the hospital gown. Hank will have the truck warmed up by the time you get around back and it should be dark enough for you to slip out.”
“I’m leaving now?” Rick didn’t reach for his jeans.
“You wanted to leave and now is as good a time to transport you as any.” Alex stepped to the door. “I’ll wait outside and let you know when the hall is clear.”
Rick grabbed his jeans as she disappeared. He felt like a prisoner being relocated.
Trace Adams didn’t say a word as she dropped his shoes by the bed.
“Aren’t you going to leave while I put on my jeans?” he snapped, even though none of this was her fault.
“Why? I’m the one who stripped them off you when you came in here.” She had the nerve to wink at him. “You ain’t got nothing I haven’t seen, cowboy.”
He swore as he stood and pulled on his jeans and shoved his feet into his loafers. “Any chance you’d strip for me so we could call it even?”
“Not a chance.” She laughed. “Sometimes the world’s not fair.”
“You could have told me that before I fell through missing steps or had my car burned or almost got killed by a garden gnome.”
She handed him a jacket she’d walked in carrying.
He tugged it on and pulled up the hood. “Whose is this?”
“Hank’s. He found it in the back of his truck.”
“Figures. It smells like smoke.”
“Look at the bright side, Matheson, I’m going to stay a few days longer and keep you company.”
“Why?”
“Curiosity.” She grinned. “This is more excitement than I’ve had in months. Who knows, with any luck, I’ll have a chance to knock you out of harm’s way and send you in for stitches again.”
He studied her wishing he could make sense of this strange woman. “Glad I could be of service, but I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I’m not applying for the job. Just hanging around until my aunt gets back. Any objections?”
“Not a single one, beautiful.” He zipped the jacket closed. “You’re the most interesting lady in my life right now and you don’t even like me.”
“You got that right. I’ve always thought lawyers were like ticks. Nobody knows how many there are around and they suck the blood out of anyone they get near.” She faced him with her warrior princess stance, complete with fists on her hips. “And don’t call me beautiful or any other name but Trace.”
H
e moved toward the exit. “Where’d you get a name like that anyway?”
“My dad was a cop who loved his work. He named me after trace evidence.” She smiled in an odd way that left him wondering if she were kidding him.
Rick leaned against the door waiting for Alex’s signal to leave. “So, Trace Adams, you hate lawyers, how about just thinking of me as a man?”
“I’m not fond of many of them either.”
He wasn’t surprised. “So, you like women?”
“Not particularly. Most I know play way too many games.”
He laughed. “You know in some strange way I’m starting to feel better. Tell me, Adams, who do you like?”
“I like people who are strong and do what is right. I like people who are honest.”
He grinned knowing he’d finally caught her. “So, tell me honestly who asked you to stay on and keep an eye on me.”
To her credit, she looked him straight on without trying to dodge the question. “The sheriff,” she answered. “And her husband, Hank. He said he was asking on behalf of the whole Matheson family. Your mother called in to thank me for saving your life when one of the nurses let her know you were back in the hospital. She asked me to watch over her little boy. The doc asked twice, hoping she didn’t have to see you again.” Trace smiled when he looked shocked, then she added, “Oh, and your partner in the other law office and her husband Gabe stopped by yesterday and offered me a Land Rover to drive if I’d stay on for a few days.”
Rick banged the back of his head against the wall and closed his eyes. “Do they all think I’m so helpless?”
“No,” Trace answered. “They all care about you and they think your life is in danger. You’ve turned down help from the law and your family. I seem the only option left.”
He started to ask what good she’d be, but he’d seen her in action firsthand. “Want to tell me what you do for a living?”
“No. I’m on leave. Helping you figure out who is trying to bump you off just seemed like something to do for fun while I’m on vacation.”
“Great, I’m the cabin puzzle.” He didn’t know which bothered him more, that folks had asked her to watch over him or that she didn’t see it as any big deal. “One last question.”
She looked bothered.
“Are you armed?”
The door opened. As the sheriff waved them out, Trace passed him and whispered, “Always.”
“Great. A woman carrying a weapon, my favorite kind of date.”
Chapter 21
WEDNESDAY NIGHT
AT EXACTLY SEVEN O’CLOCK, TANNON RANG THE DOORBELL to Emily’s apartment building.
“Yes?” Her voice sounded hesitant as it crackled through the intercom.
“It’s me.” He waited for the lock to click. Finally, it did. He bolted in with a bakery box in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
When he got to the fourth floor, he noticed her door slightly ajar, so he walked in feeling more like a kid on his first date than a man over thirty visiting a woman he’d known all his life.
“Evening,” he said when he saw her standing in the kitchen. “Is it all right if I come in?”
Emily frowned. “I don’t know. That depends on what’s in the box.”
“Red velvet cake and a strawberry pie. I called Three Sisters’ and had them deliver what they thought would be your favorite to my office. Since it’s the day after Valentine’s, I got the feeling they sent over the leftovers.”
“They don’t usually make deliveries. The sisters have a strict rule about that.”
“I don’t think they would have for me, but when I said it was a surprise for you, they gave in.” He lifted the pie out first. It had been decorated with candy hearts on top. Next came the cake with BE MINE scrolled in thick icing. “I forgot about it being Valentine’s Day yesterday when I placed the order. It’s not a holiday I’ve ever had to remember.”
Emily laughed. “Now you’ve started something. They’ll never believe I’m just feeding a stray.”
“Why tell them? Let the three old ladies guess if they like.” He raised an eyebrow. “Unless, of course, you already had a delivery from them yesterday?”
She lifted her chin. “Actually, I did. Sam, our janitor, bought cookies for everyone. It was so not like him we were all in shock.”
“I guess I’ll have to watch out for him.” Tannon took the time to look around. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see a vase of flowers. He’d always thought Emily pretty and couldn’t believe some single guy in Harmony hadn’t noticed by now, but not once in the years he’d dropped by the library on Friday night had a date been waiting for her. He’d told himself that they probably stopped by on the many nights he wasn’t in town, but now he started to wonder. “Maybe I should drop by and tell the sisters to watch out for my interests.”
She served up one plate of spaghetti, seemingly unaware that he might not be kidding. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a wicked man?”
“Yeah, half my staff.”
Emily filled another plate as she commented, “Your secretary is very beautiful. She could be on the cover of a fashion magazine.”
“Maybe, but she didn’t look half as adorable as you did in the fuzzy robe. Tell me, do you wear that thing every night, or was it a company outfit?”
“What’s wrong with my pink robe? It’s warm.” They sat down at the table, and as he had before, he walked to the kitchen and grabbed two glasses.
“Nothing’s wrong with it, Emily. I’ve just never seen you in anything but black, white, or navy blue. If you didn’t wear scarves, I’d think you were color-blind.”
“Black works for the library. I think of it as professional.”
He looked down at his starched jeans and white shirt. “I guess I’m the same way. Jeans, boots, and any shirt from the cleaners. I did go wild once and bought a Hawaiian shirt to wear to a theme party. That was a waste of money.”
“How many times did you wear it?” she asked.
“Once,” he admitted. “Felt like a fool. It didn’t go with a Stetson and the boys at the feedlot would have shot me on sight if I even wore it to work.”
She laughed. “I’d love to see you in it.”
“Not likely, but feel free to borrow it anytime.” He loved the easy way they were talking. He reached for the wine bottle, wishing the meal could go on for hours.
“I don’t usually drink wine,” she admitted. “I don’t even have an opener.”
He tugged one from his pocket. “I picked this up with the wine. Wild guess I might need it.”
He opened the bottle and poured her a glass as he told her all about what had happened at the hospital. His mother might be hurting, but she was still running the show. She’d even started a list of what had to be changed before she’d consider herself comfortable.
When they moved to have dessert on the couch, he poured the last of the wine and they watched the news as they ate.
“Can I stay here tonight?” he asked before thinking about it.
“No,” she laughed. “You can see your place from here. I think you’re sober enough to make it home. You could walk through the center of town and be there in ten minutes.”
“I’m not drunk, Emily, I just like it here.” He hit the couch pillow between them as if puffing it up. “I slept great here a few nights ago.”
“Well, I’m not subletting the living room out to you, so forget it.” She stood and straightened, telling him it was time for him to go.
He pulled on his coat. “All right. Kick me out, but kiss me good-bye first.”
“Why?” Her one word made it plain that they were not lovers, nor would they ever be.
“Maybe I need the practice,” he said as he walked to the door.
She laughed, obviously remembering a time when they were kids and she’d asked if she could practice on him. “All right. One kiss for practice.”
His hand was already on the doorknob when she stepped up beside him, leaned f
orward, and waited for him to brush her lips with his.
Tannon watched her. If he was going to get only one kiss, he might as well give it his best shot. He put his arm gently around her waist and tugged her to him as his mouth lowered. He felt her lip tremble slightly and her heart pounded against his chest, but she didn’t turn away.
He wished he could believe that she kissed him back, but that wasn’t quite it. She didn’t stop him, but he felt no encouragement to continue.
Slowly, he straightened. “That wasn’t so bad,” he whispered.
“No.” She looked at the buttons on his shirt.
“Emily, do you think we could be friends? Real friends. Honest friends. I could use one right now.”
“I think we are friends, Tannon. Maybe not close, but friends would be an all right place to be.”
He moved a few inches away and opened the door. “I agree. It would be nice to have someone to eat a meal with now and then or watch a movie late some night.”
“But no more sleeping over or kissing,” she added.
“I’ll agree to the sleeping over, but I insist on a good-night kiss now and then. If for no other reason than to keep me from getting rusty at it.”
She grinned. “Okay. One good-night kiss now and then, but no more Valentine desserts.”
He nodded when he slipped out the door. He didn’t look back as he walked to the elevator. He knew she was watching him. She was probably wondering the same thing he was.
What were they doing?
Chapter 22
THURSDAY
RICK SLEPT UNTIL TEN THE NEXT MORNING. FOR A MOMENT after he woke, he smiled a groggy smile, thinking all was fine with his world. Then he remembered. The pain came back along with the depressing facts.
For a while he just lay on his stomach, wondering where he’d be right now if he’d decided to go into coaching and not law. Being a lawyer wasn’t working out like he planned. It’s pretty bad when you hang out with so many lowlifes you can’t figure out which one is trying to kill you.