She looked up at him. “Home?”
“Well, maybe not home.” Lacy was staying with her Aunt Fran but Malcolm wanted her all to himself. “We have a dinner date to make up for, remember?” Lacy squealed with delight as Malcolm offered a hand, pulling her to her feet. Her red toe polish snared his attention. Lively red for a lively girl. And though Lacy felt more girl than woman, he believed that deep down she was every bit as woman as any other, perhaps more so. He chuckled. She simply kept her wise old woman hidden in her back pocket, preferring to cater to the child in her—which suited him just fine. He like spirited and spontaneous.
“Can we go dancing?” she asked.
“Absolutely. Twirling you around the dance floor is something I’ve wanted to do since the picnic.” Then he’d twirl her around his hotel room for even more fun.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nick and Delaney sat huddled together on the leather sofa in her cabin, the space quiet and comfortable between them. Nestled warmly in the crux of his arm, Delaney found the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest soothing, the muscular wall of his body reassuring. Nick was on her side. He was in her corner. He wanted what she wanted. Granted they were her decisions to make, but he was here to support her in those decisions. Decisions. Seems like that’s all she’d been doing of late—making decisions. From deciding how to convince Ernie to stand by his promise to figuring out a way to keep Annie and Jeremiah’s greedy hands off the title, the decisions just kept coming.
Jeremiah concerned her the most. He’d fight for the entire thousand acre tract, then kick the lot of them out. He wasn’t interested in tradition or family. Back home for less than a week and he was already threatening everyone from her and Annie to his very own father—his dying father. Images from the encounter earlier curdled in her heart. Jeremiah was a disgrace. He only wanted Ladd Springs for the money. He’d sell it to the highest bidder so he could pay off his gambling debt. Years of family and history would be gone. In the scratch of his signature, Jeremiah could end the Ladd legacy.
Delaney dropped her head back onto Nick’s shoulder. Life had become a mess of decisions, and she was tired of making them. Though there remained one decision she couldn’t ignore. Staring at the wooden beams above, the rough-hewn slats of the ceiling sloping steeply from the peak, she said, “Annie sounds pretty sure of Casey’s paternity.”
“That she does,” Nick agreed.
Delaney’s gaze lowered, glazing over as she stared out a side window. “With him in town, I think she’ll finally get that paternity test.”
“Easier when he’s in jail.”
Delaney grunted. “And if he sues us for the deed to Ladd Springs?”
“With no money?”
“What if he gets the money?”
“Law suits require money and they require grounds for challenge,” Nick said, stroking her hair. “If Jeremiah decides to take it to court, then he’s got two years to do so.” Nick’s hand stilled and gently squeezed her arm. “But Ernie signed the property over to Felicity in a life estate. It’s a done deal. He had every legal right to sign it over to whomever he chose and he chose her. In the eyes of the law, once Ernie passes, Felicity is the owner of Ladd Springs. Your only concern at this point is paying the back taxes.”
Delaney heaved a sigh. “Which I need you for.”
He gave her a mild shake. “I thought we were in this together?”
“We are.” She blew out her breath, the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “I’m just worried about Jeremiah interfering.”
“He won’t,” Nick said firmly. “We won’t let him.”
The thought gave her pause. If they were successful in stopping Jeremiah, there was still the issue of Casey. If she really was Jeremiah’s daughter, it would make her Ernie’s granddaughter, same as Felicity, and every bit as entitled to Ladd Springs. Shutting her out didn’t seem right. “Casey shouldn’t be penalized because of her parents,” Delaney remarked quietly.
“I agree.”
Nick’s voice was faint, like an echo of her thoughts. Had he been thinking the same thing she’d been thinking? “But Annie is another thing,” Delaney said defiantly. Where she may feel Casey equally entitled to Ladd Springs, she did not feel that way about her mother. Delaney was a Ladd. Annie was not.
“What do you want to do about it?” Nick asked.
Her gaze shot to the ceiling. “I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far in my thought process.”
Nick chuckled. “Give it time. I daresay we’re not in a hurry. From what I witnessed today, Ernie is still in prime fightin’ condition. A paternity test will take time. I say we pay the taxes and take it from there. Malcolm and I can draw up site plans, architectural designs and when the day comes, we’ll be positioned to put them into action.”
Good thinking. Steady, calm, Nick was fast-becoming Delaney’s rock.
“Don’t look now,” Nick announced softly, “but we’ve got company.”
Delaney jumped. “What?” Her gaze latched onto the dark figure walking across her porch. She twisted to him. “The police are here.”
“I see that.” He rose, gently guiding her up with him.
Staring up into Nick’s dark gaze, she asked, “Do you think they arrested Jeremiah?
“I think we should answer the door and find out.”
The rap was quick and succinct. Delaney hurried to answer, hopeful the police had Jeremiah in custody, but nervous it could be something else. Nick and Malcolm seemed a little too cool when Jeremiah asked about their involvement. They told her they’d been out on business last night. Could that business have had something to do with Jeremiah? Delaney tamped back the quick patter in her breast and exclaimed, “Hey, Gavin.” Recognizing Ida Shore’s son instantly, Delaney was relieved for the friendly face. “How can I help you?” she asked, standing aside to let him in.
“Hey, Delaney,” he greeted with a smile, followed by a nod to Nick. Gavin was fair-skinned and boyish-faced, his receding blond hair the only outward indication to his almost forty years. Thankfully his hazel eyes were friendly, suggesting no ill intent for his visit.
“Gavin, this is my friend, Nick Harris. Nick, Gavin Shore.”
“Nice to meet you,” Gavin said and extended a hand. “Your uncle told me to come up here and talk to you about this.” He pulled out a worn black wallet and handed it to her.
Delaney flipped it open with a sharp intake of breath. Jeremiah’s. She looked at Nick, then Gavin. “This belongs to Ernie’s son, Jeremiah.”
“That’s what I thought. I only know of one Ladd family around these parts and that’s yours,” Gavin said pleasantly. “When did he get back in town?”
Delaney’s first instinct was to explain it wasn’t a friendly visit, but she hesitated.
“Where did you find the wallet, officer?” Nick asked.
Gavin straightened and clicked back into business mode. “Downtown. I was concerned, because it was found in an area known for criminal activity.” Gavin turned to Delaney. “Is Jeremiah okay?”
She wanted to shout, “No, he’s a troublemaker who deserved the beating he got!” But fearing that would make her look guilty, she nodded, brushed her hair behind an ear. “As far as I know. I saw him earlier today,” she said, checking with Nick to see if she was on the right track. He discreetly encouraged her. “But I haven’t seen him since.”
“Hmm.” Gavin opened the wallet and furrowed his sandy brow. “Looks like he was robbed. There’s no cash and no credit cards.”
“Nothing less than I would expect, if you say you found it in a rough part of town,” she replied. “Would you like me to give it to him if I see him again?” She had no plans to see him, but she wanted to sound normal. Helpful.
“Thanks, but I’d better keep it. We’re running the fingerprints on it now.”
“Good thinking,” she said, her mind zipping through potential pitfalls. Were there any? She flashed a glance at Nick. Like maybe his or Malcolm’s p
rints showing up?
Gavin smacked the wallet against the heel of his palm and said, “Well, when you see Jeremiah, tell him not to make a stranger of himself.” He chuckled. “I wouldn’t mind seeing the old boy again.”
Delaney thought, Think again. Jeremiah isn’t the same kid they grew up with. But she murmured respectfully, “I will.”
She waved Gavin goodbye and closed the door before turning to Nick. “What do you think?”
“I think they’ll find the fingerprints of whoever robbed Jeremiah of his wallet.” Delaney’s thoughts balled into a knot of curiosity. Nick took her face in hands. “It wasn’t me, so wipe that suspicious look off your face.”
“What?’
“You heard me.” Nick leaned down and kissed her, soft and sweet. “You need to have some patience. The police will get Jeremiah in due time, and they won’t be arresting me along with him.” He grinned and winked at her. “Shame on you to think otherwise.”
Troy gunned the engine of his truck and accelerated, spinning the steering wheel in a tight reverse out of his parents’ carport. Casey was waiting for him at Fran’s Diner. They were going out again tonight and he didn’t want to be late. Casey was cool. Sweet and pretty, she didn’t judge him. She believed in him. He swiped a glance at the upstairs window. It was more than he could say for anyone else around here.
As expected, his parents hit the roof when he told them he wasn’t going to college. He explained his plan, laid out his vision, but all they did was try and talk him out of it, as though forcing him to go to a college and get a degree he didn’t want was a smart idea. It wasn’t. It was stupid and it wasn’t going to happen. Picking up his cell from the center console, Troy dialed Casey’s number. Bringing the phone to ear, he slowed. A police car emerged from around the wooded curve, heading in.
“Aw, crap.” Casey answered and he said, “I’m running late, but don’t leave, okay?” Troy watched the squad car near, the officer’s eyes pinned on him. “I’ll be there,” he clipped, “so don’t go anywhere, hear?”
Troy and the police officer veered to the opposite sides of the driveway, splitting the difference. What the hell were police doing on his property? The officer rolled down his window and looked up at him. “This the Parker home, right?”
“It is.”
“I’m looking for a Troy Parker.” The blonde officer squinted slightly, as though recognizing him through a fog. It was getting dark Troy thought, but not that dark. “Do you know where I might find him?” the man asked.
A sudden flood of nerves cut across his midsection. “I’m Troy Parker. What’s the problem, officer?”
Glancing toward the home behind him, he said, “I have a couple of questions, if you don’t mind.”
“Naw, I don’t mind,” he said politely. Troy slid the gear into park and jumped out of his truck. The police officer emerged from his vehicle more cautiously. Angst zipped through him. Was he here to arrest him? Had he somehow found out about last night?
“Do you know a Jeremiah Ladd?”
Troy nearly crapped his pants. “Yeah. What about him?”
“He was robbed last night.”
Beaten, too, but Troy kept his mouth shut.
“He said you might know something about it?”
“Me? I don’t know anything about any robbery,” he exclaimed. “Why’s he bringing my name up?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out.” The officer glanced up at the house again. “Are your parents home?”
Yes, but this is a really bad time. Any more bad news and they might throw him out! “They don’t know anything about it, either.”
The officer smiled, as though to say “nice try.” “Maybe we should be having this conversation with them.”
Stuffing his doubt deeper, Troy squared off. “I’m eighteen. They don’t have any reason to be involved.”
Appearing amused by Troy’s response, the officer nodded. “Okay.” He rested his hands along his gun belt and asked, “Where were you last night?”
“Out.”
“Out with whom?”
“Myself.”
The man raised his brow. “Eighteen-year-old boys go out by themselves these days?”
Troy didn’t like the man’s insulting tone. “I don’t need anyone to hold my hand.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Bowling.”
“Bowling?”
Troy nodded. He did stop by the bowling alley on his way out of town with Casey.
“There’s only one bowling place in town, son.”
“I know it.”
“You have someone there who can verify your story?”
“Dad gum, it ain’t no story. Why don’t you go ask them and see for yourself?”
“This isn’t a joke, boy.”
“I didn’t say it was.” Troy’s pulse quickened at the sight of a taxi cab pulling in behind the police officer. He watched the car roll to a stop and stared at the back door as it opened. His stomach pitched. What the hell was she doing here?
The officer turned and watched Loretta Flynn strut over, the dirt driveway proving tricky for her four-inch heels. Wearing her infamous combination of short skirt and skintight top, tonight’s top a leopard print, she hurried to Troy’s side. Concern ripped through her features. Her heavily made-up blue eyes rounded. “Honey, are you in trouble?”
The officer crossed his arms and broadcast his surprise at Loretta’s presence.
“No, Loretta. I ain’t in no trouble. What are you doing here?” he asked, mindful they were being watched.
Loretta slid a hand up his arm and smiled. “I came to see you.”
“Isn’t she a little old for you, son?” the officer asked with a smirk.
Troy wanted to punch him in the face. Loretta’s smile broadened, apparently taking it as a compliment to her.
“This your boyfriend, ma’am?”
“I wish,” she said.
Troy cursed under his breath. “She’s a friend,” he insisted, peeling her off of him—which was a challenge, the way she kept sidling up to him, all clingy like. Then to her, Troy repeated, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to tell you that I’m leaving. I’m leaving Jerry and I’m going back to Atlanta.”
Troy groaned inwardly. Way to go, Loretta.
The officer perked at the mention of the name. “Jerry? Would that happen to be in reference to Jeremiah Ladd?”
“Yes,” she answered. “You know him?”
“He was robbed last night,” the officer said, suddenly taking a keen interest in her. “Were you with him when it happened?”
“No. I wouldn’t have anything to do with that man.”
“I thought you said you were leaving him.”
“I know. I’m the one who said it,” Loretta snipped. “You might want to get your hearing checked if you’re still confused.”
The officer’s face reddened, his anger easily readable in the golden light of sunset. Time was ticking, and Troy was itching to get out of here. “Well, if you’re though with me, I’ll be going.”
“Troy?” Loretta asked, her voice pinched with hurt. “Aren’t you gonna say goodbye?”
“Goodbye, Loretta.” It’s not like they were an item, or anything. She had used him and he used her. There was no reason for emotional goodbyes.
Loretta grabbed his face and planted a wet kiss on his lips, leaving half her shiny pink gloss on his mouth. “Bye, Troy. I’ll miss you.”
Don’t. Troy wiped the sticky lip gloss from his lips. The feeling isn’t mutual.
Loretta strolled back to her cab with what Troy would swear was an exaggerated swing to her hips, hopped in her cab, and the vehicle backed out.
“You sure you weren’t angry with her boyfriend?” the officer pressed, smoothing out his tone as if he was on Troy’s side. “Fights over a woman happen every day.”
“I didn’t beat up Jeremiah.”
The officer angled his head. “Now that’s inte
resting. I never mentioned anything about him receiving a beating.”
“He did. A bad one. I saw him this morning over at Fran’s Diner.”
The officer nodded that he’d heard but didn’t seem convinced.
Troy asked again, “If you’re through with me?” He wasn’t stupid. He knew he had rights. No police officer could interrogate him without a lawyer unless he agreed to answer the questions.
“Don’t go anywhere, kid. I might need to ask you a few more questions. We’re running prints on the guy’s wallet. You better hope they’re not yours.”
They ain’t, he thought, and with a glance toward his house, spotted his father staring out the upstairs window. Great. He climbed into his truck. Tomorrow was gonna be a great day.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Malcolm and Lacy joined Nick and Delaney for breakfast at Fran’s. Sunlight saturated the interior of the restaurant, lighting up the red vinyl booths, the black and white checkered floor. A floor that was gleaming, Malcolm noted, polished and ready to handle another day of heavy foot traffic. Perusing the laminated menu, Malcolm felt the nine-thirty food call was a bit early. But without Lacy in his bed, there was no sense in wasting the day. Last night after dinner and dancing at Whiskey Joes, she had refused his invitation for a nightcap at his hotel. Something about milk and cows which made no sense at the time, but eventually he got the gist. No sex. She was holding out for marriage these days. “Cup of coffee, black.”
“Coming right up,” Fran replied, scribbling on her petite notepad, then headed for the kitchen.
Sitting by his side, Lacy turned in the booth. “Black? No cream, no sugar?”
“Black, like the strands of your hair,” he replied, raking the top of her head with a hot, hungry glance. They should be in bed right now, ordering room service.
Lacy smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Be serious.”
“I am. I like my coffee black. I like your hair black. I like your black boots. I’d like you in anything black,” he added, struck by thoughts of her in lacy underwear.
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