by J. L. Salter
I hated it when he smiled. So totally handsome — but that smile made me feel like he knew something I didn't know. Something besides his long story behind all those rumors.
****
We'd both worked hard all afternoon, sometimes separately but often together. Hazzard was capable, diligent, and seemed to love being around the animals — even Thirteen. As I watched intently, sometimes Hazzard caught me and grinned. I was not very successful at pretending I hadn't been looking. On those occasions, I felt like a school girl at recess, studying the cute boy showing off on the exercise bars.
"What'cha thinking about?" He'd caught me daydreaming.
I could feel the heat in my face. "Nothing. Flashback to school day playgrounds." Actually, I was thinking how much I'd like to swing on that equipment with him. "Just a bit of ancient history."
****
We were both seated in the front customer area when Edwards finally showed up about six-fifteen. "I'm a little late." No apology though. "Everything go okay?"
"No problems," Hazzard replied.
I just nodded and handed over the clipboard of authority.
Edwards let us out the front and locked the door behind us. I could see the inside light go off. He must have set the alarm and then locked the side staff door. Then he appeared from around the outside corner. "Okay. Tomorrow, one o'clock." He rolled into his large sedan and took off.
Hazzard's truck was parked on the other side of my vehicle. I walked all the way around my car and sneaked a peek into his truck bed. No dead bodies; no tarps either. Guess he already buried them. "Well, I figure that's the worst of our community service." It had been a good afternoon once we worked past my morning of rather uncivil behavior. Suddenly I was at a loss for words, so I yawned.
"Tired?"
"Whipped." I patted my lower belly. "Hungry again, too."
Ryan's eyebrows arched up. "Where's a good place for ex-cons to dine?" He paused. "That is, if you're willing…"
Willing and eager. Maybe I could non-verbally apologize for my earlier bristly behavior. "Uh. Sure. Just about any place but the Dairy Barne."
"How about the steak buffet place?"
I frowned.
He noticed. "Don't like buffets?"
"Oh, they're okay, but I'm so tired, I just want to sit without having to scout around the steam tables and get jostled by other starving customers."
"No scouting or jostling at the pizza place. You game?"
"Down near the mall? Yeah, sure." I looked toward my small wagon. "Who's in front?"
"You lead out." He grinned slyly. "I'm on your tail."
Though I sensed intrigue in his phrasing, I just nodded. For the time being he wouldn't get anywhere near my rear or anything else, but I still found the notion unsettling. Yeah, unsettling in a good way.
****
As we each approached the pizza place, Hazzard behind me, I suddenly remembered how I was dressed. Soiled overalls, leather jacket, and a baseball cap! Good grief.
He joined me, standing at my car, and could likely guess I was having second thoughts. "Not hungry anymore?"
"I can't go in there like this." My hand swept down over the length my front.
Hazzard grinned. "You look fine." He shifted his gaze toward the restaurant and then faced me again. "I bet you look nicer than ninety percent of the women in there."
I wondered where he got that number. "In overalls?"
"If anybody gigs you for dress code violations, just tell 'em you're with me." He winked.
I whapped his arm. "You look like a bum too!" Then we both snorted. It felt good to laugh with a man again.
Hazzard continued to chuckle. "Besides, it's a pizza place. What's dressy enough for pizza?"
He had a point. "Anything I guess. Okay, but we sit in a secluded corner."
Turning quickly toward the entrance, Hazzard took my elbow. His touch startled me and I looked down. He obviously noticed, but didn't remove his large hand. The new gentleman in town guided me into the pizza establishment like I was wearing dainty heels and a fresh spring formal.
Chapter Nineteen
I removed my jacket and draped it over an adjacent empty chair. Our table was not as secluded as I'd hoped, but nobody seemed to recognize me anyway. In fact, I couldn't identify anyone either, except the manager who regularly visited the bank's mall branch. Normally he used the drive-thru, but I'd seen him inside a few times. His face showed no sign of recognition when he pointed to our seats but he appeared slightly snooty about my overalls.
Hazzard, however, was apparently known by several diners, especially the females. At least one called him by first name. Not sure why that bothers me. I certainly had no claim on this stranger. Stranger to me, but familiar to them? Hmm.
"Looks like you're pretty popular out here in the mall district."
"Huh? Oh, just some people I've met through work."
I studied his face to see if he was saying less than he meant. Couldn't tell. "Well, the one that knows your first name seemed very friendly. Kind of cute, too."
Long pause. Then he turned his head to check which one I'd cited. "Uh, she works in the revenue department — vehicle taxes, I think. Not real estate. I know most of them."
"She knows you, evidently… Ryan."
He looked briefly stuck for words then said, "I think that's the first time you've used my first name."
"Ryan?"
"Second time." He lowered his voice. "I hope you'll use it more."
"Well, what have you been calling me?"
Hazzard had to close his eyes to remember. "Boss?" Then he chuckled.
I joined him and it felt warm. "Okay. I'll call you Ryan if you call me Kris." It sounded corny.
"Deal, Kris." He reached out a large hand.
I hesitated, but shook it. "Okay, Ryan." His grip was firm, but without extra pressure. I could feel the calluses again. We were still holding hands when the waitress showed up. I tried to withdraw mine, but Ryan held on a few more seconds. Hmm. He'd done that before.
I ordered something simple that was basically a personal pan size. Ryan ordered a large with everything. I ate all of mine and the narrowest slice of his.
Ryan polished off the other seven slices of his and looked around the room like he might try to borrow portions from another diner. "Dessert?" It was less of a question than a plea.
I smiled. "Maybe when the pizza finds a resting spot. How about we just relax here a few minutes first?"
He looked like a kid denied a treat.
"Well, I meant I'd wait. You're welcome to…"
Ryan interrupted. "No, that's okay. I can hold out. Might be we ought to grab some ice cream or something instead… maybe somewhere else."
Hmm. This had started to resemble a date. I'd never dated in overalls before. "Well, I'm kind of tired…"
"You want to go?"
"No. I just meant, let's sit here and chill for a minute. It's been a long day."
Ryan looked relieved, but still seemed preoccupied with dessert.
My rational mind recognized that each of us was uncertain what the other wanted, and both of us wanted to be agreeable to the other. It was, in fact, quite a bit like a first or second date. Hmm.
Despite that uncertainty, pizza with Ryan was nice; for the first time I was able to relax around him. He seemed to have been mostly at ease around me since half-way through that first night we'd met. But I'd spent much of that time either angry or holding him at arm's length. Not tonight. Something about the dimly lit table at the half-filled pizza place had calmed me a bit. Or, if not the facility, at least the company had mellowed me. Oh, okay. It was Ryan who'd turned me so placid. There, I said it.
I noticed Ryan's gaze kept returning to my jacket and that reminded me of Wally's repeated criticism. "Do you think it makes me look mannish?"
"I was just admiring the construction." He completely side-stepped my question. "It's an A-2 model, just like the flyers wore in World War Two."
&nbs
p; I already knew that. "My dad bought it for me — college graduation."
"Always wanted one by this company." He pointed to the label and continued, "But somehow never scared up the money at the right time." Then his eyes met mine. "Beautiful."
Huh? I'm gonna need a pronoun in a hurry!
Ryan evidently noticed my puzzlement. "The leather's premium goatskin. Styling is authentic A-2, except for the front pocket access. Gorgeous workmanship. Beautiful." He reached over and held one sleeve between his hands.
Somehow I was temporarily jealous of my jacket. Ryan stroked that goatskin like some men might caress a woman. Maybe even this woman. I'd had very little recent experience but still remembered a few sensations from before the Weasel.
Ryan carefully replaced the caressed sleeve along the side of the chair back and sighed. "Maybe, someday. I need something a bit nicer than these chore coats I usually wear."
I agreed. The garment was a top quality brand, but I never cared for the barn coat style, as my brother called them.
Ryan was staring.
"What?"
"It does not make you look mannish. Not at all. And whoever said that must not know the difference."
Even though I'd previously fished for that compliment, my face flushed. "Uh, thanks."
"Nothing could make you look mannish, Kris. From what I can tell and what I've already seen, by the way—" He almost winked. "—you're about ninety-nine per cent female."
Immediately, I panicked that he'd deducted a point. What did I lack — the proper nail polish? "Ninety-nine?"
"Well, you know, every human supposedly has some gene or chromosome, or something, of the other gender. Common science."
"Guess I missed that day of class."
He could see I was confused. "Kris, you're all woman. Plus, you've got smarts and guts… and kindness. A lot more complete than some ditzy chick who's stumbling through life on looks alone."
So, now I'm ugly? As for those beautiful women in his thesis, I'd never noticed any of them complaining or stumbling. Normally, I would have composed a retort, but I decided to wait until Ryan was finished with his analysis. Apparently he was. Hmm. Perhaps he expected me to compliment him. I took stock. There was certainly plenty to admire. Tall, with an athletic build and plenty of physical strength. Piercing steel gray eyes, a rugged chin, and those animated lips. Interesting neck. Not like those puffed out football player no-necks, and definitely not a wimpy pencil neck. Ryan's was muscular but trim, with obviously enough meat to hold his noggin in place. No sign of having combed that lush hair with anything other than his fingers. At least not in my limited time with him. Ellen and Reda had both said Ryan was dreamy. Was he? Yeah. Dreamy like a double scoop of premium Dutch chocolate ice cream when you're on a strict diet. Delicious, but off-limits. Whose limits? Mine.
I never did respond to his remarks, not even to thank him. I guess that was a little rude, but I couldn't arrive at the right words.
Later, we laughed more about our attempt to bathe Thirteen and we speculated about what Mr. Edwards did in his spare time (none of which could be repeated). Ryan finally ordered a dessert pizza and I ate one slice. Cinnamon. Yum.
I told him a little about East Tennessee State where I'd majored in business administration. Ryan didn't speak a word about his own education.
Before we left our seats, we exchanged e-mail addresses and phone numbers. I'd wanted to suggest that data swap, but he beat me to it.
Ryan tried to pick up the entire tab, but I insisted on paying my share. I still didn't want to owe him anything, even though I wasn't certain why.
Outside near our vehicles, we chatted briefly about nothing in particular. It had been a pleasant, relaxing evening — my first in a long time, with a man. Then I inadvertently screwed it up. "You mind if I ask you something?"
He started to shake his head, which had likely become Ryan's automatic reaction to questions, but he stopped. "Depends on the question."
"Will you explain what you had in the bed of your truck, uh, last weekend?"
No reply, but he closed his eyes briefly as though he strained to remember.
"After all the stuff at the armory and with Corporal What's-his-name, you dropped me off. From the light pole at the edge of my driveway, I saw them."
"Them?"
"Two long lumpy piles, covered in tarps."
Ryan nodded. "What about them?"
A tiny voice told me to drop it, but, as usual, I didn't listen. "Well, they were about the size of adult bodies, all laid out for burial."
Still no reply to my subtle implication of capital murder. In Greene County, that was practically an admission of guilt.
I waited another moment. "I know rumors are stupid, so I'm sure there's absolutely nothing to it. But rumor has it, um, that you were hauling… dead bodies." I knew I'd already gone too far to stop, but wished I'd never asked. "Even if you won't explain anything else, can you at least set the record straight about your cargo last weekend?"
"Would you believe me if I said it was fence posts?"
I noticed his reply was rather rhetorical. He didn't actually state that they were fence poles. Besides, why would an apartment-dweller need a fence? "That's an interesting notion. But what were you really hauling?"
"Long story."
I wanted to punch him. Every time I'd halfway warmed up to that pirate character, he pulled out that long story crud. If Ryan wasn't a murderer — or, perhaps a grave robber — I could probably fall for that new guy in town. Except that I'd sworn off men.
Besides, my query had ruined the moment. Way to go, Kristen! With few additional words, we parted company. I mentally kicked myself several times as I watched him drive away.
I was home slightly before nine o'clock and Elvis spent nearly ten minutes fussing because I was late. He liked to dine around seven.
Chapter Twenty
Sunday morning was warmer than typical early November. I'd forgotten to change my clocks for the end of Daylight Savings Time. But I still had several hours before my show-up time at the shelter. Made some coffee and checked all my usual Internet accounts.
When I hadn't seen Hazzard in court on Wednesday, I'd figured "good riddance" even though he'd continued to linger in my mind.
The Ryan I got to know during our community service was human. Male. Very male. Hard-working, patient. I dished out a lot of attitude and he took it in stride. He was capable and clever, but willing to let me try my solutions even though a few were pretty lame. Not indulgent… more positive. Supportive! Imagine a guy being supportive.
Ryan seemed interested in me, not just in getting beneath my clothes. With Ryan I felt energized. Evidently I was engrossed with him. Otherwise I wouldn't feel this pumped.
But could I trust Ryan? Didn't know. Probably not.
All those rumors were disconcerting. Was he actually a murderer? Probably not. What on earth was the deal about Ryan and Vanessa? And that other guy? Maybe they innocently shared a three-way pizza. But probably not.
What terrible secrets did Ryan leave behind in wherever? Couldn't guess. But maybe they were simply nobody's business. A lot of things about me were nobody else's business.
So, could I trust Ryan? Didn't know. Probably not. He could be like Wally the Weasel. But a sliver of my brain realized I'd already spent too many years lumping nearly all men into that same despicable category. There were probably a few males on the planet who weren't like that. Maybe Ryan was one.
Or maybe not.
Ryan might have been just another really smooth operator playing to my weak suits just enough to get into my britches and steal my whatever. Wally mainly wanted the little bit of money I had. What would Ryan want out of me? Wasn't much left except… me. Would Ryan want me?
Couldn't tell.
But I might find out today.
****
No overalls that day — I went with nice jeans which fit me snugly and a henley, of course. Sneakers again, but a slightly newer pair.
<
br /> No sign of Edwards but my coworker was already at the shelter when I drove up a few minutes before one p.m. Ryan got out of his truck and greeted me with a warm smile. I wasn't sure what to expect after the way we'd parted company the previous night. A smile was more than I'd hoped for and I was relieved to get one.
"Uh, Ryan, I have a little confession… about yesterday."
His expression changed.
"I was pretty bossy part of the time and I guess I pretended I was in charge or something." Admission was difficult for me. "But the truth is, I'd only gotten there a few minutes before you and Edwards hardly did more than just hand me the clipboard." I cleared my throat. "So, anyway, I'm sorry I, uh, acted like that. And I did appreciate the barbecue. Plus, our pizza last night was wonderful. So I want to start today off on a different foot."
Ryan's face had switched back to a grin. "I guessed as much… about the clipboard."
I had to whack his arm. "So why'd you play along?"
No reply.
"And why were you being so nice to me? With the food and everything."
He sighed. "Oh, I don't know. You're, uh, interesting."
Hmm. Couldn't tell if that was an insult or a compliment.
"Plus, I guess I, um, wanted to hang around more than I cared who was bossing who."
I was still ready to be offended. "Well, it's not like you had much choice about hanging around. If you skipped out on this assignment, you'd have a bench warrant at the very least."
Ryan turned partly away and muttered, "Not really."
"What do you mean?"
"Uh, long story."
"Don't you keep giving me that long story business. You've had a long story since the first minute I met you. This story's bound to be short enough and I want to hear it."
He shrugged and moved toward the side door, still locked.
"What did you mean, Ryan?"
"Uh, this wasn't actually where the judge assigned me."
It took a moment to sink in. "Your community service is somewhere else?"