“It’s only one meal,” she pointed out.
If it was “only one meal,” another part of her mind wanted to know, why was her heart beating so hard and so fast? Why was her breath shallow and why, pray tell, did she feel all warm and melty in places where she had no damn business feeling all warm and melty?
Steven was quiet, absorbing her answer.
It was disturbing for Melissa to realize that she even liked watching this man think.
“You’re right,” he said at last, with a sigh that was all the more wicked for its boyish innocence. “It’s only supper. We’ll be there at six.”
“Good,” Melissa said, wondering exactly when—and how—she’d lost her reason. Hadn’t she been down this same road with Dan Guthrie a few years ago?
Dan, the sexy rancher, widowed father of two charming little boys.
Dan, the patient, fiery lover who’d turned her inside out in his bed on the nights when they managed to have the house to themselves.
Dan, who’d finally dumped her, in no uncertain terms, claiming she couldn’t commit to a serious relationship, and had taken up with a waitress named Holly, from over in Indian Rock?
Dan and Holly were married now. Expecting a baby.
And the little boys Melissa had come to love like her own children called Holly Mom.
Inwardly, she took a step back from Steven Creed, and he seemed to know it, because a shadow fell across his eyes and, for just a millisecond, a muscle bunched in his jaw. He wanted to lodge a protest, she guessed, having sensed her sudden reticence, but he didn’t know what about.
“Follow me,” Melissa said, in the voice of a sleepwalker.
Steven sighed, like a man who thought better of the idea but couldn’t think of an alternative, and nodded.
Melissa drove slowly from the parking lot of Creekside Academy, out onto the main road, and straight into Stone Creek.
Every few moments, she checked her rearview, and the big blue truck was back there each time, Steven an indiscernible shadow at the wheel.
You just want to sleep with him, Melissa accused herself silently. And what does that say about your character?
Melissa squared her shoulders and answered the accusation out loud, since there was no one else in the roadster to overhear. “It says that I’m a natural woman, with red blood flowing through my veins,” she replied.
You’ll start caring for Steven Creed. Worse, you’ll start caring for Matt. It’s a case of burn me once, shame on you, burn me twice, shame on me.
Have you forgotten how much it hurt, losing Dan and the boys? It was like losing your mom and dad all over again, wasn’t it?
“Oh, shut up,” Melissa said. “I’m serving the man supper, not a night of steamy sex.” She sighed. She could really have used a night of steamy sex. “And the joke’s on you. I already care for Matt.”
You need a child of your own. Not a substitute.
“Didn’t I ask you to shut up?” Melissa countered, almost forgetting to stop at a sign.
Sure enough, Tom Parker’s cruiser slipped in between her car and Steven’s truck, lights whirling. The siren gave an irritating little whine, for good measure.
As if she wouldn’t have noticed him back there.
Swearing, Melissa kept driving the half block to her own house, and parked.
“Did you see that stop sign?” Tom asked cordially, climbing out of the squad car. His dog, Elvis, rode in the passenger seat. In Stone Creek, Elvis counted as backup.
“Yes,” Melissa said tersely, “and I stopped for it.”
“Just barely,” Tom pointed out, glancing back at Steven’s rig.
Melissa watched as the flashy blue truck, which probably sucked up enough gas for four or five cars to run on, drew up alongside her roadster, and the front passenger-side window buzzed down.
“Is everything all right?” Steven leaned across to ask. His eyes were doing that mischievous little dance again, generating blue heat.
Tom waved at him, smiled cordially. “Everything’s fine.”
Steven studied Melissa for a long moment, and when she didn’t refute Tom’s statement, he seemed satisfied. “See you at six,” he said.
And then he just drove away.
Just like that.
Not that that annoyed her or anything.
Melissa folded her arms. “What’s this all about?” she demanded. “You know damn well you had no business pulling me over. I stopped for that sign.”
Tom was still gazing after Steven’s truck. “I just wanted to say hello,” he lied.
“What a load,” Melissa replied. “The truth is, you’re just as nosy as your aunt Ona. You saw Steven following me and you wanted to know what was going on.”
“He said, ‘See you at six,’” Tom went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. “You two have a date or something?”
“Or something,” Melissa said. “Not that it’s any of your business.” She flexed her fingers, then regripped the steering wheel, hard. “This is harassment,” she pointed out.
Tom chuckled, shook his head. But there was something watchful in his eyes. “At least let me run a check on Creed’s background before you get involved,” he said. “A person can’t be too careful these days.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Melissa retorted, exasperated. “A person can be too careful. Like you, for instance. When are you going to ask Tessa Quinn out for dinner and a movie, you big coward?”
Tom blinked. Straightened his spine. “When I get around to it,” he said, in a mildly affronted tone.
“Have you run a background check on her yet?”
“Of course I haven’t.”
“A person can’t be too careful,” Melissa threw out. Then she sighed and changed the subject. “I was just coming from the Parade Committee meeting,” she said pointedly. “You know, that little thing I’m doing because your aunt, Ms. Ona Frame, has to have her gall-bladder out? You owe me, Sheriff Parker. And if you think I’m going to put up with being pulled over for no reason—”
Tom did a parody of righteous horror. Laid a hand to his chest. Back in the squad car, Elvis let out a yip, as though putting in his two cents’ worth. Then Tom laughed, held up both hands, palms out. Elvis yipped again.
Melissa leaned to retrieve her purse and that stupid clipboard.
He laughed again. “He’s got you pretty flustered, that Creed yahoo,” he said, looking pleased at the realization. “I haven’t seen you this worked up since you were dating Dan Guthrie—”
Too late, Tom seemed to realize he’d struck a raw nerve. He stopped, reddened, and flung his hands out from his sides. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be,” Melissa huffed, turning on one heel.
Tom followed her as far as her front gate. “It’s not as if you’re the only person who’s ever loved and lost, Melissa O’Ballivan,” he blurted out, in a furious under tone. “Imagine how it feels to be crazy about a woman who looks right through you like you were transparent!”
“I can’t begin to imagine that, for obvious reasons,” Melissa replied, heading up the walk.
Elvis howled.
Tom stuck with Melissa until she’d mounted the first two porch steps and rounded to look down into his upturned face. “You deliberately misunderstood that,” he accused, but he’d lost most of his steam by then.
Melissa sighed. “You were referring to Tessa Quinn, I presume?” she asked, though everybody in town and for miles around knew that Tom loved the woman with a passion of truly epic proportions. Everybody, with the probable exception of Tessa herself, that is.
Tessa was either clueless, playing it cool or just not interested in Tom Parker.
Tom thrust out a miserable breath. “You know damn well it’s Tessa,” he said.
Melissa cocked a thumb toward the squad car and said, “Get Elvis and come inside. I made a pitcher of iced tea before I went out.”
But Tom shook his head. “I’m supposed to be on patrol,” he said.
�
��Well, that’s noble,” Melissa replied, as the dog gave another long, plaintive howl, “but I’m not sure Elvis is onboard with the plan.”
“I was just taking him over to the Groom-and-Bloom for his weekly bath,” Tom said. He took very good care of Elvis; everybody knew that as well as they knew his feelings for Tessa. “He’s just worried about missing his appointment, that’s all. He’s particular about his appearance, Elvis is.”
Melissa smiled. Nodded. “Tom?”
He was turning away. “What?”
“Why don’t you ask Tessa for a date?”
He looked all of fourteen as he considered that idea. His neck went a dull red, and his earlobes glowed like they were lit up from the inside. “She might say no.”
“Here’s a thought, Tom. She might say yes. Then what would you do?”
“Probably have a coronary on the spot.” Tom sounded pretty serious, but there was a tentative smile playing around his lips. “Same as if she said no.”
“So you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.”
“That’s about the size of it,” Tom said.
“I dare you,” Melissa said. When they were kids, that was the way to get Tom Parker to do just about anything. Of course, she hadn’t tried it since playground days.
He flushed again, and his eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You heard me, Parker,” Melissa said, jutting her chin out a little ways. “I double-dog dare you to ask Tessa Quinn out to dinner. Or to a movie. Or to a dance—there’s one next weekend, at the Grange Hall. And if you don’t ask her out, well, you’re just plain—chicken.”
Instantly, they were both nine years old again.
Tom stepped closer and glared up at her. “Oh, yeah?” he said.
“Yeah,” Melissa replied stoutly.
“You’re on,” Tom told her.
“Good,” Melissa answered, without smiling.
“What do I get if you lose?” Tom wanted to know.
Melissa thought quickly. “I’ll buy you dinner.”
“As long as you’re not cooking,” Tom specified, looking and sounding dead serious.
This was a bet Melissa wanted to lose. “I’ll recruit Ashley,” she said. “She can do those specially marinated spare ribs you like so much.”
“Deal,” Tom said, without cracking a smile. Even as a little kid, he’d been a sucker for a bet.
“Wait just a second,” Melissa said. “What if I win? What happens then?”
“I’ll take over as chairman of the Parade Committee,” Tom told her, after some thought.
“Deal,” Melissa agreed, putting out her free hand.
They shook on it, then Tom turned and stalked back to the gate, through it and down the sidewalk to his car. “Just remember one thing!” he called back to her.
“What?” Melissa retorted, about to turn around and open her front door.
“Two can play this game,” Tom said.
Then he got into the cruiser, slammed his door and ground the engine to life with a twist of the key in the ignition, leaving Melissa to wonder what the hell he’d meant by that.
He made the siren give one eloquent moan as he drove on past her house and vanished around the corner.
“Damn,” Melissa said, as the answer dawned on her.
Now she’d gone and done it.
Tom would lie awake nights until he came up with a dare for her. And it would be a doozy, knowing him.
But she didn’t dwell on the problem too long, because she had things to do. Like go over to Ashley’s, thereby braving the wild bunch, who might well be swinging from the chandeliers in their birthday suits, to steal a main course and a dessert from one of the freezers.
* * *
“NEXT TIME,” STEVEN told the rearview reflection of a chagrined Matt, as they drove out of town, “it would be a really good idea to talk it over with me before you go inviting people to our place for supper.”
Matt was no pouter, but his lower lip poked out a-ways, and he was blinking real fast, both of which were signs that he might cry.
It killed Steven when he cried.
“I was just trying to be a good neighbor,” Matt explained, sounding as wounded as he looked. “Anyhow, I like Ms. O’Ballivan, don’t you?”
“Yes,” he said, tightening his fingers on the steering wheel, then relaxing them again. “I understand that your intentions were good,” he went on quietly. “But sometimes, if that person happens to have other plans, or some other reason why they need to say no, it puts them on the spot. There’s no graceful way for them to turn you down.”
Matt listened in silence, sniffling a couple of times.
“Do you know what I’m saying, here?” Steven asked, keeping his voice gentle.
Matt nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I get it. I’m gifted, remember?”
Steven laughed. “There’s no forgetting that,” he said.
“Are you mad at me?”
An ache went through Steven, like a sharp pole jabbed down through the top of his heart to lodge at the bottom. “No,” he said. “If I straighten you out about something, it doesn’t mean I’m angry. It just means I want you to think things through a little better the next time.”
Matt let out a long sigh, back there in the peanut gallery, one of his arms wrapped around Zeke, who was panting and, incredibly, managing to keep his canine head from blocking the rearview mirror.
“It’s kind of weird, calling you Steven,” Matt said, after a long time. He was looking out the window by then, but even with just a glance at the boy’s reflection to go on, Steven could see the tension he was trying to hide.
“Who says so?” Steven asked carefully. Conversations like this one always made his stomach clench.
“I do,” Matt told him. His voice was small.
The turn onto their road was just ahead; Steven flipped the signal lever and slowed to make a dusty left. “What would you like to call me?” he asked.
“Dad,” Matt said simply.
Steven’s eyes scalded, and his vision blurred.
“But that doesn’t seem right, because I used to have another dad,” Matt went on. “Do you think it would hurt my first daddy’s feelings if I went around calling somebody else ‘Dad’?”
“I think your dad would want you to be happy,” Steven said. It was almost a croak, that statement, but, fortunately, Matt didn’t seem to notice. They’d reached the top of the driveway, so Steven pulled up beside the old two-tone truck and shifted out of gear. Shut the motor off. And just sat there, not knowing what to say. Or do.
“If he was Daddy,” Matt reasoned, “then I guess it would be all right if you were Dad.”
Steven’s throat constricted. He literally couldn’t speak just then, so he shoved open the truck door and got out. Stood staring off toward the foothills and the mountains beyond for a few moments, until he’d recovered some measure of control.
When he turned around again, both Matt and Zeke had their faces pressed to the window, gumming it up big-time with their breaths.
He laughed and carefully opened the door, so Zeke wouldn’t plunge right over Matt and his safety seat and take a header onto the ground.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Steven said.
“So I can call you Dad?” Matt asked.
“Yeah,” Steven replied, ducking his head slightly while he undid the snaps and buckles. “You can call me Dad.”
“That’s good,” Matt said. A pause. “Dad?” He said the word softly, like he was trying it on for size.
“What?” Steven ground out, hoisting the little boy to the ground, and then the dog.
“How come your eyes are all red?”
Steven sniffled, ran a forearm across his face. “I guess it’s the dust,” he said. He pretended to assess the sky, sprawling blue from horizon to horizon. “A good rain would help.”
* * *
“HELLO?” MELISSA RAPPED lightly at her sister’s kitchen door, though she’d already opened it and
stuck her head inside. “Anybody home?”
There was no answer, but she could hear voices coming from the dining room.
Melissa hadn’t seen a car parked outside, so she’d hoped the lively group had gone out, maybe to play miniature golf or take in a movie. She would have loved to raid the freezer and duck out again, unnoticed, but she was afraid one of the oldsters would wander in, be startled and collapse from a massive coronary.
So she moved to the middle of the floor and tried again. “Hello?”
This time, they heard her. “Melissa, is that you?” a woman’s voice called cheerfully.
“Yes,” she answered. Then she drew a deep breath, proceeded to the inside door and drew another deep breath before pushing it open.
The guests were gathered at one end of the formal dining table, playing cards. And they were all wearing clothes.
Melissa was so profoundly relieved that she gave a nervous, high-pitched giggle and put one hand to her heart.
How amused Ashley and Olivia and Brad would be if they could see her now. In her family, she did not have a reputation for shyness, and her sibs would have gotten a major kick out of her newfound fear of naked croquet players.
“Come and join us,” Mr. Winthrop said, rising from his seat. “We’re playing gin rummy, and I’m afraid we’ve all known each other so well, for so long, that there just aren’t any new tricks.”
I’ll just bet there aren’t, Melissa thought, but not with rancor. Initial embarrassment aside, she liked these people. They had spirit. Imagination. Wrinkles. Lots and lots of wrinkles.
“I can’t stay,” she said, and the regret in her tone was only partly feigned. She enjoyed gin rummy and, heck, everybody was dressed, weren’t they? “I’m having company tonight, so I came by to borrow a few things.” She waggled her fingers at them, backing toward the swinging door. “Enjoy your game.”
“Don’t take the roast duck,” one of the women sang out, shuffling the deck for another hand of cards. “Your sister promised that to us. It’s Herbert’s favorite, and he’s turning ninety tomorrow.”
“Hands off the duck,” Melissa promised, palms up and facing the group at the table, and then she slipped out. She was smiling to herself as she headed for the large storage room, off the kitchen, where Ashley had two huge freezers, invariably well-stocked.
The Cowboy Way Page 10