Crazy Ride

by Nancy Warren

  “I should apologize, but really we were fighting back the only way we knew how. If we could keep you here we thought you’d see how special this place is. I guess we’re still trying.”

  “You and my stomach.” He patted the culprit.

  “Well!” She manufactured as much indignation as she could under the circumstances. “I hope you don’t think I put you in the hospital?” And Lord, did she ever hope no one else in her household had either.

  “No. I think you were right about me. My body was getting ready to rebel. I’m glad my stomach blew out before my heart.”

  “Really?” This was the best news she’d had in ages. “You recognize that I was right about you?”

  “Yes. In a lot of ways I think you may have saved my life.”

  Her smile bloomed bigger than the American Beauty that had opened to full flower this morning.

  He held up his index finger. “But like I said, I’m on to you. I’ll stay until this thing is resolved, so no more pranks.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m not admitting anything.”

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  He slung an arm around her and they walked back out into the sunshine.

  “Hey, Joe?”

  “Mmm-hmmm?”

  “You’re smarter than you look.”

  “So, if I’m going to be here another week, can we negotiate the return of my cell phone and laptop?”

  “Of course we can.”

  “Great.”

  “You’re not getting them back. There, we negotiated.”

  “iPad?”

  She shook her head.

  She expected outrage, or wheedling or maybe a few tears and tantrums, but Joe was silent. She glanced over at him. “Did you die from shock?”

  “No. But I know when I’m beaten. I don’t have the combination to your safe.”

  “Well, that’s a little wimpy. Aren’t you going to try and torture the information out of me or something?”

  “Or something sounds good, but I’m probably going to let it go.”

  “Really?”

  “Emily, it kills me to tell you this, but you were right. I feel like an addict going cold turkey. I feel twitchy when I wake up and can’t check voice and email. If there’s a second in my day I’m not busy, I’m reaching for the laptop.”

  She nodded. No surprise there, except the surprising fact that he’d noticed his own addiction. “So The Shady Lady is like the Betty Ford for techno junkies?” She hooked her arm through his. “I like that. What are you finding in those moments when you reach for your fix and it’s not there?”

  “Silence.” They walked on for a minute. “In my life there’s no silence. It’s all noise and action, deals and more deals and … well, you saw that before I did.”

  “And what do you hear in that silence?”

  “I don’t know yet.” He blew out a breath. “My life’s all out of balance, I see that. I’ve got enough money to last at least a lifetime, but I’m too young to retire. I need to do something with my life. Maybe I want to run one of the companies I buy and sell for people. Maybe I want to be in a business that offers a real service or provides a useful product.” He shrugged, and she felt his discomfort. She doubted he was used to sharing intimate thoughts. “I want to feel that at the end of it all, when they put me in my casket, I’ll leave something useful behind me.”

  She put her head against his shoulder.

  “You think I’m crazy?”

  “No. I think a few days without your electronic world has been very good for you. You’re starting to sound sane.”

  He kicked a pebble and it skittered across the scrubby lawn. “Yeah. A month of this and I’ll be Buddha.”

  She chuckled. “Don’t knock it. I think you’re going to end up a much happier and more interesting man than you would have if you’d stayed on the same course.”

  “I opened my eyes, Em. And I listened when someone very smart told me the truth.” He turned and looked deep into her eyes, so she felt everything waver and start to melt. “You should try it sometime.”

  “But not today,” she managed.

  He held her a moment longer, still looking at her seeing deeper than she imagined anyone ever had. He nodded slowly. “But, not today.”

  She wasn’t a fool, though. She’d seen Joe’s fierce focus on whatever project he undertook. She had an awful feeling that she – and her supposed problems – would be his newest project. If she was smart, she’d give him back his toys so he’d leave her alone.

  “Hey,” he said, “Come up in the plane with me when I tour the area.”

  “I already promised you there won’t be any mysterious accidents. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

  “I know. I want your company. You took all my toys away, the least you can do is come play with me.”

  “I have things to do, you know. A life to live.”

  “Come on. It will be fun. You can be my tour guide and offer the bird’s eye view on why mining in this area is a bad idea.”

  “I can’t believe you’re joking about this.“

  “Look. I take what I do seriously. I think what we’re proposing will be a boon to Beaverton. I’m open to an opposing viewpoint. That’s serious, but we don’t have to wear black suits and pontificate to each other.”

  “All right then. But you should know I’m not an agree to disagree type, not when something I care about deeply is at stake.”

  “Fair enough. So will you come with me? I’m going to book a plane for tomorrow?”

  “I am perfectly aware that you are manipulating me into saying yes,” she said loftily.

  “So will you?”

  “Yes.”

  Once he saw the beauty of the area from the air, where he could see so much more than he could from a motorcycle, he was going to fall in love with this part of the world.

  He had to.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Joe heard banging. This was such a quiet area of the world, he was instantly awake. Oh, the banging was on his door.

  “Come in,” he said in a less than cheery tone. There’d been enough banging in the night that someone besides him should have been dead tired today. The trouble was that Emily had fallen asleep by his side and he’d watched her rather than wake her.

  He’d watched a lot of women sleep, for one reason and another, but he’d never seen anyone who made it look as good as Emily did. Her hair was a silky gold pillow, her cheeks looked as soft as a child’s and her lashes were those long curly amazing ones that made spiky crescent shadows against her skin. She never snored, only breathed soft and deep between lips that were sexy even in sleep.

  She held on to him while she slept. He knew it was done unconsciously, because it wasn’t until after she was asleep that he felt her hand curl around his arm, or her body tuck itself into the contours of his.

  He read more about the fascinating history of Romania, he thought about what he was going to do when this job was finished and he had no reason to stay on in Beaverton. And he watched the hours tick by. Finally, around three, Mae West had come in from hunting or whatever she did outside all night and leapt right onto Em before he could catch her.

  That was one jealous cat.

  Em woke with a start and then glanced at Mae West and then at him, consternation flooding her face. “Oh, Joe. You should have woken me. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” he assured her. “I like having you here.”

  She cupped his cheek with her palm. “But you need your sleep.” And with a sleepy yawn, she’d crawled naked out of bed, found her clothes and stuffed them under her arm.

  He cursed himself and whatever demons he harbored that made it impossible for him to sleep with Em. Really, really sleep with her.

  “Night,” she said, glancing back at him sadly from the doorway.

  “Night,” he said, hoping he wasn’t telegraphing to her how howlingly lonely he felt watching her leave his bedroom.

  Even after that he ha
dn’t slept for a long time.

  Now that he’d finally managed to get to REM, he didn’t appreciate the wake-up call. He squinted at the clock as Emily came in bearing a cup of revolting raspberry tea.

  “It’s eight in the morning,” he groused. “Why do I have to get up?”

  She walked up to him and kissed him right on his scowling mouth. “Because it’s a beautiful day and I’m taking us for a picnic.”

  “Nobody has a picnic at eight in the morning.”

  “We have to ride a fair way.”

  “Ride?” He sipped the tea, wondering when his doctor and the vigilante innkeeper would let him have coffee. “I should of bought a bike I could throw you on the back of. I’d like to feel you snugged up behind me while—”

  “On a horse.”

  Reluctant excitement ignited in the part of him where his inner child apparently still lived. But naturally he didn’t let on.

  “I hope you aren’t referring to those broken down soon-to- be-glue-sticks when you say horse.”

  “Oh, please. Those are lovely horses, gentle and safe.”

  He snorted. “I’m not worrying one will bolt. It will take them all day to get us across the field.”

  She kissed him again and since she was already leaning over him it was easy work to topple her on top of him where the kissing quickly turned hot and heavy. Their week was already half over and it was as though they both realized if they didn’t make use of every minute together, they’d always regret the missed ones. He might never be able to get enough of this woman.

  “Why don’t we have a picnic right here in bed?” he suggested.

  “Because I have something else to show you.”

  He groaned. Emily was a one-woman Chamber of Commerce, tourism center and welcome wagon. She’d flown with him – in a perfectly nice little Cessna -- and he had agreed that the scenery was amazing. Well, that hadn’t been difficult; it was amazing. In an hour’s flying time, he’d seen green, fertile fields of crops, herds of grazing animals, he’d seen wooded areas, then mountains, lakes and streams. But he’d also seen a less than affluent looking trailer park, and a couple of small communities that were more down at heel than Beaverton. Commerce, he pointed out to Em, wasn’t all bad.

  She’d naturally rebutted with more of her Save the Land spiel, and since then she’d been at him constantly. He’d met pretty much everybody in town now, toured every single business, and heard from more nosy neighbors than he cared to count that they did not want a mine in their back yard, no sir.

  To everyone he’d been polite and attentive and hadn’t bothered to argue, except to ask them to keep an open mind until the town meeting took place in three days.

  Somehow, he was going to have to figure out how to bring them all around to the merits of industry, get past their knee-jerk NIMBY attitudes, but he hadn’t figured out his strategy yet. He wasn’t worried; he always performed well under pressure. And he’d recognized a couple of souls who gave lip service to Emily and her ‘save the town’ campaign, but when he mentioned economic prosperity, he saw their eyes light up.

  Luckily for him and the mining company he represented, everyone wasn’t above the lure of profit.

  Right now the lure of sex was heavily on his mind, and he was still trying to wrestle her into submission – and definitely winning -- when the phone rang out in the hall. She disentangled herself and went to answer it, and he decided to be a good sport and go with her on the picnic. If he knew Em, there’d be a secluded spot where more than the contents of the picnic basket would get eaten.

  He stirred at the thought. If there was one thing he had to say about Em, she was not a bashful woman. In all his life, he’d never met a woman who approached sex with such open-minded gusto.

  “Hi, Gordon,” she said far too chirpily. She’d left the door of his bedroom wide open in her race to get to the phone, so it was easy to hear her conversation. He put together her open-minded gusto about sex with Dr. Gordon Harnett and he didn’t like the conclusion he drew.

  There was something intimate in her tone when she talked to the good doctor. And he, at somewhere around Joe’s own age, was an outsider with no more inherent nuttiness than an insane desire to live in this crazy town. Otherwise, he seemed like a pretty good-looking guy, he was obviously athletic. He looked like the kind of doctor you’d find on TV in a white coat, a concerned expression on his face as he held a young, frantic woman’s hand.

  Okay, so Joe didn’t live here and Emily had a right to her private life, but still, did she have to be so damned chirpy with the guy? Right outside Joe’s door?

  He didn’t even bother to lie to himself about his reasons for eavesdropping on a private conversation. He just sat very still and strained his ears, not that a lot of strain was required. His new lover didn’t bother lowering her voice when she spoke to another man.

  There was sex between these two. He could feel it.

  Then her voice suddenly changed and grew anxious. “Oh, you got the test results back already. Find anything interesting?”

  Test results? What test results? Suddenly a cold fist seemed to squeeze Joe’s throat. Was Emily sick? Suddenly the television vision of Dr. Hartnett holding a frantic woman’s hand wasn’t so ridiculous. The hand he was holding was Em’s.

  “I don’t know whether he used the hot springs water or well water. I’ll ask Olive and Lydia, maybe one of them will know.”

  Joe scratched his head. This conversation made no sense at all. If she were sick, she’d hardly be discussing hot springs versus regular water. Maybe it was something to do with one of the aunts.

  “What else was in it?” she asked.

  Then finally her voice lowered, so he had to strain to hear. “And you’re absolutely sure there was no ingredient that could have been dangerous,” her voice lowered further but not enough, “Or caused stomach upset.”

  What the hell?

  “Thanks, Gord. That’s a big relief. No. I won’t forget. I’ll ask them. Yes. You too. You’re coming to the town meeting, aren’t you? Okay. See you there.”

  Emily didn’t return to his bed for more early morning rolling around, he noted sourly, but made to walk right past his open door.

  “Hey,” he called.

  She popped her head in the door looking rather pink about the face and definitely guilty.

  Even as he told himself to stick a sock in it and not make an ass of himself, he said, “Are you sleeping with Gordon Hartnett?”

  She looked at him for a steady second or two. “Not anymore,” she said finally.

  Then he was right. He knew it. Throwing the bedclothes aside, he rolled out of bed naked and stalked across the room to face her. “But you have slept with him.”

  She didn’t appear defiant or embarrassed or guilty or anything. “Yes.”

  This was none of his business, so why was he feeling so irate? “When did it end?” he demanded, feeling like a demented stalker rather than a rational man who lived a very modern lifestyle.

  She crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive move he’d never seen her display before. “When he fell in love with someone else and got married.”

  “Oh.” His anger was gone as suddenly as it had appeared and he felt only compassion. “I’m sorry, honey. But he wouldn’t have been right for you.”

  He advanced on her ready to pull her into his arms but she pushed her arms out in front to forestall his advance. “Gord and I had a very convenient affair. That’s all it ever was or could be. He found the woman he wanted to spend his life with and so of course we ended things. It was as simple as that. It was just sex. Exactly like--”

  “Don’t say it!” he snapped, cutting her off. “ Don’t you dare try and tell me that what’s going on between us is ‘just sex.’”

  “What is it then?” she asked softly before turning and walking down the hall.

  “Em,” he said, following her.

  Lydia emerged at that moment from another room with a basket of folde
d towels and glanced at him, standing there naked. “Yep, just like I figured. Nice package.”

  Bare-assed, mortified and feeling an atavistic urge to go plow Dr. Gordon’s nose down his throat, Joe retreated smartly into his room and showed everyone in this house of oversexed loonies how mature he was by slamming his door.

  He showered and dressed with his usual efficiency, then made a call of his own on the old wall phone. When he got downstairs, Emily was in the kitchen. A batch of fresh muffins and fruit sat on the table.

  “I wasn’t sure whether you’d want your breakfast here or in the dining room,” she said to him in the cool, professional tone she used when she greeted first time guests.

  “Neither, thanks,” he said, grabbing a muffin and an apple. “I’ll take it with me.”

  “Are you going out? What about our picnic?”

  “Maybe later if there’s time. I’m seeing Dr. Hartnett this morning.”

  Her eyes widened. “But your appointment’s not until tomorrow morning.”

  “I called and they were able to squeeze me in this morning.”

  Two spots of color flared on her cheekbones. “Any particular reason you changed your appointment?”

  “Yes. I’ll see you later.”

  He was striding out the door in seconds. What the hell was the matter with him acting this way? He wasn’t some tenth century barbarian, but he felt like one. He must have some evolutionary memory buried in his bones or something for he felt an almost overwhelming urge for violence, even if it was only verbal. There was a term he’d come across in an article about Vikings one time. Bloodlust. That’s what he had. A strong and powerful case of bloodlust.

  “Joe, I think we should talk about this,” Em said behind him, but he didn’t want to talk. Not to her.

  His bike made a satisfying roar when he started it up.

  He pulled out of the parking area in front of The Shady Lady, doing his best to ignore the lady standing in the middle of her garden staring at him with concern written all over her too pretty for her own good face.

  The drive to Hartnett’s office wasn’t far – nothing was in Beaverton -- and, unlike every other doctor’s waiting room he’d ever been in, this one had no line-up.