by Destiny Ford
I stared at her. “What did he mean by that?”
She shrugged her shoulders, lifting her arms in an ‘I don’t know’ gesture. “I haven’t a clue.” She walked over to her car and got her purse before going inside to pay for her gas. As I watched her go, I exhaled a deep breath. I felt like it was probably one of the first times in years Julia Bradford had actually been in control of her life.
After my gas tank was full, I drove home to get a late lunch. I searched through the cabinets and found some old pasta and canned food that had probably been there since before I moved in—undoubtedly part of the previous renters’ food storage. Mormons are taught to keep a two month food storage supply on hand. I didn’t even have two days. I hoped one of my Mormon neighbors would take pity on me during any natural disasters; otherwise, I’d have to learn to eat dandelions.
I looked through my fridge, it was pretty bare too. I always forgot to make time to go shopping. I was able to scrounge up enough non-moldy bread and cheese to make a grilled cheese sandwich. I wrote a note on my whiteboard to remind myself to get groceries . . . and I wouldn’t be getting much since the Jeep’s cleaning came out of my grocery money.
I’d almost finished eating my sandwich when I heard the doorbell ring. I usually don’t get visitors in the middle of the day; but, I’m usually not home in the middle of the day to know whether people stop by or not. It could be the missionaries. Hmm. I paused, deliberating about whether I was up for an argument.
The doorbell rang again, only this time it was accompanied by a series of loud thumps that came across a lot less friendly than a knock. Usually the missionaries aren’t so persistent. I opened the front door and saw the yellow Hummer in front of my house before I saw him. The lighter strands of his hair were highlighted by the sunlight, his blue eyes dark with anger. He pushed past me into my house as I seethed. “Dammit, Drake! You brought the Hummer again! I thought we talked about this. I’m already the subject of five hundred rumors around town. I don’t need to add Drake and Kate having a nooner to that list.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about your Jeep?” He had his hands on his narrow hips and did not look pleased.
I shrugged and scrunched up my nose, completely baffled by Drake’s anger. “It was cream puffed. I got it cleaned.”
He paced around the living room. “You should have called me.”
“For what?” I asked. “So you could take photos?”
“So I could do something about it.”
I widened my eyes. “Oh, you mean you wanted to clean the crap off my Jeep for me? Yeah, right.” I laughed skeptically. “Seriously. What would you have done?”
He just stared at me. I stared back.
“You know,” I said, putting my hands on my hips, mimicking his stance, “you have a real problem with women who can take care of themselves.”
“No,” he said, pointing at me, “I have a problem with women who aren’t careful.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What if the person who did that to your SUV had come into your house instead of just destroying your Jeep?”
I paused, thinking about it. “Then I would have been cream puffed?” I guessed, holding out my hands like I didn’t know. “My Jeep was hardly destroyed. It’s not like I asked for this to happen. I’m working on a story that could involve the governor. You even told me it might be dangerous. I’m not going to stop working on the article, so this is just something I have to deal with. I have insurance.”
Drake’s face was hot with anger. “That’s exactly my point! I warned you to be careful and you weren’t!”
I rolled my eyes. “I was! I’ve been on guard ever since I got the first note, and thought someone broke into my house!” I stopped short, realizing that was probably way too much information.
Drake suddenly became very still. Like a volcano on the verge of erupting. “What. Note?”
I sighed and tilted my head down, closing my eyes for a moment. When I was ready, I looked back up at the barely contained fury also known as Drake. “I got a note at the Tribune a while ago telling me to be careful about who I worked with.”
I could see the veins in his neck pulsing.
“And the break-in?”
I waved my hand in front of my face like it wasn’t a big deal. “My back door was just unlocked one morning. I must have forgotten to check it before I went to bed.”
The skin across Drake’s cheeks and jaw was pulled tight, shadows settling into the hollows of his face. I could almost see the steam coming out of his nose like an angry Drake dragon.
“Geez, Drake. Calm down before you have a stroke. Why are you so upset about this? We’ve only been…” I struggled for a word and came up with, “friends for a few weeks. You barely even knew me before I moved back to Branson.”
He took a deep breath. “Oh, I knew you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Since I wasn’t parading around in a cheerleading uniform, I find that hard to believe.” I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t, so I continued, “Listen, you’re mad at me for not being careful—why, I’ll never understand—but I have been careful. Last night I even worked with Hawke to refresh my self-defense skills.”
He stopped pacing and stared. “Hawke.” He said the name like he was spitting something unpleasant out of his mouth. “You might as well wrestle an alligator. It would be about as safe as spending time with Hawke.”
Considering the Hawke lecture I’d already been given from Spence today, I was up for a fight. I folded my arms under my chest. “I don’t know what you have against him, but I think Hawke’s great. He helped me out a lot last night.”
Drake gave me a steely stare, his eyes hitching on my propped up boobs. The corner of his lip curled up. “I just bet he did.”
“Give it a rest, Drake.”
“You know, Hawke’s car is just as recognizable as mine, but you don’t care when people see his Mustang parked at your house and talk about it,” he said. “And believe me, they talk about it.”
Apparently the gossip about Hawke and I had elevated from whisper status. I shrugged. “I don’t mind having Roxy in front of my house. She’s a hot car—and less of a threat to the environment than your Hummer, I might add.”
“Roxy?” Drake’s eyebrows shot up.
I nodded. “That’s the name of Hawke’s Mustang.”
Drake stared at me, stunned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope.”
He took a minute to process that, and snorted. “Figures,” he said. “It still doesn’t answer why it’s okay for his car to start rumors, but not mine.”
Seriously, a pissing contest over a parking spot? Why did it feel like I was having another relationship discussion with someone I wasn’t in a relationship with? I shook my head, answering, “Because Hawke doesn’t have the reputation you do.”
“No, his is worse.” Drake stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, clenching and unclenching his jaw. After it looked like he’d made a difficult but conscious decision not to strangle me, he said, “I have a lot going on. I can’t be worrying about your butt all the time.”
“No one asked you to!” I said, not sure I wanted Drake thinking about my butt in any scenario.
“But I do,” he told me. “And since you won’t stop doing stupid shit, I’m taking preventative measures.”
“Like what?” I asked, half angry, half worried. The fact that he’d used a word definitely not on the town-approved imitation swear list made me even more concerned.
He stalked over until he was close enough for me to call it looming. “I’m having video monitoring installed on your house and a tracker put on your car. I’m going to know where you are every minute of the day, Katie.”
I was so angry I could feel my blood start to boil. “You can’t do that,” I said through my teeth.
“Watch me.”
“It’s illegal.”
He moved past me, opened the door, and over his should
er said, “Patriot Act, sweetheart.” The door slammed behind him.
I was pretty sure Drake was spouting idle threats. He was probably just mad about the time I’d been spending with Hawke. Still, his visit unnerved me . . . and pissed me off. I went back into the kitchen and saw the remains of my sandwich. I didn’t really feel like finishing it now though. I threw it in the trash, checked the lock on the back door, and went out the front to go back to work.
When I got there, Spence was out of the office. I’d been thinking about what Brian Bradford told Julia while he was moving out. Something about needing to protect the governor. It made no sense. I walked back into the archives to grab the issue with the article I’d written about Chelsea’s death a couple of weeks ago. I thought maybe reading it again might help me pick up on some clues I’d missed. I was looking through the piles of papers when Ella’s head popped up from behind one of the stacks.
“Hey, Katie.”
“Oh no,” I said, pointing at her. “Don’t you start calling me that too.”
“Why not?” Ella asked. “Drake always calls you Katie.”
“And I get mad at him every time.”
“But it’s a cute name!”
“Exactly, it’s cute. Like bunnies are cute. It’s not very professional.”
Ella made a hmmph noise and went back to sorting through the papers. “So, what were you doin’ with Drake just now?”
I threw my hands in the air, breathing an exasperated sigh. “Who knows about it this time?”
She shrugged. “Probably everyone. The Ladies have your house under surveillance and they just assigned more patrols to keep tabs on you and the men who stop by. But I know because he came in here lookin’ for you.”
“He did?”
“Yeah. Spence said you weren’t here and they started talkin’ too low for me to hear. They went into Spence’s office and shut the door.”
Spence rarely shut his office door. “That’s weird. How long were they talking?”
“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”
“Huh. I wonder what it was about.”
Ella gave me a knowing look. “I’ll give you one guess.”
I waved my hand like I was brushing her comment away. “Not everything in this town has something to do with me.”
“When it comes to those two it probably does.”
I shrugged, still wondering what they’d been talking about.
“So,” Ella said. “Rumor goin’ around is that you went somewhere with Hawke last night.”
“I suppose that came from the surveillance as well?”
“Some of the girls saw you get in his car and drive off.”
I found the newspaper I was looking for and opened it as I answered, “I went to his house.”
Ella’s eyes got wide. “What for?”
“For self-defense lessons.”
“Why didn’t he just meet you at the gym?” she asked.
“Because he has a huge gym at his house.”
Ella stared at the wall considering that. “I’m sure most of the things Hawke has are big.”
My eyes went wide and I gasped a little.
“What?” she said. “I’m just pointin’ it out.” She took her glasses off, cleaning them on her shirt. “Did you learn any new moves?”
“A few. It was mostly just Hawke going over the basics I’d learned in my college self-defense course.”
“That Hawke sure is handy to have around,” Ella said with a wink.
“Yes,” I agreed, “he is.”
I took the paper back to my desk and read through the article again. Nothing seemed to click. I took out a notebook and started to write in hopes that getting the information on paper would help me figure things out. I knew Chelsea had been pregnant and was pretty sure Shawn Wallace was the father. I didn’t know yet whether the governor had anything to do with Chelsea’s death, or if he even knew about the pregnancy. Chelsea and Shawn’s relationship had been volatile and the relationship between Brian and Julia Bradford was just as bad. Brian was trying to protect the governor, but I wasn’t sure why—though I had a feeling it had something to do with the contract he was trying to get for his business. Hawke had said he was going to look into things with the governor a while ago. I needed to ask him about it tonight.
I leaned back in my chair, trying to sort through the connections in my head. I stayed there for a long time until Spence walked in the back door. “Where have you been?” I asked, grateful for the thought reprieve.
He gave me a fake smile. “I had some things to take care of.” He walked into his office. Apparently Spence wasn’t in a talkative mood.
I took some of the articles for next week’s paper from my inbox, sorting through them. From the word count, I had a good idea of how much space they would take up. I opened the layout program to get a head start on the next issue. I used the articles I had already edited first, and then I moved on to editing the rest, fixing the digital copies, and dropping them in the design program. I was working on the last article when my cell rang to the tune of “Play Me,” Hawke’s Neil Diamond ring tone. I refused to think about my subconscious—or conscious—reasons for choosing that song.
“Hey, Kitty Kate. How’s work?”
“Pretty uneventful.”
“Are you almost finished?”
I hesitated, unsure whether I really wanted to answer. Saying yes meant I’d be expected to be with Hawke—and that was a little scary. “Yeah,” I finally admitted.
“Do you remember where my house is?”
“What, you’re not even going to pick me up?”
I could tell he was smiling even over the phone. “Oh, I’ll be picking you up, but not at the paper. We need somewhere a little more private for that—unless you want it to be front page news.”
I caught my breath. It took several seconds before I remembered I needed air in my lungs to respond. I couldn’t come up with anything though, so not breathing was probably okay. Maybe fainting would get me out of Hawke’s plans for the night—somehow I doubted it though.
“I’ll see you soon?” he asked.
“Yeah. I don’t know what we’re doing, so what should I wear?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the phone. Finally Hawke answered. “Does it really matter?”
I had absolutely no words. And Hawke knew it. “I’ll see you soon, Kitty Kate.” I attempted to say good-bye, but it only formed on my lips after Hawke hung up.
Spence had been watching me with interest from his office. He came out when I was off the phone. “Big plans for tonight?”
I stared at him. “I’m going out with Hawke.” Considering the conversation I’d had with him about Hawke this morning, I knew Spence wouldn’t be happy. He was probably preparing an entire speech in his head but instead of giving it, he just sighed.
“Keep your cell phone close this weekend,” he said. “You’re on call.”
I held up the phone to show Spence I had it. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“And remember to be at the Pioneer Day celebration tomorrow night. We’ll need lots of photos of kids.”
“I’ll be there.” I picked up my purse and walked out the back door, my stomach fluttering with nerves.
I pulled into Hawke’s driveway about an hour later and followed the blacktop until I made it to his house. It wasn’t dark yet, but the house was in such a recessed location that there were lights on in a few rooms of the house. Between the setting sun and the light inside, the house almost glowed. I got out of the car, locking the door with my remote.
With Hawke’s complete lack of information about clothes, I’d chosen a sky blue halter dress with a big skirt that swished around my knees. I paired it with a cardigan, belt, and strappy sandals—all black—and hooked my cell phone to the belt. My hair had actually cooperated during the day and I still had the loose, chunky waves that made me look like I’d just come from the beach. I’d even taken the time to put on foundation and eyeliner in a
ddition to my grey eye shadow and mascara. I’d decided to go bold on the lip color: bright pink. If I was going to draw attention somewhere, it might as well be my lips.
I followed a flagstone walkway up to the white portico surrounding the front door in place of a porch. The door was heavy maple and oversized. It looked like it was at least nine feet tall and five feet wide. An old fashioned door knocker hung in the middle of the wood panels. Smaller etched glass windows with ivy-like designs were built into the house on either side of the door. I lifted the knocker to let Hawke know I was there.
I heard the sound of feet padding across the floor. The door opened to reveal a rather domesticated Hawke. His three-quarter sleeve v-neck sage and black striped shirt looked like a second skin. He’d pushed the sleeves up above his elbow so I could clearly see his bronzed forearms. His distressed jeans fit him nicely. Instead of the combat boots I was used to, Hawke was wearing socks. I was so surprised at the change in him, I couldn’t speak. He smiled, motioning me inside. “Don’t let the outfit fool you. I’m still just as scary as the background check services make you think I am.”
What the . . .? I blinked. How did he know about that? Hawke laughed. “Come on. Dinner’s almost ready.”
I followed him into the kitchen. As I started to regain my senses, I noticed the smell of garlic and basil in the air. “Dinner, like you actually cooked this instead of picking up take-out or something?” I put my purse down on one of four bar stools. Hawke motioned me over to a large, round oak table.
The room smelled like Italian heaven on earth. I realized I hadn’t eaten anything since my hastily thrown together half-eaten grilled cheese. I knew the meal Hawke was making would be significantly more satisfying.
“I enjoy cooking,” Hawke said. “I love taking something from scratch and making it into anything I want it to be. I like the trial and error part too. Some of the best things I’ve ever made have come from my mistakes.”
“So you cook a lot?”
He brought over a cucumber, tomato, and feta cheese salad that looked like it had been tossed with pepper and olive oil. He put the wood bowl down in front of me on the table and went back to the oven. When he opened it, the unmistakable mouthwatering scent of garlic bread wafted out. “Not as much as I’d like to,” he said. “I try to cook when I’m home, but I usually only cook for myself.”
