by Destiny Ford
“Thank you.”
“I know it’s a cliché, but roses have always been my favorite.” I took another deep breath of their scent. Still bending over, I suddenly felt the tips of Hawke’s fingers tracing a line down my spine. When his hands got dangerously close to the place my tattoo would have been if I’d had enough guts in college to get one, I stood up and turned around.
Hawke edged closer to me.
In my opinion, the barometer of sexual experience spans from nun to porn star. I was somewhere in the middle. Not a virgin, but not a professional either. Still, I was sure even the best sex I’d had in college, and after, had not prepared me for Ryker Hawkins. Not at all.
I caught my breath as he pulled me into the pergola, caressing my waist with his hands. He held my eyes as he pushed me up against the wood pole, leaning in until I couldn’t move. His corded body connected with mine. I could feel my chest pressing against him like it was pressing against steel. He gently moved the hair off my neck, whispering in my ear, “I’ve been waiting to do this since the moment I met you.”
He bent down, brushing my neck with light kisses. I leaned my head back to give him better access as I sighed. Like magic, my cardigan was off and Hawke’s hand was slowly moving inside my halter top. He traced the line of my lacy black bra as his other hand pushed my skirt up. His fingertips swept lightly up my thigh where he found my matching lace panties. He smiled slowly, his hand going over the fabric to the band at the top. He slipped his hand under the seam. I breathed in a rattled breath and heard music. At first I thought Hawke had an outdoor stereo system—or the angels were pleased I was finally getting some action—but when I realized it was “Forever in Blue Jeans,” I swore. Hawke’s hands stilled as he lifted his head, staring at me. “Is that Neil Diamond?”
“Yeah, it is,” I said, wincing. “And I have to answer it.”
Hawke stroked the skin on my stomach, his fingers slowly inching down. “You sure about that?”
I had an internal debate with myself about the merits of ignoring Spence’s phone call. I groaned. “I’m sure.” I untangled myself from his hold, ducked under his arm, away from the pergola pole, and grabbed my phone from my belt.
“Hi, Spence.”
“Hey, Kate. I hope I’m not,” he paused and seemed to be choosing his words, “interrupting something.”
“What do you need?” I asked, clearly annoyed.
“I didn’t want to bother you, but there’s a story that needs to be covered. Someone stole the Paxton’s combine.”
I shook my head, wondering if I’d heard him right. “Say that again?”
“You know, the big piece of agricultural equipment that farmers use in their fields? Someone took it.”
“Are you kidding me? Who steals a combine?” Hawke cocked an eyebrow listening to my half of the conversation.
“That’s not even the whole story. Another call came into the police station that the combine was spotted on the freeway. I guess the thieves decided to take it for a joyride.”
“Those things can’t go more than what, fifteen miles per hour?”
“They definitely don’t go fast enough to get on a freeway.”
“Did the police catch the joyrider?”
“No. They found the combine abandoned and still running next to the Branson freeway exit. I need you to go get the details.”
I pressed my fingers against the sides of my nose, closing my eyes. “Yeah, I know. I’ll do it.”
“Thanks. Sorry if I spoiled your plans for the night,” he said, though he didn’t sound very sorry at all. He’d probably hijacked the combine himself to interrupt my date with Hawke.
“No problem,” I said, feeling deflated.
I ended the call. “I have to go cover this story. I can come back later, or we can do this another time.”
“Staying here won’t be any fun if you’re gone,” Hawke smiled. “Can’t you get someone else to go?”
“I’m on call this weekend. I have to take it.”
“You’re the editor. Don’t you have people for that?”
“I’m the editor of a small town paper,” I said, exaggerating the word ‘small.’ “That means I have to do everything from photography to layout. I don’t have minions and interns like editors at large newspapers. It’s not very glamorous.”
“I’ll come with you,” he said, “but if you’ve got a Neil Diamond CD playing in your Jeep, we’ll need to have a serious discussion.”
“Listen,” I pointed the phone at him to emphasize my point. “It took me a long time to admit I’m a Neil Fan. Don’t mock me for it.”
Hawke started to laugh. “I’ll never let you live it down.”
“You know,” I said as we walked to the Jeep, “you always seem to be with me when a crazy story happens.”
He smiled. “Guess I’m just good luck.” I said a silent prayer of thanks that, so far, Hawke had never been present for one of my mom’s mishaps.
It only took us ten minutes to get to the Branson Falls freeway exit. Spence hadn’t lied. There was a dark red combine sitting under a freeway exit light. We got out of the Jeep and saw Officer Bob.
“Geez, Bobby! You’re on every case I investigate! Don’t you ever get a break?” I asked.
“It’s a small town. I’m always one of the first people called.” He noticed Hawke standing behind me. “What’re you doin’ here?” he asked.
“Helping,” Hawke answered.
Bobby narrowed his eyes to slits like he didn’t believe a word Hawke uttered and liked him even less.
I stepped in. “He was working on another story with me when I got a call about the combine.” I glanced at Hawke long enough to see the amused smile spread over his lips. I guess you could call what we’d been doing a story—and it certainly would be if anyone ever found out about it. Plus, we had talked about Brian and Julia Bradford after dinner, so it wasn’t a total lie. I turned my attention back to Bobby. “Speaking of the combine, do you know who took it?”
“Hoodlums! That’s who.” I recognized the voice and cringed, before turning around to see my mom walking up to us. She stumbled a little when she noticed Hawke standing next to me. “Kate, you didn’t tell me you were out with a . . . friend tonight.”
I stared at her for a few seconds. “Sorry, Mom. I thought moving out of the house seven years ago meant I didn’t need to report my whereabouts anymore.” She gave me that motherly glare that isn’t really a glare at all but makes you think you’d still get your butt swatted if you were in spanking range.
“Who’s your friend?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him at church.”
I rolled my eyes and made an obvious observation, “Because you rarely go to church.”
“Well,” she said, watching him closely, “I still would have heard about it if someone like him had shown up there.”
Without a doubt. Hawke in church would have been gossip fodder for weeks. As it was, I got the impression Hawke was only the religious type if one of his jobs called for it. I was about to introduce Hawke when he stepped up, putting his hand out. “I’m Ryker Hawkins, Mrs. Saxee. I’ve been helping Kate with a story she’s working on.”
My mom looked him up and down. “I’ve heard about the helping. I’ve seen it too.”
Hawke gave her a wide smile that was so unapologetic it was charming.
“What are you doing here anyway, Mom?” I looked around the area for a car I recognized. It took me about thirty seconds to find my dad’s blue Nissan Xterra parked next to some of the cop cars. “How did you get Dad to let you use his SUV?”
She shrugged. “I made him some cookies.”
More proof that everyone in Branson Falls can be bribed by treats.
“Did you hear about this on the scanner and decide you don’t get into enough trouble on your own?” I asked.
“No!” She gave me an indignant look, putting her hands on her hips. “I was coming home from shopping and saw the combine chugging down the road. It wa
s late, so I thought the combine might be lost.”
I interrupted her. “Because combines wandering off on their own is such a big problem. Next thing you know, we’ll start seeing John Deere farm equipment on the sides of milk cartons.”
Hawke and Bobby both suppressed a laugh. My mom scowled. “It’s easy to get lost, Kate. All these fields look the same.”
“But the combine wasn’t in a field. It was driving down the freeway.”
“I know!” she said with wide eyes. “I thought the driver just took a wrong turn and needed help finding their way home.”
“How did you help them?”
“I got behind them and I was going to turn the hazard lights on, but I couldn’t find them in your dad’s SUV. So instead, I just slowed down behind the combine and slammed on my brakes over and over so it would look like the hazards were working. I flashed my headlights too.” She made it sound like it was the most logical thing in the world.
This time, Hawke didn’t try to hide his laughter. I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand. “You made your SUV look like it was having the mechanical equivalent of a seizure!” I shook my head. “You probably scared the driver of the combine to death. I’m sure they thought you were giving them some sort of gang symbol.”
My mom scrunched up her nose. “Now that’s just silly. I don’t know anything about gang symbols.”
“Right. Remind me never to let you go to the city alone again,” I said. “What happened after you got behind the combine?”
She thought about it. “Well, a lot of people were passing us, honking their horns.” I nodded in complete understanding; I would have been one of those people too. And I would have added a hand gesture as well. “After about five minutes, the combine pulled over. I pulled up behind it and parked the Xterra. I opened the door so I could give the combine directions back to its field, but before I could even get out of the car, two people wearing black jumped from the combine and ran. A truck pulled over and they got inside and sped away. They left the door wide open and the combine running!”
“What kind of truck was it?”
She shook her head, “Just a regular truck like every other truck in town. It was dark and they stopped too far away for me to get any other details.”
“Did you see their faces?”
“No. They didn’t look at me.” She paused and seemed to be working herself into a tizzy. “And of all the nerve, they didn’t even say thank you!”
I closed my eyes and counted to five. “You wanted them to thank you for catching them while they were stealing a combine, and then escorting them from the freeway like you were making a citizen’s arrest in an SUV that seemed to be having a medical emergency? I can’t imagine why they didn’t take the time to show their appreciation.”
She frowned at me. “Who knows where they’d be if I hadn’t shown up.”
I thought about it. “Since they were going roughly fifteen miles an hour, they’d probably be about five miles further down the freeway.”
Bobby piped up, “We would’ve caught ’em sooner than that. Your mom’s help just sped up the process.”
I turned to him. “Do you have any idea who stole it, or is Citizen Inspector Clouseau here,” I pointed to my mom, “your only witness?”
Bobby smiled, cracking his knuckles. “We don’t know; probably just a couple of kids.”
“Who reported it?”
“Who didn’t?” Bobby answered. “Every yahoo with a cell phone passin’ the combine called it in, but it was too dark for anyone to identify the people inside.”
“I called them too,” my mom said with a pleased smile. “The Branson Police Department is on my speed dial.”
I gave her a disbelieving look and addressed Bobby again. “Do you think you’ll be able to figure out who stole it?”
Bobby shrugged. “We’ll do an investigation, but I’m sure we won’t find anythin’. It’s not like we can narrow suspects down to people who know how to drive a combine. That only knocks out kids who haven’t learned yet and old folks who’ve forgotten. There’s not enough detail to identify the truck they jumped into either.”
Great. This wouldn’t be a long story. I took notes about my mom’s involvement, and Bobby confirmed all the details Spence had told me on the phone. I also took some photos of the combine, and at her request, some with my mom standing in front of the large machine with her arm in the air like she was some kind of combine model. She was a little disappointed when the Paxtons came by to retrieve their property and her photo shoot had to end. I had the fleeting thought that maybe all of my mom’s mishaps were really her attempt to break into the modeling world.
The police left the scene and I gave my mom a hug. “I’m glad you didn’t explode anything this time.”
“That hardly ever happens,” she said with an offended look. “And the rare times it does happen, it’s never my fault.”
Hawke smiled. “I think you’d be an interesting woman to spend time with.”
My mom gave him an appraising look. “I live an exciting life.”
I rolled my eyes, and looked at Hawke. “Exciting in a whole different universe from your version of exciting.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said. “I’m rarely a front page newspaper story. Sophie Saxee is famous though.”
My mom’s face brightened at the thought of being famous, though I don’t think Hawke meant it as a compliment. “You can come over and visit any old time you want to,” my mom told Hawke.
“Thanks, Mrs. Saxee.”
She pointed at me with a smile. “Bring him over next week. I’ll make sugar cookies.”
Hawke gave her another grin. “Sugar cookies are my favorite.”
She smiled again. “You two have a fun night.” She gave me another hug as she whispered in my ear, “I’d ask if you went out of town to get some protection, but from the looks of him, I think he could probably supply condoms to the whole county.”
I blushed deeply, hoping the dark night concealed it. My mom walked back to the Xterra, about twenty yards away. Once she was safely on the freeway and not burning anything up, we left the scene of the abandoned joyride.
As we pulled off the freeway, Hawke started chuckling. “What’s so funny?” I asked.
He looked out the window as we passed corn fields on the side of the road. “Small towns,” he answered. “Stuff like this would never have happened where I grew up.”
“Where did you grow up?”
He shifted in his seat. “A city.”
“Any city in particular?”
“Nope.”
“You’re a hard guy to get to know. I don’t think I want someone who won’t even tell me where he comes from to knock me up,” I teased.
He cocked an eyebrow. “We could start with just practicing getting you knocked up.”
I would have given him a witty response back if I hadn’t been in the process of slamming on my brakes and staring at the sheet metal plant. Andrew Davies’ welcome home sign had been covered again, this time by a huge red heart.
“That’s interesting,” Hawke said.
“It’s the same color as the she had it coming note that was written on the plant the night before Chelsea’s funeral.”
“Who do you think left it?”
“Probably the same person who wrote the other note,” I answered. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. “The question is whether or not it has anything to do with Chelsea.”
Utah celebrates Pioneer Day, the arrival of the first pioneer settlers in the Salt Lake valley, on the twenty-fourth of July. To commemorate the state holiday, Branson Falls always sets off fireworks at one of the city parks. Afterwards, a dance is held for the teenagers in town.
I’d have to go to the celebration to take photos, but I still had a few hours before the fireworks started. I’d spent the afternoon at my parents’ house for a barbeque, reconnecting with old friends and extended family members. I hadn’t been back in Brans
on long, and I’d been so focused on my job and the investigation into Chelsea’s death that I hadn’t had a chance to do much socializing. I spend a lot of time covering crazy stories for work. So, it was nice to have a few hours with friends who didn’t get stuck in revolving doors, spread rumors about me, or kick defenseless dogs.
I’d left the barbeque early to get some work done. I called Ella and a few other people about the heart on the sheet metal plant, but so far, no one had any information. I thought I’d take advantage of my free time and deal with the fact that the food fairies hadn’t visited my house in a while. I went to the grocery store, attempting to restock.
Branson Falls only has one grocery store, so I wasn’t surprised when I ran into the high school counselor, Martha Chester, in the cereal aisle. Getting groceries is kind of a social event in Branson.
“Hi, Martha.” I smiled, putting some Cap’n Crunch’s Crunch Berries cereal in the shopping cart. I decided to splurge on the cereal since Cap’n Crunch Berries are my favorite, but it takes forever to dig the yellow barrels out and get a bowl of just berries. I used to get the All Berries version when I was in college. It made my life a lot easier, but the Branson grocery store doesn’t stock it.
“Kate!” Martha said with a smile. She was alone. I wondered how she’d managed that. My mom could never sneak a grocery store trip in without me. When she wasn’t looking, I always put stuff in the cart that she didn’t want to buy. She rarely saw my items until they were already through check out.
Martha pushed her cart close to mine, leaning in toward me so our conversation would be as private as the cereal aisle could be. If Tony the Tiger and Toucan Sam could talk, they’d have more gossip than The Ladies. “I’ve heard you’re still trying to figure out what happened to Chelsea Bradford. How’s the investigation going?”
“Good,” I said. “I have a lot of leads I’m looking into.” I furrowed my brow, unsure if I should give her the next bit of information. I forged ahead. “The Bradfords took Chelsea out of school because she was pregnant.”
Martha’s eyebrows went up a little as she nodded her head a few times. “I was hoping that wasn’t the reason, but it’s not the first time it’s happened.”
