To Patsy’s embarrassment, she could feel tears stinging her eyes. “Stop. You’re going to make me cry.”
Sharon Lynn stared at her. “Just because I’m pointing out the obvious, that you’re good at what you do?”
Patsy nodded. “Please,” she begged. “Don’t ask me to explain.”
“I won’t,” Sharon Lynn agreed, her expression turning fierce. “But if some man has made you feel worthless, then shame on him.” She drew in a deep breath, then said more quietly, “If you ever need to talk, I’m a good listener.” She gave Patsy a pointed look. “So’s Justin.”
“I know,” Patsy responded. “But there’s nothing to talk about.”
Sharon Lynn seemed about to argue, then she let it go. “About dinner tomorrow night, if the invitation’s still open, I would love to come.”
Mission accomplished, Patsy thought triumphantly, pushing aside all other thoughts to focus on tomorrow’s surprise. “About seven, right after we close?”
“That will be perfect.”
“What will be perfect?” Justin demanded, walking up to settle on a stool at the counter.
He had a worrisome way of sneaking up on her that constantly caught her off guard. One of these days would he overhear something that would give her away?
“Patsy’s invited me to dinner tomorrow night,” Sharon Lynn explained.
He glanced at her. “Is that so? What about me?”
Patsy shook her head. “Sorry. It’s a girls-only night.”
“Then maybe I should pick Billy up and take him out for spaghetti with the guys.”
The thought of being separated even for a short time from her son panicked her. “No, really, he’ll be fine with us,” Patsy said at once.
“Maybe it would be fun for Billy,” Sharon Lynn said. “Justin’s really good with kids.”
“I know that. It’s just that...” It was just that she envisioned Will coming to claim him when she wasn’t around to prevent it. How could she explain that?
“I’ll take good care of him,” Justin promised. His gaze locked with hers. “No harm will come to him while he’s with me.”
It was almost as if he knew, she thought, studying his expression for some clue that would tell her if he’d discovered the truth.
She thought of the real purpose for tomorrow’s invitation to Sharon Lynn. The house would be crawling with other women for the shower. It really was no place for a small child. And surely the safest place in the world for Billy to be was with a deputy sheriff.
“Okay,” she said at last. “Billy loves spaghetti. Just be aware that he tends to get most of it all over himself and anyone else who’s in his path.”
Justin grinned. “In that case, maybe I’ll invite Harlan Patrick along.”
Sharon Lynn laughed.
“Who’s Harlan Patrick?” Patsy asked, watching their shared amusement and the conspiratorial wink they exchanged.
“My brother,” she explained. “When he’s not herding cattle or up to his elbows in muck, he considers himself quite a fashion plate. There’s nothing Harlan Patrick likes more than a fancy new outfit that’ll impress the ladies. Justin’s just imagining how he’d love to have spaghetti spattered all over his best western shirt, especially since his girlfriend will be singing over at the restaurant tomorrow.”
“But that’s...” Words failed her.
“Dastardly,” Sharon Lynn provided.
“Just plain mean,” Patsy said.
“Payback,” Justin corrected. “Harlan Patrick and I have a score to settle.”
“And you intend to use my son to do it?”
“He and my brother always have a score to settle,” Sharon Lynn said. “Goodness knows what it’s about this time. Don’t worry about it. Just leave them to it. When Harlan Patrick decides to get even, he won’t take it out on Billy. All his ire will be directed straight back at Justin.”
The idea that a family could engage in teasing and pranks without rancor was so totally alien to the way Patsy had spent the past couple of years that she was enthralled by it. She would almost rather watch Justin get even with his cousin than go through with her role in Sharon Lynn’s surprise.
But it was all part of the same cloth, she realized with a sense of wonder. This was a tight-knit, supportive family, the kind she’d always dreamed of being a part of.
“Do you two have any idea how lucky you are?” she asked.
“Of course we do,” Sharon Lynn said, clearly grasping her meaning at once. She gave Patsy a tight hug. “You’ll see,” she promised, glancing toward Justin. “Won’t she?”
His gaze caught Patsy’s and held. “If I have anything to say about it.”
Patsy trembled under the intensity of that look. A fierce longing for what these Adams cousins took for granted rushed over her. Gazing into Justin’s eyes she saw what might have been a bold commitment, a promise that was there for the taking if only she could.
If only she could.
She sighed heavily and turned away, busying herself with the last of the day’s dishes, which had to be stacked and ready for the morning rush. When she turned again, she realized that Sharon Lynn had silently left, leaving her alone with Justin.
“Come to dinner with me,” he suggested. “And before you start making excuses, I’ve already checked with Dani. She’s going to be late at the clinic. She’ll look after Billy for another couple of hours. She says he’s having the time of his life with the animals. Her boys will be over there soon, too. Billy will be in heaven with all that attention.”
“But his dinner...”
“Is taken care of. They shared a fried chicken dinner that I brought them from White Pines.”
She regarded him suspiciously. “Something tells me that fried chicken was meant for you. Did you use it to bribe Dani to go along with this scheme of yours?”
He grinned. “What if I did? All it proves is that I will go to astonishing lengths to grab a few minutes alone with you.”
“Don’t,” she commanded softly.
“Don’t what?”
“Be nice to me.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t deserve it.”
“Darlin’, everyone deserves to have someone special be nice to them.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “No, Justin. This can’t be,” she whispered, turning away.
She heard his quick movement, felt him behind her, but it was a long while before she felt his hand on her shoulder. It rested there gently, reminding her of his presence, soothing her but asking for nothing. The undemanding reassurance couldn’t last forever, though. Sooner or later he would want something in return—answers, at the very least.
“Patsy?”
She sniffed and reached for a napkin to wipe away the dampness on her cheeks. Slowly he turned her to face him, then tucked a finger under her chin and lifted it until their gazes met.
“Tell me,” he pleaded.
“I can’t.”
He brushed the hair back from her face, then lingered to caress her cheek. When he grazed her lower lip with the tip of his finger, the wonder of his gentleness almost shattered her. Slowly, so slowly that she told herself she must be mistaken, he lowered his head until their mouths were a scant hairsbreadth apart.
Hurry, hurry, she wanted to shout. If he rushed, if he simply stole the kiss, she could tell herself forever after that she hadn’t wanted it to happen. But this way, there was no denying the pull, no pretending that she didn’t want it with every fiber of her being. There was time enough for longing and more than enough time for guilt.
At the last possible second, when she could feel the warmth of his breath fanning over her flesh, honor intruded. She jerked away, moved until the width of the counter was safely between them again. She grasped the cool Formica merely to steady herself, but held
so tightly that her knuckles turned white and the edge cut into her hand....
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“No,” she said adamantly. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I do,” he insisted. “I knew better. I knew it wasn’t what you wanted.”
“But I did,” she whispered, her voice thick with fresh, unshed tears. “More than anything.”
“Why, then?”
Looking into his eyes, she saw that he already knew the answer, that he’d guessed it somehow.
“Who is he, Patsy?”
“Nobody,” she said at once. “There’s nobody.”
Something that might have been pain flared in his eyes then. His expression turned weary. “You’re lying,” he said softly.
She turned away because she couldn’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes.
“Maybe someday you’ll realize you don’t have to lie to me,” he told her. “Maybe someday you’ll trust me with the truth.”
And maybe, she thought wistfully, maybe someday there would be angels to look out for women whose hearts had been every bit as battered as their psyches or their bodies.
Chapter Six
Justin cursed himself six ways from Sunday as he walked home after leaving Patsy at her front door. She’d barely said a word to him as she’d closed up Dolan’s or as they’d walked up the block to Dani’s.
At least he’d been wise enough not to pressure her any more by asking to come in or by walking on into his sister’s clinic to say hi to Dani and Billy. No, for once he’d done the smart thing. He’d said good-night, reminded her of his promise to take Billy out for spaghetti the next night and left.
He figured it would be days and not hours before he forgot the wounded look in her eyes when he’d accused her of lying. Even though they both knew the accusation was true, pointing it out hadn’t helped anything. Now she would only be more wary of him than ever. He regretted that almost as deeply as he regretted not getting to steal that kiss.
Of course, that had been a mistake, too. Had he forgotten so quickly Tate’s warning to maintain his objectivity or, if he found he couldn’t, to turn the unofficial investigation into Patsy’s background over to Tate himself? He’d come damned close to blowing everything. For a man who prided himself on not crossing lines, he was virtually doing a hundred-yard dash across this one.
Distracted by his dark thoughts, he was halfway up the walk at home before he realized that someone was waiting in the shadows. Regretting that he didn’t have his gun, he was preparing to launch himself at the intruder, when Harlan Patrick stepped into the light cast by the streetlight on the corner.
“Hey, Justin. You’re late getting home.”
“Damn you, do you know how close you came to getting tackled?” Justin muttered as he brushed past his cousin and unlocked his door. “You have a key. Why didn’t you go inside to wait for me?”
“Because I just got here,” he explained with exaggerated patience. “I saw you coming and waited out here. What the devil’s wrong with you, anyway? Why are you so jumpy? This is Los Piños, not Dallas. How many criminals wait in shadows around here? For that matter, how many bad guys have you arrested lately, not counting those sickos who dared to let their parking meters run out?”
Harlan Patrick gave Justin a knowing look. “Wait. Forget I asked that. You let the last genuine lawbreaker go free, didn’t you, and it’s still stuck in your craw. This does have something to do with the mysterious stranger, doesn’t it?”
“It’s none of your business.” Justin pushed past him and went into the kitchen, where he grabbed a soda from the almost barren refrigerator. “Want one?”
“Sure.”
He tossed that can to his cousin, then grabbed another and popped the top. A long, cold drink did nothing to soothe his frayed temper.
“Justin?”
“Yeah.”
“Is there a problem?”
“I wish to hell I knew for sure.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means every instinct tells me there is, but I can’t get a handle on it.”
“Or do you just not like the answers you’re coming up with?”
He sighed. “That, too,” he admitted.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not especially.”
“I have tremendous insight into the female mind,” Harlan Patrick claimed.
Justin hooted at that. “If playing the field counts for anything, I’m sure that’s true. I’m just not so sure I want to take advice from a man who doesn’t know the meaning of settling down.”
“I am settling down. I haven’t dated anyone but Laurie for months now.”
“Really? Months? That must be some kind of record.”
“I’d make it permanent if she’d hear of it, but she still has this crazy idea about going to Nashville as soon as she gets some money together.”
“Maybe you ought to loan her the money,” Justin suggested. “Let her get it out of her system.”
“No way,” Harlan Patrick said. “I’m not going to help set her up for heartache.”
“She’ll do it on her own, then. You know she will. And in the meantime, you’ll be waiting around.”
Harlan Patrick shook his head. “No way. She’ll wake up one of these days and realize that it’s only a foolish dream. Then we’ll get married and raise a family out at White Pines. She’ll switch from singing country to lullabies.”
Justin had only spent a few evenings with Laurie Jensen, but even he could see that his cousin had a blind spot when it came to Laurie’s commitment to her music. “If you believe that, then you don’t know your lady half as well as you think you do,” he warned. “Where is she tonight?”
“Over in Garden City, singing at a club.”
“And what’s she doing tomorrow?”
Harlan Patrick scowled. “Singing here in town.”
“And you don’t think that means anything?”
“Sure, it does. I don’t object if she wants to sing every once in a while around here.”
“That’s mighty big of you. When was the last time Laurie asked your permission?”
Harlan Patrick’s disgruntled expression was answer enough. “Never mind,” Justin said. “Wake up, cousin. The woman has the voice of an angel, a way with words and the ambition it takes to make her dream come true. Either help her or get out of her way.”
“Who asked for your advice?”
“Consider it a gift from someone who’s older and wiser.”
“You can’t be that wise, if you can’t make heads or tails of what’s going on with the town’s newest resident. I thought cops had all sorts of ways to get answers if they wanted them badly enough.”
That was the trouble, of course. Justin wasn’t one bit sure he was ready to hear the answers, not from that computer down at the station, not even from Patsy’s own lips.
* * *
Billy’s cheeks were flushed, his straight black hair a damp fringe around his face. He smelled like talcum powder and baby.
“Which bedtime story tonight?” Patsy asked him, holding up the two books she’d taken from his shelves when they’d left home. There had been dozens more she’d left behind, but these two were Billy’s favorites.
Bathing Billy had soothed her jangled nerves after that near kiss from Justin. That and the story were a familiar routine, one that had been repeated for so long, no matter where they were, that she could almost convince herself that their lives were normal.
Billy popped his thumb into his mouth and studied the covers of the books as intently as if it were the first time he’d ever seen them. “Two stories,” he pleaded finally.
“No, sweet pea. Only one.”
A mutinous expression crossed his face. “Two.”
“Choose or there will
be no story at all.” She moved to put the books away.
“No, Mama. Read rabbit story.”
She grinned. Forced to choose, The Velveteen Rabbit was always the one he picked. “You must know it by heart.”
“Don’t care. Read it,” he commanded with the same authoritative manner as his father.
“Please,” she prompted.
“Please, Mama.”
As she began reading the familiar words, Billy began to drift off. She was even more surprised, then, when he murmured, “Mama, where’s Daddy?”
It was the first time he’d mentioned his father since they’d left home. She’d wondered more than once if that was because Will was so often away from home that Billy was used to not seeing him or if it was because he preferred this quiet, peaceful life without his father around.
“Daddy’s at home in Oklahoma.”
“Wanna see him.”
Patsy sat back and tried to control the shaking that began deep inside. She hadn’t wanted to believe that Billy would ever miss his daddy. She’d almost convinced herself that the disruption in their lives she’d brought on by running away hadn’t fazed Billy at all. After all, he and his father had spent precious little time together bonding. Obviously though, what time they had shared had had a profound impact, one that weeks of separation hadn’t dimmed.
Before she could think of anything at all to say, Billy crawled into her lap. “Please, Mama.”
Patsy hugged him tightly. “Oh, baby, I know you miss your daddy, but it’s not possible to see him right now.”
“Please.”
“Daddy’s far away. He can’t come visit.”
“Wanna see him,” Billy protested, tears welling up in his eyes.
Patsy rocked him. “Shh, baby. It’s going to be okay,” she promised.
How? a voice inside her head demanded. How was she going to make this right? She couldn’t explain to a two-year-old that his daddy was a potential threat to both of them. For almost the first time since she’d left home, doubts began to crowd in.
Maybe she should call Will. Maybe by now he would have gotten the message that she wouldn’t tolerate his behavior. Maybe he’d reform.
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