Not that she was likely to mind, he conceded. He’d seen the quick flaring of panic in her eyes when he’d promised to return. He’d known he was pushing again, but he hadn’t been able to help it. There was something between them and he intended to do whatever it took to force her to admit she felt it, too.
After that, they could worry together about the consequences, assuming there was anything that needed worrying about.
Which he still didn’t know, he reminded himself with a weary sigh.
As he drove back into town he told himself it was only natural to be going down Main Street just to see that all was right with his little world, even though a shortcut would have gotten him home more quickly. It didn’t have anything at all to do with hoping to catch a glimpse of Patsy, either at Dolan’s or at her own place.
Unfortunately, the drugstore was locked up tight, the only light the red glow of the exit sign inside the door. Patsy’s was just as dark. He tried to tell himself it was just as well. He was exhausted and filthy. Even if she’d opened her arms and invited him in, he was too damned tired to do much about it. He satisfied himself with just knowing that she was all tucked in for the night.
He drove on to the sheriff’s office. He could get a cup of coffee there, do his paperwork and head on home for a shower and a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow would be soon enough to pursue things with Patsy. Tomorrow or the next day.
Or the day after that, if she had her way.
“My, my, you’re a pretty sight,” Tate Owens observed when Justin dragged into the station.
“Fortunately, you’re not paying me according to my appearance,” he retorted. “This is what happens when you slog around in a foot of mud for a few hours chasing down a woman’s belongings.”
“It surely was a mess out there,” Tate agreed.
“I noticed you didn’t linger long enough to muss the crease in your trousers,” Justin commented good-naturedly. They both knew that Tate wasn’t above getting filthy if there was a need for it. Today Justin had had things under control without his help.
Despite the jest, Tate’s expression turned serious. “Becky called. Something came in over the wire she thought I ought to see.”
A solemn note in Tate’s voice alerted Justin that it was something he needed to see, as well. “About Patsy Gresham?”
The sheriff nodded and handed over a flyer. “Her name’s Longhorn,” he said. “And she’s got a husband over in Oklahoma who’s been looking for her for a while now. Seems like she’s been gone since just a little before she showed up here.”
Justin stared blankly at the missing persons flyer. The picture was a family portrait—Patsy, Billy and a man who had to be her husband, Will Longhorn, according to the information at the bottom. For some reason that picture reminded him of a damned campaign poster. Even though the three of them were at some sort of outdoor picnic, there was a posed quality to it, a perfection to the lighting that suggested it had been taken by a professional, rather than some family member or a cooperative stranger.
“They look happy enough, don’t they?” Tate said, his tone gentle.
Justin told himself it was his boss’s tone, the hint of pity, that made him want to start throwing things. It had nothing to do with the gut-sick feeling in the pit of his stomach at the sight of Patsy with another man.
“You going to talk to her about this or am I?” Tate asked.
Justin stared at him in surprise. “You haven’t reported her to the Oklahoma authorities yet?”
“Hell, no,” Tate declared. “I figure she’s a grown-up woman. If she’s here, instead of there, there must be a reason for it. I’m not turning her over to them until I know a hell of a lot more than I do right now. You see anything on there about a crime? No. She’s just a missing person. And while I think her family probably has a right to know she’s safe, I don’t think it’s my place to go about giving her away until I hear her side of it.” His gaze was steady. “Or until you do.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Justin said, his heart aching. The poster in his hands was proof that Patsy Gresham—Patsy Longhorn—was more out of his reach than ever. “How much time do I have?”
“I can bury that poster on my desk. Given the amount of paperwork piled up, it could take me a mighty long time to find it again. On the other hand, my conscience says a week at the outside.”
Justin nodded. It was more than he’d hoped for. “I’ll get the answers we need,” he said grimly. “You can count on it.”
* * *
Patsy had never met anyone like the Adams clan. They stuck together. And while there seemed to be a whole crowd of them, there was always room for a stranger in their midst.
The dinner she’d been invited to at White Pines had been a revelation. Harlan Adams’s ranch was bigger by far than the ostentatious house Will had insisted they buy, yet White Pines was a home. There was no mistaking the warmth and love in every single room.
To her amazement, though, there had been no sign of Justin by dinnertime. No one had made excuses for him, either. When he’d appeared just in time for dessert, everyone had accepted his arrival without question.
If he’d been surprised to see her, he hadn’t shown it. But he’d also seemed to be avoiding her the past few days, making her wonder if he was angry about her inclusion in the family event. Maybe she’d misread his intentions toward her, or maybe they’d just changed.
It was obvious he’d been startled again today when she’d walked into the wedding reception for Sharon Lynn. She hadn’t made it to the church, because she’d filled in at Dolan’s in the morning so everyone else could go to the service. But Sharon Lynn and Doc Dolan had insisted she close up and come to the reception. Neither of them had taken no for an answer.
“I intend to toss my bouquet straight at you, so you’d better be prepared,” Sharon Lynn had told her.
The teasing remark had brought tears and a fresh bout of guilt she hadn’t been able to explain.
The dance music was just starting when she walked into the huge tent that had been set up on the lawn at the ranch. Justin had been laughing with his cousins, but the laughter had died when he’d spotted her. This time, though, it seemed he didn’t intend to avoid her. He made his way across the room and ended up at her side.
“What a wonderful party,” she said, forcing a smile to go along with the lighthearted small talk. “Sharon Lynn looks radiant. And Kyle looks dazed.”
“I don’t think he can believe it’s finally happened. It took them a long time to make this trip down the aisle. They deserve to be happy.” His gaze locked with hers. “Everyone does.”
She sensed at once that there was a deeper meaning behind his words, but for the life of her she couldn’t imagine what it was. There was a vague hint of the old suspicion, the old caution, back in his expression, too.
Rather than ignoring the undercurrents as she once would have done, she addressed them directly. “Justin, are you upset that I came?”
He looked vaguely guilty at the pointed question. “No, of course not.”
“Are you sure? I know there’s nothing between us.”
“Not for lack of trying on my part,” he said.
She persisted, determined to apologize for intruding where she didn’t belong. “I’m sorry if finding me at all these family functions the past few days is making you uncomfortable. Your grandfather and Sharon Lynn, they insisted I come.”
“I’m sure,” he said ruefully. He shook his head. “No, I’m the one who should be apologizing. We’re a family of meddlers. With Sharon Lynn married off tonight, I’m the next logical target. Next week or next month it’ll be Harlan Patrick’s turn. I’m sorry you got caught in the cross fire.”
“I don’t mind,” she confessed with a catch in her voice, uncertain what sort of reaction the admission might draw.
He regarded her with surpri
se. “Really? Now that is a change.”
“It’s true.”
In fact, if the truth were known, she liked being linked to this strong, decent man whose temper never seemed to get the better of him. She’d seen his patience tested to the limits—by her, in fact—but he’d never once raised his voice. It was a welcome relief after Will.
If things were different, if she were free, a man like Justin Adams would be the kind of man she’d like in her life.
If she were free...
But she wasn’t, and because she wasn’t, she turned and hurried away, ignoring Justin’s commands for her to stop. She didn’t slow until she was locked in a bathroom upstairs, far from the crowd of well-wishers.
She should leave, not just White Pines, but Los Piños. There was something different about Justin tonight, something that warned her away, told her that she’d stayed too long, tempting fate.
But if she took even a second to look into her heart, she knew that no matter the consequences, she couldn’t go. The time for running was over.
* * *
“Getting any ideas, son?” Grandpa Harlan asked Justin as Sharon Lynn and Kyle moved into each other’s arms for the first dance at the reception.
The question’s timing couldn’t have been worse, because he was getting ideas, had had them for a long time now, but he now knew for a fact they would never be. That poster on Tate’s desk was evidence of that. Patsy belonged to another man. He’d guessed it weeks ago, but the proof had torn him apart.
“Don’t you start, old man,” he said, trying to take the sting out of his words.
His grandfather was made of hearty stuff. The order didn’t faze him.
“I’ve seen the way you look at that pretty little gal from Oklahoma,” he said, casting a sly look across the room to where Patsy was standing all alone. “You’ve got a thing for her. Why not admit it?”
Justin sighed. “Because there are things you don’t know, Grandpa Harlan, things I’m not even sure about. Seems like we just weren’t meant to be.”
“Such as?”
Justin hesitated, then decided that his grandfather might be the one person on earth who could give him the kind of levelheaded advice he desperately needed right now. “I think she’s on the run.”
His grandfather took that news in stride. “From the law?” he demanded indignantly. “I don’t believe it. If that girl’s some sort of criminal, then I’m no judge of character.”
“Maybe not from the law,” Justin conceded. “More likely from a man, possibly her husband.”
That did raise his grandfather’s eyebrows ever so slightly. “She’s married? You know that for a fact?”
There was the missing persons report, but that was only one side of the story, just as Tate had suggested. “Not exactly,” he said eventually.
“Well, if you suspect it’s the case, why the dickens haven’t you asked her? From what I’ve seen, both of you have a lot riding on the truth.”
“I’m not sure she’d tell me the truth,” Justin admitted. “I see how skittish she is around me whenever I’m wearing my uniform. Tate flat out terrifies her. If she’s going to open up, it might not be to one of us.”
What if she knew about the poster, guessed they’d seen it? he wondered. Would she run again? Was she that desperate to get away from her husband? He sighed. He couldn’t get into that with his grandfather. He’d probably told him more than he should as it was.
“I keep hoping she’ll explain on her own and let me help.”
His grandfather regarded him with sympathy. “I think I see the position you’re in. There’s your duty as a sworn lawman. And, then, there’s your duty to a woman you care about.”
“Which one’s more important?” Justin asked, aware that the question sounded a little plaintive. “I always thought for sure I knew. The law’s the law.”
“It’s a delicate balancing act, all right,” his grandfather said. “Maybe there’s a way for both to be the same.”
“How?”
“You won’t know until you know all the truth. Talk to her, son. Do it now, tonight, before your courage fails you and before the answers can cut too deep.”
“Too late for that,” Justin said. “I’m already in way over my head.”
“Then you’ll find a way to make things right,” his grandfather said with absolute confidence. “For both of you.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Well, of course I am,” his grandfather said with exaggerated indignation. “You don’t get to be my age without learning a thing or two. Now, go along. Talk to her. Unless I miss my guess, she’s as torn up inside as you are.”
Justin knew his grandfather was right. There was no way around it. This was one time he couldn’t afford to be endlessly patient. Lives and futures were at stake. Patsy’s and Billy’s, maybe. His own for sure.
He weaved through the crowd, his gaze locked on the woman who stood all alone on the fringes. She looked more fragile than ever in a pale blue slip dress that skimmed over her body in a silken caress. The dress was the epitome of costly simplicity. It practically had designer stamped all over it. The cop in him had wanted to check for a label and demand explanations once again for the inconsistencies in her life-style. The man simply wanted to slide it over her head and run callused hands over the woman beneath.
If he listened to the throbbing in his veins, that dress would be merely an inconvenience. If he listened to his head, he would escort her somewhere very public for the conversation that had been too long coming. By the time he reached her side, he still wasn’t sure which side had won the mental debate.
“Everything okay?” he asked, his tone cautious.
“Of course,” she said, a little too brightly.
“Where’d you run off to?”
“The ladies’ room.”
“I thought maybe you were running away?”
Alarm flared in her eyes, but she quickly hid it. “From what?”
“Me.”
“You don’t scare me.”
“I should.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you.”
She swallowed hard at the bold assertion. “I know.”
“Any objections?”
Her hesitation—combined with the pure desire written all over her face—was enough to tell him as much as he needed to know. She wanted him all right, but she was going to do the honorable thing—the wifely thing—and say yes. She was going to tell him to take a hike.
Before she could say anything, he said quietly, “Let’s go somewhere for coffee.”
She blinked in surprise. “Coffee?”
“Don’t argue. You don’t want the alternative.”
Her gaze locked with his. “I didn’t say that.”
His smile was forced. “You didn’t have to. Come on, darlin’, before I change my mind. Sharon Lynn and Kyle will be leaving any minute now, anyway.”
Before she could object, he clasped her hand and dragged her along behind him, nodding politely to everyone they passed. It was a neat trick to get away from White Pines without being subjected to a million and one questions, but he managed it.
As he headed for his car, Patsy began to voice her first objection. “My car—”
He refused to relinquish his grip on her. “I’ll have someone drive it into town in the morning.”
Only after they were in his car with the radio playing at top volume to drown out any need for conversation did she speak again. Raising her voice to be heard, she asked, “Justin, what’s going on?”
“We’ll talk when we get into town.”
“What’s wrong with here?”
“I can’t concentrate on you and the road at the same time.”
He thought he caught the beginnings of a smile at that.
�
�Ever heard of small talk?”
“That’s the last thing I want to engage in with you.” To make his point, he reached for the volume and turned it up another notch. Now there was nothing in the car but the sound of George Strait and a sizzling tension for which there would be no relief.
In town, he parked in front of the Italian restaurant, knowing that it would be virtually empty at this hour, especially with half the folks in town out at White Pines at the wedding reception. The coffee was strong enough to keep them both wide-awake until they’d hashed this mess through from beginning to end.
He led the way to a booth with Patsy trailing along behind, silently fuming. He could practically feel the anger radiating from her. He couldn’t say he blamed her, but he wasn’t exactly dancing with joy tonight himself.
“Two coffees,” he told the waitress in a tone that warned her not to linger.
“Sure, Justin.” She left without asking about the wedding, returned with two cups and a whole pot of coffee, then retreated all the way into the kitchen.
“Look,” Patsy began, scowling at him, “I don’t know what has you in such a snit tonight, but you don’t have any business taking it out on her, or on me, for that matter.”
Justin sighed. “You’re right.”
“Then what’s this all about?”
He looked into her eyes and saw the beginnings of wariness again. “Same old thing,” he said, trying to make light of it.
“You think I’m hiding something.”
“I know you’re hiding something,” he corrected.
She began twisting the napkin she was holding into a tight knot. She looked everywhere in the restaurant except at him. When the napkin shredded, she stared at it in dismay.
“Patsy, please, can’t you tell me the truth after all this time? Maybe I can help.”
The tears welling up in her eyes were almost his undoing. He wanted to take back all the questions. He wanted to promise that he would never pry into her past again, but it was too late for that. If he didn’t, Tate would. It was better if he did it, if the truth was something shared between them, instead of a barrier they could never overcome.
Wildflower Ridge Page 10
