by Sherry Lewis
“You want to stay with us?” Reagan could scarcely believe it. An internal voice whispered caution, but Reagan ignored it. Paul had never approved of Travis, and his policeman’s paranoia had rubbed off on her.
Reagan wasn’t blind to Travis’s faults, but he wasn’t as bad as Paul had imagined. On his last visit, he’d been in debt and looking for a loan. The time before that, he’d been hiding from a girlfriend. But those things weren’t bad. He was just…rebellious.
Travis had changed after their mother died, and their father had been too consumed with grief for months to notice. By the time he’d healed enough to pay attention, the damage had already been done. Reagan had tried to give Travis what he needed, but she’d been young and grief-stricken, and she hadn’t done enough. Travis had run away during his junior year of high school and he’d never gone back home.
“Are you in some kind of trouble?” she asked, determined to get that possibility out of the way.
“No. Nothing like that. I’m just…Well, I’m sorta between jobs, that’s all.”
She was glad that he turned to her when he got in over his head, but she kept hoping he’d find what he was searching for or that she could find a way to help him. “How long do you need to stay?”
“Just long enough to get back on my feet. Is it okay?”
“Of course. You’re always welcome here. You know that.” She waved to Jamie and Danielle as they ran outside to catch the bus, then reached for the coffeepot and poured a cup. “Have you talked to Dad lately?”
Travis’s sudden silence gave her the answer.
“He’s worried about you, Trav. You really should call him.”
“Why? He’ll just think I want money.”
“That’s because you only call when you want something. If you’d call him more often, he wouldn’t think that.”
“Yeah, but I don’t. I don’t like telephones. And I really don’t like lectures. If you’re gonna lecture me, I’ll find somewhere else to go.”
“No lectures,” Reagan promised.
“Good. And don’t tell Dad about this. I don’t want him to call while I’m there.”
“I won’t tell him.” That promise was a little harder to make. “But he will call if you’re here longer than a week. I can just about guarantee it.”
“Maybe so, but he doesn’t need to know I’m there. In fact,” Travis continued, “it might be best if you didn’t tell anybody that I’m coming. I just want to lie low for a while.”
Reagan didn’t bother telling him that everyone in Serenity would know before he’d been here a day. He’d figure it out soon enough. “I’ll have to tell the girls.”
“You can tell them. I’m okay with that. But nobody else, okay?”
He sounded almost desperate, and her internal warning bells sounded again. “Why, Travis? Are you in trouble?”
“I said I wasn’t.” He paused for a moment, and when he went on, his voice had lost its edge. “It’s just that I’m not in the mood to meet people right now. I need to get my head together.”
Reagan had been waiting for him to take that step for so long, she wasn’t going to jeopardize it now. “Then I won’t tell anyone. You have my word.”
CHAPTER THREE
REAGAN TRIED TO PUT her concerns about Jamie and Travis out of her mind as she pulled into the parking lot in front of the Chicken Inn. Suddenly nervous about meeting Max again, she took a minute to check her reflection in the rearview mirror. She’d taken more care than usual with her outfit, hair and makeup, but her long broomstick skirt and matching forest-green sweater suddenly felt shabby, and her makeup seemed overdone.
What would they talk about? It had been so long since she’d had a date, she wasn’t sure she knew how to make small talk. Not that Max seemed like the type to be interested in idle chatter. He seemed direct. To the point. Strictly business.
No, she thought with a smile, not strictly. The look in his eyes that morning hadn’t been exactly businesslike.
She’d have to be careful not to jabber endlessly about the girls. They were the biggest part of her life, her greatest joy, but she didn’t want him to think she couldn’t talk about anything else.
She couldn’t ask about his job. He’d already made it clear that he couldn’t discuss it—and though that made her curious, she didn’t want him to think she was nosy. But they could discuss sports. Most men liked sports, didn’t they? And she liked basketball, if not football, golf and baseball. They both liked to jog. Surely that would be good for five or ten minutes.
What if he didn’t like her? Did it matter? What if he tried to kiss her?
Oh, who was she kidding? He’d asked her to lunch, that’s all. She was making far more of this than she ought to. But even with the stern warnings to herself, her fingers trembled when she readjusted the mirror and opened the car door.
She took a steadying breath and climbed out into the early spring warmth, resisting the urge to check her appearance one last time in the side mirror. When she turned toward the restaurant, she breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t looked.
Max was waiting for her in front of the building, looking about nine feet tall and five feet wide at the shoulders. His chest tapered to a trim waist and hips, and he wore jeans that could have been created specially to fit his body. He looked lean, mean and dangerous—if only to her peace of mind.
She moistened her lips nervously and started toward him. “Am I late?”
“No, I was early.” He touched her arm gently and guided her toward the door.
It was the merest brush of his fingers against her elbow, but she was acutely aware of him—and of the curious glances from customers inside. It was just Reagan’s luck that the restaurant was unusually crowded. There’d definitely be talk around town this afternoon.
Stares quickly turned to feigned disinterest as Misty Walsh, whose father owned the restaurant, led them toward a table in the far corner, which was about as secluded as you could get at the Chicken Inn. One or two people smiled or said hello, but everyone else pretended they didn’t have the slightest interest in Reagan or her date.
Reagan was used to the restaurant, but she suddenly saw it through Max’s eyes. Dark wood paneling, mismatched tables in rows with most of the tablecloths off-kilter, metal-backed chairs so old the seat padding was bunched and hard. He probably thought they were terrible hicks.
“You might have a bit of a wait,” Misty said as Reagan took a seat. “The other waitress didn’t show up for her shift, so I’m the only one here.”
“The more time for conversation, the better,” Max said, but he looked to Reagan to make sure. “How soon do you need to be back?”
“I’ll be fine. I arranged for a long lunch.”
Max took off his jacket and placed it on an empty chair as Misty walked away. “Everyone’s staring at us,” he said as he sat across from her.
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for looking spectacular.” His eyes darkened slightly and darted across her face, dipped down to her breasts and back up again. “I’m not complaining.”
She blushed—of course. “Thank you. But that’s not why they’re staring. They’re wondering who you are.”
“Should I introduce myself?”
She laughed and shook her head. “No. Leave them guessing.”
“All right.” He settled comfortably in his seat. “So, we’re here. Are you ready to tell me everything about yourself?”
“Do I have to? Can’t I just be mysterious?”
“Sure, if you want to. But I don’t know how you can be mysterious for long in a town like this. I’m sure someone would be glad to tell me.”
“They would if they could,” Reagan said with a teasing grin, “but I’m a pretty private person. Nobody knows very much about me.”
“You’ve managed to keep secrets in this town? I’m impressed. But it only makes me more interested.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me. I know your name, where you live, and that you have two daughters. I know you’re not married or otherwise attached, and I think you must work for the city. How am I doing so far?”
“It’s kind of frightening to realize how much someone can learn without much effort. Yes, I work for the city. I’m the one you call if you have something to complain about.”
“Divorced?”
“Widowed. My husband died three years ago.”
Max’s eyes revealed little, she realized, but there were occasional flashes of emotion like the empathy she saw now. “Was it unexpected?”
“He was a police officer for the city of Cincinnati. He was killed in the line of duty.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, but that was a long time ago, and I try not to think about the shooting.”
“Then we won’t.” He watched her for a few seconds. “You can relax, Reagan. I won’t bite, I promise.”
Her cheeks flamed. She hated being so easy to read. “It’s just that I haven’t been out much since Paul died, and hardly at all since I moved here.”
“Why not? It can’t be for lack of opportunity.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Too busy for an occasional lunch date?” Max lifted his water glass and shook his head. “Pity.”
“You seem completely relaxed,” she countered. “You must get out a lot.”
“Not as often as you might think. I’m on the road too much.”
Reagan spread her napkin on her lap to keep her hands busy. “You’re on the road now.”
“You’re right. I am. But believe it or not, I don’t do this sort of thing very often.”
“Not.” His easy tone was beginning to put her at ease. It had been a long time since she’d flirted with anyone, but every word out of his mouth seemed to invite teasing in return. “I bet you do this all the time.”
“Only when the woman makes the first move.”
“That can’t be true. I didn’t make the first move—”
He grinned mischievously and his eyes looked almost blue. “No? What do you call what happened this morning? There I was, innocently jogging along the street, and you waylaid me.”
“I hadn’t realized I was so obvious,” she countered. “All right, I’ll confess. I’d been lying in wait for hours on the chance that you might be an early-morning jogger, and if you were, that you’d come down my street.”
His smile faded. “Are you trying to say you didn’t make the first move?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“I’m crushed.”
“Don’t be.” She pulled a menu toward her and made a pretense of studying it, even though she knew it by heart. “I’m not the kind of person who ever makes a move, so it’s nothing personal.”
“Well, then, I’ll try not to feel bad.” He reached for his own menu and his expression changed subtly. “You lived in Cincinnati before you moved here?”
“We did.”
“What on earth made you decide to move to Serenity?”
“I needed a place to start over after Paul died. When we lost him, our world fell apart. For the girls’ sakes I didn’t let myself wallow in self-pity for long. They needed me to pull through and make the world right for them again.”
“That couldn’t have been easy.”
“It wasn’t.” She didn’t think it would ever be possible to explain just how hard it had been, but she liked the way he didn’t gush sympathy like so many people had.
“We stayed in our house in Cincinnati for about eight months,” she said, “but the memories were so strong that the girls and I were having trouble moving on. Our grief counselor suggested that we leave and start over somewhere new, but I resisted the idea for months.”
Max watched her carefully and listened to every word as if nothing else were more important. And she found herself saying things she hadn’t shared with anyone but a few close friends.
“Police work was Paul’s whole life, but I hated the risks he took. I hated that he knowingly put his life on the line every time he walked out the door, and I let him know it. All the disagreements we’d had about his career were in that house, and the guilt was horrible. I finally realized the counselor was right. I had to leave.”
“But why Wyoming? Did you have family here? Friends?”
She liked the way Max didn’t tell her she should have felt something else. Too many people had tried to shave the edges off her hurt and anger with well-meaning platitudes about how brave Paul had been. But he’d also been careless, and the clichés hadn’t helped.
“We didn’t know a soul,” she said. “That was part of its appeal. I’d thought about moving to Texas to be near my dad and his wife, but Dad and Paul were so close, I was afraid that being around Dad would stir up all the things I wanted to put behind me. One day I found a story about Serenity in a magazine. It appealed to me, and here we are.”
Max shook his head slowly. “That took courage. Have you ever regretted your decision?”
“No. I love it here, and I’m getting to know people. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.”
“What about your daughters? Do they like Serenity as much as you do?”
“Danielle does. Jamie thinks it’s boring.”
Max laughed softly. “This might earn me a black mark, but I agree with her. Don’t get me wrong…It’s a perfectly nice town and the people I’ve met so far have been friendly, but there’s not a whole lot to do.”
“That’s why I like it.”
His eyes widened slightly. “You like boring?”
“I like safe.”
He crooked one shoulder. “A lot of people do, but I’m not sure anyplace is completely safe.”
“Not completely, but some are safer than others.” She broke off when Misty returned to refill their glasses and waited to speak until the girl quit hovering. “Jamie’s a lot like her dad was. She’s drawn to things that frighten me to death. Her latest scheme is to sign up for rock climbing lessons.”
“And you object.”
“Of course I do. She’s only thirteen. I’d like to see her make it to fourteen.”
Max smiled. “Sounds reasonable. So you said no. How did she take that?”
“Not well. She’s still trying to convince me.”
Max’s smile grew. “Sounds like a woman after my own heart.” He stretched his hand across the table and almost touched her fingers. “I don’t like taking no for an answer, either.”
Reagan pulled her hand away and tried to catch her breath. “Well, now you know my story. Why don’t you tell me more about you?”
“There’s not much to tell. My dad was a marine, so we moved around a lot. My mom spent her time trying to make all the new places we moved to feel like home.” His expression softened when he spoke about his mother, and the look on his face touched her. “She was a career mom. Whatever school we were in, she was a member of the PTA. Whatever sport we wanted to play or club we wanted to join, she got us there, fixed snacks and drove the car pool.”
“What about your dad?”
“He worked. Took orders on base and gave them at home.” Max pulled a package of crackers from the basket on the table. “He’s mellowed a lot since then.”
“So, why aren’t you married?” It was a gutsy question, but she felt so comfortable around him, it slipped out.
“Never found a woman willing to put up with me.” Max didn’t crack a smile, but his eyes glittered with amusement.
“What’s so hard to put up with?”
“My job, for one thing. I’m in the field six days out of seven.”
“What else? Maybe you’re always waiting for women to make the first move? Are you shy, is that it?”
He grinned and a chuckle rumbled out from his chest. “Yeah, I’m painfully shy.”
“If you’re always as shy as you’ve been with me, I can certainly understand the problem.”
His laugh grew a little louder. “Ok
ay, so the problem is that I work too much, and I’m not sure my career and a family would mix. Other than that, I’m a paragon.”
“I’m sure there are women who could live with your job and be quite happy. I learned to adjust to Paul’s hours. It was just the risks he took that bothered me. Some women might like to be married to a man who’s not home every single night. Look at all the people in the world who travel for a living. They can’t all be single.”
“Maybe.” Max tore open the package of crackers and crumpled the wrapper in his fist. “Maybe. But long periods of separation are likely to lead to trouble, don’t you think?”
“Not necessarily. Depends on the people. Are you sure you’re not using the travel as an excuse?”
“You mean not to get married?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not just the travel,” he said after a few seconds. “There are other things involved, as well.”
“But that’s the part you can’t talk about?”
“That’s right.”
“I guess you’re the one who gets to be mysterious.”
He shook his head without looking at her. “I just go where I’m sent, pick up what I’m told to, and get paid for my efforts.”
“And do you enjoy the work?”
“Usually.”
“But not always?”
“Not when the job is over too quickly.”
Her heart rocketed and her hands began to tremble. There seemed to be a deeper meaning behind so many of the things he said. His eyes darkened and his lips curved slightly as he watched her. Did he know what kind of effect he was having on her? She was so obvious, how could he not know?
Before either of them could say more, Misty arrived to take their orders. Reagan glanced at her watch, surprised to realize how much time had passed. It seemed like only a few minutes. She took advantage of the interruption to pull herself together. But if he kept looking at her like that, it wouldn’t be easy.
MAX COULDN’T FIGURE OUT why the look on Reagan’s face touched him so much. Or why he was blabbering on about himself, revealing more to her in the first five minutes than he had to people he’d known for much longer.
With the waitress hovering, he forced his attention to the menu. “I’m starving. What do you recommend?”
