Run to Me

by Lauren Nichols

  “You know,” Sally reminded him, “if she moves around a lot that money’s probably all she has. Why put it in a bank, if you plan to take it out again within a few weeks or months? Especially since some banks charge a penalty for early withdrawal. Cash is just easier.”

  “I know,” he muttered. “I thought of that, too.”

  Shane came into the computer room, looping a tie around the raised collar of his white shirt. “Any luck?”

  Mac shook his head. “You about ready to go?”

  “Soon as I grab my jacket.” Shane looked him over. “Sure you’re still up for this?”

  No, he wasn’t, but Shane liked to eat well and they didn’t get together that often. “Sure. Flagstaff’s not that far. The Cottage Place okay?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good.” He glanced at Sally again. “Hey…thanks for your help, but I won’t be calling you with her plate number or anything else. I’ll get what I need from her.”

  “Good. That’s the best way.”

  “I don’t know if it’s best, but it’s more honest than what I’ve been doing. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep the things I’ve told you under wraps, too.”

  “Goes without saying,” she replied, walking him and her brother to the door. “You like her, huh?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Does she feel the same?”

  Mac expelled a dry laugh as he and Shane descended the adobe bungalow’s concrete steps to the walk. “Probably not if she’s getting ready to leave.”

  Sally shrugged. “Well. Enjoy your dinner.”

  Mac called back his thanks, but dinner—even at The Cottage Place—wasn’t appealing. Shane guessed as much as they pulled out of the driveway.

  “Want to go someplace local and get drunk instead of driving to Flagstaff?”

  “Sure, then I could really feel like garbage.”

  “Seriously. Let’s skip dinner, lose the ties and jackets and go to Buster’s. We can talk just as easily about the project there.”

  “You’re not going to get charbroiled tiger shrimp at Buster’s.”

  “No, but they’ve got pizza and beer, and that’s good enough for me.”

  Mac looked askance at him. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  The next morning, Mac decided that going to Buster’s hadn’t been one of his best ideas. His head pounded, his mouth felt like the bottom of a birdcage, and the impressive consumption record he’d racked up in college seemed to have dropped to four beers.

  Amos didn’t say a word when he walked, bleary-eyed into the kitchen, but he did stare in amusement as Mac went to the sink and knocked back some aspirin with water. Mac glanced Amos’s way and scowled.

  “I’m heading into the store early today,” he grumbled, grabbing his Stetson. “Terri should be here in a few minutes.”

  “Lookin’ forward to it. I need t’work on her some more.”

  Mac turned sharply and was instantly sorry as a wave of nausea hit him. He swallowed the sting of last night’s pizza. “What are you talking about?”

  “Sophie and me are headin’ into town tonight to celebrate, and we want her and Christie to go along. You, too. Asked her last night, but she said that kinda thing was for family.”

  He took an orange from the fruit bowl on the table, then crossed to the wastebasket near the kitchen door to peel it. “’Course, we told her she and her little one were family.” He glanced up. “So? You comin’ over to the diner after you close up shop?”

  “Sure. I’ll see you around five-fifteen. What are we celebrating?”

  “Me…graduatin’ from PT.”

  Mac stifled a groan. He’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of Terri, he’d forgotten to ask Amos how things had gone. “Then you’re finished?”

  “Yup. They sprung me yesterday, so you might as well figure me into the schedule at the store. Vicki said it’ll do me good t’get back in the saddle a couple hours a day.”

  Mac spoke quietly. “That’s great, Granddad. But why don’t you wait until tomorrow to come back? We can drive in together, and I’ll take you home around noon. That way you can ease into things gradually.”

  “I got no problem with that.”

  The front screen door swung on its hinges, then shut noisily as Terri and Christie entered from the porch, Christie all smiles and running ahead, as usual.

  Ruffling the toddler’s hair as she ran past him, Mac watched Terri come through the hall to the kitchen. Even wearing a cool expression, she looked pretty in formfitting jeans and a light-blue knit top that clung to her curves. His interest increased when he noticed her hair.

  She’d cut those grown-out bangs. Now her hair fell soft and black and feathery to her brows, framing the wide, intelligent blue eyes that continued to haunt his dreams. The remainder of her hair curved loosely around her shoulders. Very feminine, he thought. And as his libido caught up with his thoughts, it added, very sexy. If her gaze was a little less cold, he’d think the new hairstyle was due to his remarks at the canyon.

  “Hi,” he said. He’d never had a chance to explain his rotten mood yesterday, and he regretted that. But she’d owed him an explanation, too, so his regrets were minimal.

  “Hi,” she repeated flatly. She turned a smile on Amos. “You look chipper today. Getting sprung seems to agree with you. What would you like for breakfast? Besides the fruit?”

  With a wry twist of his mouth, Amos grabbed a napkin and his orange and limped into the living room. “Since we both know I ain’t gettin’ sausages, whatever you fix’ll be fine. Holler when it’s ready. I’ll be watchin’ the news.”

  Mac met Terri’s eyes when Amos was gone. None of the chill had left them. Turning away, she strode into the long, narrow pantry to drag out breakfast fixings. Mac followed and spoke in an undertone. “I had no right to treat you the way I did yesterday without letting you know why.”

  She snatched the oatmeal, napkins and syrup from a shelf. “Really?”

  “Yes, really. When I got back here that night, things started eating at me.” He glanced into the still-empty kitchen to make sure Amos was keeping his distance, then continued. “I thought we were going to talk after we made love the second time—but you still held back. Dammit, Terri, you have to be more open with me if this thing between us has a snowball’s chance of going anywhere. That is, if you want it to go anywhere. I don’t know if you do. Hell, I don’t know if you’re staying or going, or why you guard your privacy like Fort Knox. I don’t know why you think you have to keep moving. I don’t know who you are or what you’re all about.”

  Her gaze fell. When it returned to him, her eyes were wary, and her voice trembled a little. “That’s why you were so cold yesterday?”

  “You thought I’d backed off because I’d finally gotten you into bed.”

  Her voice hardened again. “It crossed my mind.”

  “Terri, I don’t make a habit of taking strangers to bed, and basically, after an entire month, that’s what we are. Come to supper at the diner tonight. It would mean a lot to Amos. But afterward…we either talk or we end whatever’s going on between us.”

  The trapped look in her eyes when she finally nodded made him think of a condemned prisoner on her way to an execution. But he was through stumbling blindly through this relationship. He cared about her—too much, maybe—but there was no way to build on what they had without complete honesty.

  Erin’s stomach was queasy that evening as she and Christie sat with Sophie and Amos, scanning the diner’s kids’ menu. The restaurant was crowded, probably due to the banners in the windows and the daily-special flyers on the tables announcing that it was Tex-Mex night. Any other time, the spicy aromas of fried beef and chicken, tamales and hot peppers would’ve been welcome. Tonight, thinking about Mac’s ultimatum, they made her nauseous.

  Erin’s nerves jolted as he walked inside looking rawly masculine in his black Stetson, black shirt and faded jeans. He waved and called to friends as he made his way ba
ck to their table. Mac took off his hat and set it on the chair beside him, then took a seat across from her and Christie.

  “Hi, Unco Mac!”

  “Hi, sweetheart.” It was easy to see from the affection in his dark eyes how much Christie had come to mean to him.

  But his look sobered when he met Erin’s gaze. Still, there was intimacy there, too…and the banked needs of a lover remembering mind-bending kisses and heated touches. Erin couldn’t help wondering if that look would disappear when she told him about her past.

  Mac shifted a small plastic sombrero-and-cactus centerpiece aside and smiled at Amos and Sophie. “Did I see the two of you toasting when I came in?”

  Amos chuckled. “We been doin’ that since yesterday. You have a lot of catchin’ up t’do, boy.”

  “Okay, then here’s mine.” He raised his water glass. “To my granddad, the most patient man in the county, who went through it all with a smile on his face and a good word for everyone.”

  Sophie expelled a hoot to the contrary, and Mac ended on a slightly more serious note. “Here’s to seventy-three more years—of good health.”

  “Hear, hear,” Erin said warmly, and they clinked glasses all around.

  “So what’s everyone having?” Mac asked, scanning the Tex-Mex flyer. “The carnitas and quesadillas are—”

  “You gonna be able t’eat that spicy stuff after yer own celebration last night?” Amos chided through a chuckle.

  A solid male voice behind him answered before Mac could. “Sure he will, Mr. Perkins. This guy’s got a cast-iron stomach.” The man’s gaze shifted to Sophie. “How’s it going, Mrs. Cassleback?”

  A frisson of panic shot through Erin as Sophie answered that she was well—and Erin recognized the patrolman who’d stopped her for that bad brake light.

  With an easy smile, Mac stood to shake hands. “You’re way behind the times, buddy. My cast-iron stomach days are over.” He nodded at Erin and Christie. “Dave, this is Terri Fletcher, granddad’s housekeeper, and her daughter Christie. Terri—Officer Dave Kendall. We went to high school together.”

  Erin extended her hand to shake his and mumble, “Nice to meet you,” but her stomach was a jumble of butterflies. The condition got worse when recognition flickered vaguely in Kendall’s eyes.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” He paused. “Terri, is it?”

  Erin nodded and kept smiling, refusing to swallow the knot in her throat for fear of looking guilty. Please, God, don’t let him tell Mac about me. I need to do this myself or he’ll never believe another word I say.

  “Terri’s been with us more than a month now,” Mac went on, then took his hat from the chair to his left. “Can you join us?”

  Say no, Erin prayed.

  “Thanks, but I’m with friends—cops’ night out. I just stopped to say hello, and ask if you’d given any thought to that charity softball game I e-mailed you about a couple of weeks ago. Or didn’t you get the message?”

  Mac winced. “Yeah, I did. I just forgot about it. Sure, I’ll play.”

  “Great. We can use your glove.” He glanced across the room where two tables had been pushed together and a half-dozen men were laughing and talking with their waitress. “Well—looks like my food’s arrived, so I’d better get back. But stop at my table on your way out so we can discuss the particulars. I’ll be here for a while,” he added wryly. “Those guys can eat.”

  When Kendall had said his goodbyes to Amos and Sophie, and his gaze met hers again, Erin felt a modicum of relief. If he thought she was familiar at first, he seemed to have changed his mind. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Fletcher.”

  “You too, Officer.”

  Her fajitas were probably good, but the butterflies never left Erin’s stomach so she barely touched them. She kept remembering with hope—and trepidation— Mac’s words to her in the pantry this morning.

  You have to be more open with me if this thing between us has a snowball’s chance of going anywhere.

  Did that mean he wanted it to go somewhere? Because that’s what she wanted. Day by day she loved him more. But could she let their relationship grow, knowing that she could be putting him in danger? Charles would not be stopped. He had too much money and too much hate in him to imagine that he’d simply lose interest in taking Christie from her. And anyone who got in his way would pay a price.

  Mac’s voice rose as he stood and snatched the check the waitress had left. “I said I’m taking care of it, Granddad, so why don’t you and Sophie just run along? I’ll drive Terri and Christie home.” Mac turned to her. “I do have to see Dave for a minute, though, so I’ll meet you outside. There’s a small playground out back. Christie might enjoy swinging for a few minutes.”

  Uneasy, but trying to reassure herself that Dave Kendall hadn’t remembered her, Erin forced a smile. “Swinging might not be advisable after everything she ate, but yes, we’ll wait for you there.”

  When Sophie and Amos had driven off in her big, flashy Edsel, Erin walked Christie across the parking lot to the playground, which was actually to the left and rear of the diner. A few other children and their parents had commandeered the swings and were happily calling to each other. But Christie was more interested in the sandbox near one of the three redwood picnic tables. Erin took a seat on the bench and watched her play.

  They weren’t there long when a dark-green van pulled into the lot, and a man wearing jeans and a red-and-black-striped rugby shirt got out. He looked around, settled his sunglasses atop his blond surfer hair, then grabbed a map from his vehicle and walked toward her.

  Erin’s fears clicked in, and she moved from the table to sit in the grass near the sandbox. She shook off her suspicions a moment later when the man bypassed her and continued some distance away to speak to a father pushing his little boy on a swing.

  She shook her head. Once again, she was being an alarmist; he was just a lost traveler. Would she never be able to look at a man in sunglasses again without getting anxious?

  She turned her attention back to Christie, dug her hands into the sand and heaped more of it on the “castle” her daughter was building. But like the opportunities for happiness in her life, the sand kept sliding away, forcing her to work harder to make it stay.

  “Uh—excuse me?” a hesitant male voice said behind her.

  Erin jerked around to see the young man with the map standing over her, and all of her senses went on full alert again. Although, with his easy smile and gentle manner, he didn’t look like a threat.

  “Yes?” she replied, pushing to her feet.

  His smile turned sheepish. “I wonder if you could help me get back on Interstate 40. I’m on my way to California to meet my wife and daughters, and if I don’t get straightened out soon, they’ll be watching the Fourth of July fireworks without me.” He nodded toward the dusky skinned man at the swings. “I asked that guy over there, but I’m afraid my Spanish is worse than his English.”

  When Erin didn’t reply immediately, he sighed and grinned. “Actually…I don’t even know what town I’m in.”

  Cautiously Erin took the map from his hand, then indicated a tiny dot on it. “You’re here—in High Hawk. And the interstate isn’t hard to find.” She returned his map and nodded toward the road. “Take the first left after you leave the parking lot—you can see it from here—then make a quick right. That’ll take you toward Flagstaff. You’ll be able to pick up I-40 there.”

  His grateful smile pushed dimples into his cheeks. “Thanks. Hopefully I’ll be better at this in my next life. Carole’s usually the navigator, but her company transferred her to Barstow last month.”

  “You didn’t go with them?”

  He shrugged haplessly. “Nope. Somebody had to stay behind and sell the house.” With a casual wave he backed away. “Thanks again—from all of us. I know macho guys don’t say things like this, but it’ll be good to see them again. E-mails and phone calls are nice, but hugs are better.”

  Erin couldn’t disagree. “Travel safel
y.”

  “I’ll sure try.”

  But as the man walked off, he stopped suddenly and slowly reversed his steps. “Hey—your little girl’s about the same size as my Emily. Would you mind walking to my van with me for a second so I can hold the outfit I bought for her up against your daughter? Emmy’ll be disappointed if it doesn’t fit.” He grinned again. “If you think I’m bad with directions, you should see me shop.”

  Alarms clanged in Erin’s head, and she lifted Christie into her arms. “I’m sorry, I really don’t have time. We—we’re waiting for my husband to come out of the diner.”

  The man stared back blankly for a second, then winced and lightly smacked himself in the forehead with his map. “I’m sorry. I scared you. That was a dumb thing for a stranger to suggest—especially someone with kids of his own. You and your family have a good day.”

  “You, too,” Erin replied. But she still watched tensely until the van drove off before she took Christie’s hand and walked her toward the diner.

  Mac was just exiting when she and Christie arrived at the front door. Suddenly, just looking at him made her feel safe and secure.

  It bothered her that he was unusually quiet on the ride home, and Erin found herself wondering if he was simply anticipating their discussion, or if he and Dave Kendall had talked about more than softball. But he didn’t appear to be angry about anything, just…thoughtful.

  Sophie and Amos were in the living room when they filed inside, talking over each other as they answered questions blaring from a game show on TV.

  Amos called to them when they reached the kitchen. “You two oughtta sit down and watch this.”

  “I’d really like to,” Erin replied, “but I have a thousand things to do. I just stopped in to congratulate you and thank you again for inviting me to your dinner party. It was fun.”

  “It was fun, wasn’t it?” Sophie declared as the boxy-grinned game-show host called out another query.