by CF Frizzell
“Let him do what he has to do, Tommy,” Melissa said. “Thank you, though. Don’t you worry about the police.”
Rogers nervously rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “Yeah, but…”
Shay was enthralled. Like hungry schoolboys, the men hung on Melissa’s every word, every shift of her legs, every motion of her hands. She had them hopelessly wrapped. Yes, me too.
“I’ll talk to Della,” Melissa assured them. “I’d no intention of causing anyone any trouble.”
“Cruiser will be here any second,” Sorvini bellowed as he rejoined them, staring at Melissa the whole way back. “I don’t know what you thought you’d accomplish, sitting up there. What were you up to, anyway? Think you’d eavesdrop and get details of the job here? Were you spying or someth—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Angelo. You’re going to have a stroke if you don’t calm down.”
The comment drew muffled guffaws from the crew.
Eyeing him suspiciously, Melissa sank back on a hip and crossed her arms. Shay thought it was the sexiest pose she’d seen in ages. “Is there something I should be spying for? You doing work you shouldn’t be?”
Sorvini’s look narrowed. Before he could respond, however, Rogers tapped his shoulder and Sorvini jumped and let loose.
“You stay out of this, Rogers. Damn lucky I came out here to check on things. Now get your bunch of flunkies back to work. We’re waiting for the cops.” He spread his glare over the gathering. “You heard me. Get the hell back to work!”
Reluctant to move, Shay found herself a bit spellbound and thoroughly enjoyed Melissa’s discreet palms-up “oh well” to Rogers. And then that crystalline look fell upon her again. All thought of returning to the fence vanished. Hello, Melissa.
Sorvini yanked Shay’s arm. “Think you’re special? I know what you’re gawkin’ at, friggin’ dyke.” He reached for her again. “I told you to get—”
Shay stepped to within inches of his face. “Touch me again, you son of a bitch, and the cops will be arresting you.”
“Hey! Break it up!” A hand locked onto Sorvini’s shoulder and pulled him back. Officer Jennifer Hennessey held him firmly at the end of a stiff arm. “What’s going on here?”
Caught speechless, Sorvini looked back at Shay and growled. Hennessey shook him by the shoulder.
“I asked you a question, Mr. Sorvini.”
He took a moment and a deep breath. Then turned to Melissa.
“She’s trespassing. I want her arrested.”
Melissa shrugged. “Hi, Jen.”
Hennessey turned to Sorvini. “It’s Ms. Baker you want arrested? You mean I drove—”
“Goddamn right, I do. So does Della.”
Hennessey put her hands on her hips and seemed to ponder the situation. She removed her hat, wiped her brow with the back of her hand, and squinted up at the sky. Finally, she looked back at Sorvini. “Seriously?”
Rogers snickered from somewhere behind them.
Sorvini snapped at him over his shoulder. “Get the fuck out of here, Rogers.” He stiffened and barked at Hennessey. “Yes. Seriously. What is it around here? The law’s the law. Why am I telling you that?”
Hennessey took pains to settle her hat back on her head properly, letting Sorvini boil at her side.
“Well, okay. If you think Della wants to press charges here, I’ll do it, but…”
“But what, for Christ’s sake?”
“Well, I was just thinking about all that’s involved, you know? Transporting the prisoner to jail down to Billings tonight, the court filings, the attorneys, not to mention—especially in Ms. Baker’s case—the extra stuff Ms. Slattery will have to deal with.” She leaned against his shoulder and whispered. “Hear what I’m saying, Mr. Sorvini? You know, for Ms. Slattery’s sake? It might not be the type of publicity she wants right now, what with all this important stuff she’s got going on.” She straightened and surveyed the pasture casually. “But if you insist, then—”
“All right. Stop.” Sorvini’s expression twisted from fury to frustration. “Goddamn it.” He shook a finger at Melissa. “You get off Slattery property and stay off. Hear me? Newspaper or no damn newspaper, next time I won’t be so charitable.” He nodded at Hennessey and turned to leave, but spotting Shay still standing nearby brought him up short. “And you I don’t trust. Get over there and do what you’re paid to do. And you better keep your friggin’ distance from me.”
Shay glared back at him. “Officer? Did you hear that?”
Hennessey sighed loudly. “Mr. Sorvini. Let’s quit while we’re ahead, shall we?” She watched as he went to his car. “Such a dangerous temper on that man.”
“Thanks, Jen,” Rogers said. “You’re good.” He winked and headed for his truck.
Hennessey looked pointedly at Melissa. “You stick to reporting the news, lady, not making it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She saluted. “Thank you, Jen. I’m glad it was you who responded.”
“Me, too, otherwise, you’d be riding in a cruiser right now.” She turned to Shay. “We haven’t met. I’m Jen Hennessey.” She offered a handshake and Shay accepted.
“Shay Maguire.”
“New in town?”
Shay struggled to concentrate. She could feel it as tangibly as fingertips, Melissa’s gaze sizzling along her spine, down her legs, while this Officer Hennessey, imposing at probably six feet tall and some two hundred pounds, demanded her attention. “Eh, yes. I didn’t realize working for Slattery Enterprises would be such an exciting job.”
“Well, nobody needs this kind of excitement. Watch out for Sorvini, Maguire. His temper is his best asset.”
“I’ll remember that. And thank you for being so cool under fire. Great job.”
Hennessey nodded and glanced back at Melissa. “Could I have a word, please?”
“Of course, Jen.” Melissa hurried to her side and they conferred quietly as they walked away.
The air around Shay abruptly stilled, emptied its electrical charge, and she inhaled and exhaled to settle herself. Oddly, she missed that tingle, not to mention the very sight of Melissa Baker in her white blouse and baby blue skirt. The legs were sensational, the body to die for, and the smile, outright killer. But that attitude, the self-assurance and sassy confidence, well, they made all the difference in the world.
Bet she brightens everyone’s day. She quashed a rising, pleasurable fantasy, a curiosity that threatened to hurl her off track. Damn if she doesn’t look as fine going as she does coming.
*
Shay turned the key, and the hefty Ford motor fired right up. She stared hard at the dashboard, as if daring the beast’s vital organs to complain about the overhaul she completed.
“Singing a sweet song,” she said, pleased that Sonny would have another satisfied customer in a few hours, and drove off the lot to put the big truck through a test run.
She took the road out of town, past the last few farmhouses and rolling pastures until just open prairie was all there was left to see. Hot June air blew into the cab from both sides, tossing the owner’s discarded receipts, coffee cups, and empty cigarette packs around like a tornado. Shay wondered what such a storm would be like out here, so far from the skyscrapers and claustrophobic neighborhoods of Chicago. She didn’t really want to find out. The mere thought of a Montana winter was enough to make her shiver in this eighty-four-degree sunshine.
How do they do it, live with the land as they do? Has to be in their blood, born and raised to it, like Yankees are to the bone-chilling wet of February slush. Coby’s taken to it, though, which means I should be able to, too. Sonny is just a natural, like the Five Star guys. And probably even that knockout at the newspaper, Melissa Baker.
Warmth crept through her chest at the image of the attractive blonde nestled into a fur-lined parka, standing in knee-high boots in glittering snow. She curled the truck onto the crossroad that would take her back to town. Probably has a cowboy stud for a husband and a golden-haired little a
ngel for a daughter. And Jen Hennessey in her macho uniform probably has her doing a slow burn, unable to ditch the cop who stalks her behind those shades. She chuckled at herself. On the other hand, what if the fabulous Ms. Baker plays for “our team”? Was there more behind that look she sent Hennessey? Shay had to admit she didn’t know nearly enough about Melissa Baker to be thinking such things. Do not even consider finding out.
With little else to catch her eye, Shay took a long look at a small abandoned farmhouse and its sagging barn as she passed, and wondered how the forlorn little place had come to be swallowed up by acres of wild range grass. Towering evergreens guarding each corner of the neglected porch could tell quite a tale, she mused.
Not much farther along the road, the formal entrance to the Maclin ranch drew Shay to a stop. The well-groomed entry was landscaped with semicircles of verdant lawn, shrubs, and flowering plants that hung from stacked fieldstone columns. She studied the gravel drive that disappeared over a rolling hill many acres away and envisioned a sprawling log home with a million-dollar view.
She looked back toward the little farmhouse and thought of Slattery Enterprises’s quest for Tomson land. A part of her hoped Maclin—not Della—owned the abandoned tract abutting his acreage. Surprised to feel a twinge of desperation, she hoped he appreciated its potential as ranch expansion or as a homestead, instead of commercial development. It’s not beyond saving, yet. Bet it was a cute little spot, in its day.
She shifted the Ford back into gear and headed for the garage, but her mind remained on the solitary farmhouse in need of care. She wondered if Della had propositioned Maclin for the place…or if Sorvini had.
Or if I should.
“Isn’t that a thought,” she said into the rushing breeze, and shook her head at images of re-framing that roof, painting the porch, setting up housekeeping. “Who’re you kidding? One step at a time, idiot.”
But the fanciful notion wouldn’t retreat. Such a sweet little piece of Tomson sure sounded appealing, far from apartment life in Boston and the condo in Chicago. Even if, down the road, she decided Tomson wasn’t for her after all, she could sell the place for a profit.
She pumped Sonny for details of the abandoned farm later that afternoon and discovered she was rather excited about owning a tiny piece of “big sky country.”
“Sonny said everyone pitched in to help keep up the place when the husband died, but when Mrs. Von Miller passed, too, Jed bought it.” Shay finished setting the table for supper and waited for Misty or Coby to comment. “I didn’t get out of the truck, but I took a good look and it has terrific potential.”
“It’s been vacant for almost four years,” Misty said, “and Jed has yet to do anything with it.”
“At least he didn’t let Della get her hands on it.” Coby filled Misty’s wine glass and joined them at the table.
“That’s what Sonny said.”
“Are you serious about looking into it?” Misty asked, and she and Coby stopped loading their plates.
Their abrupt silence drew Shay’s attention from her pork chop. “Huh? Oh, well, I don’t know, really. Hell, what do I know about living in Montana, let alone on a farm?”
“It’s only ten acres now,” Coby said, noticeably excited. “You could handle it.”
“You don’t think it’s a little soon for you?” Misty asked. “I mean, you’ve only been here since spring.”
Shay shrugged. “Eh, probably, but it’s tempting. A great investment, at least.” She toyed with her mashed potatoes. “Finding a shop is still my top priority, though, and I suppose I could live in that until I found a permanent place. Sonny suggested I look into the apartments Slattery built and I just might do that. He was really encouraging about me running my own shop.”
“He doesn’t see you as competition?” Coby asked.
“No. In fact, it sounded as if he’s thinking of slowing down, working less.”
Misty glanced at Coby. “With his health problems, he should just retire.”
“Well, maybe you could take over for him,” Coby said.
“And you’re not renting some apartment,” Misty added. “You live here. If and when the time comes, and you want something long-term, then sink your roots into a real place.”
Shay squeezed Misty’s hand. “I love you both for that, but this is your home—”
“Shut up and eat,” Coby said. “Maybe Sonny will ease up on himself, give you and Bailey more hours. Would you quit the Five Star if he did?” She sat up straight. “What if Sonny offered to sell you the garage?”
“Damn, woman. Slow down.” Shay shook her head. “If he made me an all-in deal, I’d consider it, yeah.”
“Listen,” Coby said firmly. “Don’t be feeling obligated to Slattery for giving you a shot.”
“Don’t worry about that. I do like the ranch job, the physical work and being outside so much, but the pay is minimal when I’m looking to bank as much as I can. And Slattery money comes at a price, so I’m open to change, as long as it’s the right one.” She pushed her plate away and leaned back in the chair. “Hearing Sonny rant about Slattery…And then that rancher, Gronlund, came to pick up his truck, and he went on and on…All that talk about Slattery can have you feeling like a hypocrite pretty fast.”
“It’s not easy, our job market being what it is,” Misty said. “That’s why the town is so torn, wanting other opportunities desperately and knowing Della’s promised to provide them, too.”
Shay sighed. “I’m trying not to feel desperate myself.” She ran a hand back through her hair and thought it best to lighten the mood. “I like it here, a lot, and want to stay. Where else will I find such a great lesbian bar?”
“Cascade,” Coby answered flatly, and Misty threw a napkin at her. “I’m just kidding! But really, there is one in Cascade but only on Friday nights.”
Shay smirked at Misty. “Why do you put up with her?”
“You’re right. I should trade her in for a new model.”
“Hey!” Coby feigned a pout across the table. She tapped Shay’s plate with her fork. “Speaking of model, you must’ve run into Mel Baker by now. She owns the Chronicle.”
“Coby,” Misty said sternly.
“What? She’s hot and single.”
Shay’s head snapped up. “No way. She’s the owner? And she’s family?”
“Coby,” Misty cautioned again.
“Well…” Coby shrugged. “We know she’s family.”
“Mel isn’t out and you know it.”
“Well, she should be. It’s just her damn grandmother—”
“No. It’s far more than that. It’s her readership, her advertisers. You know she has to court them.”
Coby waved her off. “It’s not nineteen eighty anymore, Mist.”
“It is here in Tomson.”
“Mel’s a sweetheart. She can bring folks around. She doesn’t have to live like she does.”
“She has a lot at stake, so she feels she does.”
“Well, she’s wrong.”
Shay threw up a hand. “Stop, please.” She looked from one to the other. “Melissa Baker from the Tomson Chronicle is a closet case?”
Misty’s fork hit her plate hard. “I hate that phrase. It’s just so unfair.”
Shay sat back, duly reprimanded. “I didn’t mean for it…Damn.”
“I think she’ll come around soon, Shay, but it should be on her terms. No one else’s.”
“I agree,” Coby said.
Shay looked on haplessly. “I agree, too, of course.”
“But,” Coby continued, “Nothing says you couldn’t, you know, make her acquaintance.”
Shay wasn’t so sure. Why am I even thinking about it?
Chapter Seven
Shay downshifted and the Softail crept onto the dirt-covered site that used to be Maclin’s pasture. The lush swells were gone now, the landscape as flat as the adjacent prairie, rising only at the unfinished earthen berm many acres away on the back boundary. It de
pressed her to see what had become of the tranquil setting.
She rolled to a stop at the “job shack,” the project’s future headquarters. She’d spent most of the day working on it with a Five Star crew before being called back to the mechanics’ barn for an emergency, and even though she longed for a hot shower and clean clothes, she just had to see the finished product. She jiggled the doorknob but found the one-room oak structure locked up tight for the night.
Disappointed, she strolled around the building, inhaling the scent of fresh lumber and newly packed dirt underfoot. She peeked in the windows, glad that the early evening sun lit up the inside enough to see what had been done.
“It’s actually cute, isn’t it?”
She whirled around at the voice. Melissa Baker approached, tablet in one hand and camera in the other. A satchel hanging from her shoulder bounced against her hip as she checked her footsteps and crossed the rough terrain. She walked to within several feet of the building before she looked up. Shay’s heart skipped. God, just seeing you feels good, and it’s so dangerous.
“Yeah, kind of.” Shay slipped her fidgeting hands into her pockets. “Come out for the latest update?”
Melissa nodded through wisps of hair blown astray. “As long as I’m not arrested for trespassing.”
Shay chuckled. “No chance of that.”
Melissa slowly pivoted, taking in the landscape. “Amazing what can be done in just a few days.”
“Beautiful,” Shay murmured, and Mel turned to her. Shay cleared her throat. “This place—it used to be so beautiful.” Get a grip, for Christ’s sake. “Angie Sorvini waved extra cash at some of our heavy equipment guys, and they’re helping Chandler’s crew pick up the pace. Scary what can be done with enough money.”
“That says it all, I’m afraid.” Melissa took several pictures of the shack, then wandered around the end and backed away, obviously seeking a picture in which the building was directly lit by the sun. Silhouetted against the pastel western sky, she stole the breath from Shay’s lungs. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said from behind the camera. She snapped the picture and went to the window.
