At twenty-six, he was a has-been. He wanted the fame back. One article. All Hope had to do was write one article and restore his reputation. Give him everything he wanted, and then he’d leave her alone.
“Do you wrestle in the WWF?”
“Nah, but it’s my dream,” he confessed and polished off his BLT. The current wave of political correctness riding the country had killed the sport of midget wrestling. The WWF was too afraid of the backlash to sponsor matches, like somehow what he did was less dignified than regular-sized men. Lately, he’d been thinking of going to Mexico, where mini wrestling was big. “Have you ever thought of wrestling?”
“Me?” Paris laughed and placed a hand over her heart. “I could never wrestle.”
Myron focused on her hand and large breasts. “Sure you could, sweet thing. I bet you’d look great in spandex.” He gazed into her flushed face. “I’d love to wrestle you sometime.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” She glanced over the top of his head, and a worried wrinkle appeared between her brows. “Oh, no, here comes Dylan,” she said.
Myron looked over his shoulder at the tall cowboy getting out of a sheriff’s Blazer. “Holy frijole,” he said. “You’ve got to hide me.” He jumped up onto the stool and vaulted over the counter like it was a pommel horse, landing on the other side. “If he asks about me, don’t tell him I’m here.
“I think he’s here because of something I did.”
Myron squatted down and pressed his back against the shelving behind the counter. He hoped Paris was right. He hoped the sheriff wasn’t after him. He’d heard plenty about people rotting in small-town jails, and the network of wrestlers he knew had all heard the story of the time Tiny Ted had been arrested in Oklahoma and forced to dance around like a Munchkin while singing “The Lollipop Guild” for a bunch of drunk deputies. He figured something like that had to be twice as degrading as being morphed into a drag queen.
Myron heard the door swing open, then shut, and the heavy thud of bootheels on the linoleum.
“Hey there, Paris,” said a man no more than a few feet from where Myron hid. “How are you doin‘?”
“Good. What can I get for you, Dylan?”
“Nothing. There’s a mini Winnebago outside with Las Vegas tags, and I’m looking for the owner. His name is Myron Lambardo and he’s about three-feet-six. Have you seen him?”
“Why, is he dangerous?”
“I just want to talk to him.”
There was a pause and Myron held his breath. “He was here earlier, but he left,” she finally said, and if Myron hadn’t been hiding, he would have kissed her.
“How long ago did he leave?”
“About an hour.”
“Did you see which way he went?”
“No,” she answered. And since Myron couldn’t kiss her, he ran his hand up her calf, under the jean skirt she wore, to her knee and gave it a pat.
“Well, if you see him again, be sure and call the sheriff’s Dispatch.”
She didn’t say anything for another long moment and he wondered if she was going to kick him or turn him in. “Why, what’s he done?”
“He’s in violation of a restraining order.”
“From who?”
“Ms. Spencer.”
“Oh.” This time she did kick him.
“What’s the matter?” the sheriff asked.
“Nothing. Just squishing a bug.” Myron wrapped his arm around her thigh and hung on so she couldn’t kick him again. She got real still, and he waited for her to squeal on him.
“If you see him near the Winnebago, give us a call.”
“I’ll do that.”
The bootheels faded and the door opened and shut. “Is he gone?” Myron whispered.
“Get your hand out from under my skirt!”
Slowly Myron slipped his palm down her soft thigh to her knee. “You have great skin.”
She took a step back and stared down at him as if he really were a bug. “You’re here to chase after Hope Spencer.”
“ ‘Chase’ is an awfully strong word.” He stood, then hoisted himself up onto the counter. He sat on the edge facing Paris, which nearly brought him to her height. “I just need her to do one little thing for me.”
“What’s that? Have your baby?”
“Hell, no. I hate that woman.”
The frown wrinkling Paris’s brow lifted. “You do?”
“Yes. She ruined my life.”
“Mine, too. Ever since she drove into town, all the men have been chasing after her.”
“Hope? She’s too scrawny.”
“Oh, you’re just saying that.”
“No. I like full-figured gals.” He looked her up and down. “Gals like you.”
Hope shoved her hands into a pair of sturdy work gloves and tackled the weeds growing in the old rose garden in front of the Donnelly house. The late-afternoon sun beat down on her head, covered with her Gap hat, while insects buzzed around her. She wore a pair of beige shorts and a red tank top, and she’d protected her exposed skin with sunscreen and bug juice. On the porch sat her big covered tankard of iced tea, and Bonnie Raitt sang from the CD player.
It had been three days since she’d first seen Myron outside the M & S. She hadn’t seen him again, but she’d heard from him. She didn’t know how he’d gotten her unlisted phone number, but he had, and although he never said anything, she knew it was him. She recognized his breathing. He’d done the same thing when he’d followed her to L.A.
When she’d told Shelly about it, her friend had waved aside Hope’s fear as nothing to be concerned about, but after the creepy phone calls kept coming, Shelly volunteered Paul to kick Myron’s ass. If only it were that simple. Hope knew from prior experience with Myron that he was very good at hiding.
“What’re ya doin‘?”
Hope looked over her shoulder at the two little boys walking into her yard wearing nothing but their swimming suits and cowboy boots. Wally’s gaze quickly moved to the big sickle leaning against the house, while Adam kept his eyes glued to the ground.
At the sight of Adam, Hope felt a warm little glow in her heart. She was surprised at how glad she was to see him. At how much she’d come to care for him in such a short time. A little boy who had a passion for rocks and anything gross. “Do you boys have sunscreen on?”
Wally nodded and asked again, “What’re you doin‘?”
“I’m trying to clear this rose bed.”
“Need help?” he asked.
Under normal circumstance, she would have welcomed help from anyone who offered. “No, thanks.”
“You could pay us,” Wally continued as if she hadn’t refused the offer. “And we’d do a good job, too.”
Hope looked at Adam and he finally took his gaze off his shoes and his eyes met hers. His cheeks flushed; then he looked away, as if he were embarrassed and uncertain. “I would, but I don’t think Adam’s father would be too happy if he saw him here.”
“He won’t care. Will he, Adam?”
Adam shook his head. “No, he won’t care if I pull your weeds.”
She knew better. “I’ll tell you what,” she said, rather than argue. “You go get hold of your dad and ask him. If he says it’s okay, I’ll hire you both.”
“Okay,” they said at the same time and darted across the street.
Hope watched them disappear and didn’t believe there was even a slim chance that the boys would come back. Her thoughts returned to Myron as she got busy pulling the fireweeds choking the garden under the front window. Earlier, someone from the sheriff’s office had called to say that Myron’s Winnebago had disappeared and they thought he’d left town. Hope knew better, but she hadn’t said anything. The last time she’d gone for help, she’d been sent into Dylan’s office. She’d rather face harassment by Myron than gaze across a room and see Dylan’s blank face looking back at her.
Myron drove her insane, but at least he didn’t hurt her. She tugged a big weed from the ground and tos
sed it on a pile. She would rather be driven crazy by a demented dwarf than have her heart continually crushed by Dylan’s disinterest.
She glanced up as the boys returned.
“Adam’s dad said it was okay.”
Hope couldn’t believe Dylan would allow his son around her. Not after he’d told her to stay away from him. “Did he really say that?” she asked Adam.
He looked her right in the eyes and said, “Yeah, he did.”
“And he said you could work for me? You mentioned my name?”
“Yes.”
Surprised and perhaps a tiny bit relieved that maybe Dylan didn’t think she was such a horrible person after all, she took off her gloves and dropped them on the ground. “Well, okay. Follow me.” She led them into the house and gave them each a pair of pink rubber gloves she used to wash dishes. She poured them iced tea with lots of sugar; then they went back outside and got to work. Wally talked almost nonstop, but Adam was much more quiet than usual.
“Hope, I have a question,” Wally announced as he tackled a weed almost as tall as he was.
She looked up. “Go ahead, but I don’t have to answer if I don’t feel like it.”
“Okay.” He tossed the weed onto the pile. “Can I drive your car sometime?”
She glanced at her Porsche parked in the driveway. “Yes.” Wally’s face broke into a big smile, until she added, “When you’re sixteen and have your license.”
He sighed. “Oh, man.” Then, together, he and Adam worked on a weed that took both of them to pull it from the ground.
As Hope knelt in a different bed a few feet away, she watched Adam out of the corner of her eye. She watched him closely, and over the course of the next hour, he looked at her whenever he thought she wasn’t looking at him, his brows lowered over his green eyes as if he were seriously trying to figure something out.
“Hope?”
“Yes, Wally?”
“How come you don’t have kids?”
She placed her gloved hands on her thighs and gazed at the boys from beneath the brim of her hat. Like always when she was around these two, she didn’t know exactly how to answer their questions.
“Is it ‘cause you’re not married?” Wally wanted to know.
Adam finally spoke. “You dope. You don’t have to be married to have kids.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Nuh-huh. My mom and dad had me and they weren’t married,” Adam announced, and Hope was glad to hear he knew now and that he seemed okay.
Wally looked his friend over. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“Oh.” Both boys turned their attention back to Hope and waited for her to answer.
“Well,” she began, deciding to wing it, “when I was a lot younger, I had to have an operation. When it was over, I couldn’t have children.”
Adam’s eyes got big. “You had an operation? Where?”
Hope stood and placed her hand on her abdomen. “Right here.”
“Does it hurt?” he wanted to know.
“Not anymore.”
Adam walked toward her, keeping his gaze pinned to her abdomen as if he could see beneath her shirt. “Do you got a scar?”
“Yep.”
“Wow!” He looked up and a lock of hair fell into his eyes. He needed it cut again. “Can I see?”
Hope raised her hand and combed his hair from his forehead. The hot sun heated his scalp, and Hope felt the warmth of it beneath her palm and travel to her heart. Adam didn’t flinch or move away and she smiled down at him. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, man.”
Dylan’s truck pulled off the highway onto Timberline Road, and Hope dusted the dirt from her knees. She wondered how much longer her heart would react when she saw him. She walked to the porch and picked up her tea, purposely turning her back on him. She didn’t want to see him and know he was looking at her and feeling nothing. Someday it wouldn’t matter and she wouldn’t feel anything for him, either. Just as she felt nothing for her ex-husband, but it would take time, and that someday was not today.
“Bye,” the boys said in unison and tossed their rubber gloves on the ground.
“Wait, guys. You forgot your money,” she called after them as she glanced over her shoulder.
“Later,” Wally yelled, and the two of them barely waited until the truck had passed before they tore out of her yard and headed for the Aberdeens‘.
Hope had a sneaky suspicion that she’d been had. That they’d looked her right in the eyes and lied their little buns off. She suspected Dylan wouldn’t be pleased, and she fully expected him to say something about it. Something along the lines of “I told you to stay away from my son,” like he thought she would pump Adam for information for a story.
Hope went back to work in the flower bed beneath the front window and waited for him. She waited no more than ten minutes until he strolled up her drive and into the yard. Except for his service belt, he still wore his sheriff’s uniform, complete with mirrored sunglasses.
She stood and held out one hand as if to stop him. “Before you yell at me, I asked Adam to make sure it was okay with you before I hired him to pull weeds. He and Wally left to call you, and when they came back, Adam told me that you’d said he could work in my yard.” She took off her gloves and held them in one hand. “And in case you’re wondering if I tried to wheedle Adam for information about you and Juliette, I didn’t. Frankly, I don’t care what you think.” The last was an absolute lie, but she figured it would be true enough someday.
Dylan shifted his weight to one foot and looked at her through his sunglasses. “Are you through?”
“I think that’s about it.”
“I came over here to ask if Deputy Mullins called you today.”
“Someone did, yes.”
“So you know that we think Myron has left town.”
“Yes. I know that’s what you think.”
He raised one brow. “You don’t think so?”
“I know he hasn’t. He’s been calling me.”
“What does he say?”
“Nothing. He just breathes heavy.”
A frown curved his lips, and with two fingers he pushed the brim of his hat up his forehead. “You recognized his breathing?”
“He’s done this before. Unless there is another phone breather in town, it’s Myron.”
“Could be he’s calling from out of town.”
Hope shrugged. “Maybe.” But she doubted it. “Wait here while I get my purse. Adam ran off before I could pay him.”
“Forget it. Adam lied about calling me and asking permission to work in your yard. He doesn’t get rewarded for lying. His punishment will be that he pulled your weeds for free.”
That sounded harsh to Hope. “Are you sure? He worked pretty hard.”
“I’m sure, but in the future, he doesn’t need my permission to work for you.”
“Are you saying it’s all right?”
“Yes. Whatever happened between us, and despite what you’ve done, I don’t believe you would interrogate Adam for your paper.”
She supposed he meant that as a compliment. He probably was under the mistaken assumption that he was being nice-the big jerk. She threw her gloves to the ground and walked toward him, stopping just inches away. “What I’ve done? I’ve done nothing, and someday you’re going to realize you’re a… you’re a…” She was so angry and frustrated, she couldn’t think of the right word.
One corner of his mouth twitched. “A what?”
He was laughing at her. He’d broken her heart, and now he was laughing at her. She folded her arms beneath her breasts and said, “A redneck sheriff who can’t even find one dwarf. I could understand it if there was a Little People of America convention in town, but there’s not.” His lips flattened and she pressed her luck. “How hard could it be to find a man who isn’t even four feet tall? It isn’t like he blends.”
“I’ll tell ya what, honey. If you didn’t have such a unique way of making frie
nds, you wouldn’t be stalked by a dwarf in the first place.”
He’d called her honey, which only enraged her more. “Get out of my yard.”
“Or you’re going to do what? Call the sheriff? Get a pen and take down the number. It’s nine-one-one.”
Hope stuck her hands on his chest and shoved. He didn’t budge and she tried again, pushing hard enough to lift her heels off the ground. The momentum of her body carried her forward, and her hands slid up the creases of his work shirt. She slammed into the solid wall of his chest, knocking the air out of her lungs.
Dylan’s hands grasped her waist, and for several prolonged seconds he held her as if he meant to shove her away. She saw herself in the reflection of his glasses, caught a glimpse of her shock and surprise, and then he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto her toes. He said something about leaving, but he lowered his mouth instead and kissed her. As always, he made her skin tingle and sent warm little shivers along her nerves. His hands swept her back as he pressed her into the warmth of his body. It had been so long and she missed him so much. She missed the scent of his skin and his touch on her. His tongue stroked hers, and the kiss caught fire.
Dylan groaned deep and in his throat, a sound of pure lust and frustration. It called to the deepest, basest part of her, and before she could answer, she did something she’d never done before. She found the strength to step away from his embrace before he sucked her in again.
She licked her moist lips and sucked air into her lungs. She felt dizzy and confused. He wanted her no matter how much he’d pretended he didn’t. “You’re a liar, Dylan Taber.”
“Me? I’m the liar?”
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that she had finally found a man to love and he didn’t love her back. “You’re a hypocrite, too.”
He took off his sunglasses and shoved them in his pocket. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re angry because I lied about who I really work for. It was one little lie that just kept getting bigger and bigger and gained more importance than it deserved. And you’re right, I should have told you before you found out, but you lied to me, too, Dylan. You lied when you told me Adam’s mother was a waitress.”
True Confessions Page 27
