An Ex to Grind in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 5) Paperback – September 4, 2014

by Ann Charles

  “And to find out how long you and I have been an item.”

  Aha! The green monster woke up with a start and lit a brush fire in my throat. “She just out and out asked, did she?”

  “Not in so many words.”

  Damn that woman. “What did you say about us?”

  What would I have said about us to Tiffany, I wonder? Probably that Doc and I were so obsessed with each other that we were going to start wearing matching clothes that showed off our identical tattoos.

  He towed me back into his arms and swung me around so my butt was pressed against his car. “I told her the truth.”

  “Which is what?” I asked. When Doc just stared down at me, I kept rambling. “I want to make sure Tiffany and I are on the same page when she lunges for a handful of my hair.”

  “She’s not going to bother you, Violet.”

  “I believe you’re mistaking her for someone sane.” I rested my thumbs on his belt. “You know she intends to win at all costs.” He was the one who’d told me how competitive she was, even in the bedroom.

  “There’s nothing to win, though,” he said.

  “Quit being obtuse. She lost you to me and now she wants to win you back.” When his eyes narrowed at that last bit, a fire whistle blared in my head. I panicked and added, “At least that’s what she’s thinking. I’m not saying that I own you or have any kind of possession of your thoughts … or stuff.”

  Did that even make sense? I shut up before my foot could wiggle any further into my mouth.

  “Tiffany’s motivation and actions don’t matter, Violet. My mind is made up.”

  “Made up in what way?” About us? If so, inquiring minds would like to know if he’s on the same out of control mining cart that I seemed to be.

  He pressed closer, his body heating mine. “You know.”

  “No, I don’t.” I raised both eyebrows. “Is it so hard for you to say?”

  “That depends on what you want to hear.”

  That he was gaga for me. That he thought about me night and day. That he daydreamed about spending more of his waking hours with me while I was clothed as well as naked. That he wanted to start making pancakes and bacon for me and the kids every morning and then tuck us in at night. Was that too much to ask?

  I generalized it for him. “Some affirmation would be nice.”

  He nestled into me, my soft parts yielding to his hardness. The car’s metal chilled me through my clothes, making me shiver and burrow deeper into his jacket. The heady scent of him changed my shivers to quivers. His mouth toured across my shoulder, up my neck, around my ear, and along my jaw until I was breathing quickly. An ache that I called “Doc-itis” throbbed throughout, making me want to wrap my limbs around him and cling.

  He ended his tour with a tender, slow taste of my lips. “Is that affirmation enough?”

  Nope, I wanted more. A lot more. “So you’re a show not tell type of guy?”

  “You could say that.” He rubbed against me, showing me plenty.

  That would have to be good enough then. “Okay, as long as you keep your ‘showing’ monogamous.”

  “Every night I lie in bed and think about showing you all sorts of things.” He kissed me again, this time using his tongue to help convince me. “Only you, Boots.”

  It wasn’t a declaration of love, but I’d take it. Plus he was willing to spend time with my kids. That had to count for something, especially with the way they were acting out around him.

  “Good.” My fingers trailed down his front, heading south of his waistband.

  He stopped me before I could reach pay dirt. “The same goes for you,” he whispered, moving my hand back to his chest. “Monogamous showing.”

  “Deal.” I scraped through his shirt with my nails, making him groan.

  “Violet?” Harvey called through the screen door.

  Doc stepped back.

  I growled. Was it too much to ask for a few more minutes alone with Doc? “Yeah?”

  “You’d better get in here.” The porch light flickered on.

  I shielded my eyes. “Is something wrong with the kids?”

  “No, it’s your aunt.”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s upstairs breakin’ things from the sound of it.”

  “What? Why?”

  “She got a message.” Harvey glanced behind him and then stepped aside as Aunt Zoe crashed open the screen door.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked as she flew down the porch steps.

  “Here,” she handed me her keys. “Harvey, watch the kids.”

  “On it,” he said, leaning against the porch post.

  “What am I doing with these?” I asked, holding up her keys.

  “Driving. I’m too pissed to be behind the wheel.”

  I looked back at Doc. “I gotta go.”

  He nudged me toward Aunt Zoe’s pickup, which was parked next to his. Her passenger door slammed loud enough to make Mr. Stinklestine’s Chihuahua start yammering.

  I climbed in beside her, settling in behind the wheel. “Where are we going?”

  “To get that stinking, no good, lousy, rotten sheep herder.”

  My world was currently littered with no good lousy sheep herders, so she was going to have to be more specific or we’d be out all night.

  I turned the key and shifted into reverse. “Which particular sheep herder are we talking about?”

  “Reid Martin.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Here I go down that wrong road again,” Aunt Zoe said as we bumped along a gravel road that kept twisting its way upward through the trees and rocks.

  “What? I thought you said to take a right back there before the cattle guard.” I tapped the brakes as we jiggled around a washboard curve. I hit the high beams, but they only spotlighted the trees not the road, so I clicked back to low.

  “I did. You’re fine. I’m talking about Reid.” She sighed, leaning her head against the head rest. “And Crystal Gayle.”

  I shot her a frown. “The country western singer?”

  “Yes, don’t you remember that song?” Aunt Zoe sang the chorus of Wrong Road Again.

  “Now I do.” I sped up along a straight stretch, keeping my tires out of the deep grooves someone had probably made during last spring’s snowmelt.

  Aunt Zoe continued to hum the tune while I focused on driving, watching for deer, coyotes, or anything else that felt like scaring the crap out of me on a dark night in the forest.

  “What did Reid say in his message?” I interrupted her humming.

  When we’d left Deadwood, she’d been busy giving me directions in between her long-winded rants. This was the first I’d had a chance to get much of a word in edgewise, let alone ask any questions.

  “That he’s stuck up here and can’t reach Cooper.” She called Reid yet another not so nice name under her breath.

  “Wasn’t there someone else he could call?” Someone who wasn’t using his picture for target practice?

  “No. I’m the only other one who knows where to find him up here, especially at night.” She pointed at a gravel road spurring off to the left up ahead. “Take that one.”

  I was so turned around at this point that I understood why only she could find him. “Did he say what he was doing way out here?”

  “No, but I suspect it involves a bottle of whiskey.”

  Reid came up here to drink? Alone? If so, Mona might be right about him being broken. Reid didn’t seem like the kind to go off on binges like this. I knew he was pining over Aunt Zoe, but this was Shakespearean teenager tragedy stuff, not something I’d expect of Deadwood’s well-respected fire captain.

  “I don’t get it,” I thought aloud, wondering why Reid was so messed up about Aunt Zoe all of a sudden. What had changed?

  “It’s our spot,” she explained.

  “Your spot?” I glanced over at her, seeing lines creasing her forehead in the dashboard lights.

  “Where we used to go to …” s
he flapped her hand in front of her, “you know, have a little fun out under the stars.”

  “Oh.” That spot. I focused on the pitted road, keeping my mind from going there with Reid and my aunt. “How much further is it?”

  “Another half mile or so.”

  We bounced along in silence for a couple ticks of the odometer. “You think he’s there alone?” I asked, trying to prepare mentally for the shit storm that would hit when we reached this spot of theirs.

  “For his sake, I hope so.”

  Me, too. I also hoped for Reid’s sake her shotgun wasn’t tucked behind the seat.

  She pointed out the windshield. “You can see his pickup up ahead on the right.”

  The headlights reflected off the chrome back bumper of his red dually truck. I pulled in next to it and cut the engine, leaving the headlights on.

  “Where is he?”

  “Just through the trees. You can see the path.”

  It was more of a deer trail, actually.

  She grabbed a flashlight from the glove box, opened the door, and stepped down. “You coming?”

  I hesitated. “You sure you want me to?”

  “If he’s drinking, I’m going to need your help. He’s not a little guy.”

  No, he sure wasn’t, but I’d much rather have stayed alone in the dark pickup in a spooky forest than witness the hellfire Aunt Zoe was about to blast at Reid.

  Pocketing the keys, I shut off the lights and followed her into the cool evening air. A fresh, pine-scented breeze blew through the needles overhead. Their whispers grew louder while twigs crunched under our feet. Up ahead, I caught glimpses of firelight through the trees.

  When we stepped into the clearing I paused, realizing two things at once.

  First, Reid probably wasn’t drunk—not yet, anyway. The bottle of wine sitting on a nearby tree stump—along with two glasses—hadn’t been opened yet, neither had the picnic basket on the ground on the other side of the fire.

  Second, his phone message had been intended as a party invitation for Aunt Zoe alone, not the two of us.

  “Oh, shit,” I heard Aunt Zoe say under her breath from where she’d stopped in front of me.

  A rustling sound in a young stand of straggly trees to our left turned out to be Reid crashing through it with an armload of branches and bark. Feeling like a monster truck-sized third wheel, my gut sank even deeper. I’d have much preferred Bigfoot. We could have run off together to go scare campers carrying cheap video cameras and left Reid and Aunt Zoe alone to reminisce about old times at their favorite spot.

  “Hi, Zo,” he said, shielding his eyes.

  Aunt Zoe lowered the flashlight.

  To Reid’s credit, his smile for Aunt Zoe only slipped for a moment when he saw me there next to her. “You brought Sparky along.”

  “I thought I was going to need her help.” Aunt Zoe jammed her hands on her hips. “But you’re not drunk.”

  “No,” he dropped the kindling next to the fire, taking his gloves off and shoving them in his back pocket. “I’m done with the heavy drinking. It doesn’t work.”

  What did that mean? Alcohol wasn’t getting him drunk anymore or it wasn’t making him forget a certain hard-headed aunt of mine?

  “You acted drunk on the phone,” she accused.

  He shrugged. “I was pretending. You won’t take my calls, so I had to figure out some way to get you to talk to me.”

  “So you lied and played on my sympathy?”

  “I didn’t outright lie about anything. You just assumed the worst about me.” His gaze moved to me. “Did you really bring Sparky to help?”

  “Why else would I drag her away from her children on a weeknight?”

  “Because you were afraid to be alone with me.”

  Aunt Zoe’s chin shot up. “You don’t scare me, Reid Martin.”

  “You say that,” he pulled a wine opener out of the pocket of his jean jacket and grabbed the bottle from the stump. “But we both know you still have feelings for me.”

  There was a steely confidence in Reid’s tone that might have chafed my hide if I had been in my aunt’s shoes. I took a step backward, wanting to inch my way into the trees where I could take cover.

  “The only feelings I have these days when it comes to you are heartburn and indigestion.” Without taking her eyes off Reid, she said, “Violet, stay put.”

  Her tight tone took me back to my childhood. I froze. “Yes, Aunt Zoe,” I responded, just like the old days.

  Reid chuckled, low and smooth. He pulled the cork and grabbed a glass, filling it half full with red wine. “I don’t believe you. There’s still fire in your eyes.”

  Aunt Zoe grabbed my forearm and stalked over to Reid, dragging me along with her as if she figured I’d make a run for it given the chance. She was right.

  “Fire in my eyes?” She pointed at her face. “This isn’t the heat that used to burn for you. That cooled long ago. This is fury, plain and simple.”

  Reid handed me the glass of wine. I took it without thinking.

  “That’s what I’m talking about.” He picked up the other glass and poured wine into it. “If you didn’t care anymore, you wouldn’t be threatening to fill me with holes every time I came near.”

  “Damn it,” she muttered. “I should’ve brought my shotgun.”

  I looked down at the glass in my hand. Why was I holding wine? This wasn’t my party. I gave it to Aunt Zoe, who took it probably for the same reason I had—because it was handed to her. Or maybe she planned on throwing it in Reid’s face.

  I glanced toward the deer trail. Maybe I should high tail it back to the pickup and deal with the ass chewing she’d give me later for abandoning her.

  “See, you still care,” Reid said, handing me the other glass of wine, which I took again, feeling like I was guest-starring in a Three Stooges comedy. “I had to reach the bottom of several bottles of whiskey to figure that out, but I came around. Now you need to come around, too.”

  I fidgeted, wishing a sinkhole would open under my feet.

  “I’m not coming around to anything when it comes to you.” She thrust the glass of wine back to him, sloshing it over the side onto her hand, which she wiped off on her jeans. “You had your chance years ago and passed it up. There is no second time around for us.”

  Not sure what to do or where to look, I stared into the bottom of the glass as I took a sip of the dark liquid. The wine had a deep tone with a hint of fruity sweetness. “What kind of wine is this?” I blurted out.

  “Zo’s favorite,” Reid said. “It’s a Gamay.”

  “That’s a Gamay?” she asked, still huffing.

  Reid gave her a crooked smile. “It’s what we always drank up here.”

  She grabbed the bottle and tipped it, gulping down a good-sized swallow. “This doesn’t mean I’m giving in to you,” she said, taking another smaller drink. “It’s just a shame to waste perfectly good wine on a starry night.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Reid said, holding out his glass in a mock cheers and then downing some wine. “Sweet on the tongue. Reminds me of you.” He winked at Aunt Zoe.

  I looked up at the sky, searching for a UFO to flag down. Anal probing would be only slightly less comfortable than standing right here right now.

  “This isn’t happening, Reid,” Aunt Zoe said, setting the bottle on the stump. “We’re leaving now.”

  Toot toot! That was my cue. I handed the glass back to Reid.

  “Don’t you want to see what’s in the basket?” he asked, setting both glasses down on the stump.

  Well, I sure did now, but I didn’t know if Aunt Zoe was going to fall for his parlor trick.

  “Unless it’s a killer Chihuahua that I can sic on you,” she said, “I’m not interested.”

  Reid crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes narrowing as he stared at her. “You never were good at bluffing.”

  “We’re leaving now,” Aunt Zoe said through stiff lips, but her feet stayed planted.<
br />
  “No, you’re staying and opening the basket,” he told her.

  “How about I go warm up the pickup,” I offered, taking a step toward the trees.

  “Don’t even think about it, Violet Lynn.”

  “Got it.” I focused on the fire and began whistling quietly to myself.

  “What’s in the basket, Reid?” Aunt Zoe asked.

  “Come and see.” He walked over to the basket and opened one side of the lid.

  Aunt Zoe tapped her foot a few times and then growled. “You’re such a pain in the ass.” She joined him.

  The firelight bathed them in an orange glow, the darkness behind them black velvet sprinkled with starry diamonds. I took a sip from the closest wine glass, not caring which had been mine, as I waited to see what was in the basket.

  “What is it?” Aunt Zoe squatted down, reaching inside. She pulled out a small box.

  A jewelry box? I gasped, which earned a wrinkled brow from both of them.

  “Sorry,” I said, staring into the bottom of my glass again.

  “No, Reid,” I heard Aunt Zoe say. I peeked up to see her holding the box out to Reid.

  “You’re jumping to conclusions, Zo. Open it.”

  She wiggled off the lid, frowning down at whatever was inside.

  I took a step closer. What was it? Diamonds? Rubies? Sapphires? What?

  “You’re kidding,” she said and chuckled. “I can’t believe you still have this.”

  What was in the box? I opened my mouth to ask but then poured more wine in it instead of catching another glare.

  “You always were such a sentimental sucker,” she said.

  “Hey, now,” Reid said. “Don’t be making fun in front of Sparky.”

  Aunt Zoe put the lid back on.

  What was in the box, damn it?

  “Zo, I need to talk to you for a moment.” He glanced my way. “Alone.”

  Thank, God! “I’ll be in the truck.”

  “Hold up, Violet.” Aunt Zoe stopped me before I’d made it two steps. “Reid, if you have something to say, spit it out.”

  “Fine,” Reid said, not sounding like he meant it. He pointed at the box. “That’s for you to keep.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can. Listen,” Reid paused, frowning over at me.