by Toni Leland
Ginger’s face lit up and a stir moved through the pit of his stomach. She was really glad to see him.
She laughed. “Now you show up. I’ll see you in the office.”
Her smile was dazzling and Dillon wondered why he’d never noticed her fine features, even through the plump flesh around her face and neck. He parked the truck and waited until she’d entered the building. The truck was running great, so why, exactly, was he here? He pulled out his log book and checked the pick-up date for his next load. Truth be known, he really hated the waiting that went with this job. How many hours could one spend in a truckers’ lounge before it got real old? He looked over at the door where Ginger had disappeared. Maybe it was time to put the past to rest and have some fun.
He climbed down and headed into the garage through the service entrance. He needed a few minutes to come up with a suitable approach.
“Hey, Bud, how’s it goin’?”
“Purty good. What’s the matter with your rig?”
“Need an oil change. Got a long haul coming up.”
“Go get Ginger to write it up. I’ll be done here in a minute.”
Dillon hesitated at the door to the office. Ginger was over by the window, peering out in the direction of his truck. He grinned, feeling pretty damned good about that.
“Bud says—”
She jumped and let out a squeal, then started to laugh. “You scared the hell out of me!”
He shook his head. “You need to lighten up a little. Life’s too short to be so nervous.”
Her expression changed dramatically, the merriment disappearing behind a look of fright.
Now, what was that all about?
She strode around the end of the counter and picked up a work order, all business. “What do you need?”
“Oil change...hey, did I say something wrong?”
She looked up and her expression softened. “No, I’m just tired today.”
Dillon leaned closer, gazing into her eyes, his thoughts racing as he realized that one of her eyes was green. He was positive they’d both been brown the last time he saw her. The mystery deepens.
“Yeah, this time of the year will do that.”
Bud stuck his head in the doorway. “Dillon, I’ll have you out of here in about an hour. Ginger, there’s someone out here to see you.”
Dillon turned back to Ginger. “What time do you get off work?”
Astonishment flashed across her face, then she smiled, almost shy. “Four. I was going to go find a Christmas tree.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
“Not at all. See you then.” She gave him another brilliant smile, then disappeared into the back.
Julia retreated to the lunch room and leaned on the counter to catch her breath. She stared at her reflection in the small mirror over the sink. Her cheeks were flushed and—
“Oh no, I’ve lost a contact.”
Had Dillon noticed? Unlikely, but she needed to get the spare lens out of her backpack which, of course, was out in the waiting room. She took a deep breath, going over their brief conversation and wondering what had prompted his request to go with her after work. Not that she minded. A thrill ran through her pulse and she fluffed up her hair a little. Maybe she didn’t look as frowsy as she thought.
Dillon was outdoors, drinking a cup of the mud that the vending machine produced. Julia kicked herself for not offering him a cup from the pot in the back. She picked up her backpack, then watched him for a few moments. He seemed more relaxed than the last time she’d seen him, and there was no mistaking his friendly attitude. She’d try to keep her mouth shut and not ask personal questions.
Steeling herself to meet Ace Anderson, she pocketed the envelope containing her down payment, then strode into the garage.
At four o’clock, Dillon’s truck pulled into the parking lot. Julia called out to Bud that she was taking the pickup, then let herself out the front door, locking it behind her. Dillon strode toward her and her pulse quickened.
She smiled. “So, you have any idea where to buy a tree around here? I don’t get out much.”
He chuckled. “We’ll have to change that. I think I saw a garden center north of here. I’ll bet they have trees.”
Julia handed him the keys. “Here. I’m still illegal.”
He started the engine. “I thought you were going to take care of that.”
“I have, I, uh, I’m waiting for a photograph.”
Dillon gave her a peculiar look, then pulled out of the lot. “How long could that take? A day or two?”
“I had some good ones taken by a photographer.” She turned away to stare out the window, hoping her body language would deter any more questions.
“Hey, look over there at the Wal-Mart store.”
Dillon made a sharp turn at the next road and they pulled into the parking lot where dozens of Christmas trees were on display. A light snow had just begun and the green feathery branches glittered with a dusting of white stuff.
“How big a tree do you want?”
“Just a little one. My place is pretty cramped.”
At the far end of the display, Dillon held up a four-foot specimen. “This looks just about right, huh?”
“It’s perfect, but what kind are these? I’ve never seen trees with such sparse branches.”
The lot attendant stepped up. “It’s white pine, ’bout all we get here.”
Dillon grinned. “In New England, we have fir and spruce. Real Christmas trees.”
Julia’s thoughts jumped to home. Mountains covered with Douglas fir, redwood, spruce, pine, and many other evergreens that made up traditional holiday trappings. Her heart ached and, again, she wondered if all this had been worth the sacrifice.
Dillon touched her arm, his voice soft. “You okay?”
The contact heightened her emotions and she struggled to stay in control. “I’m fine. The tree is beautiful. I’ll take it.”
Dillon didn’t have much to say as he drove back toward the garage, but as he pulled into the parking lot, he cleared his throat. “You want to have some dinner? We could go into St. Louis.”
Julia’s heart fluttered. “I’d love to, but I don’t have anything to wear.”
“We’ll go someplace casual.”
“I do need to change, and we can drop off the tree.”
“Show me the way.”
Fifteen minutes later, Julia climbed out of the pickup and hesitated. Should she invite him in? He answered her question by pulling the tree out of the back, then standing there with an expectant expression. A train rumbled behind the building and Julia felt embarrassed by her living quarters. The place wasn’t a dump, but it sure wasn’t anything to show off.
She opened the door and held it while Dillon brought the tree inside. He leaned it against the wall in the corner, then turned around.
“I’ll wait in the truck while you change.”
She closed the door behind him and smiled. She was going out on a real date.
Twenty minutes later, Dillon started the engine. “You smell nice.”
Julia chuckled. “Much better than axle grease and gasoline.”
“What do you fancy for dinner?”
Julia thought for a moment, then brightened. “Seafood. I haven’t had any for ages.”
Dillon headed toward the highway. “Sounds good to me. I know just the place.”
They rode in comfortable silence and Julia marveled at the difference between a silent drive with Dillon and the same scenario with Stephen. She shuddered at the memories.
“Are you cold? Let’s turn it up.” Dillon’s long fingers twiddled the heat knob and a rush of hot air filled the cab.
Julia smiled her thanks, then gazed out the side window, contemplating Dillon’s knack for noting minute details about her. Did that mean he was constantly watching her? Or was he just one of those people who tuned in to subtleties? She’d need to be very careful around him so she didn’t let down her guard and reveal something really im
portant. A silent sigh lifted her chest. Would her life always be one of looking over her shoulder, guarding her words, and suppressing the things and values she loved?
“You’re awfully quiet.”
“Just thinking how nice it is to get out and see some different scenery. Not being able to drive has been a drag.”
Dillon didn’t reply and Julia laughed. “Jeez, just what a truck driver wants to do—go for a drive.”
He shook his head. “Nah, I like traveling and, besides, this is different.” He glanced over and winked. “I have company.”
They crossed the river and, in the distance, the St. Louis Arch loomed against the murky dusk, lit by hundreds of spotlights. Behind it, even the city’s tallest buildings seemed dwarfed.
“You ever been up in that thing?”
Dillon snorted. “Hell, no. I like keepin’ my feet on the ground.”
They came to a stoplight and he looked over at her. “Have you?”
“Nope, I don’t even like to fly.”
The light changed and Dillon drove a couple of blocks, then parked in front of an old brick building with a small sign over the door that promised steaks and seafood.
“This place is one of the best kept secrets in St. Lou.”
He jumped out and came around to Julia’s side, but she was too quick and she met him on the sidewalk.
His brow furrowed, then he grinned. “I’ll race you for the door.”
“Nah, you can have this one.”
The restaurant was long and narrow with a very high ceiling. Suspended fans turned slowly and the lights were old-fashioned, with frosted glass globes covering the bulbs. The entire room was paneled in old wood, and a magnificent Victorian-era bar spanned one wall. For a Monday night, the place was surprisingly busy.
Dillon guided her toward a booth near the back, and a server immediately appeared. They ordered drinks, then Dillon sat back.
“So, Ginger, tell me again why you’re living in such a rural town. You hidin’ out?”
Julia resisted the panic that threatened to take over and chose her words carefully.
“I know that I upset you when I asked about your, uh, family status, and I’m sorry about that. Like you, I have things I don’t want to talk about, so why don’t we just make a pact that our personal information isn’t part of our conversations?”
Chagrin colored his features and he nodded. “Okay.”
Julia looked away. How stupid. I just implied there would be future conversations. Kiss that one goodbye.
She picked up the menu and pored over the mouth-watering seafood selections. It had been so long since she’d had anything really good to eat, she’d have a hard time making a choice. Her indecision stopped at the chef special: Grilled Pacific Salmon. She closed the menu with a snap and smiled at her companion.
“How did you know about this place?”
“Company headquarters is here, so I spend a fair amount of time waiting. And I love to eat.”
The server brought Julia’s white wine and Dillon’s beer, then took their orders and disappeared through the swinging door to the kitchen.
Dillon lifted his glass and Julia touched hers to it, then took a tentative sip. The crisp, dry flavor pleasantly burned its way down her throat.
“What kinds of cargo do you haul?”
“Electronics and medical instruments. I’m waitin’ on a load right now.” He took a long swallow of beer. “You got any plans for Christmas?”
“Bud is closing up for the week, so I thought I’d spend some time at the horse rescue farm up in Lakeville.”
Dillon cocked his head, his eyebrows arched. “You’re a horse person?”
Careful, Julia.
“Not really, but I just found this place and they need help, so it’s something to do, and it’s worthwhile.”
“I wouldn’t mind seeing that. I like horses.”
Julia grimaced. “These animals are a sorry lot. They’ve been badly abused and neglected, some worse than others.”
Two platters of steaming food arrived and the conversation migrated into the “oohs” and “ahhs” that delicious food elicited. While she savored the tender flakes of salmon, Julia thought about Dillon’s interest in the rescue farm. Maybe, just maybe, if he saw the place, he’d volunteer when he had time on his hands. And, of course, that might mean she would see him again.
Dillon parked the truck in front of Julia’s door, then turned to face her. “This was great. I really enjoyed it. I hope we can do it again sometime.”
She nodded, feeling like a teenager on a first date. “Yes, me too.”
“I’ll take the pickup back to Bud’s and drop the key in the slot.” He looked uncertain. “Do you, ah, have a phone number where I can reach you?”
“You can reach me at Bud’s. Oh, I guess not if he’s closed.” She laughed. “I have a cell phone, but I hardly ever turn it on, but I’ll try to remember from now on.”
She gave him the number, intensely aware that no one in the world knew it but her. She watched him enter it into his own cell phone, and wondered where this interesting turn of events might lead.
Chapter 17
Two days later, Julia snatched the phone out of its cradle to silence the annoying shrill ring.
“Bud’s Truck Parts and Service, Ginger speaking.”
Dillon’s voice curled into her ear and delight coursed through her.
“Hey, Ginger, it’s Dillon. How’s it goin’?”
“Reeeally slow. Guess everyone got their service done before the holidays.”
“You have to, or you get in trouble ’cause nobody’s open. Like Bud.”
“Where are you now? Did you pick up your load?”
“No, that’s why I’m calling. It won’t be ready until Friday and I wondered if you were going to that horse place any time soon.”
“Yes, I’m going this afternoon. Do you want to come out?”
He sounded hesitant. “You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Stop by here at two and we’ll go together.”
Julia hung up and did a little twirl, tickled beyond understanding about why she felt so giddy. She settled down and gazed out the window. Maybe this life wouldn’t be so bad after all. The more time that passed, the easier it became. She frowned. One thing still hanging over her conscience was her responsibility to Coquette. Stephen always went skiing over the Christmas holidays, which meant Chet would be at the farm caring for the animals. If they’re still there. She swallowed hard, vowing she would call Chet the following week.
Around two o’clock, Dillon arrived in a small sedan and Julia went outside to investigate.
He opened the passenger door for her. “It’s a rental. Costs a fortune to drive around in the truck, and besides, it cramps my style.”
“Yeah, I guess I can understand that. It would be difficult to arrive for a date in a thirty-ton truck.”
He pulled out of the parking lot. “Sounds like someone’s done their homework.”
“I’ve learned a little since I been working for Bud. Nothing terribly useful.”
“What did you do before you moved here?”
“Nothing terribly useful.” She gazed at the fallow fields, amazed at the truth of her answer.
“Sorry, I forgot we weren’t going to talk personal.”
“Turn here. You can see the barns up there in the distance.”
A few minutes later, the terriers greeted them, telling the world that visitors had arrived. Julia headed toward the big barn and while she walked, she gestured toward the few horses in the closest pens.
“These are the newest arrivals. They have to be kept separate from the others, mostly because they are an unknown factor in the equation. Until Casey can determine the extent of the mental damage, she sort of quarantines them.”
“They don’t look so bad. A little thin, maybe.”
Julia sighed. “The really bad cases are in the barns, where they can be cared for.”
Casey appea
red and her face brightened. “Hey, Ginger, did you bring reinforcements?”
Dillon laughed and offered his hand. “Hector Dillon, but just call me Dillon. I wanted to see what you do out here.”
Casey looked him up and down and her eyes narrowed. “You aren’t from the State, are you?”
“No, but would that be a problem?”
Casey stepped back, still unsure about her new visitor. “Sometimes the do-gooders who don’t know squat will call the humane society or the animal rights people, and then I get an inspector out here. They always go away satisfied I’m doing it right, but it pisses me off anyway.”
Julia frowned. “Why would anyone report you?”
“’Cause they see thin, straggly-lookin’ animals in the pastures and, if they aren’t from right around here, they think I’m the one who’s starvin’ ’em. Busybodies.”
She straightened her shoulders and nodded at Dillon. “Sorry for the rude introduction. Come along and see the operation.” She turned back toward the barn. “You know anything about horses?”
“A little, enough to be dangerous.”
As they entered the barn, the Thoroughbred popped his head over the door and called out a greeting. Julia laughed and Dillon stepped up to the stall and smoothed his hand along the horse’s jaw.
“Hey, pal, lookin’ for a handout?”
“He’s lookin’ to get out, that’s what. I’ll be glad when he can go out with the others.”
Casey turned to Julia. “We got another one in last night. Not a pretty sight, so be prepared.”
She led the way to a stall near the feed room and Julia peered in. Nausea churned through her stomach and she heard Dillon’s sharp gasp behind her. A palomino mare stood in the center of the heavily-bedded stall, her head down, her ears flopped, eyes closed. Every bone in her body was visible beneath the dull yellow coat.
Julia could barely speak. “Oh my god, what happened?”
“Some kids on dirt bikes found her locked inside an abandoned barn out in the sticks. She’d delivered a foal at some point, but of course it was dead—had been for a long time. God only knows how long she was in there. From the looks of her, it could have been weeks.
