“There’s nothing to ask around about. I’m tired. I need a break.”
“You take a break in this business and you’re history.”
“So you keep telling me,” she muttered under her breath.
He frowned, apparently hearing her.
“I’m willing to forget this if you show up tomorrow for the rescheduled session and do an overseas tour with the USO for Thanksgiving.”
“What?” She jerked forward in her chair, speaking slowly. “I said I was tired. I need a break.”
“I’ll leave your private life alone and mind my own business. You want to sleep in a hotel, your problem. House stays. You gotta step up your attitude and your appearances. This is great publicity. Troops will love you. The appearance requests are stacking up on my desk and I’m going to accept a few. Build some buzz.”
Leia stifled the urge to pop the cap off her water and toss it on him, bottle and all. A red haze flashed over her, leaving a headache in its wake.
Then she deflated. If she fought this any harder, he’d blow apart the life she was desperate to keep safe. Maybe the best thing to do was to back down. It wasn’t like she couldn’t handle a few public appearances. A tour wasn’t exactly her first choice for Thanksgiving, but she never minded performing for the troops. They were a lot like Carlee in their appreciation of her music and her time.
“Fine.” She rose and picked up her purse from the opposite chair, tossing her water bottle in the trash on the way by. She started for the door.
She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “I’ll do what you ask, but you get me the financial reports and I want two weeks off at Christmas.”
“Of course.” His victorious smile grated against her pride, but her neighbors in Parson Corners deserved anonymity and she deserved Parson Corners.
Zach stood in front of the snow blower display at Parson’s Hardware. His snow blower had died this morning in the midst of removing another eight inches of early December snow from his driveway. His day—already closing in on lousy because the lights were out at Leia’s again—captured the going-to-be-a-bad-day prize in that moment. There were a lot of things he could live without—over the last five weeks, seeing Leia alone for five minutes was apparently one of them. A pot of coffee every morning and a snow blower from October to April were not.
“Hi, Sheriff.”
He looked up at Gena Parsons, no relation to the Parson who’d named their esteemed town. She’d come to Parson Corners by way of New Mexico about five years ago. She was single, tall and slender, and had laid down cash for the floundering hardware store. If gossip was correct, she had turned it around. He knew for a fact she was a genius at anything to do with hardware and home improvement. She and Fiona were fast friends.
“Hi Gena.”
The slender woman hugged her black plaid flannel shirt to her and shivered as another customer came through the door with a blast of cold air. “Cold day, huh? It always surprises me how fast it changes from fall to winter around here. Can I help you with something?”
“My snow blower died this morning.”
“You aren’t the only one. Take that one.” She pointed at the mid-range model.
“Why?”
“In this case, the more expensive one isn’t the best. Don’t know why I stocked that one. It won’t last. That one there is a workhorse. You won’t be sorry. Might be able to do yours and your neighbor’s yard.”
“My neighbor?”
“Well, you are doing Leia Shae’s, right? She’s from California, Sheriff, what does she know about clearing snow? It would be neighborly.”
The fact that he’d thought the same thing made him squirm in his boots and told him just how deep he was getting himself in trouble here.
Gena rubbed her hands together, then stuck them in her pants pockets. “She’s great, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, great. Carlee loves her.” He picked up the tag on the snow blower and read the specifications.
“What’s it like living across the street from her?”
“She’s never there.” His exasperation slipped out.
“Oh, I saw her on Letterman last night. She’s working really hard on a new album. I can hardly wait. I saw on Heidi of Hollywood that she’s visiting some mysterious friend, they think from Florida, and she went with the Secretary of Defense on the Thanksgiving USO tour to visit the troops. Isn’t that great?”
Zach massaged his forehead. “Yeah, it’s wonderful.” She’s freaking Saint Leia.
“She’s awesome,” she gushed like a kid. “She was so nice at the library fund raiser, and I sold her some paint for her kitchen. She even donated to help us fix Ida Cortez’s house.” The woman blushed. “I’m a big fan.”
Zach dropped his hand and smiled carefully. “I couldn’t tell.”
She waited, as if she expected him to blurt out some previously unknown secret about Leia. Kissing her in her kitchen certainly counted, but wasn’t something he was going to fess up to. He stayed silent.
“You want me to ring that up for you?”
“Are they in stock?”
“Yes. You can drive around back and I’ll have Marty get it loaded for you.”
“Sounds fine.” He cringed at the price tag, but knew he’d have an aching back if he resorted to the tried and cheap shovel. He handed her his credit card.
The bell jingled over the front door. Tiny stamped snow off his feet and shut the door. “Hey, Zach.” He waved at Gena.
Zach shook his hand. “Hi, Tiny. On my way over for coffee.”
“Nita’s there. She’ll get some for you. You seen Leia? She hasn’t been in.”
“Out of town,” he answered as blandly as he could.
“Seems she’s always gone lately.” Tiny moved off to the plumbing aisle, taking his glum expression with him.
“No kidding,” Zach muttered. He followed Gena to the register and signed his receipt. On his way back to his truck, he met the middle school principal. Bracing himself, he expected a complaint about Carlee. Instead, the man commented on Leia’s visit to the school and asked about her, too. Using the same answer he’d given Tiny, he waved the man off and climbed into his truck, gripping the steering wheel.
Seriously, how was a man supposed to stop thinking about the woman when the town had a serious obsession? He was trying like hell not to think about her, but her empty house and all her absences were beginning to remind him of Denise.
A long time ago, in another lifetime, and another place he’d been in the same kind of lust for Denise Deveau, Carlee’s mother. Well, maybe not the same kind. He hadn’t felt the kind of attraction he had with Leia with anyone. All the more reason to shy away.
He drove around the back of the hardware store and waited for Marty. He had made a life here from the shambles created by the death of his parents and a ton of second-chance mistakes with Denise for Carlee’s sake. The fact that he had contemplated plowing Leia’s driveway before his blower died, the fact that he had an extra cord of wood next to his house for her, and the nagging recurring dream of kissing those soft, lush lips was irrelevant.
Snow blower loaded, he drove back home. He got out of the truck and stared at the pristine scene across the street, white snow up her driveway and across her porch—untouched by any activities. Ruthlessly, he closed himself off.
He couldn’t break his personal rules for her, not and survive it with heart and emotions intact. He’d been down that road before and giving in to that kind of self-indulgence would leave him raw and wounded. He had to abide by a personal code he’d made a long time ago. That had never let him down.
He unloaded the snow blower and cleared his own driveway, resisting the pull of Leia’s yard. When he went inside, he refused to acknowledge the guilt tugging him to the pure white of unbroken snow across the street.
A week before Christmas, Leia stumbled up the steps to the private jet, anticipating with every fiber of her being going home. The last eight weeks had been hell intersp
ersed with small visits to her sanctuary. She’d been to Europe and Afghanistan with the USO. She’d done Letterman. She’d been to Rockefeller Center for the lighting of their Christmas tree. She’d spent hours and hours in the studio on her album, done four red-carpet events, been on Conan and Ellen, and now just finished a command performance at the White House, singing Christmas carols to the First Family, no less.
She was dead exhausted. To top that, her throat hurt, her lungs were on fire, and she was running a fever.
Exactly what she got for not standing up to Cale.
She’d let him run her ragged again. Her name was being splashed in copious amounts all over the press, making her manager ecstatic.
Depressing. She’s passed tired days ago and wanted to go home to Parson Corners and collapse.
Banning followed her into the cabin while the flight crew closed the jet. He settled in his seat, fastening his seat belt, never taking his eyes off her.
She forced herself upright. “What?” Okay, so there was a tad bit of defensiveness in there. She fastened her seatbelt, too, just to keep from seeing the censure in his eyes.
“You look like crap, that’s what. How bad’s the throat?”
She opened her mouth to lie, then shrugged. “Bad. Lungs hurt, too,” she croaked. “Just like last spring.”
“Hush.” Banning shrugged out of his seatbelt and went forward. He came back with two bottles of water. “Here. Drink.”
He slumped back into his seat. Leia studied his face. Fatigue mirrored her own.
The pilot approached. “We’re waiting for clearance, then we’ll be off, Ms. Shae.”
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“Am I understanding right? You want to land in L.A., then return to Denver?”
“Yes.”
“Any reason we can’t land in Denver first? It’d be easier. My crew’s from L.A.”
If Cale found out, he’d ask questions. Leia sighed, damn tired of considering Cale in the equation about where she lived and how. “If that’ll work better, that’s fine.”
“Good enough. I’ll file an amended flight plan and we’ll get in the air.”
Banning raised a brow after the man left. “You’ll have an hour drive from there. Are you sure you’re up to it?”
“I want to go home,” she squeaked, then pulled a blanket from the adjoining seat and covered up. “I just want to go home.”
He may have answered her, but she was already drifting into sleep. When she woke up several hours later, the plane was ready to land in Denver and she was coughing. Her lungs felt like she’d inhaled liquid fire. She looked over at Banning. He had loosened his clothes and still had his eyes closed.
“I think you should let me take you on to Parson Corners.” So much for his eyes being closed.
“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, not acknowledging how hard those words were to get out of a raw throat.
She rose and carefully made her way to the bathroom, masking the shivers from her fever. If Banning figured out how sick she really was, he’d follow along like the watchdog he was. Not that she didn’t like and respect the man, but she was damn tired of being babysat and wanted to be alone.
Back in her seat, she attempted to sit up and act normal. It was the best acting job of her life. Lethargy pulled at her and she fought against lapsing into sleep again. Thankfully, the pilot announced the need for seatbelts, giving her something to do. In a few short moments they were on the ground. It was dark, but clear.
According to the local weather, they were expecting a snow storm before morning, but the roads were bare now. A stroke of luck as far as she was concerned. Out of the jet and into her car—she had one of her own cars permanently available here now—and onto the road would take about twenty minutes. Then she was an hour from home.
When they’d taxied to a stop, Leia rose.
Banning did, too. “Let me get your car warmed up. You wait here.”
She opened her mouth to object, anxious to be on her way, but nothing would come out and it was just as well. Banning gave her an irritated don’t-mess-with-me stare and went up the aisle, muttering under his breath. Something about hard-headed women and this being against his better judgment.
She considered the logistics of what he proposed and knew with the storm coming in that he could potentially get trapped in Parson Corners, in her house. No, it was better if he went on with the flight and let her go on alone.
Fifteen toe-tapping minutes, hacking and coughing, not withstanding, he finally came back aboard. “Car’s at the base of the steps. I’ve loaded your luggage.”
She picked up her purse and started toward him. He didn’t move out of her way, so she looked up at him.
“Be careful on those roads and go to the doctor as soon as you get home.”
She nodded, not able to get any sound out of her vocal cords.
“Call me? Let me know you got there?”
She nodded and stood on tip-toe, lightly kissing his cheek. “Merry Christmas,” she mouthed at him.
He shook his head, looking like he was going to argue with her.
She slipped around him, and went to the top of the plane steps, mouthing thanks to the pilot as he waited for her to deplane. The more she moved the worse she felt, but she plowed through. She’d been lonely for her house, for Carlee’s bright chatter, and desperate to see Zach. The few times she’d been home in this god-forsaken schedule, she’d barely seen him.
The glimpses had been enough to make her heart plunge to her stomach. Instead of letting go of her stupid infatuation with the man, she was a card carrying member of the absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder club.
On the road, she watched the clock, coaxing her body to make it one more mile, one more minute. After a particularly bad bout of coughing, she almost pulled over. Traffic was light, the headlights coming her way had thinned down to practically nothing, and the hypnosis of the road combined with her fever was making focus hard.
Fear stopped her. In the logical part of her brain, she realized how sick she was and she was afraid she’d go to sleep. Instead, she rolled down the windows, ignored the way the cold, cold air stung going in and out of her lungs, cranked the Christmas carols on one of the local stations, and swallowed against a throat that felt swollen twice its size. She tapped the steering wheel, leaned forward, twisted and shifted, mouthed the words to Deck the Halls and coughed some more.
Thirty two minutes later, she saw the lights of Parson Corners and started to cry.
Ten minutes later, she pulled into her street, noting the contrast between the two feet of new snow in the yards and the plowed streets. She stopped in front of her driveway. Her driveway wasn’t clear and the snowplow had made it worse. She couldn’t get her car in the driveway. Suddenly she was ready to collapse, twenty feet from her house. More tears splashed her hand and she dashed them away.
She rubbed her forehead, feeling like cotton was filling her head. She backed the car up and pulled into Zach’s driveway. The lights were on, his driveway cleared, smoke came from the chimney, and she could almost smell the hot chocolate.
She stumbled from the car and up to the back steps. Removing her glove, she knocked as loud as she could.
Her lungs hurt, hurt, hurt.
Another bout of coughing had her bending at the knees, her hand on the door for balance. Then the door was gone.
“Leia?” Zach’s deep voice soothed some of her panic.
Except she couldn’t draw in any air.
“I need help,” she croaked and then passed out in Zach’s arms.
Her last thought was that she should have listened to Banning.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Zach caught Leia before she hit the ground. “Wyatt!”
He lifted her into his arms and carried her into the house, not liking the wheezing sound coming from her chest. Her face was flushed and yet she shivered.
Wyatt and Carlee pounded down the stairs.
“What?” Wyatt stopped
short in the doorway, then rushed forward to help him. “Call an ambulance?”
“It just went out on a call. Go start my car.”
“Dad? What’s wrong with her?”
He felt her forehead.
Burning up.
He bent his head again and listened to her breathing, panic hovering at the base of his spine. He had medical training, but he had no equipment and this was Leia.
His Leia.
The only thing she had going for her right at this second was the hospital was only two minutes from his house.
“Should I get her a blanket, Dad?”
“Yeah, honey. That would be good.” He didn’t have time to address the fear in her eyes or reassure her.
“Wyatt!” He yelled again. “What is taking so long?”
His brother skidded into the kitchen. “Her car was behind yours. I had to move it. Your car is ready.”
“Stay with Carlee, please.” Zach lifted Leia into his arms.
Carlee came down the stairs two at a time with a blanket in her arms. The two of them followed him as he carried Leia to his car and tucked her into the front seat, covering her with the blanket Carlee had given him.
He slammed the door, and skidded over his hood to the driver’s side, not needing a stethoscope to tell she was breathing badly.
“Dad?” He didn’t stop to answer her.
He clamored into the front seat, noted that Wyatt had put his hands on Carlee’s shoulders and pulled her back against him. “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.” He slammed his door.
Big snowflakes started to fall as he backed out of the driveway. The snow storm they’d been predicting for days had decided to arrive.
He sped to the corner and did a rolling stop, taking a left to get to the hospital. In two short minutes, he’d driven to the small twenty-six bed hospital.
He pulled around to the emergency side where he knew one doctor and one nurse would be on duty. He jerked to a stop in front of the entrance doors and counted Leia’s breaths.
Not enough of them. Dammit.
It took another long minute to get out and around to the passenger side.
Pumpkins, Cowboys & Guitars Page 56
