A Creed in Stone Creek

by Linda Lael Miller

  Melissa counted again, but this time it was to keep from yelling.

  “I beg your pardon?” she said, when she’d reached the double digits.

  Bea backed off a little. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” she conceded. She was a nice person, despite being a bit on the pushy side—as president of the local Garden Club, and an old-line Stone Creeker, she was used to being in charge, getting things done, that was all.

  “I’m glad,” Melissa said pleasantly, thinking the other woman’s remark might not have stung so much if it wasn’t so damn true.

  “You’ll speak to Adelaide? Remind her that the Parade Committee specifically voted never to use toilet paper in the construction of a float? It would be so tacky—”

  “I’ll talk to Adelaide,” Melissa said, because she had other calls to make and she needed to move on to the next one. None of them were any more important or pressing than this one but, still. She was drawing a paycheck, and she was on county time.

  “When? When will you talk to her?”

  Melissa’s cuts and bruises tuned up again, all at once, in a dull, throbbing chorus. “Tonight,” she said. “Maybe tomorrow. But soon, Bea. I promise.”

  In those moments, Melissa went from wishing Tom would win their bet to wishing he’d lose and take over the Parade Committee.

  Fat chance.

  Bea was silent for a beat or two, but then she huffed out a sigh. “All right,” she said. “But you mark my words, Melissa. Stone Creek will be the laughingstock of the whole state of Arizona if Adelaide has her way.” She paused to sputter indignantly, then finished with “Toilet paper, for heaven’s sake. That woman is obsessed with toilet paper.”

  Melissa bit the inside of her lower lip as a means of corralling the obvious response—that Adelaide wasn’t the only one with an obsession—before promising to attend to the matter at the first opportunity.

  By the time she’d made the remaining calls, noon had rolled around and it was time to meet Steven for lunch over at the Sunflower Café. Because the small restaurant was close, and she thought the walk might be a remedy for some of her soreness, let alone her frustrations, she decided to leave her car at the office.

  She and Steven arrived at the same time.

  “I like the look,” he said, taking in her skirt and sweater with a slow sweep of his eyes as they stood on the sidewalk in front of the café.

  She let that pass. “Where’s Matt?”

  One side of his mouth kicked up in a grin. He looked better than good in his white shirt and well-fitting blue jeans. “At day camp,” he replied, with a grin dancing in his eyes. “I spent the morning with an architect from Flagstaff. I’d like to have the house finished and the new barn up by fall.”

  Melissa looked down at the community dog dish, filled with clear water, and stopped just short of asking about Zeke.

  Steven smiled again, opened the door for her, and held it wide. “Zeke’s at home,” he said, evidently reading her mind. “And he’s fine.”

  It was disconcerting, the way this man could guess what she was thinking. What if he figured out that, even against her better judgment, just being around him made her want his body? She looked away quickly.

  The café was crowded, as it usually was at that time of day, but Tessa seated them right away, at a corner table.

  Melissa immediately reached for a menu, although her stomach was doing that nervous thing again.

  “I had a great time last night, Melissa,” Steven said. “So did Matt.”

  She looked at him over the top of her menu. Blinked once. It should have been easy to come up with an answer—so why wasn’t it?

  “I’m glad,” she said, after a long time.

  Steven didn’t take the other menu, which was tucked between the napkin holder and the salt and pepper shakers. He just sat there, across the table, within touching distance, looking all warm-eyed and amused. “I’m glad you’re glad,” he teased, lowering his voice and leaning forward slightly.

  She blushed then, because the way his eyes caressed her made her feel as naked as any of the croquet-playing oldsters she’d seen in Ashley’s backyard the other day. They were in a very public place, she and Steven, but, even though they’d already drawn their share of glances, the Sunflower was so full of noisy good cheer that no one could have overheard their conversation—although a few people were sure to try.

  “The club sandwich is very good here,” she said helpfully, giving the menu a little wriggle. “So is the beef stew.”

  Steven smiled at her again.

  Tingly waves of—something rippled under her skin.

  “Okay,” he said, his tone husky.

  Melissa gave him a level look. “Lunch?” she reminded him.

  “Supper, too, I hope,” he said, without missing a beat. “Six o’clock? My place?”

  Her heartbeat quickened. “Your place?” she repeated stupidly.

  “I’m afraid Matt won’t be there, though,” Steven said, sounding mildly rueful. “Meg and Brad invited him to sleep over tonight. He and Mac are already great buddies.”

  Melissa swallowed. If Matt wasn’t going to be home, of course they would be alone, she and Steven Creed.

  Say no, warned her practical side. You know what could happen, and you’re not ready for that.

  “Isn’t this a school night?” she asked.

  Wow. She was a veritable genius when it came to small talk.

  “Matt goes to day camp,” Steven pointed out, after indulging in another of those slow, lethal grins. “Not Harvard.”

  “Oh,” Melissa said.

  “Are you coming, or not?”

  She blushed again. Had he worded the question that way on purpose? “It’s a little soon,” she said.

  “For what?” Steven asked, clearly enjoying her discomfort.

  “You know damn well for what,” Melissa told him. She’d lost patience with herself by then. All this waffling was so unlike her—she was a direct person.

  His blue eyes twinkled with mischief. And the promise of sweet, hot, languid things. “Do I?” he drawled. And then he reached out, took the menu from her hands, and set it aside. Closed his fingers around hers.

  “Yes,” Melissa whispered. “You do.”

  Just then, Tessa reappeared, pen and order pad in hand. “What’ll it be?” she asked, smiling at both of them.

  Steven ordered the club sandwich.

  Melissa opted for beef stew, even though it was a warm day.

  Still smiling, Tessa nodded and turned away.

  “You were saying?” Steven grinned. He hadn’t let go of Melissa’s hand; indeed, he ran the pad of his thumb over her knuckles, very lightly.

  Flames shot through her. “I forget.”

  “Liar.”

  “It’s too soon,” Melissa reiterated. There was something feverish in her tone.

  “Are you trying to convince yourself, or me?”

  “Steven, stop it.”

  Tessa came back with their drinks then—both of them had ordered iced tea.

  “You’re okay, aren’t you?” Tessa asked, giving Melissa much closer scrutiny than before. “Somebody at the counter just told me you were almost hit by a car this morning, while you were out for your run.”

  Small towns. Every incident, no matter how small, was grist for the mill.

  “Just a little shaken up,” Melissa said, aware of the change in Steven’s face even though she wasn’t looking directly at him just then. His grip tightened around her hand. “It was no big deal, Tessa. A miss is as good as a mile and all that.”

  “It could have been a very big deal,” Tessa protested. “Did you see a doctor?”

  “Tessa,” Melissa said, with a smile and a shake of her head, “I’m fine. Really.”

  Tessa hesitated for another moment or so, then turned and walked away.

  “You were almost run over by a car?” Steven asked. He was holding both her hands by then. And he no longer looked amused.

 
; People were watching them.

  Jumping to all kinds of conclusions.

  She could feel it.

  “I wasn’t hurt,” she insisted. It bothered her, how much she was enjoying his concern.

  “What happened?” Steven asked.

  “Nothing,” Melissa answered. “That’s why the word almost comes into play.”

  His fine jawline tightened briefly, relaxed again.

  “Let’s talk about something else besides accidents that didn’t quite happen,” she suggested, hoping to lighten the mood.

  The grin was back, and it was as dangerous as ever. “Like what?”

  “Well, not sex,” Melissa said, and then regretted it.

  He laughed. “I agree,” he said. “It’s better to just go ahead and do some things, rather than wasting time talking about them.”

  Melissa blinked. “Did you just say what I think you just said?” she demanded, whispering again. Leaning toward him.

  “You were the one who brought up the subject of sex,” Steven pointed out reasonably. “Not me.”

  He looked so damnably comfortable, sitting there, easy in his skin, with his glass of iced tea in front of him and his eyes that indescribable shade of blue-violet.

  “Then I’m officially unbringing it up,” Melissa said. “Forget I mentioned sex at all. It was totally inappropriate. A slip of the tongue—”

  His grin flashed again.

  She blushed even more. “I didn’t mean—”

  Mercifully, the food arrived then.

  Since her stomach was still doing the circus thing, Melissa was surprised to realize that she was hungry. She picked up her spoon and focused on the delicious beef stew.

  “What do you like to do, Melissa?” Steven asked, about midway through the meal. He’d made a pretty good dent in his club sandwich, and pushed away his plate to focus all his attention on her.

  The feeling that gave her was exciting, in an unsettling sort of way. She was an attractive woman, and she knew it, but like many people, she felt invisible a lot of the time. “Do?” she echoed, confused. “I work. I read. And I jog.”

  “How do you feel about horses?”

  “I grew up on a ranch,” Melissa answered. “I rode a lot when I was younger. Not so much lately.” And until she’d gotten over the effects of that morning’s spill, she wouldn’t be climbing into any saddles, thank you very much.

  “I spent summers on the family ranch up in Colorado when I was a kid,” he said. “Riding was about my favorite thing.”

  A picture flashed in Melissa’s mind—she could imagine Steven as he must have looked growing up. That thatch of brownish-gold hair, those eyes, full of mischief. And probably a smattering of freckles, too. “Just summers?” she asked. “Where did you live the rest of the time?”

  “Boston.” That was all. Just “Boston.” And the way he said it was clipped, almost abrupt.

  “I’ve been there a few times,” Melissa said. “To Boston, I mean. It’s a great city. I especially love the Common, and the swan boats.”

  Steven relaxed then, but Melissa saw that it took an effort, and that made her wonder what the rest of the Creeds were like, specifically his parents. She’d met the Montana branch of the family—Logan, Dylan and Tyler—when they visited their McKettrick cousins on the Triple M, over near Indian Rock. Those three hadn’t had the easiest of childhoods, that was for sure, but they’d turned out to be fine men.

  It had been Melissa’s experience that some adversity made a person strong. She and Ashley, and certainly Brad and Olivia, were proof of that. Their mother, Delia, had abandoned them at a young age, and later on their dad, the classic man of few words but nonetheless the most solid presence in their lives, had been killed.

  “Once my grandfather and my mother were both gone,” Steven said, “that left my uncles running the show. Boston sort of lost its charm then.”

  It was a lot to absorb, and the café, however pleasant, surely wasn’t the best place to discuss the things they were obviously destined to discuss.

  Melissa figured things were getting too heavy. “Are we going to build our friendship around food, Steven Creed?” she asked. “We seem to be sharing quite a few meals these days.”

  Steven caught Tessa’s eye, silently asking for the check.

  Looking at Melissa again, he smiled. “I want to spend more time with you,” he said forthrightly. “And out here in the countryside, that seems to include breaking bread together.”

  One of the waitresses brought the bill, since Tessa was busy with a fresh crop of customers, and Steven paid it on the spot, shook his head when the young girl asked if he wanted change.

  Heads turned as they left the restaurant, as they had when Melissa and Steven came in, but Melissa was used to that. Stone Creek was, after all, barely more than a wide spot in the road, even a century and a half after the first settlers arrived.

  “Thanks for lunch,” she told Steven, when they were standing on the sidewalk again.

  He looked around, probably for her car. “I could give you a ride back to work,” he offered. “My truck is just around the corner.”

  Melissa smiled. “That’s okay,” she said. “The walk will be good for me.”

  Steven didn’t look convinced of that, but he didn’t argue, either.

  “I’ll be expecting you around six,” he said.

  She nodded, wondering precisely when she’d gone around the bend. She decided it must have happened when she got her first look at Steven Creed, because she’d certainly been sane before that.

  The hike back to the office was a short one, but it didn’t make Melissa feel better any more than the walk over had done. If she’d been anybody but her stubborn O’Ballivan self, she’d have taken Tom’s earlier suggestion, gone home, gulped down something for the pain and climbed into bed.

  When she arrived, Adelaide Hillingsley was in the outer office, chatting with Andrea.

  “I came about the toilet paper rumor,” the middle-aged woman announced forthrightly, as soon as she spotted Melissa. Pudgy, with thin, reddish hair and bright hazel eyes, Adelaide was a cheerful soul, and her family, like Bea’s, went way back in Stone Creek’s history.

  Melissa managed not to roll her eyes, but just barely. Did anyone in this town understand that this was the prosecutor’s office, not the official headquarters of the Parade Committee?

  Resigned, she gestured toward the entrance to her private space.

  “Shall I bring in some coffee?” Andrea piped up, all chipper efficiency.

  Melissa gave her a look.

  “That sounds nice,” Adelaide said, sweeping grandly into the inner sanctum. “I’d like mine with a little cream and two sugars, please.”

  “None for me, thanks,” Melissa said, putting a little point on the words. And then she shut the door with a firm push.

  Adelaide, dressed in her customary cotton print blouse and elastic-waisted jeans, sat down without waiting for an invitation.

  “Someone really should persuade Bea Brady to go straight out and shop for a life,” she said. “My niece wore a toilet paper wedding gown when she got married, and she looked fantastic. The pictures were all over the internet for months afterwards.”

  Melissa sat down in her desk chair and tried to look serious. “I’ve gone over the bylaws for the Parade Committee,” she began, with dignity, “and there is a ban on using bathroom tissue to decorate floats.”

  Adelaide waved that off. “What about creativity? What about being resourceful, and the wise use of our funds—which, in case you don’t know, are shrinking with every passing year?”

  Melissa drew a deep, deep breath and let it out slowly. “Adelaide,” she said, “creativity is certainly a good thing. Ditto resourcefulness and good fiscal management. But this is an issue that should be debated within the committee itself—not here, during working hours.”

  “You’ve always been such a—lawyer,” Adelaide remarked, without rancor.

  She looked around
, smiling. “I don’t see any crooks standing around, waiting to be hauled before a judge.”

  Melissa allowed herself a small and very diplomatic sigh. She’d been raised to respect her elders and, besides, Adelaide had been her and Ashley’s Girl Scout leader when they were kids. She’d mothered them both, after a fashion, after Delia left. “I think that’s beside the point, don’t you?” she said mildly. “I grant you, this isn’t Maricopa County, where the courts see a lot of action, but I’m still sworn to uphold the duties of this office, Adelaide, and I’m determined to do that.”

  Adelaide gave a responding sigh as Andrea ducked in with fresh coffee for the visitor and handed it over.

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” the young woman said, “I’d like to leave early today. Since things are so quiet and all.”

  Melissa pressed her back teeth together, but kept smiling. Andrea’s timing was priceless. “Go,” she said.

  Andrea blushed slightly. “It’s just that there was a cancellation at the dentist’s office today. If I go in for my cleaning now, I won’t have to do it Saturday morning.”

  Melissa glared.

  Andrea ducked out.

  Adelaide, in no hurry to get back to her receptionist’s job, apparently, took a loudly appreciative sip from her coffee cup. “Did anyone mention how grateful we are, Melissa—the members of the Parade Committee, I mean—that you were willing to step in and take over for poor Ona Frame?”

  “Now you’re just trying to butter me up,” Melissa said, smiling again. Irritated though she was, she liked Adelaide Hillingsley, and that was that.

  Adelaide cast an eloquent glance toward the place where Andrea had stood just a moment before. “It seems to be the most effective way to deal with you,” she replied, looking pleased with herself. “This job has made all the difference in the world to that girl. Heaven only knows what might have happened to her if she hadn’t had the good fortune to wind up in Stone Creek.”

  “Right about now,” Melissa confided brightly, “I wouldn’t mind throttling her.”

  Adelaide took another drink of coffee, raised her eyebrows slightly. After swallowing, she ventured thoughtfully, “I hear she’s dating that Cahill boy. Seems to me folks ought to be more concerned about that than whether or not any of the parade floats are festooned with toilet paper.”