by Candis Terry
Kate remembered the days of proms and Valentine’s dances. And she remembered the importance of just the right dress to a young girl who wanted to look like Cinderella. Even if only for a night. “Are there a lot of girls like you?”
Chelsea cocked her head. “What do you mean?”
“Girls who can’t afford to buy a prom dress.”
“Yeah. A lot of us try to hit the thrift shops but this area isn’t really known for its ball gown occasions. So the selection is pretty sad.”
An idea burst into Kate’s bored little brain that rocked her from head to toe. An idea that had a little to do with the small shop for rent over on Fourth Street and a whole lot to do with her Hollywood connections. “To be honest, Chelsea, I’m not going to be able to offer you the job here at the bakery.”
The teen’s smile slipped. “Oh.”
“But I’m pretty sure I can offer you a job of another kind. One you just might be perfect for.”
“Really?” The smile returned.
With a hand on the back of Chelsea’s fuzzy blue sweater, Kate led her to the front of the shop. “Why don’t you give me a call in a couple of days and I’ll fill you in.”
“That would be great, Miss Silver. Thank you so much.”
“Call me Kate and we’ve got a deal.” She extended her hand.
The girl eagerly reciprocated. “Thank you . . . Kate.”
Once the door closed behind the teen, Kate’s father looked over at her with questioning eyes. Kate shook her head. Her father nodded, then went back to making the dough for tomorrow’s selection of pies. Kate pulled her cell phone from her apron pocket and punched in number one on her speed dial.
“Josh? Listen, I’ve got an idea and I need your help . . .”
An hour later Kate had put her plan into action. A satisfied smile curled her mouth. The clock edged toward six o’clock and she and her dad could finally lock the door, clean up, and go home.
Her feet were killing her and her hands were raw. She looked down at her chipped nails. She needed a manicure, a massage, and a martini. Unfortunately all she was going to get was a shower, leftovers, and a lumpy bed.
Kate flipped on the turn signal at Main and Whitetail Rd. She had just enough time to grab a six-pack of Pepsi from the Gas and Grub before she went home to warm a bowl of the beef stew her father had made the night before. She’d never been much of a leftover kind of girl. Not even after she moved to Hollywood and her leftovers often consisted of delicacies her caterer pals snuck into her empty fridge. But her dad’s homemade stew and warm biscuits brought forth wonderful memories from when she’d been a kid. Maybe she needed to admit that parts of her childhood hadn’t been completely hideous.
She pulled into the G & G’s vacant parking lot where the only sign of life came from the window and a life-size cardboard cutout of a busty blond in a Hawaiian bikini. For those who weren’t happy enough with her overflowing triple D’s, her hip-shaking movement had been motorized.
Kate pulled open the glass door and waved to the cashier—a kid barely old enough to sell alcohol, let alone the porn magazines they kept stored behind the counter. She grabbed her Pepsi from the cooler and then cruised the aisles, managing to talk herself into a package of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos. She usually preferred a Butterfinger with her soda, but the overpowering sweet smell of the bakery killed her sugar craving. On the way to the register, she plucked a package of teriyaki beef jerky from the shelf and a tube of ChapStick and then tossed everything on the counter.
As the kid rang up her purchases, the glass door opened and a breeze shot through the front of the store. Kate turned to see who else was stocking up on snacks, only to find Edna Price staring at her as though she’d sucked lemons.
Great.
“You still here?” the old woman asked.
“If by here you mean in Deer Lick, I guess you’re forgetting you saw me just this morning when I bagged your brownies.”
“I always did think you were a smartass.”
“Join the crowd,” Kate muttered.
“That’ll be $13.45,” the kid said.
Kate pulled a twenty from her wallet and handed it over.
“Didn’t your mama teach you to respect your elders?” Edna asked, cupping both wrinkled hands over the moose’s head.
Kate accepted the bag from the kid and headed toward the door. She’d had a long day and she was still excited about her new venture. The last thing she needed was a wrestling match with the town crone. “Look, Mrs. Price, I’m sorry if my presence here offends you. I’m only trying to help out my father.”
“Help him?” The old woman’s gray brows lowered. “Where were you when he and your mama needed you before? You were selfish then. Appears not much has changed.”
It wasn’t the first time Mrs. Price had reminded her of her choice to leave without telling anyone. It wasn’t the first time the memory of the night she and her mother had argued struck her square in the chest with an iron fist. Nor was it the first time she’d been filled with deep regret.
“You know, I . . .” She looked into Edna’s disapproving gaze and realized nothing she could say would change the woman’s opinion of her. “. . . nevermind.” Kate pushed open the door and fled out into the cool night air. She didn’t need to explain to a judgmental old woman why she had left. She just wanted to go home, eat her father’s stew and her Cheetos, and go to sleep. Maybe tonight she’d be too exhausted to be haunted by the reoccurring nightmare of her mother’s last words that fateful night. The night her mother had called her a worthless dreamer who would never amount to anything.
But she doubted it.
Fatigue crept into her bones as she slid into the Buick and turned the car toward refuge. A near full moon shone down on the quaking aspens lining the road, turning the autumn foliage to glittering gold. An elderly couple strolled hand-in-hand past homes filled with warm light. They paused briefly to kiss. The sweetness of the act made Kate sigh. When she’d been a teen, she’d somehow overlooked the charm of her hometown. She’d looked past the Norman Rockwell appeal of kids playing in their yards without fear of gang wars erupting around them. That one could still go out at night without the worry of being robbed. Kate glanced across the seat at her purse, which held an arsenal of protection devices and laughed. No one needed Mace in Deer Lick.
From the radio Tom Jones began to sing It’s Not Unusual.
“Edna means well.”
The abrupt sound of her mother’s voice shoved her heart into her throat and nearly caused her to crash into the Weber’s Mobile Window Repair van parked on the side of the road.
“Geez! Mom! A little warning you’re here next time? Please?”
“Sorry.”
“And what’s with Tom Jones singing every time you decide to pop in?”
“It’s my theme song.”
“Your–”
“Hey, I figure if it’s good enough for the WWE wrestlers, it’s good enough for me.”
“I’m pretty sure The Rock never exploded into the area with Tom Jones blaring.”
“Well, I’m not much into that heavy rap stuff.”
“Yeah, I just don’t see you as the Eminem type.”
“What does candy have to do with music?”
“No. Mom. Eminem is . . . nevermind.” Far be it for her to have to explain the intricacies of the rap world. It wasn’t like her mother was going to go out and buy a CD or a concert ticket.
“Well, I’m still sorry about Edna back there. She just doesn’t know how to hold back on what she’s thinking.”
“There’s the understatement of the year.” Kate glanced in the rearview mirror even though she knew it was useless. “I know you two were good friends. Maybe you could pay her a visit and ask her to back off.”
“Yeah. Can’t really do that.”
Kate glanced over her shoulder. Her mother sat in the middle of the bench seat tapping her chin with her forefinger. “Why not?”
“That’s not my mi
ssion.”
“Your mission? Oh. That’s right.” Kate shook her head. “The one to find me a love that reaches beyond earthly bounds.”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Really? Well, while you’re at it, could you make sure he has a penthouse in Manhattan, a mansion in Malibu, and a fabulous live-in chef?”
“Is that what you think life is all about, Katherine?” The twinge of sadness in her mother’s tone was barely audible, but it was there all the same.
“It doesn’t hurt.”
Her mother actually tsked. “You have so much to learn.”
“You know, Mom, I’m really not doing so bad with my life. I have a successful business. I wear beautiful clothes. I have friends.” At least a few. Though none with benefits.
“I never said you were doing bad, Katherine. I said you needed someone special in your life.”
“I can always buy a dog.”
“You just don’t get it, do you? You can’t keep running.”
Kate could almost hear her mother shaking her head. Though curiosity prodded her to turn to see if she was right, she kept her eyes on the road, dodging a squirrel with a death wish. “What do you mean? I’m not running from anything.”
“Honey, you ran ten years ago and you haven’t stopped since.”
The old anger and desolation she felt that night slammed into her heart. “I didn’t run. You drove me away.” Her jaw tightened. “Do you even remember what you said to me?”
“Of course I remember. I also remember that you took it the wrong way.”
“I don’t think so. Look,” Kate said, gripping the wheel tighter, “I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Don’t you think it’s about time we did?”
“We’ll only argue. We always do.”
“Arguing isn’t always a bad thing, Katherine.”
“Says who?”
Beneath her fingers the steering wheel wobbled. Then a tire blew with a loud pop.
“Damn it!” Kate guided the crippled car to the side of the road. “I don’t even know how to change a tire.”
“Then it’s time to learn.”
“Are you going to give me a lesson?” Kate turned, only to find the backseat empty. “Mom?”
When there was no response, Kate got out of the car and kicked the flat tire on the way to the trunk. She managed to pull out the spare and the jack. Her hands were filthy before she even got started. With her hands on her hips, she stood back looking at the car for some indication of how she was supposed to do this. But all she saw were parking lot dings and rust. She rummaged through the glove box for the owner’s manual but only came up with a few yellowed napkins, the car registration, and proof of insurance.
Dropping to her knees she tried to look under the Buick for a hook or some hint of where the jack was supposed to go but nothing jumped out and waved a flag at her. She guessed she’d have to crawl under to see what she could find there.
The gravel bit into her back and she was halfway beneath the beast when headlights streaked across the asphalt. A car came to a stop behind her. Her heart squeezed in her chest.
Please God, don’t let it be that Mike guy with the hockey mask and an axe.
A door opened and closed and heavy footsteps walked toward her.
“Trouble?”
From beneath the car Kate glanced at the huge black boots straddling her legs. She closed her eyes. Yes, he was definitely trouble.
She skootched out from beneath the Buick and brushed the grime from her hands. “Deputy Ryan. What a pleasant surprise.”
Matt leveled a look at her, mostly to keep from smiling at the streak of dirt she’d smeared across her forehead and the obstinate tone in her voice. “What are you doing under there?”
“Looking where to put the jack. As you can see, I have a flat.”
“Don’t you know it’s dangerous to crawl under a car that isn’t secure?” He extended his hand to help her up. She eyed him warily before she placed her cool palm in his. When he gave a gentle tug, she came up and into his arms. For several heartbeats she stood there looking up at him through those smoky green eyes while he looked down at her, resisting the urge to lower his head and kiss those full, seductive lips.
The idea was not only bad, it bordered on insane. He broke the hypnotic hold she held over him, picked up the tire iron, and set it by the flat. “I take it you’ve never changed a tire before.”
She stepped back. “No. I have roadside service on my insurance.”
“Of course you do,” he said, reaching inside the car to set the emergency brake.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
When he walked toward the back of the car, she stood in his way, arms folded. He could have stepped around her but what would be the fun in that? So he cupped his hands on her elbows, lifted her, and set her aside.
“That means that you’re going to learn how to change one. Just in case your roadside service is too busy playing Texas Hold ‘em or something.”
“Oh.” She looked at him like she didn’t believe that was what he meant. And she was right.
He kneeled on the asphalt. “Come on. Get down here.”
She knelt beside him with the knees of her jeans digging into the pebbled surface. “Aren’t you afraid you’re going to get your uniform dirty?”
He laughed. Shook his head. He’d love to get dirty. But not the way she was thinking. “Take this . . .” He handed her the tire iron. “. . . and loosen the lug nuts.”
She gave one a good attempt then looked at him with despair in her smoky eyes. “It’s too tight.”
“Let me help,” he said.
She held out the tire iron.
“Uh-uh, Hollywood, you’ve got to learn to do it yourself.”
He scooted behind her, wrapped his arms around her until his hands were on top of hers, and realized he’d made a big, big mistake. Not only were his arms framing the sides of her luscious breasts, but his crotch was pressed against her warm backside. And chances were in about two seconds she’d know she didn’t exactly turn him off.
She swiveled her head and said with a smirk, “Is this the way you help everyone learn to change a flat?”
“Nope. Just the pretty girls. The boys are on their own.” Holding her between his arms was torture. Heavenly torture. His only distraction came in the form of helping her loosen the lugs one at a time.
Once that was accomplished, he handed her the jack and showed her where to place it under the car. She grunted a little but managed to get it in the right spot. Then he handed her the tire iron again. “Put this in that slot and use it to pump up the jack.”
“Ooh, I love it when you talk dirty.”
He shook his head. She had no idea. Or at least she didn’t remember.
She gave the jack a go with about as much success as the lug nuts. After several unsuccessful attempts, she looked over her shoulder at him, batted her eyelashes, and said in a very Mae West voice, “A little help would be soooo much appreciated.”
Before he knew it, his arms were wrapped around her again.
The jack wasn’t the only thing she raised.
Trying to keep his erection under control was a ridiculous feat. Especially when she smelled like sugar and vanilla and all he wanted to do was lick her all over.
When the spare was in place and he’d survived the torment of having her in his arms, he tossed the flat and the jack in the trunk. And while every ounce of common sense told him to give her a wave, get in his car, and get the hell out of there, his legs carried him forward. Toward her. The queen of his fantasies for too many years. Hell, even with tire grease on her forehead and road dirt smudged on her cheek she turned him on.
He opened her door and watched while she slid onto the seat. He waited until she started the car before he started to walk away.
“Matt?” she called from the open window.
He stopped. Do not turnaround. Man, were his feet ever going to list
en to him? He retraced his steps and found himself, once again, beside her door like a big dumbass.
She looked up at him, smiled, and crooked her finger. With his testosterone churning and his common sense on temporary leave, he leaned down.
“I just wanted to thank you for your help,” she said, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek.
Her lips were warm. Soft. And everything inside him shattered. She wasn’t the girl he’d fallen in love with. She was the woman who’d walked away without even a good-bye. He had a life planned. And it didn’t include her.
“I would have helped anyone,” he said, breathing back the pain lingering in his chest. “Tonight it just happened to be you.”
Kate watched Matt stride back to his patrol car. He held his head high, his shoulders straight, and his message couldn’t have been any more clear.
Tonight it just happened to be you translated to you’re no different than anybody. You mean nothing to me.
She turned the key and the engine kicked over with a groan. Once Matt was in his car, he started it right up and drove off. Kate watched as his taillights disappeared around the corner.
Seemed like all she ever did was watch his taillights disappear.
He didn’t have to stop and help her. She would have figured it out eventually. But even as much as he appeared to dislike her, Matt Ryan had a chivalrous streak in him a crater wide. He smiled at crabby old ladies. Helped pregnant women cross the street. He’d even stepped in to help her parents when she’d left. Everywhere she turned it seemed he was coming to the aid of someone even when he wasn’t wearing a uniform. The town adored him.
Something light and fluttery danced through her heart. He was a freaking pain-in-the-ass knight-in-shining-armor she couldn’t help admire. Still, if she could just chisel away at all that wonderfulness, she was sure she’d find something rotten. Even if it was that he only flossed once a week.
With a sigh she released the emergency brake and put the car in drive. Half a block later Tom Jones invaded the radio. It’s not unusual. . .
Oh dear God.
