Head Over Heels

by Susan Andersen

  “Are you crazy? That would completely negate the whole point here, which is showing who’s-their-faces that you don’t have to be born on Holly Drive to do the job.”

  “You weren’t born there, either, so the point would still be made.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not the one they’ve been putting down. You deserve to rub their noses in it a little.”

  Marissa grinned. “I hate to admit it, but I wouldn’t mind doing that at all. I’ll take full credit, then—and bless your heart. But I’ll also do the best damn job that’s ever been done, now that you’ve given me something to work with. And I think it’s only fitting that I begin by assigning Tyler-Jones and Wentworth the task of hunting down the various costs, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes.” Veronica nodded decisively. “Absolutely.”

  12

  VERONICA WOUND HER WAY BETWEEN THE TONK’S tightly packed tables Friday night, dispensing drinks and dodging the hands of a particularly rambunctious young man celebrating his twenty-first birthday with a group of friends. Glimpsing Marissa sitting with Kody toward the back of her section, she headed straight over. She could use a little oasis of sanity tonight.

  She saw the moment Marissa spotted her, for her friend’s dimples dented her cheeks beneath the verve of her welcoming smile. Marissa’s lips formed words, but Veronica shook her head and shrugged helplessly. Attempting to make out normal conversational tones over the din in here tonight was like trying to communicate without raising one’s voice across the tin-can telephones they used to fashion with a length of string stretched between their bedrooms back when they were kids—it simply wasn’t possible. Reaching the table, she balanced her tray on her right hip and leaned down. “Am I glad to see you! But I’m afraid I didn’t catch a word you said.”

  Marissa raised her voice. “It wasn’t anything earth-shattering. I was merely stating the obvious—helluva crowd here tonight.”

  “No fooling! It’s been a madhouse since I came on duty—I think this past week must have given everyone a severe case of cabin fever.”

  A cold snap had blown down from the mountains and turned Fossil’s on-again-off-again rain squalls into a genuine winter storm. First it had snowed several inches. Then freezing rain had blown in on a fierce wind, and by the time the weather system had blown itself out, trees had been left sheeted in ice and the streets had turned to rinks. When it started to snow again, it had actually been a relief. At least with a layer of snow cushioning the ice, walking and driving weren’t quite as hazardous.

  Today offered the first sign of improvement. Shortly after noon the sun had finally come out again, and while temperatures still hovered around the freezing mark, the threat of additional snow or freezing rain seemed to have passed.

  “Hasn’t it been nuts?” Marissa yelled. “I was getting pretty squirrelly myself by the time things finally settled down. I was too chicken to drive down the bluff roads, but I’m telling you, I was just about ready to brave it, ice or no ice. Dessa hasn’t given me a moment’s peace since it started snowing Monday night, worrying that tonight’s sleepover at the VFW hall would be canceled.”

  Veronica nodded. “I know what you mean. Lizzy was anxious, too, and it didn’t help to tell her that tonight’s shindig was sure to be rescheduled if the weather caused it to be canceled. It’s a good thing it cleared up when it did or we’d have some unhappy kids on our hands.” She smacked the tabletop with the flat of her hand. “Hey! That reminds me: How did the Winter Festival meeting go?”

  Marissa’s smile was dazzling. “Oh, Ronnie, it was great! They thought I was a genius! And my absolute favorite part was watching Tyler-Jones and Wentworth struggle to say something gracious, when they were clearly prepared to patronize the poor, clueless upstart.”

  Veronica laughed. “Chalk one up for the girls from the flats.”

  “Exactly. It was so sweet.”

  A man two tables over signaled impatiently and Veronica straightened. “The natives are getting restless—I’d better get back to work. What can I get you two?”

  For the next hour and a half she was run ragged trying to keep up with all her orders, and the grabby birthday boy didn’t help. She used an old trick and started taking his order from the far side of the table.

  Around eleven-thirty, things finally began to settle down as the crowd thinned out, and Veronica’s ringing ears were grateful when the decibel level dropped to normal.

  Being able to communicate without shouting didn’t do much to address her aching feet, however, and, ignoring a gesture from the birthday boy that may or may not have been a summons for another drink, she took advantage of the momentary lull to join Marissa and Kody at their table.

  She collapsed onto a chair and toed off her shoes. Resting her left ankle on her right knee, she rubbed her foot and groaned. “Oh, that feels good. Thank God someone finally responded to our ad, because I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.”

  Marissa studied her with interest. “You’ve hired someone, then?”

  “Not yet, but a woman’s coming in for an interview tomorrow, and unless she’s a serial killer, she’s got herself a job as far as I’m concerned.” She smiled wryly. “Maybe even then. I’m feeling that desperate.”

  Involuntarily, she found herself searching for Coop. The moment she spotted him, though, she knew she was courting trouble. For even knowing full well she should look away, she ate up the sight of him. It wasn’t until he suddenly glanced up from the drink he was mixing and looked straight at her that she wrenched her attention back to Marissa and Kody.

  Desperate was the word, and it wasn’t simply because she didn’t like working at the Tonk or because she needed to start paying attention to her own business if she wanted a business to return to once she’d settled her family affairs. It wasn’t even because she was burning her candle at both ends and sooner or later something had to give. The real problem was the attraction between her and Cooper. It just kept growing stronger and stronger, while her will to fight it grew weaker and weaker. She had to put some distance between them.

  Before she ended up doing something downright foolish.

  “Um, about the job candidate,” she said, sternly focusing her attention back on her self-derailed conversation. “Would you pick Lizzy up from the VFW hall tomorrow when you collect Riley and Dess, and keep her for me until I finish interviewing the woman?”

  “Sure,” Marissa said. “Maybe, if the roads aren’t too big a mess, I’ll take the kids down to King’s Theater to see the new Disney.” She turned to Kody, stroking a proprietary hand down his arm. “You up for a cartoon with three kids? Only two of them are hyper.” She smiled crookedly. “Of course, those would be mine.”

  For just a second Veronica thought she glimpsed discomfort in Kody’s expression, but then he grinned.

  “Appealing as an invitation to sit in a theater full of screaming kids sounds,” he said easily, “I told my dad I’d come over and give him a hand shoring up the basement stairs.”

  “Well, okay,” Marissa said. “But I’m telling you, you don’t know what you’re missing.”

  Their gazes met then and held, and Veronica could practically see the electricity that sizzled between them. She would’ve fanned herself if both her hands weren’t already occupied massaging her aching feet, and she tried not to be jealous when they abruptly pushed back from the table and rose to their feet.

  Marissa’s voice was throatier than usual when she looked down and said, “Um, Ronnie, we’ve gotta—”

  “Say goodnight,” Kody finished for her when her sentence trailed into a vague little hum. He grabbed her hand and gave Veronica a sheepish smile. “So, uh, goodnight, then.” He hustled Marissa out the door.

  “Hey, don’t mind me,” Veronica murmured. She dropped her foot to the floor and felt around for her shoe. “I’ve got to get back to work, anyway.”

  She made a quick detour to the ladies’ room to wash her hands and apply a dash of lipstick, then headed b
ack to the floor. A woman was just taking a seat in Sandy’s section and Veronica promptly changed directions to give her a wide berth. The last person she wanted to hook up with tonight was Darlene Starkey.

  Darlene was an average-looking woman of around fifty, with the lean musculature and worn hands of a farmworker, and the immaculate beige pageboy of a society doyenne. She lived halfway up the Bluff, which was considered a part of the pricey neighborhood but not of its upper echelon. Though she was originally from somewhere other than Fossil, it was popularly believed that she’d grown up in an area like their own flats and had married up when she’d hooked up with David Starkey. Nobody knew for sure, though, because Darlene wasn’t talking.

  Which was pretty ironic when you stopped to think about it, considering she was the biggest gossip in Fossil. Darlene was well-known for her unapologetic nosiness and acerbic tongue, and Ronnie thanked heaven for small favors that the woman was in Sandy’s section tonight rather than her own. Things were hectic enough around here already without having to deal with carrion wanting to pick over her sister’s bones.

  Perhaps because her attention was divided, Veronica failed to maintain the guard she’d kept up most of the evening around the birthday boy. As she bent to clear a table, she entirely forgot that he was at the table behind her—until a hand reached between her legs and grabbed her where no man had the right to get grabby without her express invitation.

  Veronica yelped in shock and straightened. She saw Coop drop the glass he’d been building a drink in and vault the bar, sending two patrons scrambling to get out of his way. His expression said someone was going to bleed, and like a paused film suddenly set back in motion, she jerked out of her paralysis. Without conscious thought, she swung the empty beer mug that she’d been clearing behind her, chopping it sideways as hard as she could. A yip of pain ripped the air and the hand cupping her crotch dropped away.

  She whipped around, but before she could go for the birthday boy’s throat, a man in a beautifully cut suit who’d been seated two tables over stepped between them. He leaned down in the young man’s face. “Do you have any idea what kind of legal trouble you’ve just bought yourself, junior?”

  The drunken celebrant hugged his arm to his chest. “I think she broke my elbow,” he moaned.

  Coop skidded to a halt next to Veronica. His dark brows were gathered ominously, but the murder in his eyes gentled as he grasped her by the shoulders and peered down into her face. “Are you okay?”

  No. Did you see where he touched me? God, I feel so dirty. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Good.” He set her aside. “Because I’m going to kill him.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” She stepped into his path, her breasts flattening against his diaphragm when he didn’t stop fast enough to avoid her block. “That privilege is mine.”

  Coop had to smile at that, albeit a bit grimly. Veronica Davis was nobody’s victim. But something shadowy and violated lurked beneath the fury in her eyes, and the urge to shelter her was a living thing in his chest. Instead of wrapping her up in his arms as he was tempted to do, however, he followed her lead and turned his attention to the birthday boy.

  The depth of his rage unnerved him. He’d learned years ago that powerful feelings tended to get in the way, and he’d taught himself to relegate negative ones to a locked-down area of his mind until he could safely deal with them. At the moment, however, he’d gladly tear the little deviant apart limb by limb—starting with the hand that had dared touch her that way.

  Luckily, Eddie’s lawyer stood squarely between him and the impulse. Wrestling his temper into submission, Coop heard Neil Peavy say pleasantly, “I hope you got a lot of enjoyment out of turning twenty-one tonight, son, because this might be the last party you attend for quite some time.”

  “Wha’chu babblin’ about?” Even looking as if he realized he’d gone too far, the kid apparently felt the need to posture for his friends.

  “I’m babbling,” the lawyer said in an avuncular tone, “about your eligibility to be tried as an adult for sexual assault.”

  The young man quit fussing with his elbow and sat up straight. “Hey, man, I was just having a little fun!”

  “Is that a fact?” Neil turned to Veronica. “Did you have fun as well, Ms. Davis?”

  “No,” Veronica replied in no uncertain terms. “It was bad enough when he grabbed my rear a couple of times earlier. But for him to touch me…where he did…as if he had any right—” A shudder wracked her frame.

  Neil turned back to the young man, who didn’t look nearly as cocky as he had a moment ago. “You hear that, boy? She didn’t have fun.” He shook his head. “That’s not good for you. Because the legal system has no sense of humor, and if a woman isn’t laughing, then they aren’t likely to, either. There’s a whole raft of charges that can be brought against a guy who touches a woman without her consent. A couple of those charges could get you a good, long term in Monroe penitentiary, should you be found guilty. And trust me, junior, given the public nature of your display and your lack of contrition, you’ve just seen to it that you’ll be found guilty as hell if Ms. Davis here decides to press charges.”

  Coop had a feeling Peavy might be exaggerating the consequences a bit, but it worked like a charm. The birthday boy suddenly seemed cold-stone sober. Face bleached of color, he turned to Ronnie and said, “Ah, jeez, lady, please. I shouldn’t have touched you like that, and if you’ll just not press charges I will never do anything like it again.” He scrubbed a trembling hand over his mouth. “Honest. I am sorry.”

  Veronica gave him a long, slow perusal. Then she turned to Neil. “If I don’t press charges and it turns out he’s a big liar—”

  “No, ma’am, I ain’t! I’ll never touch another woman without her permission as long as I live!”

  “If he turns out to be a big, fat liar,” she reiterated, giving the young man a hard look, “and he does something like this to another woman…”

  “Then you can still press charges. Or if the statute of limitations has expired, you can come forward as a witness for his next victim.”

  “There ain’t gonna be a next victim,” the young man said earnestly, and swiped a film of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m not even the kinda guy who has victims. Swear to God.”

  Veronica turned to him. “Excuse me,” she said coldly. “But you sure as hell were that kind of guy two minutes ago.”

  “I was a full-of-myself fool two minutes ago!”

  “That’s a given,” she agreed. “But why should I believe you’ve suddenly turned over a new leaf? What are you now that’s so all-fired different?”

  “Scared shitless.”

  “Good,” she snapped. “You should be scared.”

  “And sorry. Real, real sorry.”

  “Yeah? For how long? How do I know you won’t revert to a grabby little pervert a week or two down the road, when your fear isn’t quite so immediate?”

  “Because,” said the young man, and he met her gaze with sober intensity, “if I’m ever tempted to do anything like this again, I’ll just think about an inmate named Bubba ordering me to pick up his dropped soap in the group shower. And I swear on my mother’s soul I’ll remember how you shuddered when you talked about how I touched you.”

  Veronica studied him a moment. “Let me see your driver’s license.” When he complied, she copied its information onto her order pad, tossed the license back to him, then jerked her head toward the door. “Go on, then. Get out of here.”

  Chairs scraped as the birthday boy and his subdued group of buddies scrambled to get away before she could change her mind. Barely pausing long enough to toss a pile of bills on the table, they raced for the door.

  Ignoring the money, Veronica turned to Peavy. “Thank you, Mr…. I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.”

  “This is Neil Peavy, Ronnie.” Coop reached past her to offer Peavy his hand. “That was well done. You threw the fear of God into him wit
hout bloodshed.” He smiled wryly. “I’d love to say I could’ve done the same, but the truth is I don’t think I could.”

  “I agree, Mr. Peavy,” Veronica said. “As confrontational as I felt, I would’ve only made him defensive. Your way was much more effective. Thank you again.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Peavy said pleasantly. “I’m pretty sure it was your own reaction that had the most impact, but I’m glad to have been of help.” He gave her a concerned look. “That must have been a nasty shock. Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I believe I am.” But she suddenly realized Shania Twain, singing from the jukebox, was the only voice she heard, and she glanced around to see she’d attracted the attention of the entire bar. Cheeks flaming, she tipped her chin in the air.

  “What?” Coop demanded, then he, too, looked around. He’d been so tuned in on Veronica he hadn’t noticed everyone watching the contretemps as though it were a nighttime soap.

  “Show’s over, folks.” He reached over to give the nape of Veronica’s neck a gentle squeeze, then headed back to the bar. Locating Sandy on the way, he called, “Let’s get those orders up.”

  Veronica visited with Neil Peavy a few moments longer, then cleared the birthday boy’s table and collected more orders. When she’d worked her way back to the bar and noticed the man sitting there, she stopped short, blowing out a disgusted breath. “Oh, perfect. This is just what I need to top off my night.”

  Troy Jacobson flashed her a brilliant white smile, and his expensively barbered hair gleamed with the patina of antique gold beneath the dim lighting as he leaned forward on his stool. “Is that any way to greet an old school chum?”

  “High school jocks who had sex with my sister while going steady with the head cheerleader didn’t make my chum list,” she said brusquely. She knew her antagonism was all out of proportion, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. It was turning out to be that kind of night. And didn’t it just figure the man would be even better-looking than he’d been back when? If there were any justice in the world, he would’ve lost his hair or had a potbelly under that navy blue sweater with its discreet designer logo. She looked around pointedly. “Where is Miss Perky Pom-Poms, anyway? I heard you two got married.”