by Grace, Carol
She shrugged. “You look...worried.”
“Well I’m not.” He didn’t exactly snap at her, but he came as close as he ever had, and she shut her mouth and went back to work.
They avoided all physical contact like the plague. When she had to give him something she left it on his desk. On the corner of his desk. Ditto for him. Sometimes they even communicated via e-mail even though they were only steps away from each other. It was more impersonal that way. That way she didn’t have to look into his eyes and try to imagine what he was thinking.
During normal times his normal life was made up of meetings and investigations for missing cattle and for recreation—poker games. But during the last weeks of his campaign, he was forced to play a role of genial, extroverted campaigner. Which he did remarkably well. Suzy felt compelled to tell him so after the barn dance at the Gentrys’.
“You talked, you joked, you laughed, you told stories and you charmed everyone,” she said the next morning, standing in the open doorway between their offices. “You did everything but dance.”
He looked up from his desk, his dark eyes narrowed, his mouth turned up at one corner. “You sound surprised.”
“Not at all,” she said, proud of her calm demeanor. Proud of the way her voice sounded. How steady her hands were. “You like to pretend you’re just a simple country boy, but underneath that rough exterior is a skilled politician.”
“I don’t want to be a politician. I want to be the sheriff. I’ll be damned glad when this is over. But there’s a lot at stake. My future here in this town. I’ll play any part I need to keep my job.” She watched him pick up a pencil and write something on a pad of paper. After a long pause he dropped his pencil and spoke. “You had a good time,” he said reaching for one of the leftover cigars from the party. “At least you looked like you did. Dancing with every man in the place.”
“Line dancing,” she reminded him. “It’s not like it was the tango or anything. Anyway, we collected enough to pay off all your debts with a little left over. What do you think you should spend it on? Radio spots, billboard, what? Informal polls say you’re ahead by twenty percent.”
“Then let’s save it for the victory party. I owe a lot of people. People like your friends the Gentrys and all the volunteers who’ve been out ringing doorbells. Should I have it at my house?”
“Sure. It’s big enough and a perfect place for a party.” Suzy had only been to his house once, to deliver some papers he needed. He’d done a wonderful job of restoring the barn, but at that time hadn’t yet furnished it.
“Big enough and not cluttered with furniture,” he observed.
“No furniture?”
“Not yet.”
“But you’ve lived there for two years.”
“I know. I like it the way it is. I don’t spend that much time there, anyway.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t you ever get tired of asking questions?” he asked, stubbing out his cigar.
“Sorry.”
Brady was sorry, too. Sorry for snapping at her.
“I don’t spend much time at my house because I’m busy. I have work to do. It’s a full-time job being sheriff, a twenty-four-hour-a-day job. I don’t have to tell you that. If Darryl Staples had known that, he never would have run against me.”
Brady didn’t like the skeptical look in Suzy’s eyes. A look that said she didn’t believe him. “I suppose you have your own theory. I suppose you think I don’t go home because there’s nobody there waiting for me. Because I’m not married. Is that it?”
“I never said that,” she said, but he saw her bite her lip as if she was suppressing a knowing smile.
“But you thought it. You’re so obsessed with getting married you think everyone else is too.”
“Let’s drop the subject,” she said coolly. “Let’s talk about my replacement instead.”
“Your what?”
“The person you’re going to hire to take my place. I thought we should put an ad in the paper. Then I could train her or him next week.”
“You’re not serious about leaving,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
“You know I am.”
“Do you mean that on the morning after the election you’ll be wearing a white apron, a pencil behind your ear and waiting on randy yokels at the diner?” He knew the answer, he just couldn’t believe she’d really go through with it.
Her eyes narrowed, but she took a deep breath and deliberately ignored the part about the randy yokels. “Not the morning after. I’m starting on Monday.” She leaned against the woodwork and studied the tips of her shoes.
“What about Travis?”
“Mother’s put off leaving for a few more weeks.”
“Doesn’t that put a lot of pressure on you to find Daddy Right by then?”
“Not necessarily. If I haven’t found anyone by then I’ll leave Travis with a baby-sitter. I’ll do whatever it takes,” she said with that stubborn look in her eyes he knew so well.
“I’m sure you will,” he said, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice. “I’m sure you can hardly wait to get away from here. So go ahead, put the ad in the paper.” He turned back to the work on his desk, but not before he saw Suzy open her mouth to make some sharp retort, close it, then stomp back to her office. He’d never admit it, but he hated the thought of Suzy leaving. He didn’t want to hire anyone else. He didn’t want someone else sitting in that office.
On the other hand he didn’t want her sitting in that office either because she was driving him crazy. She was close enough so he could hear her voice through the wall, smell her perfume when the door was open, catch a glimpse of her crossed legs when she was on the phone, or watch her run her hand through her hair when she was solving a problem.
Yet she was far enough that he couldn’t see the green flecks in her hazel eyes, couldn’t see if there were worry lines in her forehead or if her coffee cup was smudged with her lipstick. Thank God, because he didn’t want to see these things. He didn’t want to think about her. Worry about her. Talk about her.
“How ya gonna get along without Suzy?” Hal had asked him last week at poker.
“I’ll manage,” he’d said grimly, throwing his cards on the table. He could manage the office. He’d done it before she came. But how was he going to manage his life?
Election day dawned clear and cool. Brady had his picture taken putting his ballot in the box for the Harmony Times. By seven that night it was clear it was a landslide. He called Suzy at home. She congratulated him. He thanked her. He hung up, feeling hollow and angry with himself for not feeling more excited. After all, he’d just won the election that would allow him to continue living the life he so enjoyed for the next four years. Why did that life seem pale and uninteresting?
The victory party was the next night. It was going to be a huge success. As her last job before she left, Suzy organized the bash. She’d spent the afternoon hanging Japanese lanterns in the birch trees lining his driveway. She’d commandeered the deputies who inflated helium balloons and tied them in bunches all over the house. She enlisted Tally and Bridget’s help with the refreshments, and the owner of the saloon kicked in a few dozen bottles of champagne, which were destined for Brady’s big bathtub.
As Suzy unpacked the bottles in the master bathroom on the second floor and filled the tub with crushed ice, she couldn’t help picturing Brady stretched out in that extralong tub. He’d be smoking one of his victory cigars, his head against the porcelain rim, his eyes half-closed. The water would slosh over his shoulders, lap at his narrow hips, and then...and then... Oh, Lord, her imagination was running away with her. Her head was so light it had detached itself from her body and was floating somewhere overhead. Everything around her went black. She sank to her knees and buried her head in her hands.
That’s where Brady found her a few minutes later.
“What is it, what’s wrong?” he said, pulling her up by the shoulders and turning her t
o face him.
“Don’t know,” she said leaning against his chest and inhaling the smell of leather and laundry soap and the fresh cool scent of the outdoors.
His arms tightened around her. And her knees gave way. If he hadn’t been holding her she would be back on the floor in a crumpled heap. She wanted to stay there forever, locked in his arms. Feeling the hard planes of his body, drawing on his strength. She’d never felt so safe, so secure, so protected. She told herself she felt that way because he was the sheriff. It was his job to be strong and to protect her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as if she’d never let go.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. “You’re fine. I’ve got you. You passed out because you’ve just been working too hard. That’s it, isn’t it?”
That wasn’t it, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. She wasn’t going to tell him anything because she couldn’t speak. Her throat was clogged with emotions too strong to sort out. Sorrow at leaving him. At starting over. Worry at finding someone to love when there might not be anybody out there for her. Anxiety about Brady being on his own. Because everybody who’d answered the want ad had been nixed by Brady. They couldn’t type fast enough, or they were too young or too old. So, starting Monday, he had nobody. And neither did she.
She couldn’t help it, she started to cry. While Brady held her, great gulping sobs racked her body.
“Suzy,” he said, “tell me what’s wrong. I’ll make it right, whatever it is. But don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
She tried to stop, she really did, but she couldn’t. Not even when he kissed the tears off her cheeks as fast as they rolled down her face. It was only when his lips met hers in a fierce, demanding kiss that she stopped. His mouth at first so hard, so demanding, softened, and his kisses were so tender, so seductive that she never wanted them to end. He kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the sensitive skin behind her ears and then her mouth. She ran her tongue lightly along his lips, tasted him and met his tongue in a deep-throated duel that no one could win.
“Suzy,” he said when they came up for air. “Oh Suzy...”
The sound of his voice, the way he said her name made her feel like she was melting inside, deep down in the core of her body.
And the party hadn’t even started yet.
She’d forgotten all about the party until she was dimly aware of a burly figure in the bathroom doorway.
“Say, Suzy,” his deputy said. “Got any more masking tape for the—Oh, sorry.” Hal guffawed loudly.
Suzy backed into the commode. Brady looked like he might want to kill Hal. Suzy wrinkled her nose as if she was wondering where she’d left the masking tape. But she wasn’t. She was wondering where she’d left her self-control. Hal must be shocked to see what they were doing. So was she. She was shocked into awareness. Shocked into realizing that she was madly, passionately in love with her boss. Her former boss. And that while it made absolutely no difference in her search for a daddy for Travis, it might possibly complicate her life. If she let it. Which she wouldn’t.
“This way,” she said, carefully edging around Brady and avoiding his gaze. “I think I know where I left it.”
She felt Brady’s eyes boring holes in her back as she trooped down the hall. She figured once the party started she’d be safe. Safe from the temptation to throw herself back into his arms. To tell him she’d fallen in love with him and scare him out of his mind. Thankfully there would be at least one hundred people there, all of whom would want to congratulate him, toast his victory, and make plans for the next four years.
Later after slipping into a dark green wool dress, she headed downstairs to play hostess to the guests who had already begun filing in. She was grateful she had work to do. Wrap little water chestnuts in bacon to heat and serve. Slice French bread and open jars of little gherkins to accompany the pâté she’d made. Bridget and Tally came into the kitchen to help her.
“Wow, what a party,” Bridget exclaimed.
“What a house,” Tally added, running her fingers over the marble countertops. “It’s gorgeous. All it needs is a few pictures on the wall, magnets on the refrigerator, plants in the window. You know, a woman’s touch.”
“Don’t let Brady hear you say that,” Suzy said, arranging a bunch of grapes next to a wedge of goat cheese she’d picked up from the farmer’s market. “He likes it the way it is. I don’t think he’s ever cooked anything here. Not even opened a can of soup. Have you seen the inside of the refrigerator? There’s nothing there but a six-pack of beer and a chunk of cheddar cheese. He says he’s never here.”
Bridget shook her head in amazement. “Too busy being sheriff, right? What’s he going to do without you, anyway? He’ll miss you.”
Suzy shook her head. “No, he won’t. He’ll do just fine,” she said firmly, ignoring the knowing looks that passed between her friends. “Now that the campaign is over, he doesn’t need me anymore.”
“What about you?” Tally asked. “Won’t you miss him just a little bit?”
“Of course. After all, we’ve been together over a year, I mean, I’ve worked for him over a year.”
“What I don’t understand is, for a man who’s just won a landslide election, he doesn’t look all that happy,” Tally said.
“It’s the letdown. After winning so big,” Suzy explained. “I feel it, too. We’ve both worked hard and now it’s over. If Brady’s not happy, it’s not because I’m leaving. I mean it’s not my fault. I gave him plenty of notice. And I agreed to stay through the election. Then I tried to hire someone to take my place, but he wouldn’t do it.” She didn’t know why she felt so defensive. Why she had to explain the same thing over and over.
“Uh-huh,” Tally said knowingly.
“I think he’s just realizing that all the excitement is over. It’s back to arresting cattle rustlers and breaking up fights in the saloon,” Suzy said.
“Maybe,” Tally said dubiously.
“Give him a week,” Bridget said, taking a pineapple-glazed ham out of the oven. “His desk will be a mess. He’ll be begging you to come back.”
“That’ll be the day,” Suzy said, forcing a smile. “And even if he did, I wouldn’t do it. You all know what I want.”
“But do you know what you want?” Tally asked, putting a hand on Suzy’s arm.
“Of course I do. And so do you. Remember that night after the prom our senior year in high school? We each made a wish. Everybody got their wish but me. Now it’s my turn. I wished for a husband and a baby. I got the baby first, now I’m going to get the husband. And nobody’s going to stand in my way,” she said so vehemently her friends turned to look at her.
“Of course they’re not,” Tally assured her. “I just don’t want you to overlook anyone, you know, someone you already know who you might not have thought of as a husband.”
“Who do you mean?” Suzy asked, with a sideways glance at her best friend.
Tally shrugged and sliced the ham into thick slices.
“She means to keep your eyes open, because you never know when or where you’ll find this husband,” Bridget said quickly, “but when you do you’ll live happily ever after, all three of you.
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Tally said, tying Suzy’s apron for her and patting her on the back.
Suzy nodded, grateful for her ever-optimistic friends. But at that moment the possibility of living happily ever after seemed remote and out of her grasp. She slid a tray of hot hors d’oeuvres out of the oven and, after hastily transferring them to a platter, rushed into the living room, tired of explaining, even to her best friends, why she was doing what she was doing.
Chapter Six
As she walked through the crowd, handing out stuffed mushrooms to the well-wishers, she heard snippets of conversation.
“Knew he’d win.”
“Hear Suzy’s quitting. Leaving Brady in the lurch.”
“How come?”
“I dunno.”
>
“That why he looks like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like he lost the election instead of won.”
“Where’s she going? What’s she gonna do?”
“I dunno.”
She wanted to say she was not leaving Brady in the lurch. That if he was in a lurch, it was his own choice. She hadn’t told anyone except Brady and her best friends where she was going or why. They’d find out soon enough that she was working at the diner. But nobody else would know she was there to find a husband.
Suzy was grateful to have so much to do, serving food and pouring champagne. Talking with friends, toasting the victory, thanking the volunteers and forcing herself to keep a smile on her face. But her most difficult job was ignoring Brady. She didn’t want to think about that episode in the bathroom. She didn’t want to remember how it felt to be kissed so passionately.
She didn’t want to want more. But she did want more. She wanted to feel his body tightly pressed against hers. She wanted to run her hands through his hair, feel his heart thud against hers. Feel the heat from his body course through hers. Most of all, she wanted to know how he really felt about her.
She did not want to know if he really looked like he’d lost the election. If he looked sad, it was a natural postelection reaction. And it wasn’t her fault He was just sorry the excitement was over. So was she. That was normal. And she’d tell him so. But she wouldn’t feel guilty about quitting her job. She’d warned him. He could have hired someone else by now.
She just wanted to get through the evening. She thought about leaving early, but each time she eyed the door longingly, somebody would come up to talk to her, give her another glass of champagne and tell her what a great job she’d done.
When she finally got to the kitchen to wrap up the leftovers it was midnight and the last guests were in the driveway saying good-night to Brady. If she didn’t feel responsible for cleaning up the kitchen, she would have headed for her car and sneaked away without saying goodbye to him. But she couldn’t leave his normally pristine kitchen with half a ham on the counter, a pool of melted ice cubes in the sink and a pile of paper plates spilling out of the trash can. Even though she was tired. So tired. She was clumsily tucking the last piece of foil around the ham when he came into the kitchen.
