Gray Wolf Security: Wyoming

by Glenna Sinclair

  My heart sank. I took her arms and tried to guide her to the couch, but she didn’t want to be guided. She jerked her arms, trying to free herself from my grip. I knew better than to get too close when she was like that, but I guess I was still thinking about Grainger and everything else. I stepped into her, trying to get her to go into the living room without too much fuss. She managed to break free and she hit me with a closed fist against my jaw.

  I fell back, more from shock than pain, tears clouding my vision.

  “Don’t touch me!” she screamed. “I don’t want to be touched! You have no right! This is my home, my motel. You can’t come in here and tell me what to do, push me around like you own the place. It’s not your home!”

  And then she started to kick.

  She didn’t often get violent, but when she did... she’d taken self-defense courses at the community center so many times when I was a kid that she could practically teach the class before the disease started to ravage her mind. She knew exactly where to lash out at me.

  “Momma, it’s me. It’s Eve,” I said wearily, aware that anything I said at this point wouldn’t get through to her. And it didn’t. All I could do was lie there and wait for her to wear herself out. And she did. She finally stepped back, breathing hard.

  “Get out,” she said in a breathless whisper before wandering off into the apartment.

  I slowly pulled myself together, climbing to my feet. My jaw ached, my side and my hips, but she was barefoot, so most of the kicks were too weak to inflict much damage. I followed her into the apartment, staying back a few feet to avoid upsetting her again. I stood in the hall and watched her crawl into bed, tugging her heavy comforter up around her head.

  She was asleep before I went in and brushed her wild, dark hair away from her face.

  “I’m sorry, Momma,” I whispered.

  I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to believe some stranger was locking her up in her own home. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to look at the people around her and not know who they are, to have some stranger insist she was her daughter. It must have been so frightening. I wished there was something I could do to make it better, something that would make this right for her. But there wasn’t anything; it was that realization that hurt the most.

  Blood dripped on the bed. I didn’t realize what it was at first. Then I touched my nose and cursed softly under my breath as my fingers came away red and sticky.

  I went to the bathroom and pressed a wet rag to my nose, taking in the red spot along my jaw that would eventually become a bruise and the marks on my arms that would bruise, too. Seeing the marks made the soreness come, the aches that made me want to crawl into my bed and feel sorry for myself. I lifted the hem of my shirt to survey the damage on my ribs when Grainger suddenly appeared in the mirror behind me.

  “What the hell?” he demanded, coming to me, his hand a little rough as he jerked my shirt up higher. His finger brushed the sensitive skin on the small of my back, apparently outlining more marks there. “What happened?”

  “She was confused.”

  He cursed softly under his breath. “You should have called me.”

  “Another person would have just aggravated her more.”

  “I don’t care. You shouldn’t just let her beat the shit out of you because you feel sorry for her.”

  “She’s my mother.”

  “Yes. And she’s sick. But that doesn’t give her the right to beat the shit out of you. And you don’t deserve to have this happen to you.”

  I pulled away from him, from his touch. “What do you know about it?”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  I pulled away from him and headed for the door, but he pulled me back, his hand firm, but gentle on my shoulder.

  “At least let me help with that.”

  He took the washrag from my hand and slid it away from my face, studying my nose closely. “Not broken,” he said, grabbing a couple of sheets of toilet paper and balling them up. He carefully placed one in each nostril, plugging them up to stop the bleeding. I couldn’t look at him while he did, couldn’t see the pity in his eyes. I didn’t want to see pity in anyone’s eyes when they looked at me. My mother taught me to be strong, to be independent. She taught me to always stand on my own two feet no matter what. This didn’t feel like that.

  “You don’t have to do it all alone.”

  “I do, actually.”

  “Why?”

  I snorted, a sound that was muffled by the tissue. “Who’s going to help me? Marko and his wife are having a baby. Angel has three kids she’s trying to raise alone. Sara is saving up to go to college. They all have their own problems.”

  “You have other friends.”

  “Friends with problems of their own. And you... you’re only here because I’m paying you to be here.”

  “But I’m here for now. Why not get your money’s worth?”

  I met his eye then and thought I saw a little amusement dancing in those dark blue depths. His thumb caressed the curve of my jaw as he continued to hold my face so that he could look at my nose. But he wasn’t looking at my nose.

  “You can be independent and still accept help once in a while.”

  “You’re going to leave, and she’s still going to be here. This is all still going to be here: my life, my disasters to deal with.”

  “True.”

  “It would be stupid to rely on you only to have you disappear.”

  He bent his head slightly. “You’re right. Does it feel good to always be right?”

  Tears filled my eyes. I pulled away from him and headed for the door.

  “Did you need something?”

  He hesitated, his eyes moving over the length of me. “Do you have plumber’s tape somewhere?”

  “In the top drawer of the tool box.”

  He bowed like a king to his queen. I wanted to smack him. Instead, I just walked away, feeling inadequate and sore and horribly disappointed for reasons I couldn’t even begin to express to myself.

  Chapter 9

  Grainger

  I stood in the doorway and watched as Eve spoke to the priest. This beautiful, tough little woman, who was pushing my set-in-concrete opinions of women. Refusing help in every shape and form at the motel, but standing there making nice with a man of God. Either she knew which asses to kiss, or she had a special pact with the man upstairs that I didn’t understand. I hadn’t been to church since I was a boy—never really believed in all this pomp and circumstance—but my parents did. I can remember years of watching my parents kiss religious butt before and after every service. A lot of good it did them, and it really didn’t do my brother any good. But, I supposed, it wasn’t supposed to work that way, was it.

  “Grainger,” Eve called, gesturing to me.

  Great. My turn to kiss a little ass.

  “Father, this is my husband. Grainger, this is Father Mike.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I said as politely as I could, holding out my hand to the man. I could feel him giving me a serious once over, a million questions unasked on the tip of his tongue. I wanted to tell him not ask, not to even think those questions, but how did you do that?

  “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, Grainger,” he said in a fatherly voice. “It’s a pleasure to finally put a face with the name.”

  I just inclined my head, not sure what response he required for that comment. The man looked me over a moment longer, then turned back to Eve.

  “I expect we’ll see you this afternoon at Sutherland’s barbeque.”

  Eve smiled softly. “I’d love to, but I have to be at the motel.”

  “Barbecue?” I asked.

  “Sutherland Knight, the owner of MidKnight Ranch, is having a barbeque at her place this afternoon. She’s invited the entire town.”

  “Very generous.”

  “She does it often,” Eve said. “It’s kind of her way of giving back to the community.”

  “And she’s
invited everyone, including you, Miss Eve. You should come.” The priest looked at me, a beseeching look as though he was hoping I could help him talk her into it. “Even our fine motel owner here deserves an occasional break.”

  “She does, actually.” I slid my hand into Eve’s, causing her to tense up a little. “You do deserve a break.”

  She shook her head, but I could see her beginning to cave.

  “We could ask Angel to watch the front desk.”

  “Angel worked five days this week already.”

  “I don’t think she’d mind another few hours.”

  The priest laid his hand on Eve’s shoulder. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

  We didn’t have to ask. Angel was already at the motel, sitting behind the front desk. She waved us away the moment we walked through the door.

  “Go change. You’ll be late.”

  “Angel—”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” she said, gesturing for Eve to stop. “Go to the party. Have a good time.”

  “What about you?”

  “Marko said he’d come in early so I can go join the festivities later. We’ve got it all figured out.”

  Eve shook her head. I couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or pleased. But then she hugged Angel and whispered thank you in her ear before going through the door to the corridor that led to the apartment.

  “I’ve got Rachel, too. Don’t let her worry about that, either.”

  “That’s very generous”

  Angel shrugged. “She’s done a lot for me and my girls. It’s the least I can do.”

  I went into the apartment and changed myself, stepping into the bathroom to wash my hands. I caught sight of Eve coming out of her bedroom, saw her tug self-consciously at the green blouse she’d put on with her jeans, a green that brought out the green in her eyes. It was cut low in the front, offering a lovely peek at her generous cleavage. She touched the skin there, pushing her breasts deeper into her bra, as if that would reduce the amount of cleavage she was showing. It didn’t. In fact, it made it even more impressive.

  I could remember watching Misty dress a few times, remembered how much I regretted the way she covered up the length of her boyish figure. I always teased her about how I enjoyed ripping her clothes off of her, exposing her narrow hips and her small breasts. But now, watching Eve continue to tug at her blouse, I realized that some women made wearing clothes so much more erotic than Misty had made nudity.

  It didn’t really make sense to me, but my erection making itself known in my jeans seemed to understand.

  I kept telling myself I wasn’t attracted to Eve. But the longer I was here--the more time I spent with her--the more my body belied my words, my head. Just looking at her now…

  “Sorry,” she said, stepping into the bathroom. “I need my lotion.”

  I stepped back and made space for her to come closer. She smiled briefly as she moved past me, digging through the drawers in the vanity. It would have been so easy to move up behind her, to run my hands along her sides, to pull her back against my chest and let her feel exactly what it was she did to me. But I didn’t. Not because this whole thing was pretend, not because I wanted to keep convincing myself I wasn’t attracted to her, but because I was afraid she wouldn’t respond in a positive way.

  I had no idea if she was attracted to me.

  That was new. I’d never had any trouble gauging a woman’s attraction toward me. In fact, most women came on to me before I could ever express interest in them. I never had to guess. But Eve had yet to give me even an inkling as to how she felt about me.

  Why did that bother me so much?

  “I’m sorry I have to drag you to this,” she said, watching me in the mirror as she rubbed sweet scented lotion into her hands. “Most of the town will be there. It’ll be a little overwhelming.”

  “I think I can handle it.”

  She smiled. “We’ll see. The people in town... they’re good people, but they can be... well, sort of pushy.”

  “You forget. I grew up in a small town.”

  “Okay.” She dropped the lotion back into the drawer and turned to me. “We should probably go then.”

  She hummed under her breath as we pulled out of the parking lot. I’d never seen her do that before, never seen her quite this relaxed. She turned on the radio and sighed as a popular song filled the Bronco. I glanced at her as she began to sing so quietly I could only just barely hear her. But as we drove along, as she grew a little more comfortable, she began to sing louder. And she had the sweetest voice I’d ever heard.

  For a second, I found myself imagining what it would be like to go on a long road trip with her, to listen to her sing like that over hundreds of miles. It was a pleasant thought, that. And then I imagined what it would be like to drive through the corn fields of home, of listening to her sing like that as we drove toward the house where I grew up.

  I’d never imagined taking a woman home to meet my parents. Not even Misty.

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  We arrived at MidKnight Ranch. There were cars everywhere along the front fence, the wide expanse of dirt along either side of the lane. I pulled off behind a massive pickup truck, throwing the Bronco into park as its old frame shuddered from the sudden lack of forward motion. Eve sat up, rubbing her cheeks with her hands for a second.

  “They’re all going to know we’re supposed to be married. They’re all going to want to know how we met.”

  “Then we tell them.”

  “Tell them what? That I hired you through Sutherland?” She glanced at me, her eyes wide with something like panic. “We’ll be a laughing stock!”

  “No, we tell them we met on Tinder.” I reached over and took her hand, holding it between both of mine. “We met on Tinder while I was still overseas. We talked for months, Skyping multiple times. I got out of the Navy and had to stay in Santa Monica for a while to fulfill an obligation to a friend, and then I came up here and we married right away in Casper.”

  “Do you think they’ll believe that?”

  “It seems believable to me.”

  She studied my face for a second, then shook her head, tears filling her eyes briefly as she focused on the windshield. She brushed the tears away with the back of her other hand, sniffing softly.

  “I don’t believe it. How will they?”

  “Why don’t you believe it?”

  “Look at you,” she said softly. “Then look at me.”

  She was saying aloud exactly what I’d thought the moment I walked into that hotel office and spotted her. I thought... if that’s the one, there’s no way anyone will ever believe this. Yet, hearing her say it made this pressure build in my chest, this outrage fill my head.

  I reached for her jaw, drew her face toward me.

  “You’re beautiful, Eve.”

  She pulled free of my touch. “I appreciate you saying that, but we both know that you’re a ten and I’m more like a three and a half.”

  “Bullshit!” I touched her face again and made her focus on me. “Besides, who cares? Does it really matter what people think about us? We’re together, we’re wearing matching wedding rings. That’s all that matters.”

  “You don’t know how these people talk. I can almost hear it now. All they’ll be saying that you’re just after my business, my money—that I don’t have, by the way. They’ll be saying that you’ll be out of here the moment you get what you want.”

  “Are you worried about what happens when this case is over?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “I’ll make sure everyone knows the truth when that happens. Until then, I’m your husband and everyone is going to know that. Okay?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly, pulling away from me again. “This is a hell of a way to become a part of a community.”

  She climbed out of the Bronco before I could say anything else. I hated that she felt that way about this whole thing, but I was determined to put on
a good show for her anyway. I caught up to her and slid my hand into hers before she could get away.

  We walked toward the back of the main house where the party was in full swing. It was chilly, being late October, so they’d set up a canvas shelter and a bunch of outdoor heaters as well as a fire pit that burned in the center of the shelter. There were long tables set out along one side of the shelter that were covered with food and drinks, and there was a large wooden platform set up in front of the small stage that provided a space for dancing. People were milling around, talking, and laughing, until they saw us coming. It was like a signal went up. The crowd parted, making room for us to walk into the shelter. And Sutherland herself climbed up onto the stage, silencing the four-piece bluegrass band that had been playing.

  “Our guests of honor have finally arrived!” Sutherland announce with a little amusement to her voice. “Friends, family! Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Grainger North!”

  This I hadn’t been expecting. Sutherland, of all people... but it made sense. If this was something she would normally do... yet, it complicated things.

  I stepped back and pushed Eve forward, allowed her a moment in the spotlight. She looked back at me, the tears she’d been shedding earlier back in her eyes. She held out her hand to me and I took it, drawing her against my chest in a spontaneous show of affection. I caught her arm behind her back and brushed my hand over the side of her face, burying my fingers in the short strands of hair that barely brushed the back of her neck.

  “Grainger,” she said softly, a sound that was as much a plea as it was a moan.

  Our lips brushed almost imperceptibly at first, but I came in for a second attempt immediately. Her lips were trembling, but they parted slightly the moment I put just the slightest amount of pressure on them. It was one of the sweetest kisses I’d ever experienced, a chaste kiss that didn’t feel quite enough for the situation. So, I went in for a third attempt, teasing her bottom lip with the tip of my tongue before I stole more than she was likely prepared to share.

  Eve sighed against my lips, moving closer to me, her fingers wrapping themselves in the front of my shirt. I was vaguely aware of applause rising around us, a few catcalls mixed in with the deep whistle of a cowboy who knew authenticity when he saw it. But none of that really made an impression on me. All I cared about in that instant was the taste of her lovely mouth, the feel of her soft lips against mine, the feel of her delicate hands against my chest.