“Of course I can. I know what happened. I was there, remember? In fact, it’ll be a really good story. I should get a job out of it. Maybe not a terrific reporting job right off, but the story will get me some kind of job.”
“No newspaper will pick it up, Dixie. The FBI will deny the whole thing ever happened. We’re trying to get to the source of this smuggling, and if we tip the smugglers off, that we’re getting close, they’ll shut down, move operations somewhere else, and all this is for nothing.” He looked her in the eyes. “No one’s going to touch your story.”
She flattened her palm to her forehead, feeling totally numb. “I should have listened to my mother.”
“Never trust a man?”
“Never fall in love. It’ll break your heart every time.” She turned and left the kitchen. What in the world had she ever done to deserve Nick Romero—or whatever his name really was—in her life? And why in the world did she just tell him she’d fallen in love with him? Stress!
“Wait,” Nick said as he caught up with her in the hallway. He stood in front of her so she couldn’t leave. “You…you fell in love with me?”
“I was afraid you’d catch that.”
“You really thought I wouldn’t?”
“I didn’t sleep with you on a whim, Nick. I might break in to your house, or go through your things, or have dinner with you on a whim, but not make love to you that way. I fell in love. I’ll fall out of it. Forty-year-old women are resilient as hell. Bouncing back is what we do best. I got over Danny. I’ll get over you.”
“I’m headed for Billings to finish up this case. I’ll be back in time for the 5-K run. I said I’d furnish the food and I will. We need to talk. Promise me we’ll talk.”
“We’re talking now. It’s not doing either of us one bit of good.” She stepped around him, left and got into her car. Wes might be at Gracie’s, and Dixie did not want to rehash the “I’m an FBI agent” scenario again. She headed for the Sage. The late-night crowd would be there now; things would be calm, since the smuggling operation would be kept pretty much a secret. A cup of tea would be good.
She parked in front of the diner, went inside and aimed for the usual table, the old usual table. She gazed across the diner to the new table.
Nothing ever stayed the same. BJ had Flynn, Maggie had Jack, and after the 5-K walk/run next week, Dixie had to move on, too.
Chapter Twelve
Dew still clung to the grass as Maggie helped Dixie move the last of the barricades into place. Today Whistlers Bend was a no-vehicle town. Walkers and runners only. For the past three days she and Nick, BJ and Flynn, Maggie and Jack, and Gracie and Wes had worked like mad to take registrations and donations and get volunteers to hand out water and juice at checkpoint.
“Does Nick need help setting up tables for his great pizza bash after the event?” Maggie asked.
“Wes and Gracie are helping him with that.”
Maggie stuffed her hands in her jean pockets. “How long do you think you can avoid him, Dixie?”
“I hear Andy’s back, horny little devil that he is.”
“Forget Andy. We’re talking about Nick. He’s crazy about you. Everyone in town appreciates that. They’ve forgiven him for the lies. Heck, he’s a town hero. Wes and Gracie are more serious than ever.”
“And I’m glad about all that, I really am. BJ will remember to have the runners assemble ahead of the walkers, then participants with strollers and or those pulling their kids in wagons, right?”
Maggie let out a long sign. “You’re impossible. You told BJ three times. She went to medical school. She can handle it. Don’t worry. Whistle For The Cure will be a big success, not only financially but by making everyone aware. Every woman will get a card explaining self-breast examinations and the importance of mammograms.”
“Do we have enough whistles for everyone?”
“The whistles Nick donated, along with the T-shirts and all the food that he spent the past three days cooking. I tell you the aroma coming from Nick’s Place has the whole town drooling. You need to understand him, Dixie. The lying was part of the job, not the man.”
“Seems to me they’re one in the same. How can I separate them?”
“He caught the bad guys, Dix. BJ has her family home with her and Flynn. The FBI is one step nearer to closing down sweatshops that exploit children and use profits for terrorism, prostitution and a lot of other unsavory things.”
“He could have told me, Maggie. I’m supposed to trust him when he couldn’t trust me?”
“Just forgive him. I’ve forgiven Jack and BJ’s forgiven Flynn. They did what they thought was best to protect us.”
“Nick called the shots on this. He could have included me in the loop. I was in on this from the beginning. I found clues, helped him with the whole operation. He told me nothing.”
“He had his reasons.”
“And I have mine. Lies don’t work for me.” Dixie checked her watch. “I have to go. It’s almost starting time.” She smiled. “Let’s enjoy the day.”
She headed for the Sage and the crowd gathering there. The run’s course went from the Purple Sage, around the footpath at the lake, past the docks and old boat rental to the other end of town, then back to the town square. Twice around equaled five miles exactly. Runners would stick to the left, walkers to the right. At noon, Nick would serve pizza and iced tea and lemonade; in the afternoon, there would be homemade ice cream along with the fiddlers from the Cut Loose so everyone could dance.
She remembered dancing with Nick, and the fun they’d had and how they’d made love in the boat rental. She had to get out of Whistlers Bend. Every place she looked she thought of Nick and their time together.
She walked to the front of the crowd and said through the bullhorn, “Welcome, everyone, to the first annual Whistle For The Cure 5-K Run.”
The crowd cheered, then started to run or walk. Dixie managed to avoid Nick, even passed on his incredible pizza, which everyone raved about. She ate an apple while getting the trophies ready for presenting. An apple was a pitiful substitute for mushroom pizza. Maybe this was a sign she should start on that diet. Nah, way too extreme.
She had BJ present the trophies to the runners and walkers. Then she introduced three survivors of breast cancer from the Bend, who got the biggest applause of all for winning the biggest battle of all. They’d gotten another chance at life and she had, too; she had to remember that. Dreams were meant to be followed.
Night fell and the town emptied, returning to normal. It took three hours to pick up litter and take down barricades, then Dixie headed to the Whistle Stop to write an article about the event. Even old Eversole couldn’t give her grief on putting this news on the front page, complete with the pictures Wes took. Whistle For The Cure was simply too big a success.
Everyone was happy, except for her. She wanted Nick. As much as she tried to force him out of her thoughts and throw herself into the day’s activities, he had been there, running around in her head all day, driving her nuts, making her sad. But what could she do? Say, Oh, Nick darling, I forgive you and will trust you for the rest of my life.
She could say that, but she wouldn’t mean it. He’d lied a lot and it mattered.
When she left the Whistle Stop office, it was nearly 2:00 a.m. She walked the deserted streets from the office to Gracie’s. A breeze ruffled the deciduous trees, which would soon be turning gold and red, the pines waiting for the snows sure to follow.
Kate and Cameron were spending the night at BJ’s to celebrate Drew’s and Pete’s return, leaving Gracie alone. But Wes would not be spending the night with her. Gracie and Wes were courting now, but no casual sex for the mother of two kids. She and Wes had decided it just wasn’t right.
Dixie went up the front walk to her sister’s. A dog barked in the distance, but other than that her footsteps were the only sound. She turned the knob to let herself in, except the door was locked. That was a good thing, meaning Gracie had taken Nick’
s warning about Glen seriously. But it was also bad, because Dixie had forgotten the darn key.
Sleeping on the porch had definite appeal because she was so tired, but a bed had more. Just a few more steps, she encouraged herself, as she went around to the basement door. She found the key under the third flowerpot on the left and let herself in.
The scent of fresh paint washed over her as she flipped on the overhead lights illuminating the Hair Flair. Sinks, chairs, dryers were in place, supplies stood piled on the stairs, waiting for the new cabinets scheduled for delivery tomorrow—And Glen was staring right at her. Fatigue vanished. Apprehension settled in as he growled, “What the hell are you doing down here?”
“Why do you have a gasoline can in your…Holy cow!”
“Yeah.” His lips curled in a sour smile. “Holy cow.” He pulled a gun from his waistband.
“Does everyone own a gun these days? I hate guns,” Dixie said.
“You should have stayed with your boyfriend tonight, because I’m going to burn this place to the ground and get the insurance money. The kids are gone, Gracie’s upstairs and I sure don’t give a crap about her or you.”
Great. Now what? “Your name’s not on the deed anymore, Glen. Forget this. Go crawl back under a rock and leave Gracie and the kids alone.”
“You think you’re so damn smart. The insurance money will go to the kids, and I get the kids because I’m their papa. Knowing Gracie, she’s probably got a nice life insurance policy. And you showing up is a real good thing, now that I think about it. I bet old Gracie left the kids to you, so if I can get you out of the picture along with her, the kids and money are mine without any legal problems.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Hell, why do you think? I need money. My supply dried up. Word has it your boyfriend and that Wes guy had something to do with bringing down the smugglers and costing me a real sweet job with them.”
From the corner of her eye, Dixie caught sight of Gracie creeping down the steps, carefully tiptoeing around the supply boxes. Okay, now what? Keep Glen’s attention and give Gracie time to concoct some great idea, whatever that was.
“The kids are upstairs, Glen,” Dixie ventured, hoping that would change his mind or just keep his attention on her. “Kate had a sore throat.”
Gracie took another step down and Dixie added in a rush, “And Gracie isn’t alone. Wes is with her right now.”
“Gracie wouldn’t do that with the kids here. She’s all about doing things right. You’re lying through your teeth.”
“Trust me. Wes is here and Nick is on his way. We’re all going to have a midnight snack.” How pathetic an excuse!
“Well, ain’t that special.” Glen gave a cynical laugh that said he wasn’t buying this explanation for one minute. Gracie tried the next stair, except this one creaked. Gracie was the good daughter; she’d never learned to walk on the edges!
Glen spun around as Gracie snapped up a can of hairspray, yanked off the lid and zapped Glen right between the eyes before he could figure out what in the world she was doing.
He yowled in pain, dropped the gun to the new linoleum—hopefully, it didn’t make a dent—then grabbed his face as Dixie charged, capturing him in a full-body lunge, sending them both to the floor. Least he was underneath her and cushioned the impact. Glen was good for something after all!
“You’re killing me. You’re killing me,” Glen yelled. He swore and fought as Dixie sat on his butt and wrestled one arm back. Gracie tripped down the last step, sending boxes everywhere. She plopped down next to Dixie and wrangled back Glen’s other arm.
“Get off me!” Glen swore again, and Dixie grabbed a blow-dryer from the overturned box, wrapped the cord around one wrist, then the other, and pulled tight.
Dixie stared at her sister. “I knew you were a natural at this salon stuff. Nice shot with the hairspray.”
“I can’t breathe,” Glen moaned.
Gracie laughed. “I don’t care.” She said to Dixie, “Sister power. Better than ever.” They exchanged high-fives. “Guess we should call Jack.”
“Maybe Wes and Nick. Glen is part of the smuggling operation. He might have some information the FBI can use.” She poked Glen in the ribs and he grunted. “Glen here has been a really big pain for a really long time, and the creep was going to barbecue us tonight. He deserves jail and all its amenities, such as the friends he’ll meet there.”
Dixie got up, rummaged through the boxes on the steps and held up a little purple bottle. “You should show Glen here how really good you are with hair care,” she said to Gracie. “I think you should streak his hair blond. He’ll be so appealing to all his new friends in jail.”
Glen wiggled, nearly upending Gracie. “You can’t do this to me. I’ll be…Everyone will think I’m…You know what will happen to me in jail if I go there looking like that!”
Gracie sighed. “We can’t dye his hair, Dixie, unless we give him a manicure, too. Flamingo Pink. Do his toenails to match. I have some perfume samples. His new roommates will be so impressed. I have a new depilatory. We could test it out on his legs. Smooth-leg Glen could be his new name.”
“You can’t do this,” Glen wailed. “I’m sorry, okay? I should never have tried to burn you out. Don’t shave my legs! Don’t do any of this.”
Dixie dumped the purple liquid into a bowl and found a streaking brush, then handed it to Gracie as she straddled Glen’s back. “When we get done with you, Glen, you’re going to be so lovely.”
NICK PRIED OPEN ONE EYE, grabbed the cell phone from the nightstand and grumbled, “It better be good.”
“It is.”
“Dixie?” He hadn’t talked to her since their parting at the ranch. Oh, there’d been the monosyllabic exchanges over the 5-K run, but that was all. “What’s up?” he asked as he parked himself on the edge of his bed, feeling himself come awake instantly.
She said she had a hair dryer he might be interested in and he should bring Wes, that it was important and she and Gracie were sitting on something big and beautiful. She disconnected. “What the hell?”
But if Dixie was talking to him, he was listening. In the past two weeks, he’d tried everything to get her to listen to him. He’d had flowers and doughnuts delivered to her every morning, cookies at night, casseroles of linguine, lasagna and ziti. But not a word of acknowledgment till now.
He shrugged on his clothes and met up with Wes as he ambled up Gracie’s walk. “What’s going on?” Nick asked.
“Beats the hell out of me. Gracie said to bring my camera.” The light was on in the new salon, so they aimed for that. A new red canvas awning sporting Hair Flair in gold letters covered the doorway, with pots of flowers on either side. “Hi,” said Dixie as he and Wes entered. She and Gracie were sitting on someone. She gave a little finger wave. “We have a present for you.”
She got up, then Gracie did. Nick stared. “Glen? I think. What happened to his hair?”
“Don’t let them sit on me any more, man. My functionality as a male has been seriously compromised and my eyelashes are stiff as a board. They shaved my freaking legs. Isn’t there a law or something?”
Wes nudged the gas can. “I take it this isn’t the newest thing in hair care.”
Gracie sobered. “It could have been bad. But now he’s going to jail, and Dixie and I got him all gussied up for the occasion. Besides a new hairdo, he’s got a new manicure and pedicure and he’s smelling oh, so sweet. He’s all ready for the jail in Billings.”
Nick and Wes laughed and Glen barked, “I have rights, dammit, rights.”
Wes aimed his camera. “I’ll get some shots of the gas can. Send some guys down to take prints from the doors. You need to give a statement,” he said to Gracie. “Mind coming into Billings? Can’t wait to hear the whole story.” He nodded to Nick. “He can transport Glen so he won’t bother you anymore.”
“I’ll stay here and get the kids in the morning, which isn’t all that far off,” Dixie said.
<
br /> Gracie purred to Wes, “I’ll change and be right back. Maybe you should help me pick out what to wear.”
Wes’s cheeks reddened to the color of Gracie’s new awning. “I…I can do that.”
They left, and Nick sat in one of the swivel styling chairs and leaned back. “Didn’t have enough action for one day? Had to scare up more?”
“This was so not my doing, except I helped with the dye job.”
Her eyes sparkled. She was made to be a reporter. She loved the action and being in on everything. How could he deny her that? “I found Glen trying to collect fire and life insurance all at one time,” she said. “I distracted him while Gracie shot him with Volumizing with Extra Hold. We tied him up, then glamorized him.”
Nick chuckled. “Takedown Dixie-style.”
“And Gracie’s.” She smiled, but there was a glint of something serious in her eyes. “There’s more. You’ll be interested in how I distracted Glen. I lied my butt off. I told Glen so many fibs I’m surprised my tongue didn’t fall out of my mouth. Funny how that happened.”
“I don’t think any of this is funny at all,” Glen mumbled.
Nick glared at Glen, who then added, “All right, all right. I’ll shut up.”
Dixie continued. “I had to save my sister and lying seemed like a very small price to pay.” She let out a big breath. “Besides, it’s not like I haven’t lied before. Truth be told, I’m probably the queen of lying. I’m sorry I’ve given you such a hard time lately. It’s just that—”
“You were hurt and this was personal,” Nick said, suddenly feeling closer to Dixie Carmichael than ever. “Does this mean we—you and me—have a chance?”
“I’m going to drive to Denver, maybe get something at the Post, maybe not. I have to try, Nick. You understand that. Heard you’re putting the finishing touches on the restaurant.”
“I’m going to cater Jack and Maggie’s wedding.”
He stood as Gracie and Wes returned. Dixie went for the stairs. He watched her go. He did a lot of that lately. And he hated it. He had his dream; she had hers. He just didn’t know how to get the two together.
A Fabulous Wedding Page 16
