“Because I like you—a lot. I know you’ve had your doubts about me. That I wanted the ranch more than you. I figured the only way we were going to have any kind of a chance was if I bought my own place. I didn’t want you to think I was seducing the ranch out from under you.”
“Pfft…I’d never, ever…I mean…”
“It doesn’t matter now. The Patterson place is a nice spread.” He grinned. “You won’t even have to worry about me getting mad when the bull jumps the fence.”
But she liked having Lance at her ranch. He was right, though. If he had his own place, she’d have no doubts about his intentions toward her. She had no doubts he’d be hanging around—because he was interested in her.
“You don’t have to move out tonight, do you?” she asked. “I mean, it’s getting late and there aren’t any streetlights or anything. I’d hate for you to get lost.”
His grin widened. Before she could say another word, he’d scooped her up in his arms and was carrying her inside. She had a feeling they’d be doing a lot of sleepovers.
Her glance fell to the floor when the light bounced off a piece of cellophane. She sighed. Just her, Lance, and her grandfather’s ghost. As long as Grandpa stayed out of her bedroom, she’d be quite content.
She wondered if she should mention to Lance that she hadn’t sent any of the pictures to Mica that bared his bottom half. There were just some things she refused to share with other women.
But when Lance set her feet on the floor and lowered his mouth to hers, there was only one thing on her mind.
Tomorrow would be soon enough.
COME TO A
BAD END
Dianne Castell
One
How the hell could a spa get a sleepy little town like Silver Gulch, Texas, so totally pissed off…at least the male half? John Snow sat behind the sheriff’s desk as Rusty Pierce growled, “I’m telling you right now you got to close the place down. Every man here’s had enough of this Lillie June person and her fancy ideas. My Betty’s done taken me off fritters and cream gravy, burns smelly candles night and day, and feng shuied the damn chicken coop.”
Lucky Freemont added, “My Dorothy’s doing yoga, bending herself around like some pretzel, and dishing up Special K for breakfast. I’m here to tell you the only thing special is that it tastes like crap.”
John stood and held up his hand to stop more complaints. “Okay, okay, I get the picture. I’ll try and sweet-talk Mizz June into making some changes, but opening a spa is not against the law.”
“Appeal to her feminine side and get her to change the place back to a hotel,” Rusty added.
Lucky Freemont hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, doing the I’m a tough cowboy routine. “Sheriff Parker would have put an end to this. He picked a god-awful time to go on vacation. We want things back to the way it was before June showed up. You hear that dang hammering and sawing next door? Bet her granddaddy is flipping in his grave with her turning the Silver Bullet Hotel into the Silver Springs Spa and Healing Center. If we’re in need of healing we go to Doc Shelton’s or grab a bottle of whiskey and drown what’s ailing us.”
Rusty stomped his way to the door and left, his cronies following as deputy Jimmy Morris came inside. The door swung shut and Jimmy slid his weathered gray Stetson to the back of his head and grinned, making him look years younger than fifty. “Let me guess, the band of grumpy-ass men is here about the spa. It’s all the talk at the Ragged Rooster.”
John paced the office. “Why can’t everyone just get along till Parker returns? I’m not exactly the favorite son, and I don’t need to be stirring up more problems.”
Jimmy hung his hat on the rack. “People in town holding a grudge has more to do with your daddy embezzling that money from the bank than you personally. Even if it did happen fifteen years ago and your grandmother paid every cent back, folks don’t forget the name Snow no matter who wears it. And as for Parker, he doesn’t handle squat. He just ignores problems hoping they go away by themselves or someone else does the work for him.”
He nodded at the calendar on the wall. “You’ve been here two weeks now, how much longer is that police chief in Dallas making you do penance filling in as sheriff before he gives you back your cop job there?”
Jimmy tried to stifle a laugh but didn’t succeed. “Damn, boy, did you really hold that guy out the thirteenth-floor of a Dallas hotel window till he fessed up to where he hid the money he conned out of those senior citizens? I’d think they’d give you a medal, not toss your fanny back to the Gulch.”
John paced. He was afraid this would happen…not the part about him and the thirteenth floor and people finding out or even the good citizens not treating him all that great, but Lillie June. She was the real problem with her blazing hair and dancing eyes that he had to keep hell-and-away from. “Being here is more about me getting it on with the mayor’s twin daughters than the con.” He froze. Oh, shit. Did he just say that out loud? He should think before opening his big mouth.
Jimmy’s brows arched to meet his receding hairline. “Twins? Didn’t know about twins. You sure are full of surprises.”
John ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I didn’t know they were sisters. They don’t look alike and I sure as hell didn’t realize their daddy was the mayor till one sister got serious and started picking china patterns, the other sister flipped out, and there was a fight in Tiffany’s that cost me five grand in smashed dinnerware. I’m a paper plate kind of guy, dammit—made that clear right up front. The girls got sent to Europe till this blows over and I got sent here.”
Jimmy laughed and slunk into an oak office chair. “Twins? The mayor? What a hoot. Nothing like that happens around here.”
“Thank God.” John rubbed the back of his neck where his headaches always started when he thought of the twin fiasco. “I’d better do something about the spa before Rusty calls Dallas. His brother-in-law as chief of police sucks and I sure as hell don’t need any more trouble, especially women trouble.” And Lillie June had trouble written all over her. What a babe.
John snagged his Stetson from the coat rack and tramped across the worn hardwood floor to the front door. “Ah, fuck.”
“I’d forget about that if you want your cop job back.”
“Mizz June’s not my type. I like ’em tall and blond, not petite with red hair.” He turned back to Jimmy. “Think it’s naturally red?”
“Not your type, remember, sheriff?”
John frowned and nodded. “Right. Got it. Don’t know what came over me.”
Like hell he didn’t know! What came over him was a big fat lie. Blondes weren’t his thing; redheads were, especially ones with green eyes and freckles on their cheeks—the very reason he’d stayed far away from that damn spa and Lillie June until now. Did there have to be a now?
Jimmy got his own hat. “I’m coming with you.”
“The spa’s next door. I won’t get lost and I’ve busted everything from meth labs to dognapping rings. I can handle a spa.”
“Meth labs don’t have curls down to their waist and have you wondering about naturally red.”
John closed the door behind them and pulled his hat down on his head to shade his eyes from the late July sun. “I’m thinking your tagging along has nothing to do with me and something to do with that gal who’s been setting up the spa for Lillie June before she arrived on the scene. What’s her name? Belinda.” John glanced at Jimmy. “She has nice…eyes. Hell, go for it.”
“Her name’s Melinda and I don’t remember how to go for anything but a beer.”
“It’ll come to you.” The hotel used to be painted mudhole brown with a dandelion yard and boards for windows. Now it was slate blue and framed with Texas bluebonnets and yellow columbine. Water splashed in a white stone fountain as they entered the picket gate and stepped onto the porch. John started to knock but Melinda bustled out the door lugging two bags. She stumbled into him.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,”
she said, looking flustered. “I’ve got to get these to the post office before it closes. We’re running a special to attract the men in the area to the spa.”
John took the bags and handed them to a speechless, blushing, staring Jimmy, who seemed mesmerized by Melinda’s pink T-shirt with “I Silver Springs Spa,” or maybe it was what was under that shirt that had him staring. Jimmy hadn’t forgotten squat. John said, “I’m sure the deputy will be glad to lend a hand with this, ma’am.”
“Me?” Jimmy muttered as Melinda said, “I can manage on my own.”
John gave his I-know-best smile. “Ah, but we’re here to serve and you have fifteen minutes to get the mail in. The post office waits for no one.”
That propelled Melinda into action and she grabbed Jimmy’s arm. “Time’s a wasting, deputy, get a move on.”
John watched the two hustle off down Center Street. It was not exactly love at first sight but a good start. And when he turned back and saw Lillie June framed in the doorway, he knew that was a start of something too, and it wasn’t good.
He hadn’t seen her up close, only walking around town. Watching her from a distance had driven him crazy enough: the sway of her hips, the tilt of her head, her hair—incredible hair. Today it was long and loose, nearly reaching her white skirt. She wore a green blouse that dipped in the front, showing a hint of cleavage. He didn’t need cleavage. He needed a buttoned collar and a sack over her head. Lillie June was the temptation of both twins rolled into one dynamite package.
He swept off his hat to give the appearance of doing something besides ogling as she said, “And what brings the town sheriff to my spa? Lessons on meditation? A book on nutrition? The men in town complaining about my evil ways of leading their women astray?”
He followed her into the cool hallway, the plants and adobe walls a welcome relief from the blast furnace outside, the scent of lavender and something else…peppermint?…in the air. “I’m here on business.”
“To get rid of your headache?”
He paused. “You know I have a headache?”
“Clouded eyes, drawn face, wrinkles.” She touched his forehead. “Here.”
He felt dizzy, off center and he never felt that way before. He doubted it came from the headache but thought it had a lot to do with Lillie June.
She continued, “You look the way I used to when I worked for an advertising firm in Chicago.” She held up a jar she’d been carrying. “A touch of this new lavender ointment at the temples helps, and you can sit in a chair and let me work on your neck and shoulders.”
Another touch from Lillie June would be like eating a second cheese doodle—he’d want more, lots more, and not be satisfied till he had the whole damn bag. He stepped back. “The women in town are different since you came here and the men like things the way they were before.”
“Well, of course they do.” A frown pulled at her full lips, which he’d wanted to kiss since the first time he saw her getting out of her red Jeep with the name of the spa on the side door. “Most of the women in Silver Gulch assume full care of family and home—what man wouldn’t like that?—but they need a little time to themselves.”
“All I’m asking is for you to soft-pedal your ideas, let the men adjust.”
“Or maybe I should just turn this place back into a hotel?”
“That works. You can sell some makeup and perfume on the side, like one of those boutique places in the city. Men around here like the women to look nice for them.”
“I wasn’t serious, Sheriff Snow.” She parked her left hand on her shapely hip, where he suddenly wanted to park his hand. “My spa isn’t just about looks. It’s doing things differently to feel better and live longer and stay active and healthy, and the men around here would realize that if they’d give this place a chance.”
“Well, I can tell you right now the men part of your plan is never going to happen and we’re all living fine around here so you can—”
“Pack up my snake oil and go back where I came from?” Her eyes went beady.
“Okay, the snake part might be a little over the top but—”
“Might?” Her voice rose to a screech, bringing other women into the hallway.
Outnumbered about twenty to one. He didn’t want a confrontation; he just wanted the men off his back and Lillie to…go away. “All your creams and candles and whatever else you have here are quick ways to make a buck, lots of bucks. Like potions that get bald men to grow hair, water that makes people feel young. If folks want to feel better they should go to a doctor, a trained professional, not—”
“A charlatan?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You were thinking it.”
Guilty.
“You arrogant ass.” The women applauded. “I’ve gone to school for aromatherapy, massage therapy, nutrition, yoga, and a host of other modern health solutions for men and women. The men don’t get it and that includes you.”
“Or we see through your scam. In Dallas I do criminal investigations and—”
“Now I’m a criminal?” The women hissed and booed, and a wadded-up towel went flying by and grazed his head.
“You’re a glorified con artist.” A little strong but the men would hear about this battle and that would appease them for a while. And, since Lillie June looked as if she’d like to punch out his lights, there’s no way he’d ever get together with her.
This was good. He’d just gotten rid of two problems at once and that beat the hell out of a dish fight at Tiffany’s. Except Lillie June was such a delicious problem.
She pointed to the door. “Out!” She closed her eyes for a second. “See what you’ve done? You made me raise my voice and you’re ruining my karma.”
“I’m the sheriff—I can ruin whatever I want.” He turned for the door. “Good day.”
“It damn well was until you showed up, John Snow,” she yelled after him, then moaned, “I haven’t ranted in two years and here I am sounding like a blasted—”
“Fishwife? And you do it very well.” He glanced back. “Try not to bilk the good ladies of Silver Gulch out of too much money. This isn’t a rich town, and there are no hard facts that spas do anything except make people poorer.”
He closed the door behind him, narrowly missing the jar she’d been holding as it flew through the air and crashed against the wall, shooting that karma Mizz Nuts-and-Berries was so worried about right to hell.
He considered going for a beer at the Rooster to celebrate how he’d handled the situation but his head throbbed. He should be feeling better, dammit. Lillie June was out of his life and that’s exactly what he wanted, right?
Lillie slammed the door shut, spun around, and faced the women gathered behind her. She hadn’t been this fuming angry since she was aced out of a promotion at Liming and Rodgers two years ago. She’d gone to the spa to get over it, dragged her secretary Melinda with her and neither ever went back to the office. Lillie pictured a thousand doves flying from her soul, leaving peace and harmony behind and obliterating all thoughts of John Snow. “Who the hell does that son of a bitch think he is?” So much for flying doves and harmony.
“For starters he’s Mr. January in the Dallas police department’s calendar,” Betty Pierce said, with a laugh, the other women looking at her in astonishment. “Hey, it was for a good cause, to raise scholarship money for the Dallas inner-city kids, so I bought a calendar…just to help a charity. But I got to tell you January is my favorite month. Oh, Lordy.” She did the hand against the forehead fake swoon. “You should see that man with his shirt unbuttoned. A sprinkle of dark curly hair, great muscles, six-pack abs to die for. I’ll bring the calendar in for you all to see.”
The gals who’d gathered in the hallway giggled, but not one protested Betty bringing in Mr. January. Lillie said, “So, John Snow’s a sucker for charity, is he? Well, that’s probably the only thing he has in his favor.”
Betty snorted, “Honey, that man is dangerously handsome, on and off a
calendar. Weren’t you watching him stroll around here like he owned the place?”
“This is my place.”
“But he’s such a hunk.”
Lillie took the towel from the floor and whipped up the broken jar, feeling disgusted with herself for putting a dent in the new wall. “He’s arrogant and pigheaded and narrow-minded. His hair’s too long, and he thinks he’s God’s gift to the world and all women should fall at his feet.”
“Well I’ll be—you were watching,” Betty said, with a tease.
Lillie dropped the pieces in the trash. “Just an observation, nothing more.”
If only that were true. Why did the most handsome man she’d seen in years also have to be the biggest jerk in the universe? She’d broken up with the second biggest jerk a year ago. Did that make her a jerk magnet? Something she inherited from her mother, with five failed marriages, and no doubt the reason marriage held no appeal for Lillie. Why couldn’t she have inherited her mother’s five-foot ten-inch pencil-thin frame instead?
Lillie checked her watch and shoved John Snow and all men from her brain. She had another situation to deal with right now. “Well, ladies, that’s it for the day. Soon we’ll have the place open for overnight guests, and with the steam room and whirlpools and saunas already in place it shouldn’t be long. I have a meeting so I’ll see you all tomorrow. Remember to do deep-breathing exercises.” She demonstrated the slow in-and-out breathing. “Do them before you sleep and, remember, good sex makes for good circulation, keeps you looking young.”
If that were true she should look about ninety by now. How long had it been since she’d followed her own advice? And why did the only man to get her thinking about circulation have to be John Snow?
Lillie followed the women outside, most from Silver Gulch and some from the surrounding towns. She’d helped a few with arthritis creams, two with back troubles, and a young mother find how to relax and not stress out over kids. Although all this was good she needed the male half of the town to sign up at the spa. The revenue would keep the place solvent till she attracted customers farther away.
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