New Leaf

by Catherine Anderson

  “That’s good to know.” He opened the door and turned to look down at her. “That you’re not an accomplished liar, I mean. Normally I don’t lie, either.” He curled a finger under her chin. “Relax, Taffy. My family will help spread the word. Even if none of us lies very convincingly, we’ll carry it off with strength in numbers.”

  “All of your family is going to know?”

  “They’ll have to. I can’t let them think it’s a real marriage. And they’re a great bunch. For Sarah, they’ll happily climb on board with us.”

  “You just called me Taffy.”

  He laughed and stepped out onto the landing. “It has such a nice ring to it.” He leaned back in to grin at her as he drew on his jacket. “And now I’ll say good night—Taffy.”

  After he started down the stairs, she kept the door ajar to listen to the masculine thud of his boots. Her hated nickname sounded like an endearment when he said it. Raising her voice to be heard, she yelled, “If you ever call me Daffy, I’ll brain you with my skillet!”

  She heard him chuckle. Then the downstairs door rattled open. “If you ever ask if I’ve polished the single bullet in my pocket today, I’ll divorce you!”

  • • •

  To cover for a sick deputy, Barney worked the night shift three times running the following week, going in at six and getting off at four in the morning. Despite the lack of sleep, he appeared at Taffeta’s shop right after she opened at eight each morning, bringing coffee, pastry, and a devastating grin that still made her nerve endings trill. Only now he stayed until ten so customers would see him, and he made sure that it looked as if he were flirting with her over the checkout counter.

  “All this caffeine is going to keep you awake,” Taffeta worried aloud on Monday as he sipped his java. “You’ll be so exhausted tonight that you’ll fall asleep behind the wheel when you’re driving around town.”

  He toasted her with his Jake ’n’ Bake cup. “Decaf, darlin’. I’ll hit the sack at eleven and sleep like a baby.”

  “But you have to start work at six tonight. You’ll only get about six hours of sleep.”

  “I’ve managed plenty of times on far less, and it’s important for people to see me in here.”

  “I feel bad about you losing rest.”

  His white teeth flashed in a grin. “You’re starting to sound very wifely already.”

  Taffeta wrinkled her nose, and he chuckled.

  Minutes later, Joe Paisley, owner of Taco Joe’s, entered the shop. He stopped dead when he saw Barney and Taffeta nearly nose-to-nose over the counter. About six feet tall with deep brown hair and brown eyes, he looked to be about thirty and—at the moment—surprised and uncertain what to say.

  “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Barney’s mouth was so close to Taffeta’s that she could feel his breath on her lips. He grinned and straightened away from her. “No worries, Joe. I’ve just been asking this lady to marry me, and she keeps breaking my heart by saying no.”

  Joe glanced at Taffeta. “Oh. I, um, didn’t realize you two were seeing each other.”

  Barney, the very picture of nonchalance, shifted his weight to turn toward the restaurateur. “She’s shy about it, so we’ve been hooking up in Crystal Falls. You know how it goes in Mystic Creek. One whisper of gossip, and the next thing you know, it’s all over town.”

  Joe inclined his dark head. “I’ll keep it under wraps, then.” He smiled at Taffeta. “I know you never order, but I stopped in to see if you’d like something hot for lunch today. I’m running a special: two tacos and a medium soft drink for a buck fifty.”

  Taffeta shook her head and returned his smile. “That’s a great deal, but I’m watching my calories. Thanks for thinking to stop in and ask, though.”

  Joe stuffed his order tablet back in his jacket pocket and reopened the door. On his way out, he said over his shoulder, “Barney’s a great guy. Half the single gals in town are head over heels. You should take him on faith and say yes.”

  When they were alone again, Barney gifted Taffeta with a teasing look. “How the hell does he make a profit with prices that low?”

  “I think he knows I pinch my pennies and offers me special deals. And your evasion tactics won’t work. You gave me no warning that you were going to mention marriage, absolutely none. I could have gotten flustered and blown it.”

  He chuckled and tweaked her nose. “But you didn’t. And you have to be ready to play this off the cuff, following my lead.”

  “Maybe I’ll want to take the lead sometimes.”

  A glint crept into his eyes. “Fine by me. I love it when a lady takes the lead.” Then, as if he had said nothing untoward, he glanced at the wall clock. “It’s nearly ten. Our mission for the day is accomplished. A lot of people go into Joe’s joint for lunch. Word will be out in no time.”

  Taffeta frowned. “But Joe said he’d keep it under wraps.”

  Barney threw back his head and laughed so hard that his Stetson was nearly unseated. “You haven’t lived in Mystic Creek long enough. Joe is a good guy, and he won’t mean any harm, but he’ll blab it to someone. Human nature always prevails.” He straightened his hat. “Not much happens in this town, Taffy. People love to gossip.”

  He moved away from the counter.

  “You’re leaving?”

  He winked over his shoulder at her. “I can grab a few extra minutes of sleep. Have a great day, and I’ll see you again tomorrow morning.”

  Biting the inside of her cheek, Taffeta watched him depart, wondering how she would ever get through this. Barney clearly didn’t want anything intimate to happen between them. It had been hard enough for her to keep a clear head around him before this playacting thing had started. Now, with him pretending to be in love with her, she was challenged to keep reality and make-believe separated.

  • • •

  True to his word, Barney reappeared in Taffeta’s shop at shortly after eight the next morning. By now, she’d grown accustomed to enjoying pastry and sipping coffee with him. He assumed his usual stance across the counter from her. She noted that the lack of sleep was starting to show on his tanned face, and her heart panged with sympathy.

  “You have shadows under your eyes.”

  He smiled and shrugged one shoulder. “I’m on day shift Thursday and Friday, so I can rest up before we take off for Reno on Saturday morning. You have all your clothes packed yet?”

  “For the trip?”

  “No, to move in at my place.”

  Taffeta toyed with her napkin. “I’m working on it. I’m trying to decide what to take over there. I have a lot of clothes, some that I haven’t worn since moving here.”

  He took a bite of cream horn. “Oh yeah, I forgot. You’re the lady with two lives, one wearing a killer outfit and heels, the other draping herself in loose clothing the color of baby poop.”

  In Taffeta’s experience, baby poop could be bright green if an infant drank grape juice. “Which outfit are you referring to?”

  “That icky brown shirt that billows around you like a tent.” He arched a tawny eyebrow. “Bring some of your Erickson clothing to my place.” He glanced down at her baggy, olive green sweater. “When we go out on the town after we get back from Reno, it’ll be easier to pretend you knock my socks off if you look fabulous.”

  Taffeta plucked at the pilled yarn. “Are you saying I’m not attractive dressed this way?” To not stand out had been her goal since coming to Mystic Creek, but now her feelings were a little hurt. She knew it made no sense, but she was a female, after all. How she felt didn’t always have to be understandable to a member of the opposite sex. “Ouch.”

  He grinned. “I’m learning to look beyond the drab colors, Taffy. You’re a beautiful woman, no matter what you’re wearing, and I think you’re well aware of it. But a little more flash won’t hurt when I’m
pretending to salivate over you for the next month.”

  Pretending. Taffeta didn’t like the sound of that and realized she had waded neck deep into pure trouble. When she was around Barney Sterling with those twinkling amber eyes and all that raw masculinity emanating from the pores of his skin, her saliva glands overreacted, and no pretense was involved.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “What’s up? I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  Taffeta jerked her chin up. “You didn’t offend me. I’m just worried that you’re one of those husbands who’ll expect me to crawl out of bed every morning looking all made up and perfect.”

  He gave a slow shake of his head. “If I were your husband—for real, I mean—I’d expect you to crawl out of bed looking mussed and sleep-deprived because I’d be making love to you half the night.”

  He turned to leave her shop. Taffeta knotted one fist. “You’re going to say something like that to me and then just walk out?”

  Challenge glinted in his eyes as he opened the door and turned to look at her. “It’s all pretend. Right?” He peeled back his jacket cuff and glanced down at his oversize gold wristwatch. Most young guys wore leather bands nowadays, but Barney seemed to prefer shiny metal. Taffeta scolded herself for it, but she liked that little bit of shimmer on him. “And it’s ten o’clock,” he added. “My bed is calling my name.”

  He walked out. She stared after him. Was he attracted to her, or not? Taffeta huffed and vented her irritation by kicking at the cushioned rubber mat on the floor behind the register. Her toe glanced off the edge and caught the small plastic trash receptacle she used for debris. Crumpled paper fanned across the floor.

  Dammit. She swore under her breath as she bent to pick up the wads. This whole situation is driving me over the edge already, and we’ve barely started our campaign yet. She felt for the cell phone in her jeans pocket, tempted to call Barney and tell him her old shirt was not baby poop brown. It was camel colored. Men. They were horrible at naming colors. Barney would probably call mauve something dumb, like wilted rose pink.

  • • •

  By week’s end, Barney dreaded the trip to Reno. What was it about Taffeta Brown that rattled his chain every time he was near her? Shit. He had tried his best all week to play his role, allowing customers to see them cozied up to each other, but whenever he reminded himself that he and Taffeta were only playacting, her face fell as if he’d just kicked her. Did she want the attraction between them to be real? If so, why the hell didn’t she just say so? He was ready. All she had to do was press his “go” button.

  Only that wasn’t really true. No matter how much she turned him on, he couldn’t, in good conscience, make love to her, even if she asked him to. She had only ever offered him sex in the first place as a lure to get him to help her regain custody of her daughter, and now she undoubtedly felt obligated to him because he had agreed to marry her. He’d be taking advantage of the situation if he took her to bed, and he wasn’t that kind of man.

  • • •

  As Saturday swiftly approached, Taffeta concluded that in the end her acting ability might not be put to a test when she and Barney returned from Reno as a married couple. Barney had been in her store every morning and spent the entire two hours of his stay doing everything possible to behave like a man who was deeply in love. Any pedestrian on either side of the street could look in the front windows and see them. Any customer who entered the shop also saw them. Barney made sure that he put on a show for everyone. For that reason alone, she had already lost a big piece of her heart to him, and heaven help her, fondness wasn’t the only emotion that he elicited from within her. With increasing frequency, he still played a starring role in her lonely-night fantasies.

  She had to remember that reality seldom measured up to a dream, and she should remind herself countless times a day that Barney probably wouldn’t—or couldn’t—compare to her imaginary, perfect man. So why did she allow a mere glance from him to make her ache with yearning? It was a question for which she had no answer, and that made no sense at all. She had been disappointed once before by a man, deeply disappointed and betrayed. Had she learned nothing from that experience?

  She needed to remain focused on her daughter. Barney said that as soon as they established themselves as a blissfully happy couple in Mystic Creek, they could turn their attention to getting Sarah back. His attorney friend was in the process of compiling the paperwork to file Taffeta’s appeal, and he had mentioned to Barney that he intended to represent Taffeta for only a nominal fee. Taffeta could scarcely believe that a successful lawyer would be so generous, but Barney claimed that Vorch wanted a chance to annihilate Phillip later on charges of perjury. Apparently Phillip’s shady behavior had earned him many enemies in the legal community of Erickson.

  On Friday while Taffeta and Barney shared a cream horn in her shop, Barney lifted his coffee cup to her and said, “Tomorrow’s the big day. I’d like to hit the road by about five in the morning so we won’t be rushing to find a chapel after we reach Reno.”

  “Would it be safer to make reservations at a chapel now?”

  “I called around to see how far out most wedding venues are booked, and I was told that last-minute arrangements can be made at almost all of them. It sounds like marriage at a drive-up window. That being the case, I thought I should wait to choose a chapel with you after we get there. Despite it not being a real marriage, I still thought the chapel should at least appeal to both of us.”

  Taffeta appreciated his thoughtfulness. Where they got married didn’t matter in any practical way, but she didn’t want to look back someday and have awful memories of the place. “I’m an early riser. Being ready to leave at five won’t be a problem for me.”

  “I talked with Bryan as I drove over here,” he said. “He says it’s important to file the appeal as soon as possible. The process can take some time. Just getting all his ducks in a row to file involves a lot of red tape, but once your case is reviewed and deemed worthy of a hearing, he feels almost certain that he can get the conviction overturned. Phillip’s testimony was the only damaging evidence the prosecuting attorney had, and once a judge starts to question whether or not Phillip was telling the truth, he or she will have no choice but to wipe your record clean. To convict, the evidence must show that a person is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. If Phillip’s testimony is discredited, the physical evidence, of which there is little, won’t hold up in court.”

  Barney made it all sound so simple that Taffeta couldn’t help getting her hopes up—to be proven innocent was something she hadn’t even let herself hope for. She would always remember how devastating it had been when the judge dropped the gavel and delivered the verdict against her.

  Chapter Eight

  As if Barney sensed Taffeta’s soaring hopefulness, he made a soft sound deep in his throat and trailed a fingertip along her cheekbone. “It won’t all be easy,” he reminded her.

  She rushed to assure him, “I know,” loving the way his touch made her feel. “Nothing worth having comes easily.”

  He nodded. “Meeting with your former parents-in-law to ask for their support when you petition the court for a reversal of the custody order may be one of the most difficult things you’ve ever done.”

  Taffeta’s heart sank. “Meet with them? Oh, Barney, I’m not sure—”

  He cut in with “Grace and Cameron Gentry once liked you, honey. The three of you had a good relationship until Phillip destroyed it. Now that he’s messing up so badly, don’t you think his parents are smart enough to figure out that he probably lied about you?”

  Taffeta still dreaded having to meet with the Gentrys. At one time, she had loved them as if they were her own parents, and she believed that they had loved her in return. The fact that they could believe Phillip’s lies about her still hurt her deeply. “What if they still hate me?”

  He leaned in closer. “If it gets ugly, you’
ll have me there to run interference.”

  “You’ll go with me?”

  “Of course. For moral support if nothing else.”

  A burning sensation stung Taffeta’s eyes. In all her life, she’d never had anyone who stood beside her. Never. “You’re a very special man, Barney Sterling.” Even to her ears, her voice sounded thick. “I’m very lucky to have you as my friend.”

  The moment she said those words, Taffeta wished that they could be more than friends. Dumb, dumb, dumb. If she didn’t tread carefully, she was going to get her heart broken, and it wouldn’t be Barney’s fault. He’d made her no promises. Never once had he hinted that their forthcoming marriage would be anything more than a sham to strengthen her chances of getting Sarah back.

  She glanced at the wall clock behind him and saw that it was nearly ten, time for him to leave for work. A disturbing thought struck her. “Barney, I thought you said that your day shifts start at ten. Are your visits here this week making you late for work?”

  He popped the last bit of his cream horn into his mouth. After swallowing, he said, “Only about five minutes. It’s a short drive to the department from here. No big deal.”

  “You’ve been late just to be here so customers might see you? Doesn’t your boss get mad?”

  “Blake? Nah. I work extra shifts anytime he needs me to cover for someone.” He drank what remained of his coffee and put the empty container into the pastry bag. “He knows that he can count on me, so he cuts me some slack when I need some leeway here and there.”

  The anxiety that had welled so suddenly within Taffeta began to abate slowly. “So you haven’t gotten in trouble, then.”

  “Heck, no. It isn’t like most jobs, where you clock in and out, working an exact number of hours. I practically always work over. At the end of a shift, I have to update the deputy taking over, and then I have to do my shift report. That can take a half hour sometimes. The way I think Blake sees it is that it all evens out.”