One Foot in the Grove (26 page)

“Eva?” A man's voice called quietly. “I've got a little something for ye if you feel up to havin' some company.”

My heart skipped a beat. I crossed to open the door.

“Please, come in!”

Ian stepped into the tiny one-room space. I was extremely conscious of how tall he was. And how awkwardly prominent my big four-poster bed was, up front in the tiny cottage, and just steps from the door. I felt like a kid, back in my college dorm room. For all sorts of reasons.

Ian didn't seem to notice. In the same jeans and cowboy boots he'd worn earlier, he'd added a dark vest that was hanging open over a pink button-down shirt of the most exquisite cotton fabric. I blushed from embarrassment, realizing that he'd probably changed his shirt from earlier after it'd taken on the fishbowl stench from my sundress when he'd carried me to the Hummer.

“How ye feelin'?” he asked. Ian held out a huge bouquet of dahlias as he put his other hand on my arm and looked me over. “I stole these from the greenhouse. Don't ye go tellin' Precious.”

“How lovely!” I gushed. “Thank you. I have the perfect vase.” I took the big bouquet in my arms. “Have a seat.” I motioned past the bed, toward my “living room” on the far side of the room.

“I'll not come in and keep ye, lass. It's late, and ye must be tuckered.” Ian smiled softly and lowered his voice. “I've been worried about ye since ye left Greatwoods yesterday—that was no wee tumble ye took off the balcony. And now the accident. How ye been holdin' up?”

“Oh!” I felt my face get hot. Had he seen me jump from Greatwoods? Of course he had. There was security everywhere. I should've known. I was mortified. “I'm sorry about your wisteria. I'll pay for the damage.”

“Aye, forget it. I enjoyed the show. Ye're quite the gymnast.” He chuckled. “I just want to be sure ye're okay. I can't imagine having a couple of days like this and still bein' chipper.”

I smiled. “Well, ‘chipper' isn't a word that exactly comes to mind right now. I'm just a bit worn out, that's all.” Of course, that was the understatement of the century. Every muscle in my body was screaming out in pain. I could feel my cheeks burning as Ian watched me.

I had a cupboard in the kitchenette open, and the blue and white Spode vase I wanted for the flowers was high up on the top shelf. Normally, I would've climbed on a chair or jumped up on the counter to reach it. This time, I wasn't up for it. Not even close.

“Let me.” Ian came up behind me in the kitchenette. I felt his palm on the small of my back as he reached up and around me to grab the big vase with one hand. With his touch, I felt tingles run up my spine to the back of my neck. I could smell his “wealthy woodsman” scent. My mind raced to the dream. The part in the car wash. When he'd taken off my clothes. I remembered the feel of his hands, the way his long, gentle fingers had caressed my skin. Thinking about it made me feel weak in the knees. But how? When? Where? Surely not in a car wash. Maybe I did dream some of it. It
was frustrating not to remember. Still, I could hardly ask about what happened. I mean, how would that sound:
Excuse me, neighbor, can you tell me if you took off my clothes in a car wash? I'm having trouble remembering.
I still needed to sort it out.

“I'll fill it for ye.”

Ian put the vase in the sink and turned on the faucet. When it was full, he took the big bunch of flowers from me and slipped them in the vase. I couldn't get over how he smelled just the way he had in the dream, of rich leather and woods.

“I'll not even attempt to arrange these,” he said. “I know better. I'm sure ye'll get it looking just right. He carried the flowers over to the table. Do ye need anything else?”

“No, thanks. I'm . . . I'm just kind of recalibrating. Trying to make sense of everything. Sort through my priorities.” I thought for a moment. “You know, like, trying to figure out the meaning of life.” I rolled my eyes.

“Aye, coming close to death can do that to a soul,” he said. His green eyes were deep and quiet. I couldn't tell what the man was thinking. Still, there was something . . .

“Okay, lass. I'll be leaving ye now,” he said abruptly as he stepped toward the door.

“Wait!”

Ian turned and waited.

“I . . . I have a question.”

“Aye?”

“What is it that you do over at Greatwoods? I certainly don't mean to pry. Precious told me that you're into securities?”

“Did she now?”

“That's all she would say.”

“Aye.”

I waited for him to say more. He didn't. I barged on. “I've been wondering about the barbed wire. There's bound to be miles and miles of it. None of it was there when I was growing up.”

Ian said nothing for a moment. Instead, he closed his eyes. Then, he said, “I purchased Greatwoods to create and maintain a sanctuary of sorts . . .”

“You mean, like a nature preserve?”

“Aye. Ye could say so. I'm working to protect certain species.”

“Endangered species?”

He stepped close and tipped my chin up. His hand felt gentle and warm. His bright green eyes mellowed as he looked down at me. Something in his face softened, and his voice grew husky. “I need to go now, Eva. Don't let this—don't let them—get ye down.” He bent down and lightly kissed my forehead. “Life's too short.” In two strides, he was at the door. “Get some rest, lass.”

“Thanks for the flowers.”

I doubted he even heard me. Already outside, he was halfway across the lawn.

Ian Collier made my insides ache. In a good way. I heard sexy music when I thought of him—the slow seduction of low, thumping Celtic drums. And on an evening when I should have crashed and gone to bed, our encounter only made it more difficult for me to sleep. I felt like a schoolgirl. I replayed how his hand had felt on the small of my back as he reached for the vase. How his lips had felt as he'd kissed my forehead. The soft throatiness of his deep Gaelic voice when he'd last spoken to me. How he'd smelled. Earthy. Woodsy. Intoxicating. He had my attention, that's for sure.

I couldn't sleep.

“C'mon, Dolly, we're going for a walk.”

I pulled my hair into a ponytail, slipped on an ankle wrap, and slid into my flip-flops. Dolly and I were out the door. She stayed with me as I hobbled toward the trail in the woods.

A sliver of moon peeked in and out of the clouds. Unlike the afternoon, which had been unusually crisp and dry, the night air was thick and muggy—heavy with the sweet
aroma of rosebushes and scented crepe myrtle trees. Crickets chirped as I followed Dolly into the forest, and the scent changed to musky dirt and tangy pine. The air felt cooler, especially at my feet. In a daze, I thought about Ian's small waist and broad, toned shoulders.

A dark figure slid out from behind a tree, blocking the path in front of me.

“Where y'all going, Babydoll?”

“Hey!” I cried out, startled.

“It's not safe for you to be out here,” purred Buck in his smooth Southern drawl. In lace-up field boots, black cargo pants, and a fitted black tee that hugged his brawny shoulders, Buck looked neat, sleek, and flawlessly honed. Nothing extra. Nothing out of place. He glided toward me, like the consummate black panther. His catlike movements were almost military-like in their precision. He'd always been that way. Scrupulous. Attentive to detail. A stickler for perfection. His remarkable assiduousness had come easily to him.

I was sure he had a gun holstered somewhere.

“I'm going for a walk. That's all. And why are you out here scaring people? Last time I looked, our place was private property.”

“Well, Babydoll, after she called half a dozen times, I promised Dame Daphne that we'd keep an eye on things.”

“And you just forgot to tell her that it'd be
you
watching the farm? Night watch detail hardly seems fitting for a sheriff. What happened? You draw the short stick back at the office?”

“Something like that. Why don't you tell me what you're up to, hobbling alone in the woods.”

“I'm not alone. I have Dolly with me. And, apparently, like it or not, I have you, too. So, like I said, I'm just going for a walk.”

“Yeah, right,” Buck said sarcastically. “I know you too well, Babydoll.”

“I just want some time to unwind. I've had a long, crappy day. As if you didn't know that.”

“Yeah. I know all about it. You feelin' okay?”

“Do you mean am I okay after you plied me with drinks that gave me a killer hangover this morning? Or am I okay after I was accosted and my life was threatened by a pair of mob hit men? Or am I okay after the fight I had with your girlfriend, who shoved me into the muddy pond and tried to have me arrested? Or am I okay after the witch-hunt interrogation your detective spearheaded for six hours while I sat, soaking wet, covered in mud? Or am I okay after the car accident that nearly killed me and Precious? Which one is it?”

“I'm sorry, Babydoll. About all of it.”

“Fine. Then get out of my way, please. I'd like to go for a walk with my dog. I've earned it.”

“Wait a minute. What hit men?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you were accosted and your life was threatened by a couple of hit men. What are you talking about, Eva? Why don't I know about this? Did Malagutti or Gambini threaten you?”

“Yes. I told your crackerjack detective all about it. He laughed.”

“What? Babydoll, I've been trying to get a line on 'em and get 'em all locked up since I found out they were here. Did they hurt you?”

“No. And thank you for not telling me—anyone in my family, actually—that you knew there were convicted criminals staying at our place.”

“I thought you'd be safer not knowing anything. All of you.”

“Right. So, you knew there was a pair of dangerous criminals staying at the house, and that there'd been a murder. Still, your hotshot detective spends all his time chasing me, accusing me of killing someone, accusing me of being in the mob. Then, you go and give the information to the
Abundance Record
, so that everyone in town knows before we do. What the heck! That was a crappy thing to do. Get out of my way. I'm going for a walk now, Sheriff Tanner.”

“I didn't leak the story.”

“Well, someone in your ace establishment sure did. And our second-rate newspaper editor was only too happy to publish the poop. Overnight, no less.”

“I'll get to the bottom of it. I promise.”

“Sure you will. And just for my amusement, do these thugs, Sal Malagutti and Guido Gambini, have nicknames like everyone else in the mob who's been staying here?”

Buck looked down.

“Well?”

“Gravedigger.”

“What!”

“Well, there was a story about how Malagutti became a made man when he had some poor sap dig his own grave before . . .”

“Are you frigging kidding me? What's Guido Gambini's name?”

“Dumbo.”

I sighed. “Well, that fits.”

“I'm sorry, Babydoll. I should've told you.”

“But you didn't. That's because you considered me a suspect for murder, right?”

“Right. Well, officially, that is. Not personally, Babydoll. Besides, I've been watching.”

I rolled my eyes. “Well, that's reassuring.”

“What happened with Malagutti and Gambini?”

“They scared me nearly to death, that's all. And I know they meant it.”

“Did they touch you?”

“It doesn't matter.”

Buck swore, and a storm crossed his face.

“I'm just mad that I didn't kick Sal in the nuts, that's all. But I will next time.”

“Christ.” Buck put his head in his hands. “Don't even think like that. They'll kill you. Just stay out of their way. I'll take care of Malagutti.”

“You mean Gravedigger. And how am I supposed to stay out of their way? This is my home. And they walked into
my
house!”

“They were in your place? The cottage?” Buck swore again. “Just give me a few more hours, alright? I want you to tell me everything you know about them. Where they've been, what they've done since they've been here. Everything. Can you do that? Can you just trust me . . . for once?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Buck waited.

“Fine,” I said.

Now was as good a time as any to tell him about the gun under the mattress. So, I spent the next twenty minutes standing on the trail relaying all I knew about that and the New Yorkers. I told him the details about Sal and Guido's visit to my cottage; how they wanted to take over our farm; and how they wanted me to get rid of their Boston family competition.

“Jesus, Eva. Why didn't you come to me? Why? They could've hurt you. Badly. Or worse.”

“Maybe if I'd known they were thugs to begin with, I'd have said something. But you kept that little ditty to yourself.”

“I could've had them arrested. Or at least brought them in.”

“You didn't trust me enough to share. Besides, at the time, I didn't think you'd believe me.”

“Not believe you? Eva, what were you thinking? Why wouldn't I believe you?

I shrugged. “No one else in this town believes me. Except Pep and Daphne, although I think Daphne had her doubts for a while. And Precious Darling. And Ian Collier.” I even surprised myself when I mentioned Ian.

“What's Ian Collier got to do with this?”

“Nothing, I guess. He seems to care about me, that's all. I like him.”

“I warned you, Eva. Don't be getting too close to Ian. It won't end well for you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Just heed my warning, that's all. Understand?”

I didn't answer.

Buck put his hand on my shoulder. Like a giant bear paw, it felt warm and reassuring.

“Why didn't you tell me about finding the gun under the mattress? How are you gonna feel if that turns out to be the murder weapon? Or if someone else gets killed with it?”

I was too embarrassed to answer. He was right. I guess we were even.

“I'm sorry. I was afraid you or one of your gung ho goons would arrest me. Are you going to arrest me now?” I couldn't look Buck in the eye. I'd been selfish and stupid. Too much overthinking. Too many crime dramas. My overactive brain had been my worst enemy.

“Never mind,” he said. “Don't ever mention the gun under the bed again, unless I ask you. Only me. Got it?”

I nodded.

“We'll find it. And I forgive you for calling my deputies ‘gung ho goons.' There are some first-rate people on the force. I'd trust them with my life. And yours. Just not all of 'em—Eli's got a couple of his own loyalists.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” I asked.

“I've learned to watch my back. And if you're going to stick around these parts, knowing you like I do, you should learn not to antagonize them. If you're poking around, it's not a good idea, especially if it makes Eli look bad. Let me handle that.”

“Let you handle what? Making Eli look bad?”

Buck didn't answer right away. Then he said, “Just give 'em enough rope. They'll all hang themselves. Wait . . .”

Buck stepped away, took out his cell phone, and spoke quietly to someone. I heard the words “warrant” and “plantation.” He put his phone in his pocket and turned back to me.

“Why did you fight with Debi? She told me you hit her at the Chamber meeting today.”

“What!” I cried. “I never, ever laid a hand on her. It was all a setup. She wanted to humiliate me in front of everyone. Probably wanted to wreck Daphne's big day as well. It was payback.”

“Payback for what?”

“Never mind. You wouldn't understand.”

“Try me.”

“I'd rather not get into it. Let's just say that Debi and I are a bit like oil and water.” I shuffled some dirt with my foot. “And we always have been.”

Buck raised his eyebrows and waited for me to say more. I hadn't planned to embellish my thoughts; however, since I was still angry with Debi, I added, “By the way, are you sure she isn't waiting for you out front, in her car? In case you haven't noticed, she seems to have a bug up her butt about your not being where she expects you to be at all times. You might want to check your vehicle for a tracking device.”

Buck just stared at me.

“I'm just sayin' . . .” I shrugged.

He burst out laughing. Buck laughed harder than I'd seen anyone laugh in years.

“Ahhh, Babydoll! I knew it. You haven't changed a bit! No wonder Debi's so fit to be tied these days.” He smiled, and I had to laugh myself. Damn, Buck had a killer smile. And dimples to die for. It felt good to make him laugh; a little like a peace offering. And maybe, I thought, I could forgive him just a bit for being with Debi.

There was a soft
beep-beep
sound, and Buck reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone again. He pressed it to his ear and turned away. After a few mumbles, Buck put the phone back in his pocket and turned to face me.

“I gotta go. C'mon. I'll walk you back home.”

“Debi calling to check up on you?”

“No. It's business.” Still, I saw him smile as he turned away.

“You can leave me,” I said. “I'll be fine.”

“No, Eva. We're going back to the cottage. Together. But I've got to hurry back. Can you keep up alright?”

“I'm fine. I'll just hobble along.”

“Atta girl.”

Although I was sore all over and I still wobbled when I
walked, I tried to step up my pace to keep up with Buck. Dolly followed right behind as Buck escorted me back to the cottage, where he instructed me to go inside and lock the door.

“There's one more thing, Babydoll,” said Buck. He took my arm and looked at me hard. “I'm not sure what it all means yet, but you should know that the car Loretta was driving tonight had a sloppy spray-paint job. It was originally light blue.”

“Loretta's car was blue. So, that's the same car, right? Her missing Honda Accord? Why would she paint it?”

“I don't have the details. If it is her car, she probably painted it when she figured we were looking for her in a blue car. And she didn't want to be found.”

“Right.”

“Here's the thing, Babydoll—the brake lines had been tampered with. She flew around Benderman's Curve and ran into you like that because she had no brakes.”