The Great Jackalope Stampede (35 page)

He had no idea how soured she had been on men since her world had fallen apart. “I wore the jeans because they were clean, and I chose this shirt because it’s always hot and humid in here by the end of the night.”

“Yes.” He traced the strip of cotton fabric that rounded over Ronnie’s shoulder. “It is very hot.”

A lightbulb flashed on in her head. She cocked her head to the side. “Is all of this your way of asking me to sleep with you, Sheriff?”

He laughed low and husky. “No, Veronica. You are the last person in this county who I should get involved with.”

Was he trying to convince her of that? Or himself? She planted her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Then what’s with the questions about being uninhibited and my clothing choices?”

“Hell. I’m going about this all wrong.” He plowed his fingers through his dark, wavy hair. “I knew I wasn’t the man for this job.”

“What job? Trying to find prostitutes at the local bar?”

His gaze held hers. “Let’s get something straight between us. I suspect you are many things, Veronica Morgan, but you are no prostitute. Just because I thought you were being uninhibited tonight does not mean I believe you sell your body for sex.”

Good to know where he stood on the subject of her livelihood. “My records state that clearly, do they?”

“They don’t need to.”

“You haven’t seen the home videos then, I take it.” Her bitterness seeped into her tone. It always did when she cut through the layers of humiliation.

“Home videos of what?”

“Never mind.” She sat next to him on the table edge, shoulder to shoulder. “Grady, why are you here asking me about my sex life if you don’t want anything to do with it?”

“I never said that, Veronica.” He leaned closer, his shoulder actually touching hers. “I came looking for my niece,” he said for her ears only.

“Mindy Lou?” Ronnie asked.

He nodded. “Ever since her fiancé told her she was too fat for him and then left her for another woman, she keeps searching for her self-confidence in strangers’ beds. My brother’s wife begged me to come here tonight and try to talk some sense into her.”

“Your sister-in-law sent you to help with this?” That made Ronnie grin and then laugh.

“Yeah. Why is that so funny?”

“You’re like a robot when it comes to emotions.”

His eyes grew steely. “I’m not a robot, Veronica. I just don’t wear my emotions on my sleeve like you.”

She shrugged off his observation. “For that reason, Grady, I try not to wear sleeves. And I wish you’d stop calling me Veronica.”

“It’s a nice name.”

“I like Ronnie better.” Although, she did enjoy the sound of her real name when it rolled off his tongue. “You’re probably not going to be able to help Mindy Lou.”

“Why not?”

“She needs to feel like she’s attractive, and she’s searching for that confirmation from a man who isn’t related to her.” Like the pawn shop dude and Jess’s dad. “Her uncle telling her she’s pretty isn’t gonna cut it.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so.”

He drilled her with his gaze. “From experience?”

“Something like that.” She pushed away from the table and rounded to the opposite side, bending over to line up the fourteen ball in the pocket under Grady’s very nice ass.

“Don’t look down my shirt, Sheriff,” she told him as she focused on her shot.

Ronnie might not have been overweight in the past, but she had been a brunette instead of a blonde. The few times she had been hit on since dying her hair back to her natural color had done wonders for her confidence after years of feeling like she had to pretend to be someone else, someone blonde, to be noticed by any man, including her husband.

“I’m not a robot, Veronica Morgan.”

She had hit a nerve there. When she looked up, his eyes were on hers, not her chest. She took the shot and sank the fourteen ball. “Okay,” she stood up, stretching her lower back. “How about a cyborg?”

He came around to her side in a few determined strides and pinned her butt back against the pool table. His thighs were pressed hard against hers, along with another very noticeable part of his anatomy. “Your ex-husband was an idiot.”

Suddenly, there seemed to be a lack of oxygen in this corner of the bar. She tried to catch her breath. “He was?”

He angled his head like he was going to kiss her. She peered up at him from under her lashes, wishing like hell he would hurry up and do it. As much as she didn’t want to find Grady attractive and tempting, she did. Plain and simple. Seeing him tonight without the reminder of what he did for a living only cranked her interest in the man behind the star even more.

“I appreciate your advice,” he said, inches from her lips.

She pushed up on her toes, lining up with his mouth. “It was my pleasure,” she whispered, licking her lips in anticipation.

He stared at her mouth for a long moment, and then grinned. “You’d want me to use the handcuffs, I’m betting.”

Before she could figure out what that meant in relation to her jumping his bones right there on the pool table, or vice-versa, he grabbed his cowboy hat and walked away, leaving her aching for more.

Chapter Eighteen

Sunday, October 7th

“Where’s Mom?” Claire asked Kate, who was sitting behind the counter in the General Store, apparently holding down the fort. Her face looked paler than usual, especially against the black collar of her work shirt. Her blonde tendrils hung limp around her cheeks, and her blue jeans looked baggier than ever on her thighs. Pregnancy was beating the crap out of her inside and out.

“Good morning to you, too, Sunshine.” Kate lifted a spoonful of white creamy stuff to her mouth, plugged her nose, and then gagged it down like she was self-medicating with castor oil.

“What are you doing?” Claire picked up the plastic container from the counter in front of Kate.

“Eating yogurt.”

“I thought you liked yogurt.”

“I did before morning sickness hit.”

Claire set it down on the counter. “How long have you been dealing with this?”

“About a week.”

“You weren’t really going on walks early in the morning, were you?”

“Well, if you count the distance to and from the bathrooms, then sort of. Thank God Ruby takes pride in keeping her campground’s toilets clean.”

Claire grimaced. “I don’t envy you.”

“I don’t envy me, either. When are you going to tell everyone you’re not pregnant?”

Claire held her finger to her lips. She had told Kate the no-baby truth late last night when she had returned to the Skunkmobile without Mac in earshot.

“What? We all know about the baby. Well, what we thought was a baby.”

“Mac doesn’t.”

“What?” Kate frowned at her. “Why haven’t you told him yet?”

“I wanted to talk to him about it in person, not over the phone.” Claire walked over to the packaged fruit pies display and grabbed a blueberry pastry from the shelf. “But I never got to it yesterday with everything else going on.” She tore the wrapper open and returned to the counter, throwing some money down for the food. “Then I started my period, you were crying about being pregnant, and Ronnie got totally wasted.” She took a bite out of the pie, the glazed crust sweetening the sugary globs of blueberry filling perfectly. “Jeez, my life sounds like one of those reality T.V. shows. I wonder if there’s any money in letting them come follow me around with cameras day and night.”

“I’d opt out. They always focus so much attention on the one whose life is the most screwed up, and right now I think I’m out in front of you and Ronnie.”

Claire nodded, happy as hell to be dealing with cramps today instead of morning sickness. “When are you going to tell Butch?”

Kate dropped her spoon on the counter and pushed the container of yogurt away. “I don’t know. I should probably wait until he gets back from his road trip.”

“Does he have any idea what’s going on with you?”

She shook her head. “I told him I was staying out here because I felt safer around my family while he was gone.” She hugged herself, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. “I just couldn’t bring myself to break up with him over the phone.”

Claire agreed. Phone breakups were right up there with Dear John letters and walking in on your boyfriend having sex with your best friend, but still … “So he’s going to come back and find out you’re pregnant and you’ve moved out?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Claire shook her head. “That’s not going to go well. Are you sure this is the best choice?”

“No, Claire. Right now I’m not sure about anything other than the fact that I am pregnant with his child, and that he told me face-to-face weeks ago that a child would mess up his plans for the future.”

“What did you say when he told you that?”

“I agreed. I didn’t know I was pregnant at the time, and you know how much I don’t love being around kids. A life with Butch and only Butch sounded like nirvana.”

Claire could see Kate in that lifestyle, traveling the world with Butch, no children slowing her down. Kate never had taken much interest in other children. When they were in elementary school, she always hung out with the much older kids. In junior high and high school, she had delivered newspapers for extra money instead of babysitting like Claire and Ronnie.

“Well,” Claire searched for the silver lining and grinned when she found one, “at least you know who the father is. And as a bonus, he isn’t in jail or prison, unlike a few of your exes.”

Kate tried to hold onto her frown and failed. She reached across and poked Claire hard in the shoulder. “Not funny, smartass.”

Chuckling, Claire rubbed the spot Kate had poked. “It is, too. I made you laugh.” Then she sobered. “Seriously, Kate, it could be much worse.”

“Worse than having a baby on my own with no job to support us after I quit working at the bar? Don’t even get me rolling on my inadequate health insurance nightmares.”

“There are plenty of places around here to get a job, and you won’t be on your own. I’m here.”

“You’re in Tucson.”

“So come live in Tucson with me.” Claire bit her lower lip. She probably should’ve run that by Mac first.

Kate stared out through the screen door, her forehead lined. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Just remember, you’re not alone. You have Ronnie and me.”

Her eyes flooded with tears. She pinched her lips together and nodded.

“Don’t start crying again, you big bawl baby. You got mascara and snot all over one of my favorite T-shirts last night.”

A half-sob half-laugh leaked from Kate’s not-so-sealed lips. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue. “I can’t help it, damn it. The stupid hormones have me all messed up.”

“I’m going to leave you here now to have a nice little blubber-fest while I go find Mom.”

Kate sniffed, straightening her shoulders. “You’re not going to start a fight with her, are you?”

“No.” Claire was not in the mood to go head to head with her mother this morning. Her wounds from last night were still too raw. “I want to ask her if she has seen any strangers down in the basement over the last few days while going through Joe’s antiques.”

“You’re still fixated on that watch, aren’t you?”

“Of course. I have to have something to obsess about until you have that baby.” Especially since she no longer had a baby of her own to worry about 24/7.

“Tell Jess that I have to leave in an hour. Her shift is next.”

“Will do.” She started toward the curtain then paused. “Who knows about you know what?” She pointed at Kate’s belly.

“You, Mac, and Natalie. And that’s all who needs to know for now.”

“What about Ronnie?”

“I’ll fill her in when she drags her hungover ass out of bed.”

Claire nodded and then slipped through the curtain into the rec room. The smell of eggs and toast teased her stomach—the blueberry pastry merely an hors d'oeuvre. She detoured to the kitchen and found Mac and Jess sitting at the table eating with Gramps, the newspaper in his hands. Ruby looked over from where she stood breaking eggs into a cast iron skillet.

“Good mornin’, sugar.” Ruby held up an egg. “Hungry?”

“Famished.” She flicked Gramps’s paper as she passed in front of him.

He grunted something that sort of sounded like it had the word “morning” in it and turned the page.

Patting Jess’s head, she said, “Kate says you need to take over behind the counter within the hour so she can head to work.”

Jess smiled up at her. “Dad’s taking me to see that new movie tonight about the zombies who fall in love while on the run from vampires. You want to come with us?”

As much as Claire wanted to see that film, there was no way in hell she was going with Steve Horner.

Wait.

Then again, if he was the one who had stolen the pocket watch, this might be the perfect opportunity to interrogate him and watch his body language to see if he was lying. What was that rule? If the person looked up and to the left, then they were lying? She once had a pilot for a boyfriend who diddled with his sausage and biscuits every time he lied. One face-burning visit to Gramps’s house had marked the grounding of that relationship before it had left the gate.