The Marriage Charm (Bliss County 2) (21 page)

Mrs. A. sniffed as she accepted the offer. “I was worried about
you
. Come, Roscoe.”

That was gratifying. She hadn’t felt she was high enough on the list to warrant concern. “Thank you. I wasn’t here, so the danger was more to my possessions.” She sighed and decided just to fess up. “I assume you got my message about the diamond. It’s my fault—I’d left it out on my worktable, since I was still working on the design, and the thieves took it. I’ll start looking for a new one right away. My insurance will cover it. Um, can I get you some tea or coffee?”

“I’ll take a glass of wine.” Lettie Arbuckle eyed the sofa, apparently felt it was worthy and sat down. Roscoe hopped up beside her and stretched out, head on paws, taking for granted that he was allowed on the furniture. “None of that sweet swill, please. I like body and actual taste.”

By now it was past noon, Melody supposed, although the assumption that she had decent wine on hand was a little ambitious. But in this case she actually did. She went into the kitchen and found that bottle of expensive chardonnay she’d bought a few days ago and hadn’t ended up opening. It was nice and chilled. She poured a glass for Mrs. A. For herself, she grabbed a bottle of water. She took both into her studio/living room and noticed that the cats were nowhere in sight. Stranger with dog equaled an instant vanishing act.

The way she’d arranged her house was fine for her purposes, but it did make entertaining awkward, since her worktable was more practical than elegant. She could’ve used one of the bedrooms as a studio, but she liked the light in here and needed the space. Besides, Mrs. A. had visited before, so she refrained from apologizing for the decor.

“What does Spencer Hogan say about the investigation?” Mrs. Arbuckle asked after taking a genteel sip of wine. “This is turning into a veritable crime spree. Quite shameful.”

“I feel confident he’s doing his best.” That was the truth. “He’s hoping maybe some of the pieces they took from me will surface online and lead to the thieves.”

Melody mourned the loss of her mobile in particular. She’d made it with pieces taken from a lamp with a stained glass shade her mother had accidentally knocked over while dusting; it had been inherited from
her
mother. Melody recalled the tears that had followed, and even though she’d been a child at the time, she’d carefully collected the pieces and put them in a box. Much later, while moving into her own home, she’d come across the shattered glass, and inspiration had struck. To have it stolen was like having someone rip part of her life away. Luckily she’d made two, one for her and one for her mother. Still, it hurt.

“They are unique, true.” Mrs. A. looked thoughtful. “Clever of him.”

“I understand there’s some sort of forensic division at the state level to monitor things like that.” Melody wished she’d taken the time to pour her water into a glass because chugging from a plastic bottle was really rather graceless. But then she still smelled like horse and dog and dust, so why worry about it? She took a swig. Her throat was parched. On the trail ride, she’d make sure she brought along plenty of water. Riding was thirsty work.

“I imagine his resources here in Bliss County are limited.”

Why did Melody get the impression that Mrs. A. had dropped by to discuss something other than the robbery? In all her glorious grubbiness, Melody sat back and waited, saying nothing more than, “I imagine so, too.”

“He’s quite an attractive young man.”

That was undeniable. Far too attractive, but the expectant way her guest was looking at her made it hard to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter.

Was the elite Lettie Arbuckle, queen of Mustang Creek society, such as it was, matchmaking?

“He has his moments,” she confirmed in a neutral tone. “Nice to look at, but not always easy on the nerves.”

Mrs. A. waved a hand airily. “All men are irritating, my dear. The balance between positive and negative attributes is what matters. That, and the man’s smile. I must admit that what I first notice about a man is how he smiles. Chief Hogan’s smile is exceptional.”

Melody wondered if she’d been transported to another galaxy, one in which rich matrons dropped by to extoll the virtues of a man who’d slung her over his shoulder like a barbarian just a few nights ago and carted her off. It seemed to be a habit of his.

She set her bottle of water on the floor. “I don’t disagree.” Enough about Spence’s sexy smile; she thought about it entirely too much as it was. “Like I said, my next move is to start looking for another stone for the ring. I can’t count on the original being recovered, so I assume you want me to move forward.”

“Please do. As soon as possible.”

Then she pulled a typical Mrs. A. move. She finished her wine and got up to leave without saying goodbye, Roscoe trailing after her.

Bemused, Melody rushed to the door, whipped it open in the nick of time, and watched them exit. They both got into the car, which backed out of the driveway.

What had just happened?

She didn’t have the faintest idea.

*

S
PENCE ENTERED THE
shop with teapots on his mind.

Ronald was unpacking a box full of old dishes, humming to himself, and a genuine smile broke out on his thin face when he glanced up. “Howdy, Spence. Nice day, isn’t it?”

Yes, but chatting about the weather wasn’t why he was there. “Sure, yes, very nice. I was wondering if you could help me out.”

Ronald brushed packing material from his hands. “Of course. If I can.”

Spence sent a fleeting glance over shelves of antique dishes and musty books then focused on the glass case in front of him. It overflowed with various pieces of jewelry in various styles and from various decades, the most valuable kept in a locked section. Spence saw any number of period pieces, including diadems, and knew he was out of his league. He needed some expert advice.

He went to lean on the glass counter then thought better of it. The case looked as old as the contents, and he wasn’t a small man. “So here’s my question. If you wanted to sell a stolen bunch of old teapots or an antique diamond ring, how would you go about it?”

“I’m sick about that ring. I called Melody when I got it in because I knew she’d
appreciate
it.”

Spence believed him.

Ronald wasn’t slow on the uptake. He nodded. “Narrow market. I wouldn’t buy a collection like that, not to sell around here. Wrong place for it. Antique guns, sure. They’d sell. Those teapots would just collect dust. I mean, I can sell platters and gravy boats and such, but not a collection of high-end, extremely valuable teapots.”

“So where
would
you sell them?”

“Online auction probably. With a minimum bid. There are fanatic collectors who’d pay a fortune for them.”

“From what I understand, the diamond ring is worth a lot less without the history.”

“The provenance,” Ronald corrected. “Oh, you’d be right, but think about it.”

The bell jingled as a couple came in, obviously tourists. Ronald rested his knuckles on the case and after he’d nodded at them, said drily, “When you get it for free—because you break into someone’s place and help yourself to it—provenance isn’t as big a concern, now, is it? A nice rock will still fetch you some serious coin. Same goes if it’s a black market sale. I’m really careful not to buy anything that might be stolen, but I’m not the only dealer in these parts. If a good deal comes along, and I have no reason to be suspicious, I’ll bite. I know Mrs. Rayburn, so no one’s going to ask me to buy those teapots. The diamond won’t come my way, either, not unless the person who stole it is an idiot. Since you haven’t caught anyone, I assume he’s not. Or they, as the case may be.”

It made sense, of course.

“Thanks. Keep an ear out, will you?”

“You bet.”

To make it worse, when Spence went to leave, the first person he saw was one of the women he’d briefly dated entering the store. Not surprising in a town this size, but the way she looked right through him didn’t improve his day. He held the door for her. He didn’t get a thank you or, in fact, any acknowledgment at all.

He didn’t know if she was here because she had business with Ronald or as a customer...

The trail ride was starting to look more and more promising. Just getting out of town appealed to him. He was considering fast-food options when his phone beeped.

Melody.

Yeah, he’d take that call even if he was standing on the top of Mount Everest.

“Sir Edmond Hillary.”

There was a lengthy pause. “I’m pretty sure I don’t have the wrong number—and it sounds like you, Spence—but I don’t get the joke.”

“He climbed the world’s highest mountain in 1959.”

“I know that, thank you. Why would—”

He cut her off. “What’s up?”

“I wondered if you’d like to have dinner,” she said.

“You’re asking me out?”

“No, not really. Just dinner. That meal we eat in the evening.”

“My grandmother referred to lunch as dinner, and supper was in the evening.”

Her sigh was heartfelt. “Forget it. Talking to you is—”

Before she could hang up, he said swiftly, “I’d love to, but my place, okay? Is that too much trouble? I have to take care of Reb and there’s Harley, too. I’ll pick you up.”

He understood that she was nervous about staying alone, and he was nervous about letting her stay alone, so it worked out.

“I’ll cook,” she said, quiet but firm. “And I’ll drive myself. Your place is fine. I’ll bring the ingredients and be there by six. Now that the window’s fixed, the cats should be fine. I have nothing left to steal, so no one will break in.”

He winced to hear the disillusionment in her voice. “Six it is. If you need a fancy pan of any kind, you might want to bring one because my kitchen has two cast iron skillets, and that’s it. I should have enough dishes, though.”

“See you then.”

When the call ended, he hit the pavement, walking back to the station with a purposeful stride. He kept the house decent, but he couldn’t swear he’d done the dishes—and how long had it been since he swept the front porch? Too long, probably.

The elation he felt was like that of a high school kid who’d just managed to snag the prom date of his dreams.

Melody wanted to cook for him. That was progress.

*

“I
’M AN IDIOT
.”

Melody said it out loud as she drove down the long lane to Spence’s house, because her pulse had decided to pick up its pace despite her resolve to approach this evening like a mature woman and not some starry-eyed adolescent.

Fine. They’d slept together.

And then just
slept
together.

She wished that hadn’t happened. Not the first time, but the last one. That he hadn’t held her through the night when she was vulnerable and unhappy and alone. In truth, he’d been sweet. No touching, no whispers, just his arms around her when she really needed it.

It was hard to think of a man so virile and masculine as sweet, and yet there it was. Not that she didn’t believe he could be kind and considerate, but
sweet
had shaken the foundations of her resistance, leaving a crack in the wall.

She needed to do all women in the world a favor and start a blog or something.
Beware of Sweet: It’ll Hook You Like a Trout Swallowing a Lure
.

Harley dashed off the porch when she pulled up, barking his fool head off with joy, and she was smart enough not to get out the groceries until they’d greeted each other properly. It was nice to be loved, but in the process her jeans had acquired some attractive paw prints.

Spence was nowhere in sight, which probably meant he was still at the barn.

She hauled out the sack of chopped vegetables and marinated chicken she’d spent quite some time preparing and went up the porch steps and into the house, Harley at her heels.

And stopped short.

Mouth open in surprise, bags clutched in her arms.

There was no question the man had gone overboard.

The small dining room was between the living room and the kitchen, and he’d set the square table for two, complete with attractive dark blue placemats and matching cloth napkins, silverware, simple white plates and water goblets, but that wasn’t the real surprise. He’d taken the time to gather a bouquet of wildflowers as a lavish centerpiece, just for her. She was almost certain he didn’t usually eat with a vase of flowers on the table. More likely it was dusty boots in the corner, the television on ESPN, his plate on his knees as he sat on the couch.

As an artist, she had to admit he had an eye.

They were wildflowers of almost every variety blooming right now—red, violet, mustard yellow, and there were green spikes of leaves through it all, too. Arranged very effectively. He could give the flower shop in town a run for its money should he decide to leave law enforcement.

More sweetness. She was a goner. A lost cause. Just write her off.

She texted Bex and Hadleigh.

Spence picked wildflowers for me.

She had to laugh when they both texted back the same thing.

Uh-oh.

It wasn’t as though she disagreed.

When he came through the door, she had her wok out, and the rice was already steaming, and the wontons—a new recipe that didn’t require frying—were in the oven. She glanced over her shoulder. “As you can see, I made myself at home. Blame Harley. He invited me in.”

“Smells fantastic in here.” He took off his hat and hung it on a hook by the door. “Sorry, it took me a little longer in the barn than I intended.”

He was probably late because he’d been out gathering wildflowers before hitting the necessary chores that come with having a ranch, big or small.

That proved something she was fast becoming aware of—she was a sucker for a romantic gesture, especially from Spence. Didn’t that just complicate things?

Melody poured some peanut oil into the pan and added garlic. “Dinner’s not ready yet, anyway.”

She liked his kitchen. No extra frills, but it had clean lines and knotty pine cabinets, a state-of-the-art stainless-steel refrigerator she envied and a plank wood floor. The design was efficient, economical—not a surprise, considering whose kitchen this was. Some tin canisters sat on the butcher-block counter; she’d bet they were antique. The window over the farmhouse-style sink didn’t face the mountains, but looked out on a meadow bordered by a fringe of Ponderosa pines, standing there like stately warriors. If a person had to wash dishes, and she didn’t see a dishwasher, it was exactly the view to compensate for the task. She might dirty up some more pots and pans just to stare out at it.