The Sheriff's Surrender (15 page)

Of course, if
he
had a steady woman in his life, he wouldn't mind her dressing that way, either—but he'd sure as hell hate her going out in town like that. Fortunately, Neely had never been comfortable in anything overly revealing unless they were home alone, so he'd never had to worry—

The scowl that lately seemed to have become a permanent fixture on his face deepened, drawing his brows together. Neely was
not
a woman in his life, and she could wear whatever kind of clothing she damn well pleased. It didn't matter to him.

He took the steps two at a time, then stopped just out of arm's reach of Shay, planted his hands on his hips and glared at her. “Where is she?”

She pulled a pair of dark glasses from somewhere and put them on before looking up and smiling brightly. “Nice to see you, too, Reese.”

He took a controlling breath. “Hello, Shay. It's good to see you. Where is she?”

She patted the empty chair. “Sit down. We need to talk.”

“No, darlin', you need to tell me where in holy hell Neely is so I can put her in handcuffs and take her back to the Canyon County jail where there's a nice, luxurious cell waiting with her name on it.”

“You can't take her to jail.”

“I'm the sheriff. I can do whatever I damn well please.” He removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Do you know where I was when the dispatcher called? On my way to pick up a prisoner in Stillwater.
Five miles
from the city limits, but there wasn't anyone to take this call, so I had to turn around and come all the way back, and after I take her to jail, I'll have to go back to Stillwater.”

She didn't say a word, but merely patted the chair again. After a long moment he grudgingly sat.

“Which was worse?” she asked. “The worry that she'd done something stupid, like run away? Or the fear that the people trying to kill her had found her?”

“Neither,” he lied. He'd driven faster than was safe over narrow, two-lane roads, telling himself mile after mile that she was probably just getting some sun on the back deck or had gone to the pasture to see the horses. That the biggest danger to her safety was Neely herself—though he ran a close second. Eddie Forbes just had to wait in line with everyone else who held a grudge against her.

But he hadn't convinced himself, not for a second. Even now, his heart was still beating too fast and the tension that had knotted his muscles the instant the dispatcher called hadn't yet begun to ease. It wouldn't, he thought, until he saw Neely and knew for a fact that she was all right.

“Liar,” Shay said mildly. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you were in love with her.”

“I'm not—I wasn't—” He sank back and pressed one hand against his middle where the tension was making him regret that greasy burger for lunch. “She told you about that,” he murmured, then commanded, “Take off your glasses and look at me.”

When she obeyed, he knew Neely hadn't told her everything. Shay wouldn't be able to look at him so clear-eyed if she knew how he'd turned his back on Neely after she'd been shot. No matter what had happened, no matter how many people had died or who they were, he should have gone to her. Should have held her, reassured her, helped her. Should have prayed for her to be all right.

He shouldn't have had a single thought to spare for anyone but her until he'd known she was going to be all right, and even long after.

“You were in love with her, and it didn't work out,” Shay said softly.

Didn't work out.
It sounded so harmless. She could have died, and there'd been days when he'd believed death was preferable to living without her. It hadn't been harmless at all. “No, it didn't work out,” he agreed, grimacing with the words.

“Poor Neely.”

Reese gave her an aggravated look. “Why poor Neely? You hardly even know her. Why not poor Reese?”

“Because you obviously did something unforgivable.”

He couldn't deny it, and he couldn't admit the truth—couldn't face it in the bright afternoon sunlight—and so he ignored it and got to his feet. “You'd better get back to work, and I've got business to take care of inside.”

“Reese…” Rising, Shay laid her hand on his arm. “Consider how difficult this is for her. She spends most of her time alone with nothing to do but watch television. The only person she sees is you, and you're carrying a load of guilt for the way you once treated her, but instead of trying to make it up to her, you're taking it out on her. She's scared, bored, hurting,
suffering from cabin fever… This is really hard for her.” She hesitated, then lowered her voice. “Ordinarily, I wouldn't tell you this, but…I like Neely, and I don't want to see her do something foolish. She…she asked me to let her sister Bailey know she's safe and in Heartbreak. I—I suppose it could be as innocent as it seems, except…just before that, she'd asked me to take her to Tulsa and loan her the money to get away from here.”

He wasn't surprised, Reese told himself. Neely had made it clear that she'd rather be anyplace than with him. He'd been expecting some stunt like this. Wasn't that why he'd restricted her access to the telephone and the computer? Because he couldn't trust her?

No, he wasn't surprised at all. Just…a little disappointed.

He hugged Shay, noticing in some distant part of his mind that it felt different from holding Neely. Shay was an incredible woman, but for all his body noticed, she might as well be his sister. Ignoring the disturbing difference, he said, “If you'd ever gotten over Easy Rafferty, I would have happily married you.”

Her arms tightened briefly around him. “No, you wouldn't have. Not happily, because you'd never gotten over Neely. You know, second chances don't come around every day. Take some advice from someone who finally got it right. Don't blow this one.”

She pulled away and started for the steps, and Reese watched her go. He didn't bother arguing with her that he didn't
want
a second chance with Neely. Except maybe in bed. Lust was the biggest part of what he was feeling lately, and there were a million easier ways of satisfying that than Neely Madison.

Once Shay had turned the corner, he gathered the remains of their lunch and went inside. For a moment he stood at the kitchen sink, staring out at the barn and the horses grazing idly in the pasture. From the living room came the sounds of conflict—shouting, screaming and the audience's boos. Trash
TV, his dispatchers called it. They loved it. He bet it drove Neely right up the wall.

Other than that, the house was silent.

Wishing he could just reset the alarm and leave again, Reese walked to the guest room door and knocked once. “Neely?” When he got the expected response—none—he tried the knob and found it locked. He felt along the top of the door frame for the handy key that fitted the lock and opened it with a click, but he didn't open the door. Instead he leaned against the wall. “I won't come in without an invitation, but…we've got to talk. This can't continue.”

For a long time there was no answer. He knew she was in there. He could practically
feel
her sitting or lying on the bed, upset, defiant, embarrassed and helpless. And she hated feeling helpless.

“Listen, I've got to get back to work. I've got to pick up a prisoner from the Payne County jail. When I get home, we'll renegotiate the terms of your…visit.”

The bed creaked, then he swore he heard the whisper of bare feet on the wood floor. An instant later the door opened a few inches, giving him a view of one narrow strip of her face. “You aren't going to yell at me and threaten to throw me in jail?”

Was that all she expected of him? Anger and threats? “No.”

Her look turned accusing. “Did you yell at Shay?”

“Honey, if I'd yelled at Shay, you would've heard her yelling back. She doesn't take orders kindly.” And why should she? She was intelligent, capable, efficient, and deserved to be treated as such.

And so did Neely.

“I—I'll be back around the usual time. We'll talk then, okay?”

Though she nodded, her expression lacked any hope at all. That nagged at Reese as he headed back for the kitchen. Before he got there, he turned back. “Do you want anything? Books? Magazines? Any particular food or pop?”

For one distrusting moment after another, she simply looked at him, then finally answered. “Books. With happy endings. Chocolate kisses. And that chocolate sauce you put on ice cream that turns hard.”

Books with happy endings and ice cream sauce that turned hard. He was going to have fun asking for help in finding those at the store. But he didn't comment on that. He simply nodded and left.

He'd made the drive to Stillwater so many times that he didn't need to think about it. After high school, he'd gone to Oklahoma State, located in Stillwater, on a baseball scholarship. A free ride to a college degree just because he could throw a baseball fast and hard, while Jace, who'd actually cared about getting a degree, had gotten academic scholarships and still had to work part-time every semester. It wasn't fair, but life wasn't fair. He'd accepted that a long time ago.

It seemed Neely had finally accepted it, too.

Unfortunately, it had been too late for them.

Unless you believed in second chances.

Unless you blew it the second time, too.

Or unless you did something the first time that was unforgivable.

He
wasn't
looking for forgiveness, he reminded himself. He just wanted to keep her alive until it was safe for her to return to Kansas City, and then he wanted to go back to life as usual. Quiet. Peaceful.

Lonely.

Scowling again, he stopped at the store once he reached Stillwater and found a salesclerk old enough to be his mother to help him choose the books. With a wink and a grin, she led him to the end rack in the book section. “Happy endings guaranteed, Sheriff,” she said, indicating the books with a flourish. “That's so special, that you're not embarrassed to buy romance novels for your sweetheart. Maybe you two will find a happy ending all your own.”

“She's not—we're not—” Giving up, he scanned the shelves. Determined not to endure the clerk's beaming smile
any longer than necessary, he didn't bother to choose carefully. He grabbed six or eight books whose covers caught his eye, tossed them into the cart, then turned to the next item on his short make-Neely-happy list.

The clerk helped him find both the chocolate kisses and the ice-cream sauce, then even accompanied him to the checkout. “He's shopping for his lady friend,” she told the checker as she helped unload the cart. “Isn't that sweet?”

He'd never been so relieved to get out of a store in his life.

From there he picked up his prisoner, returned to Buffalo Plains and turned the man over to the jailer, then interviewed a couple of prospective deputies. The state of Oklahoma gave sheriffs tremendous latitude in the hiring and firing of staff, but he tried very hard to not take advantage of it. He'd never hired anyone who wasn't competent, and had never fired anyone who didn't deserve it.

By four o'clock, he was happy to walk out the door and was almost eager to get home and give Neely her stuff. Because it proved he had at least a speck of consideration? Because it might make her feel more kindly toward him? Because he wanted her to stop trying to run away?

He was about to open the door to his truck when a strong hand clamped onto his shoulder and pulled him around. Startled, he dropped his right hand to his holstered weapon, then gave his father an admonishing look. “That's a good way to get yourself shot.”

“I called your name a half dozen times, but you were preoccupied. You're heading home early.”

Reese glanced at his watch. “It's quitting time.”

“For everyone else in the department, maybe. You hardly ever get out of here on time.” Del turned to lean back against the truck. “I heard you had to fire Tommy Lee Curtis.”

“Did they tow the patrol car into your yard?” At his father's nod, Reese said, “Then you saw why. Is it going to be fixable?”

“I don't know yet. Your uncle James was looking at it when I left. We'll let you know probably tomorrow.” Del's gaze
narrowed. “When did you develop a hankering for chocolate?”

Reese glanced at the nearly transparent plastic bag he held in his left hand. With the afternoon high predicted to be in the low nineties, the kisses would have melted into gooey globs if he'd left them in the truck so he'd taken them to his office. The books had stayed in the truck. Wrapped inside two plastic bags. Stuck under the passenger seat.

With the heat in his face approaching the temperature of the pavement beneath his feet, he tried not to stammer. “I—I like chocolate.”

“Son, you lived half your life with me. While you did eat chocolate cake or pudding or ice cream on occasion, I don't believe I've ever seen you eat a piece of chocolate candy in my life.” Suddenly Del grinned. “You seeing somebody with a sweet tooth?”

A sweet tooth, a sweet body, an incredibly sweet face…and a not-so-sweet disposition, for which he was at least partly responsible.

Rather than make some effort at the truth, Reese let his father's misinterpretation stand. “I won't be seeing her if I don't get home pretty quick.”

Laughing, Del moved back, then opened the truck door. “By all means, don't let me stand in the way of true love…or just getting lucky for the night. But you know, you might want to keep in mind that before long, I'm gonna be too old to enjoy any grandkids I might have.”

“Right, Dad,” Reese agreed dryly as he settled behind the wheel. “You've got more energy and strength than most men half your age.”