Truth and Consequences (9 page)

Losing herself in the soothing mindlessness, she eased along the aisles. In the dairy section, she added ricotta and parmesan to her selections. Maybe she’d make a vegetable lasagna tomorrow night…stop by Mama’s and get some of those early-ripening tomatoes Daddy was always bragging about, throw in some spinach and fat portobellos. Add a huge salad and steaming, fluffy rolls.

Guilt nipped her with sharp little pinchers. What had Jason eaten tonight?

That’s not your concern.
She snagged a bag of frozen shrimp and slung it into her cart. The buy-one-get-one sign caught her eye, and she added a second bag. Potatoes, corn, sausage, crab boil. She’d call Tick, ask him to join her and Altee for a low country boil, maybe tell him to bring his friend, the good-looking chicken farmer along. The farmer had green eyes, and maybe that would make her forget Jason’s intense gaze.

Not likely, since she couldn’t even remember the farmer’s name.

Another lone woman walked by, her cart holding several containers of yogurt, a loaf of wheat bread and a two-liter diet cola. Kathleen shot a glance at the mound of groceries in her buggy. Enough. She was going to the checkout, now.

After nine o’clock on a weeknight, three customers constituted a mob in the Winn Dixie. One checkout counter stood open, with enough customers standing in line to back up into the frozen food section. Kathleen sighed and meandered along the aisle. Heading for the end of the queue, she perused the selection of frozen goods.

“Hush, I told you not until we get home.” The young mother in front of Kathleen tried to remove a bag of cookies from the frenzied clutch of a fussy toddler. The child cried louder, and a flush crept up the girl’s neck and face. “He missed his nap today.”

“He’s a handsome boy.” Kathleen forced a smile, her face aching. She could imagine her mother offering platitudes and advice, but what could she say? She’d never fussed with her child over a couple of cookies destined to ruin his supper. Swallowing hard, she looked down at her purchases, everything but cookies because they were on the same aisle with the baby items.

“Oh, shoot.” Muffled frustration hovered in the girl’s voice. “I forgot the eggs. Do you mind if I leave my stuff here? It won’t take but a second to run get them and I don’t want to lose my place.”

“Want me to grab them for you?” Jason’s deep drawl slid over Kathleen’s raw nerves and her whole body jerked.

The girl’s hands stilled on the belt holding her son in place and she gazed over Kathleen’s shoulder, an appreciative grin lighting her face. “You don’t mind? I just need a dozen.”

“Be right back.”

Kathleen refused to turn and watch him walk away. The other woman had no such reservations, her bright blue eyes focused on the aisle. She shook her head, bright pink lips curving. “Gosh, he’s cute. A nice guy, too. You don’t find many of those these days.”

Honey, everything isn’t always what it seems, either. Nice guy? You have no idea.

Had she ever been that naïve?

Sure she had. She’d married Tom, had a baby, thought they’d live happily ever after.

“Here you go.” Jason flashed a grin at the young woman and handed her the pastel pink carton.

“Thanks.” Appearing utterly dazzled, she turned away and placed the eggs in her cart. The little boy twisted in the seat and made a grab for the bright container.

His smile dying, Jason walked past Kathleen. He nodded as he passed her. She gripped the cart handle until her knuckles glowed white. She would not turn around. She didn’t care what he was doing here or how he felt about her canceling their plans.

Paper rustled behind her and he began a soft whistled tune, a familiar melody that tickled the edges of her memory. She surveyed the stagnant line. The young mother played peek-a-boo with the toddler. In front of her, a couple of men held a twelve-pack under each arm. At the register stood Mrs. Sara Louise McGillicutty with a six-month supply of kitty litter and cat food. She rummaged in her purse, probably looking for coupons and her change purse. Lord help her, they’d be here all night.

The whistling continued, sawing against her nerves. Kathleen sighed and faced him. “Harding, do you have to do that?”

Jason looked up from his newspaper. He lifted one eyebrow. “Do what? Read?”

“That infernal whistling.”

“That bad? Was I off-key again?” He folded the paper and leaned against the cart. He didn’t smile and Kathleen looked away, her gaze flicking over his buggy’s contents.

His basket held more than hers. Unease skittered down her spine. The cart held basics—milk, cheese, eggs, bread. It also held what had to be splurges—a pack of thick rib-eye steaks, a side of cooked ribs, a half-gallon of premium vanilla ice cream, a six-pack of longneck bottles.

She glanced up to find him watching her, a cynical twist to his lips. She swallowed and forced a cool smile. “Looks like you’re stocking the cupboard.”

His icy green gaze dropped to her buggy. “You, too.”

She lifted one shoulder in a tense shrug. “I always buy too much. My grocery expenses are higher than my light bill.”

“Must be nice.”

The sarcasm stung. “About dinner—”

“Don’t worry about it. Your message was pretty darn clear.”

“You don’t understand. This whole thing—”

“Oh, I understand plenty. Being a little poor doesn’t make a guy a lot dumb.”

“That’s not—”

“Are you moving up?” With a bored expression, he gestured.

She followed the direction of his negligent wave. The line had moved—Mrs. McGillicutty pushed her buggy toward the door, the young men gathered their purchases and the mother unloaded her items while trying to soothe the fussy toddler.

He didn’t speak again, but she was intensely aware of him during the few minutes it took to get her own buggy unloaded, her groceries paid for and her purchases bagged.

“You want me to take that out for you?” The teenager bagging groceries popped his gum a couple of times, punctuating his words.

Kathleen shook her head and tucked her checkbook back in her small purse. “I’ve got it, thanks.”

She pushed the cart toward the door and, unable to resist the impulse, peeked back at Jason. He smiled at the clerk, pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and peeled off two hundreds. Her stomach clenched, a chill snaking over her skin.

Waiting for his change, he glanced around, his gaze clashing with hers. Kathleen spun and walked out the door.

Anger set up camp in Jason’s gut, reaching out tentacles that smothered the thrill he’d gotten from blowing two hundred bucks of his oh-so-convenient tax refund on food.

What did he care what she thought of him? It wasn’t like he stood a chance, anyway. Her mind was made up, and any opportunity he’d ever had of her seeing him as something other than just another corrupt cop was long gone. He resisted the urge to shove the cart toward the truck and create another dent in the pockmarked side panel.

Insects flirted and danced against the halogen security lights, casting weird shadows on the parking lot. The spot next to his truck sat empty now, devoid of the massive blue Cadillac parked there earlier. A familiar white and wood-paneled Wagoneer was two spaces away, and Kathleen moved bags from cart to the cargo area with economic speed.

He began unloading his own purchases, aware of her glances in his direction. She slammed the cargo area door closed. After a moment’s pause, she approached him, her shoes clicking on the pavement like angry castanets. Jason settled the bag holding his milk and ice cream in the corner of the truck bed and watched her approach.

The bright security light glinted off the elegant silver studs in her ears. Anger glittered in her eyes and he stiffened. She marched up to him, her hands resting at her hips. “It’s probably not my place to say this, but I’m going to anyway. This job in Haynes County and your loyalty to your cousin are going to ruin your life. You need to get out, Jason, before you get sucked in.”

“Didn’t we have this same conversation last night?” He nestled a bag of canned goods in front of his milk. “I need this job. I need the money.”

Her gaze flickered toward the bags of groceries and he could sense the thoughts tumbling through her mind. She thought he was already selling out, taking payoffs.

Sadness settled over her features, tugging the corners of her mouth down, wrinkling her brow. “There are other jobs out there. You don’t have to do this.”

If she only knew. He rubbed the tightness at his nape. “Yeah, I do.”

“Why?” She threw her hands skyward. “Just tell me why. Make me understand. And don’t give me that crap about family loyalty. The only person Jim Ed has any true loyalty for is himself.”

He shrugged. “He’s faithful about visiting Billy up at Reidsville.”

“Do you really think he’s going to look out for you?” She shook her head, dragging her fingers through her hair, the short wisps standing out, begging him to smooth them. “How do you know he’s not setting you up to take the fall for some of his shenanigans?”

A bark of laughter escaped him. “Shenanigans? Did anyone ever tell you, Miss Palmer, that you have an old-fashioned vocabulary?”

She muttered a word sure to have offended the old-fashioned English teacher they’d shared in high school.

He lifted his eyebrows and muffled his laugh this time. With a quick shove, he sent the cart into the buggy corral and turned to face her again. “Why do you care? Does it matter whether you’re slapping cuffs on me or Jim Ed?”

The question brought her up short. He could tell by her rapid blinking. Finally, she nodded. “Yes, it does. I don’t want to see him bring you down, too. You deserve more than that.”

The quiet words ricocheted through his brain. She thought he deserved better. No one—
no one
—had ever said that. While he tried to digest the idea that the girl who’d always been out of his reach thought him worthy of more than he had, she stepped forward, a hand gentle on his arm. “You have to get out now. Before it goes any further.”

I can’t.
The words refused to leave his lips, his brain short-circuiting since all he could focus on was the warmth of her hand against his bare skin. He stared at her, her eyes dark and luminous. The muggy air pressed in on them, enveloping them in the silence of the deserted parking lot. Heat radiated from her skin on his, desire invading his blood stream, traveling through his body.

Don’t do this, man. Step away. Get in the truck and leave her alone before one of you gets hurt. Or dead.

I can’t.

“Jason?” Her lips parted on his name and the desire hit him hard, even weakening his knees for a split second. God, he wanted to taste his name lingering on her full bottom lip.

With a hand on the truck to steady himself, he bent his head and covered those parted lips with his own. Her soft mouth moved against his and her hold tightened on his arm. Making a small noise in the back of her throat, she swayed closer and he drank in her unique taste—mint mingled with something sweet and wild.

His tongue danced across her lips, seeking permission to invade. Her palm moved up his arm, then her arms were around his neck, mouth open under his, her body aligned with his. The tip of her tongue tangled with his, tasting, teasing.

With a groan, he backed her against the truck door, not sure his legs would support him. Wanting pulsed in his abdomen, below his belt, through his entire body. He wanted her naked, stretched out beneath him on the purity of her white sheets, making those same breathy little sounds as he made love to her. The image exploded in his brain and a moment passed before he realized her hands had slid to his chest and she was attempting to lever him away.

He pulled his mouth from hers, his breathing coming in unsteady gasps. She curled her fingers into the oft-washed cotton of his T-shirt. He nuzzled his nose against the curve of her ear. “Go home. Forget this happened.”

She slipped closer, heavy breaths pushing her breasts against his chest. Her cheek brushed his and her knuckles moved, an inadvertent caress. Her clean scent filled his head. “Say you’ll quit. Get out before it’s too late.”

“I can’t.” Forcing his hands from her body, he wrenched the door open, rusty hinges squawking. Feeling her gaze like a continued touch, he climbed into the cab and started the engine. He pulled onto the street, aware of her watching him leave.

At her parents’ home, the lights shown brightly in the kitchen. Kathleen parked behind her mother’s ancient BMW and grabbed the bag containing her refrigerated items. The scent of roses and gardenias flowed over her on the walk to the back door. She entered without knocking. The glass sunroom off the kitchen was empty.

“Mama?”

“Kathleen?” Her mother’s surprised voice drifted from the large kitchen and Kathleen followed it. Her mother sat in the window seat at the other end of the room, a cup of coffee and a novel at hand.

Kathleen put her bag of cheeses in the refrigerator. “Where’s Daddy?”

Her mother smiled and stood to envelope her in a hug. “He’s at Virgil’s, talking politics. What are you doing here, sweetheart?”

“I just left the grocery store and thought I’d see if you were still up.” She swiped at a strand of hair falling in her eyes and tried to avoid Mama’s all-too-seeing gaze, sure from the heat in her cheeks she was still flushed from Jason’s kiss.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Kathleen shook her head and forced a laugh, moving to the coffee maker and pouring a cup. “I can’t just stop by because I want to see you?”

“If that was truly your reason for coming, of course.” Her mama patted her arm. “And even if it wasn’t your real reason.”

Silence wrapped around them. Kathleen sipped her coffee, the rich taste lost in the bitterness of her thoughts. She’d come seeking forgetfulness, wanting to put Jason and his kiss out of her mind. Wanting even more to forget he wouldn’t turn his back on Haynes County.

Wouldn’t turn his back on Jim Ed.

The phone rang, its shrill cry shattering the stillness. Mama moved toward the study. “That’s probably your daddy, calling to let me know he’s on his way.”

Coffee in hand, Kathleen followed her mother into the dark wood and leather retreat. Settled into one of the armchairs, Mama picked up the phone. “Hello? Oh, Lenora. How are you?”

Kathleen scanned the bookshelves, letting Mama’s cultured voice soothe her jangling nerves. The classic novels her mother loved shared space with her daddy’s law books. Paperbacks lined another shelf—thrillers, mysteries, romances. Below those were her own high school yearbooks and the ones her mother had received as a long-time faculty member.

Leaning down, she pulled out the book released three years after she graduated. She eased into the other armchair and flipped the book open to the senior class. Her fingers slid down the glossy paper, coming to rest by the picture of a solemn boy.
Jason Alex Harding
.

She smiled, albeit unwillingly. He looked so young. His hair was longer, lighter and fell onto his forehead, and he stared out at the world with shuttered, defiant eyes. In the photo, he was unsmiling, and she traced his mouth with a fingertip. Her lips burned with the remembered feel of that mouth moving on hers and tendrils of desire tickled her stomach again.

“He was a good boy.”

Startled, Kathleen glanced up, a hot flush stinging her neck. When had Mama hung up the phone? How long had she watched her staring at his picture? Kathleen struggled for an uninterested look. “Who?”

“Jason.” Her mother’s slender finger tapped the photo. “He used to spend his lunch hours in the library. He claimed he liked to read, but I always thought it had more to do with not having lunch money and having too much pride to apply for free lunch. He was in Louella’s drama group, too, at least until his senior year.”

Seizing the opportunity to soak up information about him, Kathleen kept her gaze on the yearbook, afraid her eyes would reveal too much. “Why not that year?”

“His mother was ill. She died a few weeks before he graduated. He joined the military right out of school. Louella was bitterly disappointed. She always said the boy had real talent, like he could just climb in a role and wear it as long as he needed.”

“Maybe he thought he’d get farther in the military than on Broadway.” If he was such an excellent actor, which Jason was real? The down-on-his-luck deputy? Or the man who charmed her with stories of his travels? The one who kissed her and made her feel more than any man had in what felt like forever? Or the one who chose money and corruption over her?

Her mother glanced at her, lips pinched. “It’s difficult to watch a child you care about waste talents and opportunities.”

Tension crawled up her spine. She closed the yearbook and rose to return it to the shelf, her motions jerky and tight. “You know what, Mama? I’m more tired than I thought, so I won’t wait for Daddy. I’m going to head home, but I’ll come by Sunday after church.”

She crossed the room to embrace her mother, who held on for a moment, a fierce, tight hug. “Kathleen, don’t forget there’s more to life than the GBI.”

Not likely, since Mama reminded her every chance that came along. Her throat closed and she disentangled herself. “I know. Tell Daddy I came by.”