Читать книгу Running for Her Life - Beverly Long - Страница 13

Chapter Five

“I couldn’t,” she said immediately. “Really.” She stood up and took a step back. “I promised Andy.”

Andy looked disappointed but held up his hands, clearly not wanting to piss off his new boss. “No problem, Chief. I’ll find another partner. But when we beat the pants off the two of you, I’m hoping I don’t get poisoned or fired.”

Tara chewed on the corner of her upper lip. Then she took a breath and met his eyes. “Let’s go,” she said.

Without another word, she walked over to the starting line and held out a hand for a sack. He moved behind her but didn’t speak. In the background, the Bluemond band played on. It appeared the kids were determined to provide a full afternoon’s worth of entertainment. This was the third time he’d heard the same song. They’d shed their uniform jackets, their only concession to the heat.

She handed him the sack and he put one leg in. “If I die of a heart attack, promise me that you won’t tell anyone that I died with one leg in a potato sack.”

She shrugged. “You could die covered with yolk. The egg-tossing contest is next.”

He rolled his eyes and barely managed to keep them from rolling back in his head when she stuck her long bare leg into the sack. Even through the fabric of his pants, he swore he could feel the softness of her skin. Her hip brushed against his, bone against bone.

“Ready?” she asked, her voice sharp.

“As ever,” he said. He’d gotten himself into this situation, now he just needed to see it through. He inched his leg away, making space between them.

The whistle sounded, they hopped, almost fell, righted themselves, hopped again, and by the time they reached midway, had gotten into a rhythm. Ten feet from the finish line, he thought they had a chance of winning, but out of the corner of his eye he saw another couple catching up. He was so focused on them that he missed the pair on the other side who, instead of hopping, were lurching, like it was a damn long-jump competition. They overextended and would have crashed into Tara if Jake hadn’t turned his body and swung her out of the way.

The momentum carried her into him, he fell, and before he knew it he was flat on his back. She was splayed on top of him, her face pressed flat into his neck, her breasts soft against his chest. His arms were wrapped around her, holding her tight. She was solid, yet delicate. Round in the right places. Smooth.

She moved, jerking her head up so fast that a long strand of silky strawberry-blond hair brushed his cheek. He inhaled sharply, and when his lungs filled with a burst of raspberry, he realized he’d made the mistake that he’d managed to avoid on her front steps. The scent would haunt him. No doubt about it.

She stared at him, the black pupils of her green eyes big and round. And he suddenly couldn’t hear a thing—not the band, not the crowd—all he could hear was the sound of her uneven breath. Her lips were parted and he knew that all he needed to do was lift his head and he’d be kissing her. He—

“Tara, are you okay?” Andy was there, squatting down next to them. When he offered a helping hand, Tara grabbed it quickly, and scrambled out of the potato sack. Andy offered a hand to Jake, but Jake waved it away. He got up more slowly, feeling oddly off balance.

“You guys would have won,” Andy said.

“It was a good effort,” Jake said. He looked at Tara, but she was busy dusting some invisible grass off her shorts. “I hope you didn’t add to your collection of bruises,” he said.

She shook her head. “I’m fine. No harm done.”

Did she really believe that? Because his brain felt pretty scrambled.

“Gonna do the egg toss?” Andy asked.

Speaking of scrambled. “No. I think I’ll sit this one out.” He turned and set off through the crowd. One pass-through convinced him that the most dangerous thing happening was that Lori Mae’s seven-year-old twin boys, Riley and Keller, who he’d met just briefly yesterday when they’d come to the station to meet their mom for lunch, were perched high in a tree spitting watermelon seeds at unsuspecting souls.

He pretended he didn’t see them but figured they had seen him when he heard a gasp and leaves rustling. He hoped one of them didn’t fall and break a leg. He didn’t want to have to explain that to their mother. Lori Mae had spent an hour with him yesterday, helping him orient to the job. She’d been especially helpful in filling in the details about the picnic. She was mid-thirties and had married her high school sweetheart twelve years ago. He was currently serving his second tour in the Middle East. She appeared to run the department without missing a beat. She worked eight to five, Monday through Friday. When she went home at night and on the weekends, the phones were switched over to the county dispatch center.