Читать книгу Anywhere With You - Debbi Rawlins - Страница 11

3

BEN WASN’T IN a hurry to reach the group. He scanned the people surrounding Rachel and Matt, not keen on unexpectedly coming face-to-face with his mother. He’d see her soon, but not with everyone watching.

“Get over here, Carter.” Trace held a pair of longnecks in one hand and motioned with the other.

Ben hadn’t gone by Carter for a long time. His last name was Wolf now and had been for thirteen years, since he’d scraped together enough money to legally change it. Carter had never been his real name, anyway. Nor Hilda’s. She’d made it up after she’d run out on his father, whose name she refused to divulge.

Jesse was standing beside Trace. Cole was there, too, along with a couple of women Ben didn’t recognize. Rachel was trying in vain to get everyone’s attention while an older man set up a camera.

“Rachel got you in a tux, huh?” Ben extended his hand to Trace, who ignored it and gave him a hearty one-armed hug.

“Man, it’s good to see you,” Trace said, his voice deeper now.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Ben said casually, unprepared for the emotion washing over him. He’d been fairly tight with Cole and Jesse. They were close in age and shared many of the same interests. But with Trace, the bond was different.

He’d been a baby when Ben moved to the Sundance. Trace had grown up thinking of Ben as his older brother, often confiding in him instead of Cole or Jesse. The day Ben had told him he was leaving, Trace had punched a door and broken his hand.

Cole and Jesse joined them, only briefly. After the handshaking was done, the photographer asked them to move a few tables.

Trace left the task to his older brothers and nodded at Ben’s empty flute. “You don’t have to drink that champagne crap. Here.” With a grin, Trace offered him a longneck. “We saved the good stuff for immediate family.”

Ben accepted the beer, saw Trace’s jeans and cowboy boots, and laughed.

Trace tugged at the lapel of his tux jacket. “Rachel hasn’t noticed yet.” He looked guiltily over his shoulder. “I didn’t know she wanted more pictures so I went inside and changed. As long as that photographer dude shoots from the waist up, it shouldn’t matter.”

Ben shook his head. “She’s gonna kick your ass.”

“I know. If she doesn’t, Nikki will.”

“Your girlfriend?”

Trace shrugged. “In three months, we’ll be getting hitched, too, so she’s a little more than that, I guess.”

“Ya think?” Ben’s laughter turned a few heads.

“Nice. Get me in trouble,” Trace said, glancing around. “By the way, the Porsche...yours or a rental?”

“I bought it last year and got ticketed twice in three weeks.”

“Only twice?” Trace took a pull of his beer. “You gonna let me take it for a spin?”

“You finally learn how to use a clutch?”

Ben waited for Trace to remember the driving lessons. Teaching a twelve-year-old to drive hadn’t been one of his wiser ideas.

Trace winced. “Ah, man, that was humiliating.”

The second time he’d gotten behind the wheel of the ranch’s old Ford, Trace had clipped a tree and smashed the side mirror. Ben had taken the blame rather than admit his stupidity.

“You still owe me,” he said. “Your dad made me pay for the repair out of my salary.”

“Yep, I do. I’ll even tack on interest.”

Ben smiled. “I had no business letting you drive.” He flashed back to another day, another time, and took a gulp of beer. “I didn’t know about your dad,” he said quietly. “About the cancer, or that he’d passed away. I found out much later.”

“I know.” Trace clapped him on the back. “Everyone knew you would’ve come back if you’d heard in time.”

“My fault for not keeping in touch.” Ben surprised himself with the admission. He’d always felt his mom was to blame for everything that was wrong in his life. Her claim that she’d run from abuse didn’t completely add up. Why isolate herself and her kids from her own family? Ben didn’t know his grandparents. Or where he was born. Or if he had uncles, aunts and cousins.

It was one thing to lie to a couple of kids, but once they’d turned eighteen, he and Claudia had a right to know, even if the truth was messy. Hilda’s silence was a barrier he’d never been able to cross. The longer his mother continued to lie to them, the more convinced Ben became that she was hiding the truth not just about their father, but also about herself. Why else would she keep her silence? The man was dead.

“Ben?” Trace’s tone indicated it wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get Ben’s attention. “Rachel wants us. The photographer’s waiting.”

“She wants you, not me.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Benedicto,” Rachel’s voice carried over the murmurs of the bridal party who’d gathered near the stage. “Get over here.”

“See?” Trace grumbled. “Still bossy as hell.”

Ben had to smile. He gave Rachel a small shake of his head, and her glare turned pleading.

“For what it’s worth, your mom’s busy in the kitchen,” Trace said quietly, then strolled toward the waiting group.

Ben glanced at Katy and the other bridesmaids eyeing him as if he were a juicy steak. Normally, he’d already have decided on his companion for later. But he was restless, edgy.

And there was Grace to consider. Something about her quiet beauty and wit appealed to him. Add the fact that she was a refreshing challenge. She hadn’t flirted with him once. He turned to see if he should pick up another drink for her. She could probably tempt him into...

She wasn’t where he had left her.

He looked toward the house, then panned across a group of women huddled near the bar. Grace wasn’t among them. He could tell they were local women, though none he recognized. A pair of older cowboys carrying guitars emerged from a row of parked trucks.

Ben squinted at a blur of movement behind them and caught a glimpse of her. Only for a second. He waited a moment, watching to see if maybe she’d gone to get something out of her car. A minute later, a silver compact drove out the driveway.

Disappointment settled like a weight on his shoulders. He shrugged it off. Now wasn’t the time for a hookup, anyway. Especially not with the local law. He had too much crap swirling in his head. He craned his neck for a look at the Porsche. He’d parked it between the stable and a tree, where another vehicle couldn’t fit. He didn’t need his doors getting dinged.

Arriving late had been by design. He’d wanted everyone to see him driving the Porsche, prove to them he wasn’t a charity case. Yet he’d forgotten all about the damn thing until Trace had mentioned it.

Ben drew air deep into his lungs. Nothing was going the way he’d expected. And he’d prepared for plenty...anger, resentment, even nerves.

But shit.

He’d never expected to feel like he’d come home.

* * *

GRACE GRABBED KEYS out of her desk drawer and holstered her gun. She didn’t have to look at Danny and Roy to know they were smirking like a couple of jackasses. They did every time she brought out her Glock, as if they’d never seen a woman carry a gun before. Scary to think those two were actually deputies.

“So, how did you enjoy the party last night?” Roy asked, leaning back in his chair, his fingers locked behind his head, his round belly straining his uniform shirt.

She’d been waiting for him to mention the reception. Just to cause trouble. “It was great.”

“You left early.”

Grace raised her brows. “I hope your wife didn’t notice you were keeping track of me. She might get the wrong idea.”

Danny chuckled, and Roy shot him a dirty look.

“Tell me something, Grace,” Roy said, “why do you suppose that you, being a newcomer and all, got an invite to the wedding and Danny, Wade and Gus didn’t?”

Of course this was about her being the mayor’s niece. “I guess you’ll have to ask Rachel or Matt that question.” She set her blue ball cap on her head.

“Quit wearing that stupid thing. Get yourself a Stetson so you look like a real deputy,” Danny said and abruptly swung his boots off the desk.

“Oh, I should emulate you two so I can fit in?” She turned for the door, muttering under her breath, “Maybe if I lost fifty IQ points.”

Noah was standing in the open doorway, not six feet away.

That’s why Danny had snapped to attention—

Oh, God. “Hi, boss,” she said, her cheeks burning. Of course Noah had heard her. She’d apologize for the unprofessional remark later. But damned if she’d do it in front of Roy and Danny.

At least the sheriff didn’t look annoyed. In fact, he seemed to be controlling a smile. She liked Noah. An ex-Chicago police detective, he was sharp, professional and moving on to work for the marshal service.

“I thought you were off today, Noah,” Roy said, remaining relaxed in his chair, exercising his familiarity with their boss for Grace’s benefit.

“I just came by to get something.” Noah stopped and eyed Roy. “Do me a favor.”

“Name it.”

“Order another uniform shirt.”

“But, boss—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Shaking his head, Noah walked to his desk. “We’ve had this discussion twice already.”

Roy moved his hands from behind his head and glared at Grace. So now she was to blame for him blowing his diet?

“Who’s on patrol?” Noah asked.

“I am.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “I was just headed out. Need something?”

“Take a few traffic cones with you in case you run into any mudslides. The rain came down fairly hard around midnight.”

Grace nodded, making a mental note to jot down the information. She’d started a notebook to record all the little things the other deputies already knew from growing up here. The doorknob shook. Someone outside was trying to open the door, so she pulled her hand back.

It was Clarence. Oh, great.

“Good morning, Mayor,” she said and stepped aside.

He crossed the threshold, his sour expression changing the instant he noticed the men. “Mornin’ Sheriff Calder, deputies,” he said, nodding at them. He stopped in front of Roy. “Don’t we have money in the budget for uniforms? Get yourself a bigger size, son, before you pop a button and take out someone’s eye.”

Roy’s face turned red. He straightened, sucking in his gut.

Grace sighed. Clarence was a politician. How could he not understand diplomacy? And how on earth had he stayed in office for so long?

“What can I do for you, Mayor?” Noah pulled a folder out of his desk drawer.

“Actually, I stopped by to see Grace.” Clarence turned to look her up and down, frowning first at her jeans, then at her cap. “Where are you off to?”

“I’m on duty.”

“We should discuss a proper uniform for the department. Maybe tan slacks to match the shirt,” he said, glancing at Noah. “What do you think?”

“Waste of money. Peace officers in this county have been wearing jeans as far back as I can remember. The shirt’s enough.”

“Just because something’s always been done a certain way doesn’t make it right,” Clarence said, his tone querulous.

Noah smiled. “No, but tan slacks aren’t going to help the public identify the sheriff or deputies. Anyway, not my call. Hash it out with the new sheriff.”

Clarence grunted. “What do you think, Grace?”

At first, she was speechless. She refused to look at Roy or Danny. “Sheriff Calder is right. Whoever replaces him should help make that decision.”

Her uncle’s gaze narrowed. “I’ll walk you out. I need to have a word with you.”

Nodding, she briefly met Noah’s sympathetic eyes. He was a good sheriff, a good man. Filling his shoes wouldn’t be easy.

“You left the party early,” Clarence said once they were on the sidewalk. His face lit up at the sight of a blonde middle-aged woman walking toward them. He passed a hand over the sparse strands of auburn hair slicked across his pink scalp.

“I wasn’t feeling well.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Between him and Ben, she’d felt a bit off.

“Morning, Laura.” Clarence and the woman exchanged smiles as she passed.

“Do you know where the traffic cones are stored?”

He snapped his attention back to Grace. “How would I know? Don’t try and change the subject.”

“What subject?” She remembered the storage closet behind the office and studied her set of keys. “That I left early? So what?”

“Not that. I want to know about Ben. Hilda’s boy.”

Grace glanced up. “What about him?”

“It seemed you two had a lot to talk about.” Clarence’s small, shrewd eyes searched her face.

She hurried her pace in case she blushed. “Yup, the McAllisters and the weather. It was a fascinating discussion.”

“Don’t you sass me, young lady.”

“Mayor Leland, I’m on duty. I am working.” She turned left down the narrow alley.

“Where are we going?”

“The storage closet behind the office.”

“Why did we have to come this way? We could’ve used the back door.”

She preferred that he hadn’t followed at all. Ignoring him, she located the correct key, found the cones and carried them to the truck. Of course, Clarence stayed on her heels. She opened the driver’s door.

“You hold on a minute,” he said. “I know that boy, and what I have to say is for your own good. You should appreciate I’m looking out for you.”

Grace wanted to tell her uncle that whatever it was had to wait until she clocked out. But she couldn’t stand waiting all day. “Okay, what is it?”

“His mother, Hilda, is a good, God-fearing woman. She raised a fine daughter, and I’m sure she tried with Ben.” Clarence shook his head. “He was just one of those kids who couldn’t seem to keep his nose clean. The minute he entered his teens, he was nothing but trouble.”

“What kind of trouble? What did he do?”

Clarence seemed surprised by the question. “Now, you don’t need to be concerned with details,” he said, his condescending tone suggesting she shouldn’t worry her pretty little head. “Just take my word for it. You steer clear of him before he tarnishes your reputation.”

Grace smiled. Her uncle had no idea what he was talking about. He’d probably heard some rumors or knew Ben hadn’t seen his mom in some time, which made him plain bad to the bone.

“You know I’m telling you this for your own good, don’t you, Gracie?”

“Well, while we’re on the subject,” she said sweetly, “I’ll remind you again that singling me out in front of the other deputies is not helpful. They already resent me.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, this isn’t the city. We all know each other around here. You and I are related. So what?”

She forced a smile. “Have a nice day, Mayor,” she said and climbed into the truck.

Fortunately, he spotted a couple of his constituents and glided along the sidewalk to shake hands, letting her go without an argument. Good. The election was months away, but the more he campaigned to get reelected, the less he would bother her.

After an hour of driving around checking for mudslides, Grace pulled over and opened her thermos. She’d left a few orange cones at the base of a popular hiking trail, but that was it. Everything looked okay.

One thing Montana had over Arizona was rain. And lots of it. She’d been leaving her window open at night. The inn where she was staying was located on Main Street, and a couple times she’d heard noise coming from the bar several blocks down. But it was worth it just to hear the patter of rain on the windowsill.

She sipped her coffee, anxious for the much-needed caffeine to give her a boost. Kind of a shame, really. The peace and quiet made her pleasantly mellow. She glanced into the rearview mirror. Nothing but blacktop, blue sky and woods for miles.

What the—?

She stared at the red blur until she could make out the shape of the Porsche. The car hugged the curve of the road, then raced toward her. Was he out of his mind?

Ben had been right. She didn’t have radar, but she’d bet anything he was going well over the fifty-mile speed limit. Grace started the engine and hit the flashing lights just as the car came up on her. The vehicle whizzed past.

She hesitated, torn between anger at his recklessness and a reluctance to give him another ticket. Depending on his record, it could cost him his license. But then, maybe it should. Maybe this was the lesson he needed. Either way, this was her job.

Hastily getting the truck on the road, she cursed at the spilled coffee wetting her jeans. She pushed the accelerator all the way to the floor. The older model truck didn’t have a chance of catching up to the Porsche. So it surprised her when Ben slowed and coasted until she came up behind him.

She glimpsed his dark hair as he pulled onto the shoulder, and she felt a little sadness that her uncle might be right about Ben. Mostly, though, she was mad.

Breathing deeply, she grabbed her ticket book and pen, then climbed out of the truck. She kept her sunglasses on, unwilling to let him see her anger and disappointment. Did he think he could charm her out of another ticket?

“This seems all too familiar,” she said as the tinted window lowered. “License and—” She blinked. “Trace?”

“Mornin’, Deputy,” he said with a sheepish grin.

“I thought you were Ben.” She cleared her throat, annoyed at the surge of relief she felt. “Do you know how fast you were going?”

“Too fast.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “You’re going to ticket me. I know and I deserve it. But so you don’t think I’m a total idiot, I cut loose for only a couple miles to see what the Porsche could do.” He reached into his back pocket. “I don’t usually speed, not in my truck.” His mouth curved in a boyish grin. “Not by much anyway.”

Grace watched him slide his license out of his wallet. She sighed. “I’ll give you a verbal warning,” she said, lowering the ticket book to her side.

Trace’s face lit up, and he was quick to make his license disappear. “Thanks. I mean it. You won’t catch me speeding again.”

“Good. Because next time, no mercy. Not even at five miles over.”

His expression fell. “Five,” he repeated. “Huh.”

Hiding her smile, she headed back to the truck, wondering if she dared analyze why she was so pleased the driver hadn’t been Ben.