Читать книгу Truly, Madly, Briefly: Truly, Madly, Briefly / Tried And True - Delores Fossen, Delores Fossen - Страница 11

The Drifter: Catalog Item 421. A machine-washable cotton-spandex brief for the man on the move who wants to keep things in place. Available in Stop Sign Red, Alert Amber and Go-get-’em Green. Comes with complimentary Boxers or Briefs travel toothbrush.

“THE TWANGO,” Aidan said under his breath.

Heaven help him.

So that he wouldn’t have the urge to demolish his phone the way Bobbie had her pager, he turned off the ringer. Besides, he needed a moment of quiet so he could think straight. He was almost positive this was one of those situations where he needed a clear head.

“Comfort, looks and illusion,” she repeated as if that would help.

Well, it wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped Bobbie Fay Callahan would offer. Aidan had thought maybe she could put an end to this lottery business by canceling it. He’d further hoped that she would tell the ladies of Liffey to stop calling him about everything from faucet drips to flat tires. He just couldn’t understand why the female population had taken such an interest in him.

Or why they had such a distorted view of the duties of a law-enforcement officer.

However, at this point, he was open to suggestions—any suggestions—that would make his life easier and quieter. He hadn’t had more than fifteen minutes of peace since he’d arrived a week earlier in what was supposed to be a sleepy little town where peace and quiet were plentiful.

“It’s not often a man finds himself compared to an item of underwear,” he commented.

A lobster-red blush covered her cheeks. It matched the color of her skirt and silky top. “You think I’m a candidate for the loony bin, don’t you?”

Absolutely. Her, her uncles and, seemingly, three-quarters of the town.

While Aidan was trying to figure out how to put that observation into kinder, gentler terms, Bobbie just kept right on talking. “Okay. So using the Twango probably wasn’t the best comparison, but stay with me here, and I think I can explain this better.”

Good. She had a hundred-percent chance of doing that, because so far she hadn’t made an eyelash of sense.

Bobbie turned off her phone before she continued. “I want the illusion that my love life is good. Very good. That way, it won’t give anyone, including my uncles and Jasper Kershaw, the right to feel they can monkey with it. And maybe, just maybe, the same could happen for you.”

Aidan certainly hoped this sounded better when he said it aloud, but he wasn’t counting on it. “What exactly would we have to do to stop people from…monkeying with us?”

She shrugged as if the answer were obvious. “We’d have to pretend to go through with the lottery, of course. We’d do the Twango, so to speak. And remember, the Twango is a garment of illusion. I’ve seen before and after pictures. Trust me, it flattens even the worst beer guts, and I mean the worst. It’s even better than the Drifter, and the Drifter’s twice the price.”

“The Twango and the Drifter,” he managed. Heaven knows why he repeated the names of the comparative items, but Aidan had no idea what else to say.

Bobbie stuck out her hands like balancing scales. “The Drifter is for men who don’t want a lot of wiggling around when they’re on the go. Like you. You don’t want people pulling and tugging at you.” She slightly lifted her right hand. “Now, couple that with the Twango, and you’ll see what I’m getting at here.”

Part of him—the part controlled by logic and sound reason—wanted to issue Bobbie a polite good-bye and send her on her delusional way. But he heard a little voice in his head. That little voice, along with the vivid memories of what the past seven days had entailed, made him want to learn more about what she was proposing.

And it had nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with the fact that she was reasonably attractive.

No way.

He absolutely, emphatically, would not allow himself to be set up in a relationship, and that lottery business smacked of a set-up in its purest form. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought it originated with members of his own family.

Still, Aidan clung to the notion of peace and quiet. His notion of paradise had been lowered significantly. He’d settle for simply getting through a shower or a meal without the phone ringing.

“What would I have to do for this Twango-Drifter Plan?” he asked.

She hesitated. Tipped her amber-brown eyes to the ceiling. Fidgeted. And started to nibble on her glossy bottom lip. So, this had likely been an impromptu idea on her part, or else he’d have to do something so thoroughly ridiculous that she could hardly get out the words.

“Well…” And Bobbie hesitated again. She twirled a strand of her shoulder-length, ginger-colored hair around her finger. “To make it believable, I suppose we’d have to spend time together.”

“I don’t have a lot of time as it is.”

He wasn’t counting on that to change much either after the sheriff returned to work. Of all the calls Aidan received since Sheriff Cooper had gotten sick, not one of them had actually been for the sheriff. And no calls had come in to the night deputy, Sam Teton. That likely had something to do with the fact that Sam was seventy-one, had only three strands of hair and could, and did, spit watermelon seeds through the gap in his front teeth.

Her eyebrows flexed. “Hey, I got it. Maybe you could just come to my house after work and watch TV for a couple of hours. Actually, you wouldn’t have to do much of anything other than let people think something’s going on between us. I could even turn off the phone if you’d like.”

It sounded like, well, paradise. Or maybe it sounded like something too good to be true.

“What about your uncles? They live with you.” And that would likely mean he’d have to spend time with them as well. If his first impression of them was correct, having them around wouldn’t give him much of a reprieve from the lunacy. Instead, it would put him shoulder-deep in it.

“It’s a big house with two wings and separate entrances. I live on one side, and they live on the other. You wouldn’t necessarily run into them.”

Aidan looked for flaws in her proposal and soon found one the size of the Himalayas. After all, Bobbie was the winner of the lottery. A lottery he’d sworn to ignore. Maybe this was just her way of making sure as the winner that she got her shot at him after all.

He shook his head. “As good as the offer sounds, I’d better pass. Thanks anyway.”

“Oh.”

But it wasn’t a plain, ordinary oh. Nor was it a question to ask why he’d come to that decision. It was a hurt, embarrassed oh.

Heck.

One look into her eyes and he confirmed that. He’d lived with his six sisters, a mother and a grandmother long enough to know when he’d stepped in something he should have stepped around.

“It’s not that,” Aidan assured her.

But it was hard to put into words exactly what that was. He couldn’t very well tell her that he was tired of women, could he? No. That’d make him sound like a wuss.

Which he wasn’t.

He just wanted a little vacation from the fairer sex and the constant matchmaking of seemingly every woman in the entire city of Boston. Just because he was thirty-three, why did everyone think he was ready to settle down?

He. Wasn’t.

And he wouldn’t let others dictate that for him. Monkeying indeed. If anyone monkeyed with anything, he’d do it himself, and he damn sure wouldn’t use the word monkeying when he did it.

“This arrangement wouldn’t be, uh, right,” Aidan continued. He could almost taste his own foot in his mouth, and it wasn’t very appetizing. “I mean, I like my privacy.”

“I see. Of course. I hadn’t thought of it that way.” She moistened her lips in a nervous gesture that made him want to find a large rock and hit himself on the head. He hadn’t intended to hurt her feelings.

“It’s not you,” he reiterated. He resisted the urge to reach out and touch her. For comfort naturally. It had nothing to do with her warm brown eyes and sensuous mouth. Nope. Absolutely nothing. Even if he had a thing for warm brown eyes just like hers.

And he really had a thing for sensuous mouths.

She nodded and tipped her head to the missing merchandise report. “You’ll look into that, please?”

“Of course.” He might even frame a copy of it when he was done. It was the first true job-related assignment he’d had since his arrival in Liffey.

“I just want to make sure I don’t have an employee with sticky fingers,” she added. “The floor manager, Rudy Tate, will answer any questions you might have. I’ve listed his number there at the bottom of the form.”

And with that, she turned to leave. Aidan had a three-second debate with himself. Stop her. Don’t stop her. Tell her why her plan made me squirm. Don’t tell her. Apologize for hurting her feelings. Don’t apologize. Touch her. Don’t touch her.

Especially don’t touch her!

He was still adding more issues to that mental debate when he saw Maxine Varadore making her way across Main Street. She was headed straight for the office, probably to press him again to come and rescue her kitty.

Among other things.

“Have a nice day, Deputy O’Shea,” Bobbie said over her shoulder. “And don’t worry about this lottery stuff. I have no intention of pursuing it.” She would have made it out the door if Aidan hadn’t stopped her.

“It isn’t you,” Aidan let her know—again. He swore under his breath and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his khakis. “It’s just—I have these six older sisters, and they’re always…monkeying with my life.”

Heaven’s bells, why couldn’t he stop using that frickin’ word?

He regrouped and tried again. “It’s a knee-jerk reaction for me to back off when someone suggests anything to do with romance.”

Slowly, Bobbie turned back around to face him. “I understand. Believe me.”

She probably did. After all, he’d met her uncles. God knows what kind of torments they’d put her through, all under the guise of insuring her lifelong happiness.

She eked out a smile. “It’s all right, really.”

The mental debate started again in earnest. And Aidan was losing big-time. The losing went up a considerable notch when Maxine stepped inside.

She glanced at Bobbie and huffed noisily. “Are you still here?”

Maxine didn’t wait for Bobbie to confirm the blatantly obvious. She whipped her attention to Aidan. “Can you pretty-please come and rescue my poor little Sue-Sue now? She’s been up in that tree a long, long time. I’m sure she’s getting awfully hungry.”

Gone was the snippy tone that she’d used to address Bobbie. In its place was a silky purr that had scalding steam rising from it. It was enough to make Aidan take a step back and inform her that he didn’t wear size triple-X underwear either.

“I can’t leave the office unless there’s a crime in progress,” Aidan insisted.

It was a line he’d found himself repeating often, and he was glad he could use it as an excuse right now. However, Sheriff Cooper was due back in a couple of days, and Aidan’s excuse wouldn’t be worth the sudsy scum left inside an empty beer mug.

What then?

There were four weeks, six days and a couple of hours left on this particular exchange tour. Four weeks, six days and a couple of hours that would no doubt make it seem as if he’d lived in monastic seclusion in Boston.

He hadn’t.

But it seemed the women of Liffey could outdo even his own family when it came to forcing romance on a man, and his family had had thirty-three years of practice. Just how proficient would these Texas women be after another week or two of lottery-like shenanigans?

And when the heck had he started using words like shenanigans?

“My little bitty kitty?” Maxine coaxed. She crooked her finger. Smiled. And winked, revealing an eyelid caked with about a kilo of turquoise eye shadow. “Come on. I’ll even make you a big tall glass of iced tea. Or something.”

That wasn’t all she was offering. No way. Aidan recognized that lustful gleam in her eye. A year or two ago, he’d have done his level best to fan that gleam into a scorching blaze. But not now. Like Bobbie, his fanning activities were on hiatus.

“Uh…” And that was all he managed to get out. He didn’t want to hurt Maxine’s feelings, but then he didn’t think he could survive another kitty rescue.

Aidan looked at Maxine. Then at Bobbie. This was probably a case of the lesser of two evils. Still, if Bobbie could pull off a Twango-Drifter relationship, then she would have his undying gratitude.

“Well?” Maxine again. She gave her finger one more seductive crook.

“I need to rest up for tomorrow,” Aidan heard himself say. “For the start of the lottery. I’ll be spending every waking hour of the next week with Bobbie.”

Maxine snapped her shoulders so straight that he heard joints crack. “You’re actually going through with that stupid nonsense?”

Aidan nodded. He glanced at Bobbie again. Her mouth had dropped open, but beneath all that dumbfoundedness, he saw a glimmer in her eyes as well. Not lust. No. Not this. This was something more akin to hope.

“You bet,” he answered.

“But, but, but—” It took Maxine a couple of seconds of sputtering to remember how to say more than just that one objection. She fluttered her fingers in Bobbie’s direction. “But she already has a boyfriend.”

“No, I don’t,” Bobbie insisted.

Maxine turned her still-hopeful and somewhat pathetic gaze to Aidan.

“She doesn’t,” he piped in, hoping it’d give Maxine motive to leave. “Besides, a deal is a deal. Bobbie won the lottery, and therefore she has my undivided personal attention for an entire week.”

He thought he saw flames dance across Maxine’s mud-brown eyes. “Then you’re in for a very dull week. Ask Jasper Kershaw if you don’t believe me. He’s jilted her twice.”

And with that totally irrelevant comment, she turned on her heels and headed out the door.

Aidan figured Bobbie would lose her composure over such a tacky confrontation. But she didn’t. She didn’t even spare Maxine a parting glance.

“Hope her little bitty kitty will come down from the hackberry before the week is up,” Bobbie commented, a touch of humor in her voice. She checked her watch. “Oh, I gotta go. I’m meeting a client over in Dalton City. Listen, why don’t you drop by my house after work so we can iron out the details of our plan?”

Heaven help him. Now it was called our plan. Just like the term blind date, it made him itch.

“I’ll put out the word that you’re officially off limits to the women of Liffey,” she assured him. “It’ll go faster if you do the same.”

Aidan managed a nod before Bobbie all but sprinted out of the office. It took him a second before he realized what he’d done.

Well, heaven’s bells!

Hadn’t this been exactly what he’d tried to avoid? He’d actually been talked into monkeying with his own life.