Читать книгу Dances Under The Harvest Moon - Joanne Rock - Страница 11
ОглавлениеRUMOR HAD IT that Heather Finley was leaving Heartache.
Zach just hadn’t realized she would be going at a dead sprint.
Now, three hours later, he drove around the outskirts of town in an ’87 Mercedes convertible, a relic from his dad’s heyday as a car collector. Zach had hoped the night air would blow some sense into his head, but half an hour into the drive and he still stewed over the fact that Heather Finley was moving on.
That sucked for several reasons, not the least of which was that he had his eye on her. She’d fascinated Zach back in high school. The world would be at a fever pitch around her—a pep rally, a football game or a fight in the hall—and she’d be the calm eye of the storm, her long auburn waves always falling in perfect curls along her shoulders. Her clothes were timeless and feminine when every other girl in school decided combat boots were the thing to have. Heather was never part of an in crowd, yet everyone liked her. She championed other Finleys, never showing up at school functions unless she was there to support her drum-majorette sister or her football-playing brothers.
Zach had been curious about her then, but he’d needed to move on after school to put his father’s crimes behind him—along with his own guilt at the way his sister had fallen apart afterward.
Pounding a fist on the steering wheel, Zach turned onto the interstate at the last minute, needing to pick up more speed than the roads around Heartache allowed. Sure, he had an aversion to scandal after the media circus of his father’s arrest, but that didn’t mean he led a perfect life. He just chose his moments to put the gas pedal to the floor and blow the cobwebs out of his head.
He knew Heather would be a perfect mayor for Heartache. She’d grown up there. She clearly cared about the town, what with all the hours she volunteered at the recreation department, spearheading summer volleyball leagues and importing talented coaches to conduct camps for their youth. Plus, she had business sense, evident by her successful storefront with her sister. The fact that she had a thriving sideline as a private music teacher proved how much all the local kids liked her. And of course she juggled all of that and still looked after her widowed mother, taking Diana Finley to doctor’s appointments for the bipolar disorder that had crippled her for years, and making sure her mom stayed on her medicine.
Heather was a quiet dynamo.
Cranking up the radio louder, he tucked a finger in the knot of his necktie and loosened it a fraction of an inch, just enough to unfasten the top button of his shirt. He should have made his personal interest in Heather known earlier this year, but he’d been steamrolled by work and then—when he’d planned to see her at a rec-league soccer tournament she’d organized—he’d discovered she’d gone out of town on a buying trip for Last Chance Vintage.
The timing had been crap, as it had been since he’d moved back to Heartache. Shortly after he’d arrived, she lost her father, the town’s previous mayor. Definitely not the time to start something with her. Then he’d gotten caught up in small-town politics when the town council had called him to fill the vacancy. He’d gotten the most write-in votes, tying with a country star, a comic-strip dog and Heather Finley herself. The council had talked him into it, slyly suggesting that Heather—a sensible woman with “a good head on her shoulders”—might be persuaded to take over the spot in the future.
So, yeah, Zach hadn’t just been interested in Heather personally when he approached her tonight. He’d also wanted to see if there was any chance in hell she’d be done with this itch to audition for a singing show in time for the next election. She’d volunteered with the town’s recreation department for years, as civic-minded as the rest of her family. Zach planned to offer his campaign skills himself if it meant quitting the job to make time for personal business he needed to follow up on. Besides, he hated the petty infighting and backstabbing of small-town politics and had little patience for it, whereas he pictured Heather smoothing over it all with one wave of her capable hand.
Too bad Ms. Good Head On Her Shoulders was committed to ditching the town she grew up in.
Frustrated about his failure with Heather, he was distracted by the time he saw a car on the side of the road. A vehicle ahead of him had moved to the passing lane to avoid the blue sedan on the shoulder that looked kind of familiar...
Heather?
Taking his foot off the gas, Zach squinted at the older-model luxury-sized Nissan on the shoulder of the road. A heart-shaped bumper sticker was prominent in the back windshield—the logo for Erin Finley’s Dress for Success program. No doubt about it, that was Heather Finley’s car on the side of the interstate.
He slammed on the brakes.
He pulled onto the shoulder a few hundred feet in front of her, and checked his rearview mirror to be sure there was no one in front of the car. Slowly, he put it in Reverse.
It was past midnight. Other cars flew by them at seventy miles an hour, the headlights a blur. The sedan had been parked with no lights on, not even the hazards. He couldn’t see anyone in the vehicle. What the hell?
Stepping out of the convertible, he shut the door and jogged back to the other car.
“Zach?” Heather’s voice rose from outside the car...somewhere near the rear passenger fender as she straightened from wherever she’d been crouching. “Is that you?”
She still wore the knockout dress she’d changed into for dancing at her sister’s reception. Bright, short and clingy, the dress gave him a whole lot of reasons to like it. He’d bet money her sister had chosen it for her since Heather was the type to wear gray flannel pencil skirts with creamy silk blouses. Both of which now occasionally figured in his fantasies. But the bright pink showed off a whole other side of Ms. Proper.
A tractor trailer barreled past them, rattling his teeth.
He edged between his bumper and her hood.
“Car trouble?” He forced himself to be casual as he leaned against her car. Friendly. The last thing he wanted was to send her running again.
What if fate had kept her in town—right where she belonged?
“So it would seem.” She bit her lip, her hesitation illuminated by the single headlight of a speeding motorcycle. What was it about him that had her putting up defenses when they barely knew each other? She sighed. “And I was starting to get paranoid that I heard someone in the bushes over there, so it’s nice to see a friendly face.”
Zach peered into the dark woods off to the side of the highway, his skin chilling with an old memory of those woods. His fists tightened and he forced himself to relax.
“That land backs up to the quarry. There haven’t been cougar sightings in town for a long time. Although a black bear could be trouble.” Was it wrong to try to terrify her into jumping into his arms?
“Yes. Well.” She rolled her eyes. “Lucky for me you’re here.”
“So what’s the trouble with the car?”
“Apparently, you need gas to run these things.” She meandered closer and he noticed she’d traded her strappy high heels for a pair of flip-flops. His gaze tracked to the diamond-shaped cutouts in her dress that fell along her narrow waist.
“I’ve heard as much.” He cocked his thumb at the trunk. “Do you keep a spare container back here?”
His gaze dropped to the flat rear tire he hadn’t noticed before.
“Er. No. I got nervous when the car stalled, and steered off the road sort of sharply.” She frowned at the tire she must have been inspecting when he’d arrived.
“You hit a rock?” The tire was beyond flat.
“A boulder roughly the size of Texas.” She had an edge in her voice that he’d never heard before.
Then again, he’d never gotten to know her nearly as well as he would have liked to.
“I’m not much with a car jack,” he admitted. “Give me a computer and I’m the man of the hour. But cars?” He shook his head. “I only know how to drive them. And keep the tank filled.”
She shot him a sideways glance. He’d hoped for a smile, but nothing doing. Her lips pursed, her jaw jutting.
“Changing the tire won’t help when I have no gas,” she pointed out, illuminated by the blinding LED fog lights of a pickup truck blasting country tunes out the open windows. “I’d better get a tow.”
He waited while she called the only local tow truck service, the Elliot brothers. The Elliots were farmers who had a garage on the side. When she clicked off, he smiled.
“I’ll stay with you until they get here. And I can definitely give you a ride wherever you’re headed.” He offered because he was a good guy like that and not because he had any intention of ogling the smooth skin above her hip.
Much.
“It’s a long way to North Carolina,” she observed drily. “Especially for a guy who was testing the moonshine a few hours ago.”
“First, I swilled about half a teaspoon of that so-called beverage before deciding it tasted like battery acid, so my driving skills are excellent. But what do you mean you’re going to Charlotte now?” He straightened and stared into her car. Where was her luggage?
Maybe her trip out of town wouldn’t be for long.
“Well, not now exactly, since I have an empty tank and a flat tire.”
“But you planned on it.” He hadn’t really believed she’d do it.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard? I’ve officially lost all my good sense. I sold off my share of Last Chance Vintage to go pursue a singing career.” She shoved her hair aside and winced in the middle of the movement as if something hurt.
“Are you okay?” He reached to steady her, his focus quickly shifting. “Did you hit your head when you went off the road? Maybe you should sit down.”
Already he was opening up the passenger door of her car with one hand, while keeping the other on her elbow. What other injuries hadn’t he noticed while he was thinking about how to keep her in town?
The interior light of her vehicle came on, spilling onto her back, but the front of her remained in shadow.
“I’m fine,” she protested. “I didn’t—that is, maybe I bent my wrist funny. But I definitely didn’t hit my head.”
“You sure? Sometimes when you hit your head you black out and don’t remember it.”
Frowning, she shook her head, although she did allow him to maneuver her into the passenger seat. “No. I remember it clearly.”
“Then how did you hurt your wrist?” He leaned closer to get a better angle on her face. “May I?”
Without waiting for permission, he smoothed a hand over her scalp, checking for bumps. Her pupils were dilated, but not in an unusual way. When he tipped her chin higher, however, she edged back in the seat.
“You have to admit this is an unorthodox way to cop a feel.” Her voice was breathless.
“If I were going to cop a feel, don’t you think I’d start somewhere more memorable?” Gently, he thumbed a dark patch on her cheek, but it smudged at his touch. Not a bruise. “You’ve got some grease or something here.”
“Okay. Stop.” Straightening, she gripped his wrist and lowered his hand. “I’m fine. I merely didn’t have a good plan for this adventure of mine.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.” He crouched in front of her, staying still for a minute, enjoying the feel of her fingers on his skin. “How about your wrist? Can I see?”
“You know, you’re not a doctor.” Relinquishing her hold on him, she tucked her hands under her arms.
Wincing.
“But I am the mayor.” He reached for her right wrist and cradled it in his palm, inspecting it. “That gives me considerable authority in this town.”
“To call a council meeting maybe,” she scoffed, but she let him move her fingers around, checking her mobility.
“Although if at any time martial law is declared, I think I’d be declared king or something.” The wrist seemed a little swollen in comparison to the other one, but her range of motion didn’t suggest a break.
“Really?” She laughed, finally giving him the smile he’d been looking for earlier. “Is that how they conned you into taking the job—the promise of absolute power?”
“Something like that.” He didn’t want to stop touching her, especially when she smiled at him that way.
She smelled good, like hothouse flowers in spring, enticing him to lean closer. His forearms brushed against her thighs as he kept her wrists in his hand.
Their eyes met in the dim reflection of the dome light. The throb of her pulse spiked against his thumb for one heated moment. Then her smile faded.
“I’d better check up on the tow truck.” She licked her lower lip. “I thought it would be here by now.”
He didn’t want to let her go.
“Your wrist is swollen.” He smoothed over the inflamed spot. “You could have sprained it.”
“No.” She broke out of his grasp, ending the moment. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I need to go.”
Reluctantly, he rose to his feet, giving her space while she called the towing service again. When she disconnected, he watched her gather her things from inside the car and stuff her phone in her bag.
“So, Heather, you want me to take you home? Or set a course for North Carolina?”
“If you don’t mind giving me a ride, I would settle for home.” Keys in hand, she backed out of the car.
On instinct, he reached out to steady her again since the road’s shoulder dropped off hard. His fingers grazed a bare patch of her waist, his palm landing on her hip. The feel of her teased along his senses like a fuel-injected aphrodisiac.
He let go before she could say “I’m fine” again. But he wouldn’t forget that impossibly soft skin anytime soon. And—bonus—he’d just kept her in Heartache another day. How long would it take to convince her to stay? To take over the mayoral job?
Maybe have dinner with him?
“Do you have a suitcase?” He closed the door behind her.
“In the trunk.” They crunched through weeds and gravel to the rear of the vehicle. “TJ said he’s almost here.”
“That’s probably him now.” He pointed toward a disco-show of flashing yellow lights coming down the road.
“Wow.” Heather stood close to him and popped the trunk with her key fob. “Those lights should come with a warning—may induce seizures.”
“They’re a little distracting.” He stared at the huge piece of luggage in her trunk. “I’m going to grab your bag and pull my car forward to give him room.”
“Thank you.” She was already flagging down the truck.
With a break in traffic, TJ didn’t seem to mind slowing down and stopping in the lane. Besides, drivers would see that tow truck from miles away. Still, Zach hefted the giant suitcase and closed the trunk. He dropped it into the rear seat of his convertible, then pulled the car forward. Before he could do the gentlemanly thing and go back to escort Heather to his ride, she was at his passenger door and letting herself in.
“Of all your dad’s cars, this one was always my favorite.” She tugged on the seat belt. “TJ is set, by the way. I’m going to call him tomorrow about the tire.”
“See ya, Mayor!” the younger man called as he hopped down from the truck cab. “Drive safe.”
Zach gave a wave before pulling onto the highway. He handed Heather an extra hat that he kept on the floor of the backseat—an old visor from a long-ago golf tournament.
“You might want to wear this.” He noticed she held her hair in a death grip as he punched the gas.
“Thank you,” she called over the inevitable wind noise. She put the hat on and tightened the strap in the back, but still held the length of her hair in her fist.
“I could put the top up,” he offered.
“Are you kidding me?” She grinned. “I wanted to put a thousand miles between me and Heartache tonight. My only consolation is getting to ride in the mayor’s supersexy convertible.”
“Nice of you to point out the main attraction.” He didn’t have far to go before he pulled through a no U-turn spot on the highway.
Where he promptly did a U-turn.
“I’m surprised you got to keep your dad’s cars,” she observed, adjusting the side mirror before perhaps realizing what she’d said. “Actually, I apologize. That’s completely none of my business.”
“It’s a matter of public record.” He didn’t mind telling her. He’d rather she knew the truth than think he’d hid assets from the government after his father’s arrest. “I bought back my favorites from his collection after my business took off. Only two of the cars I own now belonged to my father. This one and a Jaguar that were purchased by one of his friends at the bankruptcy auction.”
A friend who became Zach’s mentor after his father went to jail.
“How is your father?”
“You mean, how does he like federal prison?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.
“No. I mean, how is his health? His mind-set? I’m sure it was a difficult adjustment for him...and for you.” She tilted her head back against the seat rest in a way that made him think she was enjoying the ride. Or maybe she simply wanted to feel the wind on her face.
His gaze shifted to her legs and the expanse of thigh visible under the short hem of her bright dress. He was treated to a whole different side of her tonight, and not just because of the dress. He cleared his throat and tried to focus on her question.
And the road.
“He’s always got an appeal in process. That gives him something to focus on besides, say, remorse for what he did.” He drummed the steering wheel with his thumbs. “Since he’s never bothered to be forthright about anything in his entire life, I don’t keep in touch.”
She was silent for a long moment.
“Family dynamics are complicated.” She glanced at her legs and, gripping the hem of her dress with both hands, tugged it lower.
“That’s putting it mildly. You’re fortunate your family is so close.”
“As in, most of them live within shouting distance from me?” She wrangled her windblown hair back under control. “Because I don’t know if I’d call that fortunate, exactly.”
He’d turned off the highway onto the county route that led into Heartache. The car quieted as it slowed, the road deserted. The air had turned cool after midnight.
“So much for ‘Family First.’” He still saw weathered old campaign signs around Heartache sometimes that put the former mayor’s slogan in bright blue letters.
“You must think I’m a total ingrate, taking off right after Erin’s wedding and trash-talking my family like they were a bother instead of the people I love most in the world.” She repositioned herself on the leather seat, crossing her long legs so her knees pointed away from him.
The view was still mighty fine.
“No one knows how to get under your skin like family. I understand that.” But he didn’t. Not really.
His family had been a sorry excuse for a nuclear unit from day one. His father was a criminal. His mother an accessory, if only by a case of big-time denial. Both parents had been more concerned about getting ahead—or not getting caught—than they’d been about their kids. Zach had tried to make up for their inattention to his sister, Gabriella, by being a good brother.
He had failed miserably.
He sucked at being a family to her as much as his parents, too caught up in his dad’s scandal to see the signs of depression in Gabriella, which had surfaced after being stalked online and lured out of the house to meet the guy who’d tried to...
Zach couldn’t think about that, actually. But later, she’d overdosed because of it. Zach had helped her relocate to the West Coast and legally change her name. Thankfully, Ellie wasn’t far from Gabriella.
So his family had been a mess. But he’d always looked to the Finleys as a family who got it right. Their dad ran the small town for years and not because he was a crook. He was a genuinely selfless guy who had good business sense and shared that acumen to help Heartache thrive.
“They mean well,” Heather said carefully. “I’m just ready for a change.”
They passed through the downtown, driving by the pizza shop, the town square and the darkened storefront of Last Chance Vintage.
“I was surprised you sold off your share of the store.” He admired the sisters’ tenacity with the shop, expanding the storefront by remodeling a property next door and connecting them. “It seemed like a good investment.”
“Erin did most of the renovations with her own two hands. She deserved all the profits.” She kept her focus on the road. “Looks like one of the streetlights is out.” She pointed to a post near the pizza joint.
“The mayor’s office is closed. I’m off duty tonight.”
“Me, too. Guess we shouldn’t talk about work then.”
He turned in time to catch her smirk.
“Right. We could always discuss a run to the ER to get your wrist examined.”
“In that case, maybe we should put my work life back on the table for conversation.”
“Luckily, we’re not at a town council meeting and don’t need any complicated agendas.” He rolled his shoulders to ease away some of the tension of talking to her. “No need to be prickly.”
“Excellent. I don’t like agendas. Complicated or otherwise.” She let go of her hair as he turned down the quiet street where she lived.
There were still lights on at the farmhouse, but Heather’s brother Mack’s converted apartment in one of the old barns was dark. Across a meadow, the bride’s house was quiet and so was her brother Scott’s place.
Zach pulled into the parking area behind a converted potting shed that had been their father’s home office at one time. Heather had claimed it for herself after—he’d heard—living with her sister, Erin. Now the shed looked like a Craftsman bungalow, complete with a loft window, cedar-shake siding and glowing cast-iron lamps. Her family’s construction business ensured all the Finley places looked showroom ready, even this home-in-miniature.
“I don’t like agendas, either. Or secrets.” He shut off the engine so he could walk her to the door and bring in her suitcase.
She turned sharply toward him. “Excuse me?”
“I was kept in the dark about a lot of things as a kid.” His dad lived one lie. Then his sister lived a whole different one, pretending everything was okay until it wasn’t. And she wasn’t. “So I’m a big believer in transparency.”
“Okay...sounds like the opening to your next campaign speech.” Her gaze darted away and she looked nervous. But then, he was probably sounding way too serious.
“What I mean is, I don’t want to keep my goals secret from you. So I want you to know that I plan to lobby for you to stay in town.”
Without the dashboard lights, it was tough to get a read on her expression.
“I’m surprised you would have an opinion on it one way or another,” she said finally. Carefully. “It’s just a talent-show audition.”
“Exactly. Yet you’re selling off your share of the business you worked hard to build? Packing up and moving in the middle of the night just a few hours after your sister gets married? It doesn’t make sense and it’s unlike you.” He was worried about her.
Before, he’d simply planned to talk to her about the mayor’s job and maybe try to convince her to have dinner with him. But after speaking to her tonight, he sensed that something was off with her whole plan. As if she was leaving to get away from something rather than like a woman running to embrace her dreams.
“How would you know what’s ‘like’ me? We’ve barely spoken outside the occasional town council meeting.” She shook her head. “Besides, it’s after one o’clock in the morning. I’m not having this conversation with you in my driveway.”
He held up both hands. The gesture of surrender and placation had proven useful in small-town politics. Smile and compromise.
“Of course. It’s late. I’ll see you at the wedding breakfast.”
“Wedding breakfast. Right.” She smiled, her teeth a flash of white in the darkness. “If my car’s not in the driveway, maybe I can sleep through it and they’ll think I’m on the road.”
“Because this town keeps a secret so well.” He levered open his door and walked around the car to get hers, even though she was already halfway out.
But she was moving slowly.
“Tired?” He held out his arm to help her, wondering about that wrist she didn’t want examined.
“It’s been a long day.” She limped a little on the way to the door.
“Your feet—”
“It’s fine.” She brushed off his concern and picked up her pace. “Not everyone can do four-inch heels.”
“Didn’t you tell your sister?” He’d always pictured them as having a close relationship.
“You see why I’m so determined to leave Heartache?” she grumbled. “Everyone in your business.”
Digging in a small satin purse that matched the dress she’d worn at the wedding, Heather found her keys while Zach went back to the car for her suitcase.
She flipped on her house’s interior light as he arrived at the threshold.
“Where should I put it?” It weighed a ton. She must have packed enough stuff for two months.
Or might that be two years? There was a very real chance she might not return if the American Voice show executives liked her. He hadn’t given that much thought since it seemed like a one-in-a-million kind of thing, even though he knew she could sing if her pregame “Star Spangled Banner” efforts were anything to go by. He knew her music students all thought she was talented.
“By the door is fine.” Kicking off her flip-flops, she sank her toes into the living room area rug.
In the lamplight, he spotted the violet shadows around her eyes. She looked so exhausted he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of checking her out in that sexy dress again.
“Anything else you need?” He glanced around at her small house, a loft bed visible in a low ceiling over the lower-level living space.
“No. But thanks.” She rubbed her hands along her bare arms to warm them. “It was lucky for me you happened along the highway so soon after I ran out of gas.”
“Lucky for me, too.” He’d wanted to talk her out of leaving town and fate had settled the matter for him.
At least temporarily.
He said good-night and left her to get some sleep. Zach stepped out onto the front porch and stared up at the stars stretching endlessly in this quiet part of town. He’d wanted Heather to stay in Heartache so he could sweet-talk her into the mayor’s gig. He didn’t have time to run the town. He needed to focus on something more important. Two months ago, someone on the town board mentioned a rash of incidents around the old quarry where his sister had been attacked—the same one close to where Heather had been stranded tonight. And ever since, Zach had been consumed with the need to investigate things quietly.
The mayor’s job made that tougher to do, and he’d genuinely thought Heather might be a good fit to take over the role.
But she’d drawn him in tonight more powerfully than he’d expected. And although she gave off the vibe that she didn’t need anyone, Zach had the feeling something was wrong. Something she was doing her damnedest to hide. He planned to keep an eye on her in case she needed him.
And not just because there’d been that moment when he’d felt her heart rate speed up as he touched her.
Sliding into his car, he already couldn’t wait to see her again.
