Читать книгу Wanting Something More - Kathy Love - Страница 8

“You’re doing the right thing,” Marty told herself for at least the fiftieth time since she’d gotten into her small sports car and simply decided to drive away. Away from New York City, away from her modeling career, and away from Rod.

This was all a long time coming. It was what she wanted. It was what she needed. And you don’t have to decide anything definite right this minute. Another thing she’d told herself fifty times. She wasn’t running away. She was taking a break. A little time to think.

Right now, however, you need to think about your driving, she thought as her car fishtailed again. When she finally decided to flee her life, it would be to head straight into a nor’easter. Somehow, it seemed oddly appropriate.

The snow had begun to fall heavily once she’d crossed the Maine state line. Now, the white flakes were so blinding that the road seemed only to exist as far ahead as the yellowy beams of her headlights could reach, then it dropped off into a swirling white oblivion.

She sat forward, clutched the steering wheel, and concentrated on the vanishing road.

Just a few more miles and she would be home. Despite the terrible traveling, she fought the urge to press down harder on the accelerator. She’d been patient this long. It wouldn’t do to go careening off the road now.

She looked into her rearview mirror and noticed the car that had been tailing her for the last several miles was still there.

What kind of nut would be out on a night like this? Besides herself, that is.

She glanced at the twin lights again, then back to the road just in time to see another curve materializing in front of her. She touched her brakes too abruptly, and again, the car skidded, but she managed to keep control.

Argh! She would be happy to get to her grandmother’s house, even though the house was empty now. Grammy had passed away years ago, and Ellie, her middle sister who inherited the house and still owned it, didn’t live there any longer. She had a home with her husband now. And Marty’s oldest sister, Abby, who had been living across the street from her grandmother’s, had just moved, too.

Marty checked the clock on her dash. It was well after midnight. She couldn’t show up at either of her sisters’ places this late. They’d be in bed and probably not all that pleased to have their baby sister arrive unannounced in the dead of night. She should have called them to say she was coming. But that would have been the act of a person with a plan. There was no planning here.

Although she wouldn’t have wanted to keep either Ellie or Abby up, waiting and worrying. Ellie and her husband, Mason, had an eighteen-month-old daughter who kept them on the run. Abby was three months pregnant, and at this point was more green than glowing. It was better to let them sleep tonight and see them tomorrow, if they all could dig out. The snow was really falling.

Marty leaned farther over her steering wheel, peering at the road. Besides, she really wanted to go to her childhood home tonight. She wanted to sleep in her old bed under the quilt her grandmother made her. She wanted to drink a cup of tea in the huge country kitchen. She wanted to feel…safe.

Ellie had told her that they were keeping the heat on at Grandmother’s house for the winter so that the pipes wouldn’t freeze. So that meant the old place would be warm. And that also meant that Ellie kept the electricity on. She knew all three sisters would be too sad to see the old house standing dark, cold, and empty.

Yeah, she’d go home tonight.

Out of habit, she turned off Route 1 to take the Gory Boar Road, a shortcut, into Millbrook. As soon as she did, she realized her mistake. The old back road was caked with snow so thick that she couldn’t see the center line and she could barely make out the soft shoulder.

“Darn it,” she muttered, now gripping the steering wheel so tight her fingers were numb. The snow scraped the bottom of her car, making a nerve-wracking whooshing noise. She should turn around and head back to Route 1.

She checked her mirrors, prepared to turn around right in the road, when she saw that the car that had been following her was still there.

Why had this person turned too? Presumably this person actually wanted to be on this treacherous road. But Marty didn’t, and the other car was making it a little difficult for her to pull a U-ee. Gritting her teeth, Marty decided she was going to have to continue on, at least until she found a proper place to turn around.

About a half mile farther, a faint glow in the distance caught her attention.

“What is that?” She frowned, narrowing her eyes, trying to focus through the eddying snowflakes.

Then she remembered a new gas station that had been in the process of being built last summer. That had to be what it was.

She could turn around there and head back to the better-traveled Route 1.

As she got closer, she realized the station was open and there was also a convenience store attached.

Maybe this was a sign. Maybe she’d better stop and get a few supplies before she headed back in the other direction, just in case the storm stuck around for a while and she was trapped in Grammy’s house for a few days.

She pulled up to the front of the building, turned off the engine, and began to rummage through her shoulder bag on the passenger’s side seat. Her wallet had to be in there somewhere.

She groped around, making contact with a small rectangular item. Her cell phone. She tossed it back in and tried again. This time she found a granola bar and then a stick of deodorant. Next, she found a tin of mints and a container of hair goo.

Well, she might have no wallet and no life and be stuck in a blizzard, but at least she had a healthy snack, no body odor, fresh breath, and funky hair. And if her phone had a signal, she could call someone and tell them about it.

She rooted through the bag for a moment longer, and just when she decided that she must have lost her wallet back at the gas station in Rhode Island, she noticed the corner of it sticking out from under the seat.

Her sports car wasn’t exactly roomy. So rather than struggle to get the wallet while still inside, she took her keys out of the ignition, grabbed her gloves off the dash, and got out of the car.

The frigid winter air bit at her, and she quickly bent back into the car to grab her wallet. Just as she was about to straighten up, wallet in hand, a deep voice close to her said, “That’s not exactly the best car for driving in a blizzard.”

Marty jumped, bumping her head on the door frame. “Ouch! Damn it! It’s not exactly wise to startle a person when…” Her voice trailed off as she spun around and stared at—a broad chest. For Marty, six feet tall in flats, that did not happen often. For a moment, she was stunned—again.

A hand came up to touch her arm, and even through the suede and fur lining of her coat, she could feel each long finger.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

She blinked up at the man. His back was to the convenience store, making him a giant, broad-shouldered silhouette against the glare of bluish green fluorescent lights and swirling white snow.

“Is your head okay?” the giant asked, and Marty was struck by how his voice seemed to perfectly match his towering build, deep and with a slight husky quality.

Apparently, he thought she had done some damage, because he continued to hold her and leaned forward as if to inspect her head.

Gradually, her eyes adjusted a bit to the light, and she could make out the man’s shaggy hair and a long, straight nose, his nostril flared just slightly.

“Do your sisters know you’re coming?” That husky voice sounded even more amazing coming from the sculpted lips she could vaguely make out in the faint light.

Then Marty actually heard the words, rather than the pleasing intonation of them. “How do you…Do I know you?”

The giant paused, then those wide, sculpted lips curved into a slight smile. “Well, you used to know me.”

All of a sudden, Marty knew exactly who this was standing so close to her. She took a step back, bumping against her car, and she jerked her arm out from underneath his hand.

“And I don’t think you were particularly fond of me,” he added wryly.

She didn’t respond, but she was sure her glare validated his assumption. On a night like this, when most sane people were home, staying out of the storm, she would still run into Millbrook’s biggest jerk. Nathaniel Peck. Apparently the postal creed was the same for creeps…“Neither sleet nor rain nor driving snow”…Or however it went.

His smile slipped, replaced by seriousness. “Listen, why don’t you leave this car here and let me give you a lift to your sister’s. Are you staying with Abby or Ellie?”

Marty stared at him, completely outraged. “You want me to leave my car here—and ride with you? Even in a raging snowstorm, you are still trying to pick up women? Are you totally crazy?”

This guy never gave up. The last time she’d seen him, at her sister’s wedding, he’d hit on her the whole night. And asked rude, suggestive questions about her body parts. Particularly her chest—and the authenticity of it.

Nathaniel didn’t react for a moment. But when he did, his voice was calm and even as if Marty hadn’t spoken at all, much less questioned his sanity. “I’ve been following you for the past ten miles, and that car is dangerous in this weather. Not to mention that you are driving too fast for the conditions.”

Marty glared at him. How dare this pig criticize her driving. And her car! He was such a—jerk!

“You know, I think you should just mind your own business—and go back to ogling Calvin Klein ads,” Marty knew the comment was stupid as soon as it was out of her mouth, but she didn’t pause. She turned and got back into her car, slamming her door angrily.

It took her a few moments to locate her keys in her coat pocket. But once she did, she shoved the correct one in the ignition and rolled out of the gas station as fast as the accumulating snow would allow. The car only skidded once.

How dare that awful man even approach her! She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that Nathaniel was still standing in parking lot, watching her drive away. Then she also noticed the police car parked some distance behind him.

“Ah,” she groaned. Nathaniel Peck was a cop! She’d forgotten. Now he was probably going to ticket her for reckless driving. Knowing him, he’d probably put out a warrant for her arrest for evading a police officer. Great!

She drove on, imagining herself stuck in a cell with that wretched man. But after a few moments, she realized something presently more worrisome. In her irritation, she hadn’t turned back toward Route 1. She was still on the snow-covered Gory Boar Road taking the back way to Millbrook.

Damn that man!

Nate cringed as he watched Marty Stepp spin out onto the back road heading toward Millbrook.

What was she thinking? On a night like this, Route 1 was the safest road to travel. Although from what he’d witnessed following her, she wasn’t exactly the most sensible driver.

He shook his head, and after her taillights disappeared around a corner, he headed into the store to pick up a few things, like a toothbrush and something for breakfast.

He’d originally intended to head home after his shift, but there was no way the road leading to his cabin would be passable tonight. A definite drawback to living down a dirt camp road.

When he entered the bright, new convenience store, he saw Greg Tucker working behind the counter. Greg was only sixteen. Nate couldn’t imagine letting his kid work the night shift at a place like this, as isolated as it was. Not that there was a lot of crime in this area.

Of course, Nate was living proof there was some crime, some very violent crime.

“Hey, Chief Peck,” the boy greeted him. “How’s the knee?”

“Not too bad,” Nate answered, although in truth, his knee was killing him. The cold weather. But Doc Hall kept assuring him that his knee would heal completely.

“Pretty wild night, huh?”

“Sure is,” Nate agreed. Too wild for this kid to be out on the roads later. “Is your uncle coming to get you at the end of your shift?”

“Yeah. He’ll come with his plow.”

Nate nodded. Derek Nye, Greg’s uncle and Nate’s longtime buddy, did a nice little side business plowing out driveways during storms. Normally, he would have gotten Derek to plow out his road, but not now. They hadn’t really spoken since his attack.

He limped toward the back wall of glass-fronted refrigerators. A rack lined with colorful, glossy magazines caught his attention. He paused, perusing the covers. Marty Stepp didn’t grace any of them—not this month. But she often did. Nate wasn’t sure what the actual requirements were to be considered a supermodel, but he suspected Marty met them all. She’d been on the covers of all the major fashion magazines. She’d been the cover model for sports magazines’ swimsuit issues. And she had done huge ad campaigns for top designers.

Suddenly, a vague memory started to return to him, lurking at the edge of his mind as if his brain were a sieve and the tidbit of information was just a tad too large to sift through.

Calvin Klein. Marty had made that cryptic comment in the parking lot, and now he seemed to recall that should mean something to him.

Calvin Klein. He’d seen her ads for the designer. Black-and-white photos of Marty entwined with a lean, almost androgynous guy. Beautiful shots of her bare, smooth skin in varying shades of gray.

Smooth skin? Smooth skin? And just like that, the memory shifted and slipped back into his brain. He’d asked Marty about those photos at her oldest sister’s wedding. Asked her if she’d been airbrushed or if her skin was really that flawless everywhere. And would she like to go to his place and show him.

He almost groaned. Sometimes he wished the memories would just stay lost, but it didn’t seem to work that way. They always came back eventually, with the inevitable embarrassment. And he had a lot to be embarrassed by—Nathaniel Peck was an ass. He already knew that, he just wished he didn’t have to remember all the details.

He continued toward the refrigerators and grabbed a half gallon of orange juice and some eggs. He started to reach for a package of bacon, the action automatic, then he stopped. He grabbed a half gallon of milk instead. He located the rest of the items he needed and headed to the counter.

“Man, I saw you talking to that woman with the cool car,” Greg said as he rang Nate up. “That was a Jag, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Man, that thing is awesome.” Greg shook his head, impressed.

Nate nodded absently. He hadn’t been awed by the expensive vehicle. He’d been too busy noting that it was fast and terrible in the snow. She’d be lucky if she didn’t end up wrapped around a tree out there, if she wasn’t already.

He paid and gathered up the bags. He had to follow her. It was more than a feeling of civic duty. In fact, there was a time when he wouldn’t have hesitated in letting her go on her way and he’d have gone his. He would have figured it was her own problem if she was a bad driver and foolish enough to be out in weather like this. He would have told himself that he was off duty, and the woman with her inappropriate car was now the next officer’s problem. When Nathaniel Peck was done for the day, he was done for the day.

But Nate didn’t feel that way anymore. He knew he had an obligation to make sure people were all right, and it had nothing to do with being the chief of police. It had to do with being a human being.

Not for the first time, he found it incredible that he’d had to die to figure out how to live.