Читать книгу Bachelor In Blue Jeans - Lauren Nichols - Страница 9

Kristin stepped out of the shower, wrapped herself in a white terry robe, then with a vengeance, rubbed a towel over her short hair. She was so churned up, she didn’t know what to do with herself. Flinging the towel over the shower curtain rod, she strode barefoot into her pretty oak kitchen where her teakettle was screaming its spout off. She turned off the gas.

How could she have let him get to her like that?

What had possessed her to bid three hundred dollars on a man who’d crushed her spirit, and for months, had her gobbling chocolate like a child on Halloween?

She fixed her tea, grabbed the cookie jar from the countertop and carried it to the sofa in her living room. After a moment, she picked up the phone to call Rachel in Flagstaff. She hung up before she’d finished dialing the area code.

The second she told Rachel that she’d seen Zach again, her psychologist-sister would either counsel Kristin to death over the phone or catch the next plane home and do it in person.

Kristin couldn’t handle any more preaching tonight. Not after Chad’s well-meaning diatribe when he walked her to her car. He’d pretended concern, but his underlying feelings were easy to read. He was hurt, and he couldn’t understand how she could have bid on a man she supposedly despised. He hadn’t been in the best of moods when she’d sent him back to Mary Alice.

Kristin reached inside the cookie jar and grabbed a handful of Oreos. She needed to forget that Zach Davis ever existed. She needed to drink tea and eat cookies and watch mindless TV and forget.

It was simply mind over matter. She’d done it before, and she could do it again.

The next morning as she said goodbye to Mildred Arnett and hung up the phone in her shop, Kristin was teeming with energy. This mind over matter thing was easy. All she’d needed to do was focus directly on the work she loved, and she’d been doing that nonstop for an hour—ever since she came in at seven-thirty.

Pushing to her feet, Kristin grabbed the shipping manifest from her clipboard and strode into the small stockroom off her sales floor to finish checking in the previous day’s delivery. Two dozen cartons were stacked beside the metal door leading to the alley.

Pulling a stool close, she opened the boxes, checking each one to see that the description and number of items agreed with the manifest, then noting it on the sheet and boxing the items back up to be shelved later.

The very last carton was a case of jelly-jar candles she’d received from a new vendor. Kristin took more time with them, removing the lids to check the quality and strength of the fragrances. The second she opened the strawberry candle with the pretty red-speckled label, she knew it was a mistake.

One whiff had tears filling her eyes and that cruel videotape in her mind clicking on again.

Suddenly she was driving up the bumpy dirt driveway to Etta Gardner’s farmhouse again…guiding her mother’s car to the end, then back behind the big, white clapboard house where the strawberry fields opened and a small campfire blazed orange in the darkness.

The scent of strawberries filled her mind and lungs, and Kristin’s chest began to ache. Because there was Zach in the car’s headlights again, shattering her heart in a million pieces.

The bell over the entry door jerked Kristin out of her thoughts, and blinking rapidly, she blessed the interruption. She didn’t need this anymore, didn’t want it.

Smoothing her pearl-gray jacket over her white camisole and gray skirt, she summoned a smile and returned to her sales floor where antiques and pretty collectibles shared space with Amish baked goods, silk flowers and more candles.

Her face froze when she saw who’d entered. Then she reminded herself that she was a professional, drew a steadying breath and walked out to greet Zach, just as she would greet any other customer who walked through her door.

“Good morning, Kris.”

“Good morning.” She would not get upset again. She would not run trembling to the cookie jar ever again because of him. She stepped behind the glass showcase that served as a sales counter to stand beside the hulking old-fashioned silver cash register. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing. I’m here to do something for you.” He was dressed in snug, faded jeans and a white knit polo shirt with an open collar that showcased his broad shoulders and tanned arms. His steady gaze held hers as he reached for his wallet, withdrew a check, and laid it on the counter.

She knew without looking that it was made out to her in the amount of three hundred dollars. “I told you last night that I didn’t want it.”

“And I told you that I don’t like owing people. Take it.”

“No.”

He shoved it under the cash register. “All right, then add it to your donation or use it for a bookmark.”

She paused for a moment, then nodded, knowing that if she kept refusing, they’d be at this all day. “Thank you. I’ll see that the hospital auxiliary gets it. Now, if there’s nothing else, I need to get back to work.”

“There is something else.”

Kristin waited.

“Before we spoke last night, Maybelle Parker collared me.”

“Yes, I know. I saw her.”

“She said we were expected to join the other bachelors and their dates for a dinner cruise on Lake Edward in two weeks. Are you planning to go?”

She was stunned that he would even ask. “With you?”

“You did buy me.”

Kristin kept her tone even. “I did not buy you, I made a donation to the Children’s Christmas Fund. I thought you understood that.”

“So you said. But it was a pretty hefty donation. Are you sure you didn’t expect something more?”

This time she couldn’t keep the edge out of her voice. “I have no expectations where you’re concerned. I’m not going on the cruise. But if you’re interested, by all means, feel free to ask someone else.”

“I’m not interested.” Zach returned his wallet to his back pocket. “I’ll only be here for a few weeks, and I’ll need most of that time to get my aunt’s house in shape for a Realtor. I don’t have time for cruises.”

“Really?” she asked, irked again. “Would you have answered the same way if I’d said I wanted to attend?”

“Looking for a fight, Kris?” he asked curiously. “We used to be pretty good at it.”

The arrival of another customer stopped her reply, and for the second time in minutes, Kristin was glad for the interruption. She was even happier to see Chad, but probably for all the wrong reasons.

“Hi,” she called, smiling.

“Hi,” Chad called back cheerfully. “You look pretty this morning. How’s my best girl?”

“Full of energy,” she answered, letting the “best girl” thing slide.

Zach watched Hollister amble toward them, happy to return the jerk’s frigid nod as he carried a take-out bag to the sales counter. He eased as close to Kristin as the counter allowed, an intimate smile on his lips as he unloaded coffee in foam cups, stir sticks and creamers.

This morning, the chief was all decked out in his uniform—dark gray shirt with black epaulets and pocket flaps, black pants, and lots of shiny silver buttons. There was more crime-fighting paraphernalia hanging from his utility belt than Batman’s.

Zach found himself disliking Hollister more with every passing second. Maybe because he’d figuratively elbowed Zach out of the way. Or maybe because Chad was fixing Kristin’s coffee from memory.

Hollister spoke cordially to Zach as he stirred cream into Kristin’s cup, though there was no mistaking the “get lost” message in his green eyes. “Sorry, but I didn’t bring enough for company. If I’d known you were here, I’d have ordered another cup.”

Sure he would have. “Thanks just the same, but I’ve already had my quota for the day.”

“Early riser, are you?”

The question sounded like an accusation. In fact, everything he said sounded like an accusation. Zach’s edginess increased.

Kristin cleared her throat. “I had an interesting call from Anna Mae’s cousin a few minutes ago, Chad. Apparently, all the legal issues have been wrapped up, and Mrs. Arnett’s now free to sell the house and its contents.”

Hollister handed her a foam cup. “Bet she’s relieved to get on with it. She and her son have been back and forth a lot in the past few weeks.” He frowned wryly. “Weird people, those two.”

Zach stilled. How many Anna Maes could there be in a town this size? “Are you talking about Anna Mae Kimble?”

Chad took a cautious sip of hot coffee, then favored Zach with his attention again. “She was the department’s secretary for years,” he said sympathetically. “She passed away last month.”

Zach felt a stab of regret as a childhood memory of Anna Mae moved through his mind, and once again he was grateful for her kindness. “What happened?”

“It was an accident,” Chad said. “I don’t like speaking ill of the dead, particularly when the deceased was a good friend. But apparently Anna Mae had a little too much sherry the night she died. She fell in her home. Struck her head on a coffee table.”

The entry bell chimed again, and a solemn, bow-tied, older man Zach recognized entered the shop. Harlan Greene was the town’s perennial tax collector, having served in that position for decades. According to Etta, he still held the job.

Harlan waved to them, then frowning, perused the selection of Amish baked goods.

Chad continued in a lower voice. “According to the coroner, Anna Mae died instantly.”

“I’m sorry,” Zach murmured, meaning it. “She was a nice woman.” Nicer than a cocky teenage kid had deserved.

Harlan carried a package of cinnamon rolls to the counter and handed Kristin several bills. The sadness in his eyes was unmistakable. “She was the salt of the earth,” he said. “Guess that Arnett woman will be sellin’ off her things any day now.”

“Looks that way,” Chad replied, then glanced at Kristin. “I take it that’s why Mrs. Arnett phoned you this morning?”

Kristin counted out Harlan’s change, then nodded hesitantly, wishing Chad had waited until Harlan had gone to bring that up. “She wondered if I might be interested in buying a few of Anna Mae’s pieces. I’m meeting her at the house this evening.”

“Won’t find anything of value over there,” Harlan said huskily, pocketing his coins. “Leastwise, nothing that would work in your shop.” He picked up his rolls. “She liked frogs, was all. Frogs on her switch plates, frogs on the canister set, frogs all over the damn house.” As he turned to leave, a bitter tone entered his voice. “No, you won’t find anything worthwhile over there.”

Kristin watched the door close behind him, then followed Harlan’s path past her multipaned bay window until he disappeared. Touched, she turned to Chad. “Did you know about Anna Mae and Harlan?”

He nodded. “She liked him, but she didn’t like his gambling. Gave him his walking papers shortly before she died.” Chad glanced at the cuckoo clock on the wall. “Well, I’d better get to work. Dinner tonight?”

Kristin stared blankly at him. Where had that invitation come from? She also wondered at the offhanded way he’d asked—as if they dined together often, which wasn’t the case.

She felt Zach’s gaze on her, heavy and curious. Suddenly she was uneasy. “I’m sorry, but my plans with Mrs. Arnett aren’t firm. I’ll be touring the house at her convenience.”

“Okay,” Chad replied, shrugging. “I’ll probably see you a little later anyhow. Maybe we can grab some ice cream or something.”

“I…okay,” she answered, still feeling off balance. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“My pleasure. Always.” But instead of leaving, Chad eased back against the counter to finish his coffee and sort through his keys. When he finally glanced up again, both his expression and tone had hardened.

“Why don’t I walk you out, Davis? The sun’s shining. Too beautiful a day to be stuck indoors if you don’t have to be.”

Zach’s eyes were gray steel. “Why don’t you walk yourself out, Hollister? I’m not ready to leave yet.”

Startled, utterly bewildered, Kristin cast about for something to say, then hit the release lever on her cash register. The drawer dinged open, the tinny ring momentarily breaking their face-off. Whatever was going on here—idiotic male muscle flexing or a burst of rivalry from their past—it made her uncomfortable, and she wanted no part of it.

“You two do what you want,” she said briskly and closed the cash drawer. “Stay or leave. I need to get some change from my safe and make a phone call.”

Neither man commented, but Zach watched her go, shamelessly enjoying the view until she’d closed the door behind her. A sweet, wild wind stirred inside him.

“Pull your eyes back in their sockets, hotshot. You had your chance thirteen years ago, and you screwed it up.”

Slowly, Zach turned to face Hollister again. “So you’re the guy now?”

“That’s right, I’m the guy.”

“Fine with me,” he replied, shrugging. “But I’ve noticed that she’s not wearing a ring. I keep wondering what that means.”

A nerve leapt in Hollister’s jaw. “It means that Kristin and I have an understanding. For you, it means that you’d better observe all posted speed limits and put money in the parking meters. It also wouldn’t be prudent to cross the street anywhere but at a crosswalk.”

He glanced toward the door, then offered Zach a nasty smile. “You know, as I came inside, I noticed a black truck with Carolina tags parked out front. Think I’ll run a check on the license plate—make sure the owner has no outstanding warrants. I might even glance at the inspection sticker.”

“What’s this?” Zach asked, trying not to laugh. “Police harassment?”

“Not at all. It’s just a warning to an out-of-state visitor that when laws are broken in this town…I act.”

This time Zach couldn’t stop a smile. “And I’ll bet you do a damn fine job of it.”

Hollister’s face turned crimson. “Just watch your step,” he said coldly. “You don’t want me for an enemy.” Then he was stalking out of the shop, leaving Zach to wonder if Chad’s blustering was a territory-marking thing…or insecurity because he had no hold on Kristin.

Not that he cared, either way.

Kristin said goodbye to Mildred Arnett, drew a tentative breath, then slowly opened the door to her office and looked around. The silence was an enormous relief.

Grateful that they’d gone, she added change to her cash drawer, retrieved her glass cleaner and paper towels from beneath a counter, then walked to her bay window. There, dolls in Victorian costumes sat at a mock tea party, flanked by a profusion of plumed hats, Bavarian china, flowers and silk. She stepped up into the display, squirted a few tiny glass panes, and started to wipe.

A low deep voice shattered her composure.

“What’s this? A jewelry box?”

Kristin turned around slowly to see Zach standing beside a tall armoire with his back to her. An unwelcome warmth flowed through her as he reached for an antique music box on a high shelf, and she watched the subtle play of muscle and sinew beneath his shirt.

“It…it can be,” she replied, swallowing. Setting her cleaner and paper towels aside, she stepped down from the display. He was a customer, she told herself again. She would show him what he wanted to see—then she would show him the door.

Zach raised the footed box’s filigreed silver lid, then closed it and turned it over in his hands.

Kristin took it from him, slid the hidden key from a slot, then wound the mechanism. A haunting, old-fashioned melody began to play…an unnerving, awareness-building melody that captured the shop’s cozy ambiance and heightened her awareness of the man beside her. She handed the box back to him.

“Pretty,” he said.

“I think so, too.”

Maybe the music was to blame for the moody shift in the air. Or maybe the shop was too warm. Or maybe old lovers with good memories shouldn’t risk being alone in quiet places. Whatever the reason, Kristin felt herself grow jittery as the box continued to chime out a tender minuet, and the stirring smells of warm man and musky aftershave filled her nostrils.

He’d hurt her badly. Yet as her gaze fell from his eyes to his mouth, she was suddenly remembering kisses that tasted like sun-ripened strawberries and the smell of summer hay. Remembering the tingling touch of a boy who’d become a man in his aunt’s hayloft…

Kristin reached out and slammed the lid, silencing the music and widening Zach’s gray eyes. “That should give you some idea,” she blurted, thankful she hadn’t knocked the box out of his hands. “Actually, it’s one of my favorite pieces—nineteenth century English sterling. Which also makes it very expensive.”

Zach assessed her for a long beat, then glanced at the price tag and gave the box back to her. “I’ll take it. Do you gift wrap?”

Surprise joined her flustered emotions. “Business must be good.”

“I do all right.”

Apparently so, she thought, moving to her register. She retrieved a gift box, tissue paper and ribbon from under the counter, suddenly all thumbs. What in the world was wrong with her? Chemistry again? Need? It had been a long time since she’d been with a man, but that was no reason to fall apart at the first sign of sexual interest.

She worked quickly, wanting to hurry, acutely aware of Zach’s gaze on her. But pride wouldn’t allow her to do a less-than-perfect job on the package. Finally, she was slipping it into a white bag printed with a watercolor of an old mill, annoyed with herself for wondering who would receive it.

She was about to take his credit card from the counter when Zach trapped her hand beneath his. It was warm, firm, and had her heart beating fast again. “Etta thinks we should talk,” he said soberly. “She said we need ‘closure.’”

The memory of that June night rushed back, crystal clear, wiping away those jittery feelings of awareness.

Kristin yanked her hand away, snared his credit card and started the transaction. It was amazing how easy it was to remain sensible when she recalled the pain, not the pleasure.

“Your aunt’s a sweet woman, but maybe you should tell her that we’ve had closure for a long time.” She handed him the receipt and a pen for his signature, waited for him to comply, then tossed his copy into the bag and handed it to him. “Now, I really do have to get busy.”

If her shortness struck a chord in him, it didn’t show.

“Me, too. The sooner I get Etta’s house repaired and on the market, the sooner I can get back home.”

Zach’s inscrutable gaze moved over her face and hair, noted the small silver-and-turquoise posts in her earlobes, then slid down the front of her gray suit to her waist. “You look good, Kris,” he said simply, meeting her eyes once more. Then without another word, he pushed away from the counter and walked out of her life again. Which suited Kristin just fine.