At Wild Rose Cottage (16 page)

Come to think of it, there was something to admire about Mike's refusal to trade on his former fame. He didn't spin endless tales about ball games or seek the adoring attention he'd once received from fans and sportscasters alike. But surely there was a balance between becoming sourpuss lone wolf and a glory hound.

“Here we've got Mike Carlisle, ladies,” Emily finally announced. “Mike is intelligent, teaches at the local high school and does a great job remodeling kitchens, but you don't get him for that long. However, if you win this bid, the two of you will enjoy a nice dinner out together.”

Triumph surged through Alaina as the bidding began. Mike had acted as if no one would want him at any price, yet voice after voice pushed the number higher. At the same moment it was a bittersweet achievement—by getting him to volunteer for the auction, she'd set him up to go on a date with another woman...unless she bid on him herself, which he might not like.

The last straw came when Candy McCoy offered nine hundred dollars and it looked as if it might be the final bid.

Alaina straightened. She wasn't taking that lying down. Candy was a bloodsucker; she'd tried to steal every boyfriend that Alaina or her sister had ever had, and would do her best to eat Mike alive.

“One thousand,” Alaina sang out. Candy gave her an ugly scowl and offered eleven hundred.

The bids went up by increments.

“Fifteen hundred,” Alaina called, topping Candy's last bid.

Candy scowled harder, clenched and unclenched her fists a couple of times, then subsided.

“Fifteen hundred dollars,” Emily intoned, “going once, going twice, sold to the lady from Big Sky Construction.”

No other dinner date sold for half that much, and except for Mike, no real heat had gone into the competition.

When the auction concluded, everyone applauded Emily.

“See?” Alaina told her when they met up again. “I knew you'd be terrific.”

Emily grinned. “It was fun. Everyone was nice and they didn't mind my screwy sense of humor.”

“They liked it. Pete Grasse is a great guy, but he's awfully serious when he does the auction.”

“I'll bet we made more this year than ever,” Janet ran over to say ecstatically. “With the funds we've already raised, I'm sure we'll have enough for the new ladder truck.”

Alaina smiled at the woman, who was a powerhouse at the Firefighters Auxiliary. Janet's husband and brothers were all volunteer firefighters, so ensuring the department had the best equipment was very personal to her.

When things quieted down, she and Emily collected a piece of pie from the bakery tent and found a place on the grass to sit and eat in the late-afternoon sunshine.

“I didn't know you were going to bid for Mike,” Emily commented.

“I wasn't,” Alaina said darkly. “But I couldn't stand the thought of Candy McCoy winning.”

Emily wiped her fingers with a napkin and leaned against a tree. “Candy McCoy? I don't think I've met her.”

“Believe me, it's an experience you'll never forget. We were in the same grade all through school and she never could keep her hands off other people's stuff, whether it was their lunch money or their guys.”

“She sounds horrid.” Straightening abruptly, Emily leaned forward and whispered, “Your bachelor is headed this way.”

Alaina twisted and saw Mike.

“Could I have a word with you?” he asked.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Privately. Emily doesn't need to hear this.”

Emily jumped to her feet. “I should head home in any case.”

* * *

M
IKE
FELT
BAD
as Emily hurried away. It wasn't her fault that Alaina had pulled a fast one.

“That was rude,” Alaina told him, getting up and dumping her dessert plate in the trash.

“Ruder than setting me up?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about getting a bunch of women to bid on me by promising to top the final price. Was it so important to prove you were right that I'd be a success in the auction? It must have been a shock when they pushed the price so high.”

Mike knew he was probably being unreasonable. Plenty of men wouldn't have minded, but this was a special circumstance.

Unreasonable or not, he was startled by the fury Alaina turned on him. “I never asked anyone to bid on you, and if you think I'd collude with that slut Candy McCoy, then you're off your rocker.”

That brought Mike up short, but he soon recovered. “One of the other women could have told her about it.”

“I know every single woman who bid for you, Mr. Lightning Carlisle, and not one of them would give Candy the time of day.”

Ouch. He should have remembered the general feminine distrust for Candy McCoy before accusing Alaina of anything. In fact, he should have considered the possibility that she'd been rescuing him and thanked her instead of going on the attack.

“I'm sorry,” he said stiffly. “That's how it looked to me.”

Alaina planted her hands on her hips and leaned toward him with a glare that could have melted steel. He was distracted by the way her breasts heaved against her T-shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra and all memory of her being a skinny little tagalong was erased by a surge of pure lust.

Damn it.

“Silly me, I've thought you were special my entire life,” she said slowly and distinctly. “I never gave a hang whether you were a ballplayer or not. In fact, that was the part I liked the least.”

“Don't bad-mouth something I loved doing,” he snapped back. “Something I'd still be doing if I could.”

“I'm not bad-mouthing baseball. I have my own reasons for how I feel. Right now I'm just hoping that you're a better teacher than a ballplayer, because teachers are important and kids deserve the best. But until you get rid of that poor-me syndrome, you won't be able to help anybody, much less yourself.”

His jaw clenched. “That's the second time you've accused me of self-pity and it isn't true.”

“Maybe, maybe not. All I know is what I can see from the cheap seats. This is the last straw. For that matter, I'm beginning to wonder why I ever bothered with you in the first place.”

The scorn in her voice was clear before she wheeled and marched away.

Mike frowned, a prickling sensation going through him. His instincts had once been outstanding. He'd always seemed to know where a long ball was headed or whether he had time to steal a base. Or exactly where a floating fly ball might drop.

And right now he was getting the distinct feeling that he'd just lost something...something he was going to regret.

* * *

E
MILY
WISHED
SHE
could be a ladybug on a blade of grass, listening to Alaina and Mike. Would they manage to get past the awkward stage they were in? She sure hoped so—the strain was beginning to wear on everyone.

She hadn't gone far before she encountered Sarah and Parker McGregor.

“Emily, what a wonderful day,” Sarah exclaimed. “I understand you had a big part in it, even beyond filling in for Pete Grasse.”

“I just made a few calls,” she said. “It was other people who pitched in so generously.”

“You're too modest. Schuyler is fortunate to have you.”

Parker smiled his agreement. “I heard they've got enough to order that new ladder truck. The town has been raising money to buy one for over two years—they're very expensive and we wanted the best.”

“That's great.”

“So, how is the house renovation going?” Sarah asked.

“Terrific. You were right, Big Sky Construction does a fabulous job.” Emily smiled brightly, though she wondered how the McGregors would react if she told them about the handgun. Would they know what it was all about? But she dismissed the thought. Obviously Trent hadn't wanted anyone to learn about the weapon.

She sighed, wishing she was able to forget about it for the day. Tomorrow was Saturday and she could have contemplated it then, instead of while she was having so much fun.

“I'm glad,” Sarah was saying, “but not surprised. I'm totally biased when it comes to my boys and I'm sure your folks are the same way about you.”

“No doubt,” Emily agreed, though it wasn't true. Her sister had practically walked on water for the Georges, while they'd struggled to understand their older daughter.

“How much longer before the renovations are done?” Parker wanted to know.

“Uh...”´ Emily's train of thought went sideways when she caught sight of Trent leaning against the flagpole, looking in their direction. “It'll be a while, but at least I've got a kitchen now.”

“I suppose you've heard that my sister and brother-in-law used to live there.”

“Alaina mentioned it.”

Once again Emily was bursting with a question...whether Trent might hate Wild Rose Cottage because it reminded him of his parents' fatal accident. But she kept silent. After all, it was Parker McGregor's sister who'd died in that accident, and they'd adopted Trent and Alaina. Their own emotions about the place were bound to be complicated. Besides, it didn't seem fair to ask them about Trent.

Emily said goodbye to the McGregors and continued through the park. Her progress was slow because everyone kept stopping her to chat. With so many people who seemed to like her, seemed to be glad she was in Schuyler, she forgot everything else and floated home on a wave of pleasure.

Outside Wild Rose Cottage, she stood and gazed at the house. She had a clear vision of how it would look when finished. A wide porch would stretch around the front and side, where comfortable chairs and tables could be scattered. On warm evenings she'd sit and wave at the neighbors, or invite them over for iced tea and cookies. There'd be flowers in the yard, lace curtains at the windows, and...

The windows?

An odd feeling abruptly shot through Emily and alarm replaced everything else. A window at the side of the house didn't look right. She ran to the side of the house opposite the driveway, pushed the undergrowth away and found one of Trent's newly restored windows had been smashed. Muddy footprints led across the living room, empty except for Big Sky's equipment.

Why did someone have to be so stinking on such a great day? Not that she wanted to be robbed at any time, but it seemed worse having it done during the fund-raiser. And now she'd have to drag someone away from the fun.

She called the sheriff's office.

“Sheriff Stanfield.” In the background she heard the music from the barbecue and realized she must have entered the cell number off Carl's business card.

“Carl, this is Emily,” she said, proud her voice wasn't trembling. “Someone has broken a window at my house and I can tell they went inside.”

“You didn't go in, did you?”

“No.”

“Good, stay out. I'll get there as fast as I can.”

Not wanting to sit on the rickety front steps, Emily perched on the trunk of her car, thinking darkly about anyone who could hurt Wild Rose Cottage. She was certain the house was offended. A good home wanted to be a place of peace and safety for the people who lived there. Violating that was a revolting thing to do.

A few minutes later the sheriff's cruiser pulled up with a jerk and Carl jumped out, followed by a deputy.

“Stay there,” he ordered again.

After what seemed forever, Carl came to the door and waved her inside.

“No one is here now,” he said. “I want you to check for anything missing.”

“There's hardly anything in the house. You can tell by looking through the window he broke. The curtain was open and shows the house is practically empty except for Big Sky's tools.”

“Perhaps he thought you had something valuable in another room,” Carl suggested. “But I...uh, also have to ask if there's anyone who might have something personal against you, from either Schuyler or California?”

The inquiry sent a jolt through Emily. “I ended an engagement before moving here, but Dennis wasn't that upset about it.”

The sheriff's eyebrows shot up. “Dennis?”

“Dennis Spencer. He's a roving consultant with Trifab Chemical Engineering International, which is based in Los Angeles. But he couldn't have anything to do with this. He isn't the type.”

Nevertheless, Carl wrote down the information.

The deputy was busily dusting for fingerprints around the window and Emily waited, unhappy thoughts going through her head. According to Alaina, property crimes were practically nonexistent in Schuyler—most people didn't even lock their doors at night. The authorities largely dealt with traffic violations and rowdy cowboys, along with a few domestic disputes. Since this was the second time she'd called about a break-in, they'd probably decide she was the Typhoid Mary of criminal activity.

When the deputy finished working, he consulted with Carl, pointing to a couple of spots on the windowsill.

“We'll cross-check the latent prints against the Big Sky Construction crew,” Carl told her, “but I'm not hopeful we'll find any that don't match. We've found overlying smudges that are likely from a glove.”

Frustrated, Emily did her own walk-through of the house, but with the renovations in progress, she couldn't tell if anything had been disturbed.

“Nothing seems to be missing,” she told Carl. “I can't tell you about Big Sky's equipment. The crew will be here tomorrow and I'll have them check.”

Just then heavy footsteps sounded on the porch and the door opened. It was Trent carrying a large sheet of plywood. “I brought this to secure the window.”

Emily felt worse than ever. “I don't want to spoil everyone's evening. I can nail something over it myself.”

“It's no problem,” Trent said in a neutral tone, his face equally neutral.