CAPTURED INNOCENCE (12 page)

His eyes flicked toward the saddlebag, and he laughed. “I like what you’re wearing.”

Jo quickly unzipped the bag and grabbed a tee shirt
and her inhaler. The shirt was wrinkled and stained. She pulled it over her head and took two puffs of her inhaler before digging out the medical supplies. She located the enclosures and sat back next to Conley. “Hold still.”

She
applied new enclosures to his wound, pulling the skin tight together before applying the tape. “No more physical exertion. Not for a while.”

“I’ll agree to that if you’ll agree to no more fainting.”

“I didn’t faint.”

“You did. Right after you threw up.” He reached up and tucked a curl behind her ear. “How do you feel now?”

“Fine. Hungry. Embarassed.” She stood. “Pick one.”

He grabbed his shirt from the foot of the bed where he’d tossed it the night before. Raising it to his nose, he sniffed. “We need a change of clothes.” He grinned up at her. “Wanna charge an outfit to your parents?”

Jo smiled back. “I’d love to. Several of them.”

###

              Conley took her to a small boutique on the outskirts of Vegas.

“This is a woman’s clothing store. What about you?”

“There’s a discount store right down the street. I just need a pair of jeans and a clean shirt.”

“I won’t have you meeting my parents in jeans. They’ll eat you alive.” Jo stood on the sidewalk and glanced up the street and down. “Oh, good. There’s a men’s clothing store. When I’m finished, we’ll go shopping for you.”

“Great.” He flung a leg over the bike and removed his helmet. “I can’t wait.”

She stood looking up at him. “You need a haircut
, too.”

“No, I don’t. That’s where I draw the line.”

“But it touches your shoulders. It’s almost as long as mine.” She reached up and ran her fingers through his curls.

He shrugged
and firmed his jaw. “No.”

“Fine.” She whirled and marched into the store
. A disgruntled Conley followed.

He sat on a sofa too small for his large frame while she dug through racks of clothing. Item after item was handed to the sales clerk. “Where do you think we’re going to put all that?”

“I’m not buying it all. But, I’m not showing up at my parents looking like a vagabond, either.” She tossed one more blouse on the pile. “Be right out.”

He raised his eyebrows and looked around. The boutique was small. The walls were that pinkish color women called mauve, heavy curtains hung from the windows, and love songs played in the background. Displays of cologne and jewelry stood next to the checkout. Conley groaned
and tried to get comfortable on the flowered sofa. He stretched his long legs out before him.

“How’s this?”

Jo stood before him dressed in a simple linen sheath dress of pale blue.

“Beautiful. Can we go now?”

“Wait. I need more things than just this dress. I don’t want my parents to think I’m destitute.”

“But you are destitute.”

She frowned at him. “Don’t be mean. It doesn’t become you, besides it’s been ages since I’ve been shopping like this.”

“What do you think they’ll say when they get the bill?” He scratched at the healing split on his chin. “Or when they see me? I’m cut up and shot.”

“I don’t care. You’re going to look great. I’m not going to show up wrinkled and smelly with no clothes to my name. And neither are you.”

“I’ve got clothes at home.”

“Which is?”

“About forty minutes from here.”

“Jeans and tee shirts.”

He sighed heavily and rose to pace while she tried on another outfit. When she’d finished, she was richer by one blue sheath dress, some black filmy thing she didn’t try on for him, white cotton slacks, assorted blouses and undergarments, one pair of jeans, and several shoes. She wore the jeans, a vintage tee shirt and ankle boots
with ridiculously high heels.

“Ready?”
She smiled.

Nodding, Conley waited while the salesclerk carefully folded each item in tissue paper and laid them in a box.
He must be crazy. No doubt.

“You can tie the box on the bike, Conley. No problem.”
She handed him the box and pranced out of the store ahead of him. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Oh, goody.”

He stood like a dope while Jo rattled off instructions to the clerk at the men’s store. The clerk took his measurements, exclaiming over the size of his shoulders, tsk-tsking over his tattoos and wound, and then the man disappeared into a back room. Before Conley knew what hit him, he was laying out his charge card for a suit, pants, several polo shirts, designer jeans, and new alligator skin boots.

Jo wrote something down on a slip of paper and handed it to the clerk. “Two days?”

The man nodded.

Turning to Conley, she asked, “Can we be at my parents within two days?”

“Late tomorrow, if you want.”

“Wonderful.” She beamed at him. “You’re going to knock them dead.”

“They’ve already seen me, Jo.” He followed her, carrying the now heavier box, back to his bike.

“Yes, they have. But not all cleaned up.”

Conley tied the box with twine he’d borrowed from the men’s store onto the bike, hoping, and hoping not, that it would fall and be lost somewhere on the highway. “You are definitely a snob.”

“Caring what people think is not being a snob.”

“Do you know how much money you spent today? Do you care?” He stared down at her. “One thousand dollars give or take a few hundred.”

“So? You’re not paying for it.”

He shook his head, picking up his helmet. “A snob.”

Jo climbed onto the back of the bike. “I need confidence when I confront Blake and my parents. Those filthy wrinkled things I was wearing wasn’t going to give it to me. Don’t you ever feel like that?”

“God gives me my confidence.” He latched his helmet and situated himself in front of her.

“Not the God I grew up with.”

Conley jerked her hands tighter around his waist, popped the bike into ignition then eased them back onto the road. A disturbing thought tickled at the back of Conley’s mind. Who exactly were her parents and what kind of childhood had Jo had?

             
Prestige hadn’t changed much in the time Jo had been gone. Dusk fell and the turn of the century style street lights cast a welcoming glow, leading the town’s citizens into a false sense of peace and security. If they only knew the evil that lurked behind some of the most expensive mansions.

             
The Harley growled down the one road that grandly called itself Main Street. Brick front buildings, lights muted for the night, lined both sides of the street. Trimmed evergreen bushes stood next to the sidewalks beside a park complete with a gazebo and ornamental fish pond.

             
A twitch developed behind Jo’s left eye the further they drove into town. A dull throb began in the center of her forehead and spread behind her eyes and around to the back of her head. Her chest tightened. The thought of her inhaler safely in Conley’s pocket reassured her and prevented an attack.

             
“There’s a small hotel on the other side of town,” she yelled. The action sent shards of pain through her skull. Conley nodded and turned in the direction she pointed.

             
Prestige, being a small town, only took minutes to drive through. Jo sighed as Conley stopped the bike, and she removed her helmet. She rubbed at the spot between her eyes.

             
“I’ll get the room.” Conley laid a hand on her shoulder. “Be right back.”

             
She waited with hunched shoulders and bowed head. The throbbing increased, now shooting daggers through her eyes. She squinted against the street lamp’s stab of light.

             
“Jocelyn Nielson?”

             
Raising pained eyes, Jo groaned. Standing beside her was a woman she’d graduated high school with. Meredith Burney stood in tight designer jeans, silky camisole, and stiletto heeled boots. Her dyed blonde hair was swept up and away from her face. Fuzzy strands trailed down her back.

             
“What are you doing here?” Meredith squealed. “Your husband has been looking everywhere for you. He’s been worried sick.” She cocked a hip, frowning.

             
“My
husband
is getting us a room.”

             
Meredith’s head whipped around. “Blake’s here? Why?” She smiled. “Oh, a little private rendezvous to celebrate your homecoming?”

             
Jo sighed. “Meredith, since you seem so interested in my life, I’m surprised you don’t know Blake is no longer my husband. I’ve come back to Prestige to get my son.” She glanced behind her former classmate. “What are you doing here? A little rendezvous of your own? I don’t see
your
husband.”

             
The other woman turned red. Blotches spread across her neck and chest. Seeing Conley approach, she spat, “Don’t judge me, missy. You seem to be having a fling of your own.”

             
Jo reached a hand toward Conley. “This is my new husband, Conley. Conley, Meredith, gossip of Prestige.”

             
Meredith huffed, spun on her heel, and stalked away. Conley’s amused glance rested on Jo. “Our room is right here.” He held up a small paper bag. “I got you some bubble bath and aspirin. Maybe it will help your headache.” He offered a hand to assist her off the bike.

             
“That woman will have it all over town by morning that we’ve arrived.”

             
“So? Everyone will find out shortly anyway.” He unlocked the door and ushered her inside. “Have a seat while I run your bath.”

             
The room was one of the cleaner ones they’d spent the night in. Decorated in muted colors of mauve, rose, and mint green, it was designed to comfort and relax. Floral prints adorned walls of pale rose paint. Jo sniffed. No mildew or other offensive odors assaulted her. The air conditioner hummed softly in the background. She smiled and fell into one of the soft, stuffed chairs, and rested her head in her hands.

             
“Come on, sweetheart.” Conley held out a hand holding two aspirins and a glass of water.

She
downed the white tablets and grasped his hand before allowing him to lead her to the restroom. Tears sprang to her eyes. A tub of fragrant bubbles awaited her. A scented candle rested on the side of the tub, and a plastic goblet of amber liquid sparkled next to it. “Champagne?”

             
Conley gave her a crooked smile. “Non-alcoholic cider. Prestige is a dry county, I found out.”

             
“Why are you so good to me?”

             
“Because you deserve it. Hasn’t anyone been nice to you before?”

             
“Not without wanting something in return. What do
you
want, Conley?” It wasn’t possible he only wanted to help her. No man looked at a woman like that. None she’d ever met, anyway. No, there was something about Conley Hook that got under a person’s skin.

             
“Nothing.” He bent and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Enjoy your bath. Hope your head feels better.” With those words, he stepped back and closed the door.

             
She dropped her clothes to the floor and stepped into the hot water. She gasped at the heat before gingerly lowering herself until the only part of her body not submerged was her head. The door opened just enough for Conley’s arm to appear. He dropped a tee shirt on the counter.

             
“Something clean for you to sleep in.” The door closed.

             
Tears fell anew. If someone would have asked her why she cried, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to answer. The realization of no one treating her as if she were precious before rose up and slapped her. Was it Conley’s God who made him so kind? The god her parents had shown her was one of rules and obedience. Not love. She prayed, but never felt like God listened
.

             
She stayed in the tub until the water grew cool and goose bumps broke out on her flesh. Rising from the now bubble-less tub, she dried off on one of the thick towels and donned the tee shirt. She sniffed. It might be clean, but it smelled of the musky male scent she’d come to associate with Conley. Smiling, she opened the door.

             
The room lay in shadows. Conley had hung their new clothes on the clothing rack and now slept on the only bed. The television played with the sound muted.

Jo walked over and pressed the power button
. She turned back toward the bed when Conley stirred. He remained asleep and she joined him, sliding carefully onto the vacant side of the bed, not wanting to wake him.