Jeannie Watt (15 page)

No,
Tara thought with an edge of foreboding.
Don’t ask me about him.
“I would think that working in the salon, you’d know everything there is to know.”

“Well—” Hailey gave her a roguish grin “—it seems the ladies don’t know much.”

“Were you sent to find out more?” Tara asked darkly.

“It was suggested,” Hailey confirmed. Tara gritted her teeth.

“Some of the ladies think he’s sweet on you, and the rest think he’s hanging around trying to get lucky. The general consensus there is ‘good luck.’”

Tara felt her jaw tighten, but she liked Hailey and she kept her voice carefully even when she asked, “No chance that he could just be working here as a carpenter?”

“Nope,” Hailey replied easily. “There has to be an ulterior motive.”

“How do you stand that place?”

Hailey laughed. “There are only a few
really
nasty gossips, but for some reason, they always seem to be there at the same time.”

Matt came back out of the shop and headed for the house. Tara watched him go, and then turned back to Hailey, who was looking at her now. Tara could see speculation in the blonde’s eyes, but all her friend said was, “So you’re working on the third floor?”

“I got another reservation,” Tara answered, relieved, “and Matt said he could make it livable.”

“Not much time,” Hailey pointed out.

“Tell me about it,” Tara replied, pushing her braid over her shoulder. “I need to get Matt’s breakfast so we can go to work. Do you want something to eat?”

Hailey shook her head. “No. I’ve eaten. I’ll just go and tidy up my work area. Grandpa is coming later with a couple of friends to move the kiln and table in.”

“All right then….” Tara started for the house. Matt was in the kitchen, drinking his now-cold coffee.

“Luke should be here soon to help with the wallboard.”

Matt nodded, his expression impersonal. Probably his cop face, Tara decided.

“I’ll make you some pancakes and then maybe you and I could get some of the wallboard upstairs before he arrives…. You know, to kind of save his shoulder?”

“Good idea.” Matt drained the cup and stood. “I’m not really hungry, so maybe we can get started.”

Tara didn’t argue.

Luke showed up twenty minutes later, just as Hailey came out of the shop. She greeted him like an old friend, and despite his protests, got on the other end of a piece of wallboard and helped him cart it up two flights of stairs.

Between the four of them, the wallboard was soon unloaded and transported to the third floor, where it waited for Matt to turn the framed-in bathroom into an actual room and replace what was once lath and plaster walls. Matt carried Luke’s big circular saw up the stairs and set it on the floor next to the sawhorses. He straightened and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“It’s going to be hot up here today,” Tara said as she started opening windows and propping the fans in them to let a cross breeze through the already overheated room. “I’ll turn the cooler on if you want.”

“Don’t,” Matt answered automatically. “Too expensive. I’ll survive.” He turned his attention to the framed-in areas, mentally calculating. Fine, Tara thought, melt up here.

“Hey, Tara.” Hailey came from the far end of the large room. “You know what you could do to this floor?”

“Cover it with about thirty rugs?”

Hailey shook her head. “Stencil it. Around the edges, like a border. If you hate it, you can strip it off, but it would be pretty without tons of work. We could put matching stencils around the walls and in the bathrooms.”

“I don’t know if I’ll have time,” Tara said dubiously.

“I’ll help. I’ve done this before. In fact,” she said with a smile, “I’m pretty good at it.”

Tara hesitated, indecisive. She wasn’t used to having people offer to help her. It felt strange. “All right.”

“I’ll bring my book by tonight and we can make some plans.”

“I’m bartending tonight,” Tara told her. “Six to ten.”

“I’ll bring it by the bar. How busy can it be?”

“There’s a band tonight,” Luke informed her. “You know what that means.”

“There’ll be really bad music at the Owl?”

Luke gave her a look that spoke volumes.

Hailey grinned. “I’ll bring the book by anyway. Maybe we can look at it if you have a minute.”

“Sounds good to me,” Tara said, but her attention was already back on Matt, who was measuring the first wall. She headed for the stairs. She had work to do.

The rumble of a truck engine sounded through the open window and Hailey went to look.

“Grandpa,” she said happily. “Come on, Luke. You want to do some lifting, we have a monster kiln for you down there.”

L
UKE POKED HIS HEAD
into the kitchen to say goodbye late that afternoon. Matt hadn’t come down to the first floor all day long, having skipped lunch as well as breakfast, so Tara finally went upstairs to see him before she left for the Owl. She just wanted to check on his progress.
Right.

He was standing in the doorway of the new bathroom, a bottle of water in one hand, surveying his work.

“You’ve done a lot today.” Tara pulled her eyes away from him and looked around at the newly covered walls. “Which I appreciate, since I contacted the lady on my waiting list, and I now have these—” she glanced around dubiously “—rooms booked.”

“They’ll be done.” Matt leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, sipping at the water as he spoke. It was almost unbearably hot, even with the windows open and the fans pushing a breeze through the room. Matt’s T-shirt was soaked with sweat and it clung to his chest. The white powder from the gypsum board streaked his face and dotted his glasses. He looked hot and male and sexy…and guarded. Whatever self-protective mechanism she’d triggered was a strong one.

“Luke’s going to help tomorrow if his shoulder is still all right,” he said.

“Don’t—”

Matt raised a hand, cutting off her words. “I won’t let him hurt himself.” They both knew that Luke wanted to work. “You’re tending bar until ten tonight?”

“I am. How much longer will you be here?”

“Another hour maybe. Do me a favor, okay?”

Tara tilted her head.

“Try,” he said with a straight face, “really try, not to pick a fight with anyone.”

“Right,” Tara muttered, finding no humor in his comment. She turned and trotted down the stairs, wondering why she put up with this guy who was turning her inside out and ticking her off to boot.

Because he’s the only carpenter you got…and, in spite of everything, he still makes your hormones sweat.

T
HE BAR WAS
remarkably busy for a Thursday and it was entirely due to the band. BrushPopper was one of the area favorites, a garage band that had never moved out of the garage. The four men who’d formed the band in their teens were now in their forties and not yet close to quitting their day jobs.

Hailey arrived soon after the band, carrying a thick stencil pattern book, which she set on the end of the bar with a loud thump.

The band was beginning to set up their equipment and Tara knew the bar would soon be filled with the squeaks and squeals of numerous sound checks, followed by songs played through amps too large for the small room. She reached under the bar into the cache of disposable earplugs, automatically handing Hailey a pair before she pulled the stencil book closer, flipping the pages.

“Can you do this stuff here?” she asked, pointing to a picture of a multishaded trail of flowers and ivy. “All those colors blending together like that?”

“No problem. And look here,” Hailey said, flipping to another page. “We can make the bathtub match the walls if you want.”

“That would be kind of neat.”

Tara was only able to look at the book for a few minutes before she had to start pouring drinks full-time.

“I thought Matt and Luke would be here,” Hailey said as she resignedly flipped the book shut and shifted on her stool to look out across the barroom. The people kept coming in, happy to have something to do on a Thursday night. The band was playing for three days, and Tara was willing to bet that most of the people in the bar tonight would be back for the other two days.

“They’ll be here later.”

Hailey perched on the stool and leaned back against the bar, watching the crowd. Her eyes narrowed as they swept over the pool-table area. Tara followed her gaze and saw Rafe, wearing jeans and a white shirt that accentuated his olive complexion and dark hair. Tara glanced back at Hailey, whose soft lips had tightened ominously.

Becky arrived with an order from the restaurant and Tara lined up glasses and mixed drinks. “Matt’s here,” Hailey said as Tara floated brandy on top of a pair of Picon Punches. Tara glanced up, her heart beating faster. She saw Matt ambling over to a pool table.

She glanced purposely back down at the drinks, rubbing the lemon twists around the rims of the glasses before dropping the curls into the drinks.

“Order up,” she said to Becky, who was flirting with the guy two stools down from Hailey.

“You know,” Hailey said, pushing off from the barstool with an air of determination, “I think I’ll go and play some pool.”

“Good idea,” Tara said, and realized that she didn’t mean a word of it as she watched her friend head toward her carpenter with a bright smile on her pretty face.

I don’t want Hailey hanging around Matt.
She swore under her breath. That was so not like her. She gave her head a shake. It didn’t seem to help.

The last hour and a half of her shift passed rapidly, thanks to the band and the seemingly insatiable thirst of the crowd she was serving. But, even though she was very busy, her eyes strayed to Matt, Rafe and Hailey over and over again. Another woman that Tara had never seen before had joined the trio and was making a heavy play for Rafe, leaving Matt and Hailey free to do a lot of talking. Matt even laughed at one point, and Tara gritted her teeth. Sure, he laughs with Hailey, but not with her.

Jealous.
She’d never been jealous in her life and she was jealous.

She hated it, but that didn’t stop her from going straight to the pool table as soon as Becky took over the bar.

“Hey, about time,” Hailey said with such obvious sincerity that Tara felt bad. “Now we can play guys against gals.”

“I don’t play,” the woman cozying up to Rafe purred in explanation. Tara disliked her immediately and it had nothing to do with the expensively streaked hair, perfect makeup and manicured nails—or even the low-cut leopard print shirt. It had everything to do with the deadly this-is-my-prey-keep-your-distance look in her eye.

“Your loss,” Tara said, taking a cue off the wall and sighting down it to make sure it wasn’t the infamous U-cue that had warped when someone left it in the parking lot during a rainstorm. It wasn’t. She chalked her hands, then turned to see that the woman had linked one arm through Rafe’s. Tara looked Rafe straight in the eye, wondering whether he was a willing participant in this woman’s game and, to her surprise, for once in her life, she couldn’t read him like a book. She looked over at Hailey. “Would you like to break?”

“Yes,” she said through her teeth. “I would.”

As her partner prepared to shoot, Tara chanced a glance at Matt. He was staring across the room. Tara bit her lip and pulled her eyes away to watch Hailey make an excellent break.

“Stripes,” Hailey muttered and proceeded to clean the table. “Eight in the side.” The black ball slid into the appropriate pocket.

“What did you need me for?” Tara asked with an appreciative smile.

Rafe’s new female friend looked unimpressed, but he was obviously of a different mind. He cast Hailey an odd look before retrieving the triangle and racking the balls. The tension between Rafe and Hailey was obvious and not to the liking of… “Excuse me,” Tara said to Ms. Leopard Print, who was still watching Rafe with a predatory look in her eye. “I’m Tara. And you are…”

“Cat.”

Cat. Of course.
Tara fought to keep from smiling as she bent over the table to make the break.

They played another two games, and by that time the crowd on the dance floor had grown to the point that it was impossible to pull a stick back without making contact. After Hailey got bumped on an eight-ball shot and scratched, she put her stick back in the rack with a decisive thump. Then she turned to Matt, who had played all three games in relative silence, and held out a hand. When he frowned at her, she simply tipped her head to the dance floor, and with a shrug he put his hand in hers and followed.

Tara, feeling mean and more than a little annoyed at Cat’s possessive attitude, turned to Rafe and held out her hand, mimicking Hailey. And to her surprise and Cat’s obvious annoyance, Rafe didn’t hesitate to take up the invitation.

“Not interested in Cat?” Tara asked over the music, watching the woman shoot daggers at her. Hailey and Matt were dancing several yards away, also in her line of sight. Hailey was smiling up at Matt and he was looking down at her with a tolerant half smile.

“Not much.”

“How are you going to shake her?” Tara asked curiously.

“I think I’m going to get an emergency call pretty soon.”

“Who is she?”

“Someone’s cousin, in town for a visit,” he answered absently and Tara noticed that he was also watching Matt and Hailey. Tara had a hunch it wasn’t for the same reason she was watching them.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have given her the ticket,” Tara said, referring to Hailey.

“Didn’t have much choice.”

“How’s that?”

Rafe looked down at her. “She ticked me off.”

“Really.”

“Really. And it’s not the first time.”

“You know each other?”

“Oh yeah.” In answer to Tara’s perplexed expression, Rafe spun her in a quick circle. “Hailey moved here after we graduated and you’d left town. She was thirteen, I think. Anyway, by the time she was sixteen, I was a rookie deputy and she was flat-out trouble.”

Tara smiled, incredulous. “You
really
know each other.”

“Yeah.”

“She doesn’t seem like trouble now.”

Rafe gave her a look that said he thought otherwise, but his words belied it. “She’s changed. Grown up. The hard way, of course. I don’t think she’s ever done anything any other way.”

“You gave her a
big
ticket.”

“Yeah. Kind of let my temper get the best of me. If she goes before the judge, she’ll get it knocked down.”

The music ended and Tara was surprised to find Matt and Hailey next to them.

“Going back to the Sheena, queen of the jungle?” Hailey asked Rafe in a sweet voice. His face hardened and Tara was intrigued by how quickly the girl could push his buttons. “Because if you’re not,” Hailey added, “I think we should dance.”

And then she took his hand and led him away, leaving Tara and Matt staring after them.

They turned toward each other just as the music started and, after the briefest hesitation, Matt opened his arms. There wasn’t much else he could do, short of walking off the dance floor and leaving her there. She knew Matt didn’t do things like that.

Tara stepped into his light embrace, planning on a polite duty dance with a lot of air between the two of them, planning on showing him just how unaffected she could be, and was almost immediately bashed by a large man with a larger wife. Matt turned, putting himself in harm’s way and pulling her more closely as he did. Tara surrendered without a fight.

Duty dance or not, his body felt good. More than good. It felt wonderful, dangerous. And he smelled good, too. Warm and masculine. She slid her hands up around the back of his neck and felt an immediate response in the part of his body that was pressed against her lower abdomen. Interesting. Definitely not insulting. Whatever problem he had with her, it wasn’t lack of attraction.

“Dangerous place, this dance floor,” he murmured.

“Mmm.” She was feeling danger all right.

“I thought maybe we should stay close in case Rafe needs to be rescued. Hailey appeared to have murder in her eye.”

“You know the look?” Tara asked. That was
not
why they were dancing.

“I’ve seen it a time or two,” he replied in a low voice, his breath feathering the wisps of hair near her temple. Tara’s pulse quivered and she caught her lip between her teeth, glad he couldn’t see her face.

“How often?”

“Often enough to recognize it. Rafe has trouble on his hands.”

As do I.

“Matt…”

Another human projectile bashed into them, nearly knocking Tara out of Matt’s embrace.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on.” Matt eased them off the dance floor, dropping his hold on her hand as soon as he led her around the pool tables to a relatively clear area near Edgar the Owl. “Rafe is going to have to take care of himself.”

“He’s capable.”

“Let’s hope.” Matt smiled. “I’m heading home. Want me to walk you to your car?”

Tara considered and then nodded. An olive branch. She’d accept it. The rest she would work out later.

S
OMEONE WAS CREEPING
around in his yard. Matt had just watched Tara drive away and started down the alley when he saw the dark form moving stealthily past his opened windows and on around the corner of his house. He quietly moved closer, keeping to the shadows until he was at a vantage point.

He paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust, and listened. Then he heard it. A soft, “Kitty, kitty, kitty.”

Matt let out the breath he’d been holding. Someone had lost a cat. He stayed in the shadows, though, wanting to make certain. “Can I help you?”

He heard a distressed squeal in response to his call and then a tentative, “Hello, Officer Connors.”

His neighbor. The lady who took such joy watching him come and go, occasionally waving at him through her windows, unaware or uncaring that some people might find her behavior disconcerting. They certainly would in Reno.

Matt let himself in the back gate.

“I can’t find Steve.”

“Steve’s a cat?” Matt deduced.

“Why, yes. He lives under your porch.”

Oh, that Steve. The Steve he’d been hoping would go away. Apparently now he had.

“Is he your cat Ms….?”

“Mason. Iris Mason.” She gave Matt a patient smile. “Cats don’t have owners.”

“Of course,” Matt replied with equal patience, but he found himself smiling back.

“I had tuna casserole tonight and I wanted to bring him the leftovers, but he seems to have gone missing.”

Steve’s weight problem now made sense.

“Well, you know, it is early summer….”

The lady frowned and, after a few seconds, her face cleared and she smiled. “Oh,” she murmured knowingly, “tomcatting around.”

“That would be my guess.” Although, Matt had a feeling old Steve wasn’t going to lumber too far away to do his romancing. Must be some good-looking kitty nearby. He looked down at the neat plastic container in the woman’s hands, brimming with tuna and noodles. “I could keep it for him and feed him when he shows back up.”

“Oh, that would be lovely.”

Matt took the container, but the lady stayed planted in front of him, studying him. “Will you be with us much longer, Officer Connors?”

Matt shook his head. “Just a few more days.”

“Too bad. This has got to be so much nicer than living in Reno. And the criminal element…although we do have our share of trouble.”

“Do we?”

“Oh, yes. Those meth labs you know. Springing up in all the farming areas. I haven’t heard of one right in our community, but it could happen.”

“I hope not.”

“Me, too. This is a nice community. It just grows on you…but, I’m certain you have already figured that out.” She smiled again. “I really should be getting back. One of my favorite movies is on in a few minutes.”

“And what might that be?”

“
Psycho.
”

Matt somehow kept his expression from changing. “Have a good evening, Ms. Mason,” he called as the woman let herself through his rear gate. She gave him a wave and disappeared into her own yard.

The lady was right, Matt thought as he opened the door and set Steve’s casserole on the table. Night Sky, Nevada, had grown on him.

At first he’d missed the constant activity of a bigger city, the noise, the energy, the mix of anonymity and individualism. And then, slowly, almost without notice, new experiences had begun to replaced what he missed. People nodding at him for no reason. The mandatory wave all rural drivers exchanged. People trusting one another. People saving perfectly good leftovers for stray cats.