Swimsuit Body (17 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

I start, my heart racing. Then I hear the sound of the front door opening, and a gust of cool air blows in before the door is slammed shut. “Damn coyotes.” A man's voice carries from the entryway.

The man appears before us momentarily. Medium height with a stocky build, wearing jeans and a cowboy hat. He has brown eyes and skin the color of the wooden stock of the rifle he carries. I jump up to introduce myself with more enthusiasm than I normally would have shown, I'm so relieved that he's not pointing the rifle at me. “You must be Roberto. Hi, I'm Tish.”

Lexie's fiancé breaks into a grin as we shake hands. Late thirties or early forties with a nice face and a smile that could bring the cows home without aid of a sheepdog. I can see why Lexie fell for him. “The famous Tish? Well, this is a nice surprise. I didn't know you were coming.”

“I didn't know, either, until a little while ago.”

“I don't shoot to kill, only to scare 'em off,” he explains when my gaze drops to the rifle.

“Glad to hear it.”
You have no idea.

“Roberto! Lexie just told us the good news!” Kate comes flying across the room to throw her arms around her future son-in-law. Roberto casts a questioning look over her shoulder at Lexie.

She shrugs and says, “It sort of slipped out.”

I know that it was Lexie's idea and not Roberto's to keep their engagement a secret when he says, “Does this mean I finally get to see that ring on your finger?” Lexie blows him a kiss.

Jarvis pumps Roberto's hand, congratulating him. Howard offers his own congratulations, giving the younger man a hearty clap on the back. Spence reappears with Arthur and Gladys as Lexie is uncorking a bottle of wine. “Mr. Ballard and Mrs. Sedgwick have agreed to come to the station with us,” he informs the sheriff, suggesting that it was voluntary on the part of Arthur. Spence looks at me as he goes on, “If Arthur's alibi checks out, I don't think we'll need to hold him.” I'm flooded with relief, and I can only nod in response, my throat is so tight.

I hug Arthur as they're leaving, cautioning, “Just tell the truth. If you'd told me you were with Gladys that day …” I stop myself before I say something that will make a hypocrite of me. “Okay, so I probably would've fainted with shock that you'd taken up power walking, but other than that …” I glance over at Gladys. “I think it's wonderful that you made such a good friend.”

Arthur nods, wearing a sheepish expression. “You're not mad that I left town without telling you?”

“That,” I reply, injecting a stern note into my voice, “is a whole separate matter. If Detective Breedlove decides to go easy on you, don't expect the same from me. Dude, you are so dead.”

I lightly punch my brother's arm, and he rubs it, making a face as if I'd hurt him, like he always does, before he breaks into a grin. My heart is full as I stand in the doorway watching him and Gladys and the two lawmen drive off in the sheriff's cruiser.

“Don't think I'm not appreciative,” I say to Spence later on, after everyone else has gone to bed. We're sitting on the sofa drinking coffee, warmed by the glowing embers in the fireplace. Lexie invited us to stay the night, and as the nearest motel is forty miles away, we readily accepted.

“Even though your brother has to spend the night in jail?” Spence asks.

“As long as he's not under arrest.” Chief Sanderson had agreed to hold off on that, but his orders were that Arthur be held in custody until his alibi checked out. The CBPD was already at work finding witnesses who could verify Arthur's whereabouts on the morning of the murder.

“The accommodations aren't too bad,” Spence assures me. “Jarvis was calling in an order for chicken-fried steaks from the local diner as I was leaving.” He smiles as he sips his coffee.

“I hope Arthur realizes how lucky he is, and not just because he's eating chicken-fried steak tonight instead of a bologna sandwich.” I cut Spence a glance, adding shyly, “If you hadn't stepped up …”

“Just doing my job,” he says gruffly.

“No, it was more than that. And it wasn't the first time. All those years ago, you could have pressed charges against me, and you didn't.” I take a deep breath before saying what I should have said four years ago when I was making my AA amends. “I want you to know that I'm sorry I torched your car.”

“Am I dreaming, or did you just apologize?” We're sitting close enough so that I can almost count the hairs in his raised eyebrows.

I punch his arm lightly. “Shut up, or I'll take it back.”

“No way. You're not taking it back. I only waited twenty years to hear you say that.”

“If I'd known then what I know now, you'd still be driving that car.”

He takes my hand, and I start to stiffen, at the strangeness of it, before I surrender to the pleasurable sensation of his warm fingers curled around mine. “What do you know now that you didn't know then?”

“That you're not such a bad guy.”

“True, but I still should've busted Nate's chops for talking trash about you back then.” Nate Hofstadter was his best friend in high school—and my chief tormentor after Spence made the mistake of confiding in him. “And it wasn't just Nate. I knew which guys wrote that stuff on your locker, and I didn't confront them, either.”

I had blamed Spence for pretty much everything that was wrong in my life back then, and now, hearing that he blamed himself, too—even though his sins were but a fraction of the ones that I'd heaped on him—I realize the time had come to let go of all that. “We were both young and stupid.”

“So you forgive me?” he asks, wearing a hopeful look.

I smile at him. “If you can forgive me for destroying your car, I can forgive you for not defending me.”

He looks relieved, but I can tell that he's still troubled by something. After a minute, he says quietly, “Tish, there's something I need to ask you. All these years, I've wondered …” He hesitates before the question bursts forth on an expelled breath. “Did I force you that night?”

I stare at him in surprise. Had I been asked to come up with ten questions that I was mostly likely to be asked by Spence Breedlove, that would not have been one of them. “You don't remember?”

He grimaces. “You weren't the only one who had too much to drink.”

“No.” I look him in the eye. “You didn't force me.”

I feel the tension go out of him as if a tremendous weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He holds my gaze for several beats, then almost before I know it's happening, he leans in to kiss me. A light kiss that increases in intensity, sparking a fire that quickly spreads throughout my body. The heat builds and next thing I know, Spence is lying on top of me on the sofa. I can't stop kissing him even though I can hardly catch my breath with the weight of his six-foot-plus frame pressing into my diaphragm. I can feel his erection through his jeans. He pushes his hand under my turtleneck as I tug his shirt from his waistband. Every inch of me is alive with sensation, even with six layers of clothing between us. I'm made aware of his own desire with each thrust of his tongue and the urgency with which he fumbles with the clasp on my bra.

Spence has my bra unclasped, and I'm wrestling with the zipper on his jeans, when we both freeze at the sound of a floorboard creaking overhead. I quickly come to my senses, remembering that we're not alone in the house. I glance nervously toward the landing at the top of stairs, which is where the noise had seemed to come from, and whisper, “Do you think …?”

“Nobody saw us,” he whispers back. I feel like a teenager making out with her boyfriend while her parents are upstairs. I start to giggle, and he puts his finger against my lips. “
Shhhh
…” Then I feel his body shaking with soundless laughter against mine before he finally climbs off me.

I pull myself into an upright position and run my fingers through my hair. He zips his fly, then hunts for his glasses before finding them under a sofa cushion. By the time decorum is restored, a certain awkwardness has set in. Spence leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares into the dying embers of the fireplace, reflected firelight dancing across the lenses of his wire-rims. He clears his throat. “Look, Tish, it's been a while for me, so if I came on too strong …”

“We both got a little carried away. It doesn't have to be a big deal,” I reply, keeping it light. “We're not in high school anymore. And, apparently, it wasn't a big deal to you back then.” I thought I had buried the hatchet, but I guess I didn't bury it deep enough. A hurt look crosses his face.

This was a mistake. It wouldn't have happened if we hadn't been victims of circumstance, thrown together at a time when he was hurting and we were both lonely. If his wife hadn't told him she was seeing someone else, and if my boyfriend and I weren't separated by an ocean …

“Shall we call it a night?” Spence says. I nod and rise. A glance at the regulator clock on the mantel tells me it's midnight, long past my bedtime, though I don't feel sleepy in the least. We go upstairs, and as we part to head to our separate guest accommodations, Spence kisses me on the cheek and whispers, “Good night.” I feel a pang of regret, wishing we were sharing a room.

I spend a restless night drifting in and out of sleep. I wake when it's barely light out. Kate, who I'm sharing a room with, is still asleep in the twin bed next to mine. I grab my clothes and tiptoe down the hallway to the bathroom, where I shower and dress, putting on the jeans that I'd worn yesterday and the blue fleece pullover that I packed for the trip, before I head downstairs. My stomach grumbles at the mingled aromas of coffee and bacon frying.

I walk into a kitchen that's roomy with hardwood flooring, country-style cupboards, and a glassed-in breakfast nook that looks out on a view of evergreens with snowcapped mountaintops in the distance. Lexie stands at the Wolf range, turning strips of bacon in a cast-iron skillet, while Roberto drinks coffee and reads the paper at the pine table in the breakfast nook. They're both dressed in jeans and dark-green sweatshirts with
iron springs ranch
in white letters on the front. Roberto looks up from his paper to smile at me.

“Morning. Sleep okay?” Lexie greets me.

“Like a rock.” Make that a volcanic rock, smoking as it cools.

“I heard you when I got up to use the bathroom,” Lexie says as she flips bacon strips in the skillet with a long-handled fork. “Help yourself.” She gestures toward the pot of coffee by the stove.

“Spence … um, Detective Breedlove, and I were up late talking.” I pour myself some coffee, hoping she hadn't noticed the blush rising in my cheeks. “I hope we didn't disturb you.”

She gives me a wry, sidelong glance that tells me she's on to me. “Not in the least. Apart from getting up to pee, I wouldn't have woken if a meteor actually had crashed through the roof.”

“That's because I'd have been the one fixing the hole,” remarks Roberto from behind his paper.

Spence strolls in, dressed in the clothes he wore yesterday. His hair is damp from the shower and he smells of soap and minty toothpaste. “Morning, ladies. Roberto. Something sure smells good.” There's nothing in his demeanor to suggest that we were intimate the night before.

“I hope you have time for breakfast,” says Lexie.

“I was counting on it.” Spence pours coffee into one of the splatterware mugs from the row on hooks over the counter. He hungrily eyes the bacon, which Lexie is transferring to a paper towel–lined plate. “Sheriff won't be by for another half hour.” He had offered to take us to the airport.

“What about Arthur?” I ask anxiously.

“Your brother”—Spence looks up at me, breaking into a grin, as he stirs milk into his coffee—“is a free man.” Weak with relief, I lean against the tiled counter and close my eyes in a silent prayer of thanks. “I just got off the phone with Chief Sanderson. Arthur's alibi checks out. A number of people recall seeing him that morning. Emily Ames—the waitress from the Bluejay—for one. She said, and I quote, ‘The only thing that boy ever slaughtered was a stack of pancakes.'”

Roberto chuckles. “Thank you, Lord,” says Lexie, echoing my own sentiments.

Minutes later, we're sitting down to a breakfast of fried eggs and bacon, and sourdough toast with homemade strawberry preserves. I can't remember the last time I ate so much or tasted food this good. As I'm popping the last bite of toast into my mouth, I hear the sound of a car engine and look out the window to see the sheriff's cruiser pull into the driveway with my brother riding shotgun.

Two hours later, we're taxiing down the runway at the airport. When we reach cruising altitude, I look out at the sea of evergreens below, rolling toward the snow-dusted peaks of the Rocky Mountains. Arthur is seated in the window seat next to me, while Spence has the whole aisle across from us.

“How was the chicken-fried steak?” I ask.

“It could have used a touch more salt,” my brother answers with his customary dry wit. We exchange a grin. He wears the flannel shirt he had on yesterday that belonged to Lexie's husband—the closest Arthur will ever get to cattle ranching, thankfully.

“Thank God for Gladys. She saved the day.”

Arthur's smile gives way to a contrite look. “I'm sorry, Tish. I should have told you the truth.”

“I'm sorry, too. You know, if I made you feel like you couldn't. You don't have to be embarrassed about wanting a girlfriend. I promise, no Journey.” When he had a crush on Melanie Faber in eighth grade, I teased him by humming “Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'” whenever he was within hearing range.

“It wasn't my idea. Gladys thought if Lexie and I met …” He trails off with a shrug.