The Alpha's Daughter (11 page)

Donna wasn't giving up. "I'm just thinking
maybe we're looking in the wrong direction. That Didi Haines has
been twitchin' her tail at him for months and he don't so much as
raise an eyebrow. Now he's got a half naked woman running around
his house and shows no interest."

Someone was twitching her tail at the Griz?
"Who's Didi Haines?" Jazz asked. She'd decided to make short work
of her pie and go home, but changed her mind. This sounded
interesting.

"Didi, short for damned dog, that's who,"
Donna said. "Sniffing around where she don't belong."

"Now Donna, that's not fair," Ellie said
patiently and turned to Jazz. "Deirdra Haines. She grew up here.
Left some years back with a wolver passing through in a fancy car.
Don't know what happened. She won't say, but now she's back, living
in her Daddy's trailer with money to burn."

"And twitching her tail at any man walks by,"
Donna huffed.

"Donna has a son," Ellie said as if that
explained it all, which it did. She took a bite of pie and sucked
in her cheeks to hide her smile.

"Who's got better sense than to go sniffing
after a woman piled high with makeup, fancy clothes and high heeled
shoes." Ellie's sister chewed her forkful of pie like she was
grinding the offending Didi and Jazz waited to see if Donna would
swallow it down or spit it out.

"Donna," Ellie warned gently and gave a
significant look at Jazz.

"Oh, sorry, but you know what I mean."

Jazz caught herself doing the grizzly head
shake. She laughed. "Makeup, but no fancy clothes or high heeled
shoes." They were all in her closet at her father's house. "So,
you're not really interested in me and Doc. You're looking to find
a man for this Didi, other than your son."

"Or a deep hole to bury her in."

Didi Haines was the woman with the red umbrella. Jazz knew
this because the woman she'd seen at the edge of the crowd was
standing next to the porch when she got home. She was decked out in
full man-trap regalia of semi-sheer blouse unbuttoned one button
more than it needed to be, showing off the impressive results of
the push-up bra beneath it. It was neatly and tightly tucked into a
pair of black, stretch jeans that fit so snugly she looked like
she'd been poured into them.

She stood there with her hip cocked and one
foot on the bottom step to show off her strappy red shoe with its
four inch, razor thin heel.

Actually, Jazz admired the outfit. She just
didn't like it standing in front of her grizzly bear while he
replaced the faulty stair tread.

"Hi there." DiDi greeted Jazz with the same
inspection she'd just received, taking her in from head to toe and
seeing no competition there, she smiled.

"Where've you been?" was Doc's greeting and
it didn't sound friendly.

"Doing my penance at Ellie's," she said
defensively, "I stayed for lunch. Didn't know I had a parole
officer and I needed to check in."

"Hmph," was the only answer she got before
Doc went back to hammering the nail he held between thumb and
forefinger. Jazz returned Didi's smile and held out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Jazz."

"I already know that, just like you already
know I'm Didi." She didn't touch the offered hand.

"Not much around here that everybody doesn't
know." Jazz laughed, trying to be friendly.

"I just stopped by to see if there was
anything I could do for Doc here. A man living alone could always
use some help."

Even without the heads up from Ellie and
Donna, Jazz would have known the help Didi was offering had nothing
to do with repairing the porch.

"Seems to me he's doing just fine. It doesn't
take two to hammer in a couple of nails." There was a lull in Doc's
hammering and she turned to him. "Where'd you get those tools?" She
asked indicating the heavy metal toolbox on the porch above his
head.

"Coat closet where they always are." He set
another nail in place.

"Damn, you have a closet? Any clothes in it?"
She smiled as if sharing a joke with Didi. She was pretty sure the
woman had never been in the house and for some reason she wanted to
rub that in. "He's such a slob. Just strips his clothes off and
leaves them lay. You know how it is."

Didi didn't take the bait. She leaned over
and touched Doc's shoulder making sure that when he turned to her
he had a good view of her cleavage. "So, about the job. Millie says
it's still open and you wouldn't have to worry about paying me.
Let's just call it my community service."

She winked. The bitch actually winked and
turned to Jazz with a knowing smile. Jazz felt her gut
tightened.

"Anything for the Doctor. You know how it
is," Didi continued.

"Sorry, Didi, the position's filled, but if
you're looking for community service, it would be right neighborly
if you stopped by the Toomey's on your way home. RJ could use some
help with those kids." He went back to hammering nails.

"Oh," Didi said stepping back from the porch,
"I, uh, Millie said…"

"I guess she had it wrong," Jazz said with a
smile, "Now, if you'll excuse me." She hefted the shopping bags she
carried filled with Doc's clean clothes and used them to point to
the front door. "You had anything to eat, Griz? Or do I need to fix
you some lunch?"

"I ate, thanks."

"Good, then you can give me the keys to the
truck. As long as you've got the toolbox out, I may as well take a
look under the hood," she said at the open door and laughed at the
looks she got from both Didi and Doc. "Hey, I was born into a pack
of mechanics. I can strip an engine down to its parts."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Doc said as he
started another nail.

"Anything for the good doctor, right Didi? It
was very nice meeting you. Bye-bye now."

Jazz wiped her hands on the greasy rag and
packed the rest of the tools into their box. After slamming the
hood of the truck back into place, she walked over to the porch
which was now striped with planks of new wood. Doc banged his
hammer one last time and looked up.

"You ought to take better care of your
vehicle, Griz. I think I got the worst of it, but you need new
belts." She thumped herself down on the new step. "Not much I can
do for the transmission, though. It's living on borrowed time."

"It's been living on borrowed time since Sam
Wardman gave it to me to pay for his emergency appendectomy. Sounds
pretty good." He came over and dropped his hammer in the box. "You
want a beer?"

"I'd love one."

He was back in two minutes with two open
cans, one of which he passed to Jazz before he took a seat behind
her on the porch, up against the post with one leg running down
beside her and the other cocked on the top step behind her. She
tipped her head back and let the cold brew wash away the dust from
her throat, felt his knee behind her and settled back against it.
He adjusted the leg to give her more support.

"So what's this job your girlfriend was
volunteering for?"

"I need someone to hold down the desk at the
clinic and she's not my girlfriend."

"But she wants to be," Jazz chuckled. "Who'd
you give the job to?"

"No one, yet. I'd just rather not spend my
days with Didi."

"I could do it."

Doc didn't answer, but gave her a look that
said what he thought.

"Aw, come on. How hard can it be? And the
sooner I earn the money, the sooner I'll be out of your hair. Or,"
she said slyly, "I can track your girlfriend down and tell her she
ought to stop by tomorrow." Jazz ginned began to snap her fingers
and dance with her shoulders. "She loves you. She wants you," she
sang.

"No, she wants someone to take care of her,"
he said, ignoring Jazz's antics. "What Didi hasn't figured out yet
is she's going to have to give it away before she gets it
back."

Jazz looked up and waited for him to take a
swallow of beer before she asked. "Give what away?"

"Love, caring," he said and shrugged. "She
keeps it all for herself. Didi is the most important person in
Didi's world. She doesn't want to share a life. She wants someone
to live hers. You reap what you sow."

"And you want someone to share a life. I'd
recommend shaving as a start." Jazz concluded. "Girls like to see
who they're kissing."

"All I want is to do my job and live my life
in peace and quiet. No complications."

"See? Your life would be less complicated if
you give me the job."

He did that head shake thing again, but said,
"Okay."

Sitting there on the steps in the late
afternoon sun with a cold beer in her fist and a warm hand on her
shoulder, Jazz could almost envision the life he spoke of. There
was a peace here that seeped inside and settled there.

"Donna's afraid Didi's got her eye on her
son," she said after a while and for no other reason than to share
something of her day.

"Mmm," he said, lightly rubbing the back of
her shoulder with his thumb, "She should be. Harvey has a house
painting business and unlike most, he earns a decent living. Joey
works with his dad and someday the business will be his. He'll make
a good catch for any girl who can get past his mother."

"She asked me if we were sleeping
together."

"What did you tell her?" he asked
cautiously.

"That it was none of her damn business."

He sighed and then the knee behind her began
to shake.

She looked up at him. "What?"

"I knew we couldn't have a conversation
without you cussin'. Came close, though."

"That wasn't cussing," Jazz protested and
turned away with a huff. "That was quoting me cussing at someone
else. It doesn't count, so I win."

"And what is it you think you've won?"

"A hot bath in that ugly old tub of yours.
Did you know Ellie has indoor plumbing? She has hot water and
electric lights, too. She says, and I quote, 'Most everybody's got
electric up here now 'ceptin' a few old farts who won't give up the
old ways.'" She patted the leg that stretched along her side,
noting the thick muscles beneath his jeans. "You know what that
makes you, don't you, Griz?"

"Yeah, an old fart with a tin bathtub and
outdoor plumbing. Come on, Hellcat, let's go get supper and I'll
help draw your prize."

Doc shifted his weight to his bent leg and
slid up the post to stand above her and offered his hand. She
reached above her head and let him pull her up, which he did with
ease. She turned to him as she reached the top step and looked
up…

…
And saw something that
shook her to her core. Above the wiry beard and beneath the curly
mop of hair, her grizzly's brown-gold eyes blazed with misery. They
were mesmerizing in their agony; deep golden pools of sadness and
longing and regret. They were not the laughing eyes she expected
from their easy banter. Those eyes broke her heart.

Her fingers wove their way into the curls
above his ear. Her tongue ran over her lips to prepare them to
speak some word of comfort, something, anything, to ease that look
in his eyes.

He didn't move, just stared at her, his eyes
begging her it seemed, to take away the heartache she saw reflected
there.

The blaring of a truck horn broke the spell
as a red pickup went barreling by. Jazz jumped. Doc shook his
shaggy head. They both stepped back as if burned by some unseen
flame.

Neither spoke while Jazz fixed supper, nor
while they ate it. The awkward silence was like a wall between them
as they each went about their business.

Doc quietly took the tub from its place on
the wall and filled the bottom with cool water while Jazz boiled
the rest on the stove. He disappeared while she stripped and
quickly stepped over the steep rim, but once she sank herself in
the tub's warm depths and closed her eyes to ponder what she'd seen
and felt out on the porch, she felt his presence and knew he
watched her from the screen at the kitchen door.

It should have felt odd, this silent
observation, and yet Jazz knew this was no Peeping Tom act. The
Griz was doing the same thing she was; wondering what it was that
passed between them, except he knew what caused the private hell
that shone so clearly in his eyes.

Jazz washed slowly and deliberately, running
the cloth over her arms and legs and across her breasts, sinking
below the water to rinse her hair, knowing he could see nothing,
yet imagine everything. Was she giving him pleasure or increasing
his torture? She hoped it was the former, because she was finding
surprising pleasure in his observation.

She rose slowly from the tub to put her body
on display before reaching for the towel. The cool night air
pebbled her skin and brought her nipples to sharp peaks. Wrapping
the towel around her, she turned, but knew before she did so that
he was gone.

The light under the door showed he was in his
office, but unlike those first two nights, he wasn't alone. Sitting
cross-legged on the sofa, leafing mechanically through some fishing
and hunting magazines, Jazz could hear the quiet knocks and murmur
of voices, sometimes only two, sometimes three. Once, she heard
someone's soft cry of pain followed by the deep rumble of the
grizzly's gentle voice.

There was no waiting line like the one that
formed during office hours. Someone would leave and several minutes
would pass before another knock would come, almost as if they were
waiting in the shadows hoping not to be seen entering the doctor's
confessional to be relieved of their sins.

He was counseling. She was sure of it. The
voices were too quiet, too deep, for the lighthearted conversation
of a friendly visit. Jazz smiled. For a man who wanted peace and
quiet, he got very little of it. Her gruff old grizzly sowed
kindness and counsel and what he reaped for his efforts was a line
of patients to keep him up at night.