Something To Talk About. Laurie Paige

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I never thought you would.” She replaced the broom in the closet. Her eyes met his for a second.

      The sparkle was back, and he breathed deeply as the tension in his stomach uncoiled. “The ice is helping. The swelling seems to have stopped, and the pain is easing up.”

      “Good.” She poured a double shot of bourbon and set the glass on the place mat near the gun. “Would you excuse me? I need to change clothes.”

      “Sure. We’ll be here.” He wasn’t going anywhere fast on that knee.

      She smiled and nodded, then hurried out. He heard her footsteps on the stairs a second later.

      Kate locked her bedroom door and dashed to the bedside phone. She called the number that went straight to Shannon’s line at the police department.

      “Bannock, here.”

      “Shannon—”

      “Hi, Kate. No, I have not forgotten your birthday luncheon tomorrow. I even got you a card.”

      “I’m expecting homemade cookies, too. Lots of ’em.”

      “Oh, all right,” Shannon replied with pretend grumpiness.

      “Shannon, did you send a policeman out to my place? A guy by the name of…” She couldn’t remember.

      “Jess Fargo. Yeah. He needs a place to recuperate from an injury, wants to fish and relax in the country with his son, he said. I take it they arrived safely?”

      Kate thought of the hose and the gun. “Well, yes. I just wanted to follow up on his credentials. I hadn’t planned on renting the apartment now that Valerie has married and moved out. I thought I’d have the summer to myself.”

      Val, a local elementary school teacher, had snagged the only eligible doctor in town, much to several other citiziens’ chagrin. She and the doctor were on their honeymoon.

      ‘You’re turning into a hermit,” her cousin teased before turning serious once more. “About the cop. He really needs a place. He’s been driving for a couple of days and realized he was getting too tired to continue. He thought the fishing might be good around here.”

      “Okay, that checks out. Thanks. I guess only a black-hearted witch would throw out an injured officer of the law.”

      “Right. He’s handsome in a sort of world-weary, seen-it-all manner, huh?”

      Kate heard the laughter in Shannon’s voice. “He’s cynical and probably hard-hearted. Talk to you later,” she promised and hung up. She headed for the shower.

      The sight that greeted her in the full-length mirror on the door caused her to gasp and throw her arms across her chest in shock.

      Even as she made the gesture, she realized the futility of it. Jess Fargo, and his son, had already seen her. Slowly she released the hold she had across her chest and sighed in dismay at the near transparency of her shirt and bra. Even her nipples were visible as two distinct dark pebbles under the wet cloth.

      She sank down on the bed and pressed her hands over her face. The detective would think…he must think the worst.

      But it wasn’t as if she had exposed herself on purpose. She hadn’t known he was coming.

      Kate stood and muttered an expletive. She had spent eighteen months in therapy after her husband’s death, trying to get over the sense of shame he had forced onto her. If she so much as glanced at another man or spoke to a male friend, he’d accused her of vile acts—

      No! She wouldn’t go back to that time and those feelings of helplessness and despair. She was not at fault here.

      After taking a quick shower, she dressed in a broadcloth shirt, leaving the tails untucked, and blue slacks with an elastic waist. She pulled her damp hair through a stretchy band and secured it at the base of her neck. With pink lip gloss and a pair of white sandals she was ready.

      Taking a calming breath, she marched down the steps. It wasn’t her fault, she repeated on the way, her mantra during the days, weeks, months, after Kris’s death.

      Jess Fargo was where she had left him. That was a relief. She liked people who did as expected. His son had again taken up a position near the door. She felt the underlying tension between the father and son as her eyes met those of the boy.

      It was like looking into her own soul. She recognized the resentment, the need to be wanted and, with it, the hope that still lingered in his young and bruised heart. Pain stitched through her in painful jabs even as she looked away and told herself she was imagining things.

      Sympathy rose in her. The youngster needed something more from the man, perhaps more visible signs of his father’s love.

      No! It wasn’t her business. She wouldn’t get sucked into their problems. She had found contentment. She wanted only to be left in peace. But she hated to see the boy so lost and unsure and resentful.

      She sighed. There she went again—Kate, the tenderhearted, caretaker to wounded dogs, cats, humans.

      Her throat closed. She had to swallow a couple of times before she could talk. “I spoke to my cousin, the police detective. She says you need a place to stay for a few days.”

      “Yeah. Maybe a month.”

      She frowned, then shrugged. A month wasn’t so long that their lives would become entangled. “There’s an apartment over the garage. You’ll want to see it first—”

      “It’ll be fine.”

      His interruption told her he didn’t care what it looked like. He needed a place to rest. Sympathy stirred again.

      Jess Fargo’s problems were his own, she reminded herself sternly. Maybe this trip would work for him and his son, maybe not. She would keep her nose out of their troubles.

      “I didn’t catch your name,” she said to the boy.

      “Jeremy Fargo.”

      “You in high school yet?” she asked. Actually, he looked to be about eleven, maybe twelve.

      His smile was quick and shy and pleased. “I’ll be in sixth grade this fall.”

      “He’s tall for his age,” his father put in. She watched him adjust the ice pack on his knee, then take a sip of iced tea after a glance at the empty bourbon glass.

      Kate didn’t offer him more. She figured he’d had a medicinal dose and that was enough.

      The words were on the tip of her tongue to invite them to dinner, though. She doubted the tough cop had shopped for groceries, and the ranch was a long way from Wind River and even farther from Medicine Bow, where a larger supermarket was located. She suppressed the invitation, knowing instinctively that this man was dangerous to her peace of mind. Hadn’t she learned anything from her marriage?

      The memory of other summers flooded her heart with the bitter sadness of loss. It was a pain that never seemed to diminish but lingered always at the edges of her emotions, ready to catch her at moments of weakness.

      Such

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