take it the move was rather sudden,” Amy surmised.
“Yeah, too sudden maybe.”
“School will start soon,” she told him. “Mattie will make friends.”
“I know, I know. And I’ll eventually get off this horrible shift, so we can have a real home life again. The new man always starts at the bottom of the totem pole, you know. The original captain on this shift got promoted when the guy I actually replaced left.”
“So you got the ugly shift.”
“Right. But it’s not too bad, really. Things are real calm in Duncan compared to the suburbs of L.A.”
“I can just imagine.”
He grinned. “Yeah? Have you ever lived in a big city?”
“Actually, I have. I grew up in Oklahoma City, and Mark and I lived in Houston for a while.”
“Mark?” He made the question in his voice sound utterly innocent, but those leaf green eyes were anything but. She got a taste of what a criminal suspect must get when being interrogated by Officer Kincaid. Oddly, she didn’t find the experience unpalatable.
“My husband,” she said, then heard herself adding, “my late husband.”
“Oh,” he said, shifting forward in his seat. “Then you’re widowed, too.”
“Yes,” she admitted, her tone closing the door on further inquiry. One dark brow quirked upward at that, but he was a man who could take a hint, apparently, for he said not another word, which was good. Or so Amy told herself. Her relationship with Mark was much too precious to be trotted out for examination with everyone who walked through her door. So why did she feel this niggling sense of disappointment?
Maybe she just needed to talk about Mark, but if so, she’d do her talking to Ruthie. Ruthie had appreciated Mark; she’d been half in love with him herself by the time he became ill. If no one else close to her seemed to have understood him, well, that was their loss. At any rate, she didn’t intend to discuss the matter with another man, not this one, anyway. That being the case, she decided to get the conversation back on the proper track. “What happened this morning was my fault,” she said flatly. “It’s the smoking—or rather, the not smoking.”
“I’m sure it’s very difficult,” he said consolingly.
“It certainly is.”
“But it’s a good thing,” he added quickly. “Giving up cigarettes is a very positive move.”
“I hope so,” she muttered doubtfully.
“What made you decide to quit?”
She grimaced. “I don’t know. Well, actually, yes, I do. I have a little niece named Danna, and her parents put her up to bugging me about it. At least, I think they did. They’re big health nuts these days, which is pure irony considering who her father, uh, stepfather is. His name’s Griff Shaw, the bull rider. Maybe you’ve heard of him?”
“Griff Shaw! No kidding? Heck, yeah, I’ve heard of him. Fancy that, Griff Shaw’s your brother-in-law. I’ll have to remember to tell Mattie that. But, uh, what’s this irony business about?”
“Well, before Griff married my little sister, Joan, he was a first-class lush.”
“Really? He’s an alcoholic then?”
Amy wrinkled her nose. “No, nothing like that. He was just wild, you know, partying all the time.”
“Ah, the celebrity life-style.”
“Something like that.”
Evans Kincaid cocked his head to one side. “It’s always struck me odd how these pro athletes sabotage themselves sometimes. I mean, you’d think they’d do everything in their power to protect their primary assets, which logically would be their bodies.”
“I suppose,” Amy said pensively. “I never really thought about it.”
“Hmm, on the other hand, though,” Evans went on, “our bodies are of prime importance to all of us, not just the pros. That’s why I never could understand why people would subject themselves to the abuse of drugs and such. I mean, if you want a good high, why not exercise? It feels great, and it’s healthy.” He shook a finger at her, his eyes alight with the glow of inspiration. “Come to think of it, a regular exercise plan might be just what you need to help you get over the craving to smoke, and it’ll help with the weight gain, too.”
Amy’s mouth fell open. He’d as much as told her she was fat, as if she didn’t already know. “You rat! What makes you think I care what you think of me?”
He blinked at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“Are you this insensitive with your suspects? I suppose a little exercise would take away the urge to steal or lie or cheat or…or…whatever!”
He was gaping. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“I’m talking about that cheap crack about my weight!”
“What crack? All I meant was that a lot of people worry about putting on weight when they quit smoking.”
“I heard what you said! Oh, just get out of my house!” She jumped to her feet and slammed her chair up under the table.
Evans was still gaping, but he got up and gave his chair the same treatment she had given hers. “Of all the touchy, loony dames! Lady, you take the proverbial cake!”
Amy pointed toward the living room, arm rigid, face livid. “I suggest you take your leave through the proverbial door, boor, and don’t bother coming back with one of your lame apologies!”
“Oh, don’t worry!” he told her, wild-eyed. “I won’t be apologizing this time! Any apologies due this time are yours!”
“Ha! I’ve done all the apologizing I intend to do, period. Now get out!”
“My pleasure,” he said, sneering, “and from now on, if you want to talk to me, call the police!”
“Out!” she screamed, but she was talking to an empty space, a fact to which a slamming door attested.
He wasn’t gone three seconds when she covered her face with her hands and began to cry. The moment she realized what she was doing, she sniffed up the tears and determinedly bottled them inside of her. She wouldn’t cry over a snide remark by a cad like Evans Kincaid. Heavens, she couldn’t even remember the last time a man had made her cry.
“For Pete’s sake, Amy, what are you trying to do, kill me? Do you want me to die?”
“You know I don’t!”
“Then be a little more careful. I’m only your husband, after all.”
She shook away the memory. That didn’t count. Mark hadn’t known what he was saying. It was the illness talking, the pain. Evans Kincaid was just being hateful when he’d said she was fat. Mark
