Restless. Kimberly Raye

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Restless - Kimberly  Raye

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to get Paige Cassidy to accept his challenge. Soon. Jack had never been long on patience.

      He could only hope Paige was just as impatient. Otherwise, it was going to be a heck of a long stay in Inspiration.

      “I HAVE TO HAVE THEM,” Paige told the young man sitting at the desk opposite hers. “Now.”

      He leaned back in his chair, his ankles crossed, his feet encased in a pair of orange flip-flops that matched the orange flowers in his Hawaiian print shorts. Wally, Deb’s former copy boy, might have been laying out at the beach rather than sitting in the small office that housed Inspiration’s only newspaper, the Inspiration In Touch.

      Paige wiped the sweat from her forehead. It felt as hot as a day at the beach. Hotter thanks to the lack of windows and the lifeless air conditioner in the far corner.

      “Would you just hold your horses?” Wally took a long sip on the straw sticking out of his glass of iced tea before shifting his attention back to the magazine open on his lap. “What’s the big hurry?”

      “I’ve got an SAT meeting in a half hour and an hour’s worth of work to do before then. I need to see the notes on your article so that I can write the copy before I go.”

      “Do it later. It’s the beginning of the week. The issue doesn’t go out until Friday.”

      “And I’ve got a week’s worth of work budgeted until then. We’ll never get the paper out on time if we leave everything until the last minute. There’s work to do.”

      “You work. I’m on strike on the grounds of unbearable working conditions.” Surprise lit his eyes as he glanced up at her. “Hey, did you know a woman gave birth to a fifty pound baby boy last week in Gentryville, Kentucky?”

      “You actually believe what you read in those tabloids?”

      “I do,” said the fiftyish woman sitting at a nearby desk. Dolores Guiness knew everything about everybody and was only too glad to spill every juicy detail each week in her Around the Town section, also known as The Gossip Column. “Not everything, mind you. But those trashy things do print decent articles on occasion. Like that presidential wannabe and the floozy a few years back. Then there was all the hoopla about Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley, some of which was garbage, but a lot of it panned out.”

      “But a fifty pound baby?” Paige looked at the woman in disbelief.

      “It could happen. Myrtle Simpcox’s niece over in Stafford knew this woman who had a neighbor who actually gave birth to twins that weighed twenty-five pounds each. Put ‘em together and bam, you’ve got your fifty pound birth.”

      “See?” Wally shot her an I-told-you-so look.

      “I still don’t think it’s a good idea to put too much faith in The Tattler. Now a real newspaper—” she tapped the copy on her desk. “That’s a different story. Real papers report real news. They have a responsibility to readers.” She eyed Wally. “Responsibility? Do you remember that concept?”

      He gave her an exasperated look. “So what are you trying to say?”

      “That you have a responsibility not only to our readers, but to Deb. She left you in charge because she trusted you.”

      “She left me to roast in this hell. I can’t think in the heat. Give me air conditioning and I’m a super reporter. Until then, I’m struggling to keep my body temperature at a decent level. Want some raspberry tea? Jenny from the diner brought it over.”

      “She still have the hots for you?”

      “Unfortunately.” He shook his head. “By the way, you’re making my life miserable.”

      Said misery had resulted from Deb’s infamous column—Deb’s Fun Fact for the Week—which Paige had inherited a few months ago when Deb had traded in her wild single woman status in favor of her upcoming marital bliss. The fun fact was a line or two of savvy love advice for the single women of Inspiration, such as “Sweeten Up Your Sweetie with Sweet Rolls” or “Light his Fire with Lingerie.” Since Wally was one of the few bachelors in town, the single females of Inspiration had targeted him as the perfect candidate to test out the weekly fun fact. The tea was courtesy of last week’s ‘Tickle his Fancy with Iced Tea.’

      “You should be thanking me.”

      “For robbing me of my privacy? For destroying my peace and quiet? For creating a town full of stalking sex-starved women?”

      “On behalf of the women in town, I resent that. Privacy is overrated. Now hand over the notes.”

      “They’re in the top drawer.”

      “The one right next to you?”

      “Yep.”

      “The one barely six inches away from your right hand?”

      “That’s the one.” He turned the magazine and studied the picture of the woman and her fifty pound bundle of joy from several angles. “True or not, this looks awful painful to me.”

      “I’ll tell you what’s painful,” Dolores piped in from the corner, touching a hand to her gray coif. “I let Ida Louise over at the Cut-n-Curl frost my hair and I swear, she pulled out more than she colored.”

      “Well you wouldn’t catch me letting Ida touch one hair on my head,” Wally broke in. “The woman’s as blind as a bat…”

      The conversation continued and Paige let out an exasperated breath before stomping over to Wally’s desk and hauling open his drawer. Retrieving the notes, she headed back to her own desk and sank down into the seat. Sweat slid down her temples, her neck, and she grabbed a napkin to blot the moisture.

      Wally shot her a knowing look. “Told you it was better to keep still in this heat.”

      “Deb’s going to kill you when she finds out you sat on your butt all week while the world passed us by.”

      “At the rate things are going, this heat’s going to kill me a heck of a lot sooner than Deb will. Besides, she’s a thousand miles away. How’s she going to know if I took a siesta in the dying heat of the afternoon?”

      “Because Little Brother’s here watching you,” Dolores said.

      Paige blotted her forehead. “Don’t you mean Big Brother?”

      “She means Little Brother.” Jack Mission’s voice floated into the room and tickled the hair on the back of Paige’s neck. She opened her eyes to see him standing in the doorway looking dark and delicious, leaning against the lemon yellow colored doorframe.

      Wally’s feet hit the floor. Papers rustled and his tea glass nearly toppled over. “I was, um, just doing a little research for a travel article.”

      “For a trip to Gentryville, Kentucky?”

      “No. I mean, yes. I mean, I’ve always wanted to go to Kentucky. And speaking of going, I’ve got to do the ‘This Is Your Neighbor Interview’ with Loretta Marks. She’s the new Sunday School teacher from Austin. Later.”

      “I wouldn’t have thought he could move that

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