“I figured if she was going to make her move, I’d better be sure there isn’t something between you and me. Every once in a while, I’ve sort of wondered…what if?”
She hadn’t expected him to be so frank. Suddenly a bit weak in the knees, she grasped the pole that supported the porch. He was considering her now, of all times? Why couldn’t he have acted on that “what if?” a week ago? “And? What did you decide?”
“That we should see each other again.”
“I can’t,” she said. Not now that she knew he wasn’t merely being nice or looking for friendship.
He smiled. “You have to. You owe me, remember?”
* * *
Joe drove around town for fifteen minutes before finally turning toward home. He doubted his father would still be up. Martin was an early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of guy. So was he, since he had to work such long hours. But he’d felt so unsettled since leaving Cheyenne’s that he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He’d gone to her place expecting to feel what he’d felt when he was with Eve. Respect for her as a person. A certain amount of admiration for her pretty face. The hope that they could maintain a friendship. But ultimately nothing that moved him, nothing that made him regret not asking her out before. He’d convinced himself that the spark he felt whenever Cheyenne was around was no more than curiosity and sympathy for everything she’d had to endure.
But their time together hadn’t felt nearly as platonic as he’d envisioned.
He could tell that she hadn’t been wearing a bra when she came to the door. She’d gone and put one on right away. But the gentle sway of her breasts as she moved in those first few seconds had reminded him that it had been a long time since he’d felt a woman’s soft body beneath his, especially a woman he wanted to make love to.
Those weren’t the kinds of thoughts he’d been anticipating in conjunction with his little sister’s unfortunate friend. When he let his father goad him into visiting her, he’d figured it was better than staying home or going to Sexy Sadie’s and milling around with the same old crowd.
Or…maybe he’d been lying to himself from the beginning. Maybe seeing Cheyenne as a desirable woman instead of a pity project was what he’d been hoping to avoid by keeping his distance from her in the first place.
A honk broke into his thoughts. Riley Stinson sat in his beat-up Explorer, idling at the light next to him.
Joe rolled down the passenger window. Riley was another of his sister’s friends, but Joe liked him as much as Gail did. Although most of Joe’s buddies from high school had moved on, as he’d originally done, the people in her group were still as tight as family.
“I don’t usually see you out so late,” Riley called above the rumble of their engines.
“Just checking to make sure the station’s locked up.” Joe wasn’t sure why he lied. He supposed he felt a little funny about seeing Cheyenne after going to dinner with Eve last night. Also, he knew that Cheyenne would appreciate the discretion.
“Everything okay?”
Someone had broken in after-hours about three years ago and looted the minimart. Whoever it was had taken all the alcohol, cigarettes and condoms. But there hadn’t been any trouble since. “Fine,” Joe replied. He had driven past the station, but only because, in a town this size, it was unavoidable. “What about you? What’re you up to?”
“Heading home.”
“From…”
“My folks.” He covered a yawn. “I fell asleep there a couple hours ago.”
“Where’s Jacob?” Riley had gotten a girl by the name of Phoenix pregnant while in high school. She’d always been a little different, definitely offbeat, but no one could’ve guessed she was capable of murder. She ran down the next girl he showed interest in and went to prison before the baby was even born. Riley and his parents had had Jacob since birth, when the authorities had shuttled the infant out to them.
That story had been the talk of the town back in the day. It was the most sensational thing to ever happen in Whiskey Creek—except for the cave-in at the old mine, which had killed Noah Rackham’s twin brother right about the same time.
“I let him sleep over. I have to repair a roof first thing in the morning.”
“Doesn’t he usually go along and help if he’s on break?”
Riley, a contractor, was already teaching Jacob how to build and fix houses. As Jacob grew older, the two acted more like good buddies than father and son.
“I told him he could spend the day with Grandma and Grandpa tomorrow.”
“They getting ready for Christmas?”
Riley grinned. “He has cooking, decorating and going shopping to look forward to.”
Joe could tell Riley was glad to be off the hook. “How does Jacob feel about that?”
“He wanted to come with me, but I told him it would make Grandma happy to have him stay. The bells and whistles of the holidays are very important to my mom.” His tone suggested he didn’t quite understand, which made Joe smile. He didn’t see the point in some of the tacky decorations he saw, either. Putting up a tree just meant it had to be taken down. But he knew that was being too practical and was willing to do whatever it took to keep his girls happy.
The light had turned green twice already, but there wasn’t anyone behind them so they didn’t feel any pressure to drive on.
“How’s Gail?” Riley asked.
“Happy. Busy doing Simon’s PR and managing the other publicists at her firm. They have a star-studded list now.”
“Simon’s got another new movie coming out, I hear.”
Joe checked his rearview mirror again. Still clear. “Another blockbuster. This June.”
“I’ve been meaning to call Gail. I want to tell her I got a Christmas card from Phoenix.”
Leaning forward, Joe turned off his stereo. “Does she write you often?”
“She sends letters to Jacob all the time but I don’t pass them on. There’s no way I want to nurture that relationship. I rarely hear from her myelf, though.”
“Why do you think she sent the card?”
Suddenly pensive, he frowned and tapped his steering wheel. “She gets out this summer.”
Another car came motoring up from behind, forcing them to move on.
“Good luck with that,” Joe called.
“Thanks. I might need it,” Riley said with a wave.
* * *
A noise alerted Cheyenne to the fact that she was no longer alone. Presley came stumbling into the kitchen, squinted at the clock, then groaned. She acted as if it was far too early to face the day, but it was eleven-thirty. “Where are you going?” she mumbled through a yawn.
Cheyenne had been up, doing some cleaning, since six. “A friend wants my help picking out a Christmas tree,” she said as she rinsed her coffee cup.
Her sister started for the fridge, then stopped and winced as if that much movement hurt her aching head. “What friend?”
“Does it matter?” Cheyenne took two ibuprofen tablets from the cupboard and handed them over.
Presley wrinkled her nose. “This the best you can do?”
She wasn’t getting anything stronger. Not from Cheyenne. “That’s it.”
Obviously exasperated, her sister popped them in her mouth, pulled the orange juice from the fridge and drank out of the jug.
Cheyenne