Taming Deputy Harlow Page 7

  “I badgered? You’re the one who badgers!”

  “Now, now,” Reese said. “Calm down or I’ll have to take you both to town.” She would rather avoid taking the elderly to jail.

  “She doesn’t remember what she says,” Virgil said. “I get so exhausted explaining things all the time. It can be anything from what we had for breakfast to a visit from our kids. I tell her we went out for breakfast and she had pancakes and she argues and says she hates pancakes. She did hate them before all this, but she eats them now. She wouldn’t believe me. And then the kids come over and I have to tell her everything that happened and what we all talked about and she gets upset and argues that she would never forget her own kids coming to visit. That turns into an argument. Everything turns into an argument. Now this time it was the remote. We argued over whether I was watching TV or not. I should have just let her change the channel.”

  Lavinia’s emotion appeared to have leveled off a bit. She looked at her husband as though finally beginning to believe him and realizing the torment she must put him through, arguing over anything she can’t recall.

  “Lavinia, did you ask Virgil if you could change the channel?” Reese asked.

  Lavinia thought for a few seconds and then averted her gaze when she answered. “Of course I did.”

  “You didn’t ask,” Virgil said.

  “I wouldn’t have just changed it,” she countered.

  And this was exactly how the arguments started. Reese shared a glance with Jamie. He remained patiently silent. She looked at him a moment longer than necessary, too caught by his manly attractiveness.

  Reese turned back to Lavinia. “Do you remember if Virgil was watching a TV program when you changed the channel, Lavinia?”

  Again, she averted her gaze.

  “She doesn’t.”

  Reese held her hand up at Virgil. “Let her answer herself, please.”

  “No. I don’t.” Tears welled, one falling over.

  “Lavinia.” Virgil moved to her, pulling her into his arms. She laid her head on his shoulder and cried. “I’m sorry I broke your grandmother’s vase. I’ll make it up to you and you can watch whatever you want whenever you want.”

  And it always ended up like this. Lavinia declared she wanted a divorce at nearly seventy and then they made up with someone from the sheriff’s office at their house.

  Reese glanced again at Jamie, who turned his affectionate look from the couple to her. Then he leaned over where a box of tissues sat on an end table, picked one out and handed it to Lavinia.

  The woman moved back from Virgil and took it with a teary look up at him. Virgil kept one arm around her. Dabbing her eyes and then blowing her nose, she lowered the soggy tissue and eyed Jamie some more.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m visiting Reese. My apology if I’ve intruded.”

  Lavinia waved her hand, the tissue flapping. “Last time the sheriff brought his daughter and her family, who were visiting from Denver. Things here don’t go the way they do in the city.”

  “Evidently not.” A breathy but short laugh came from him.

  Lavinia looked at her husband as though forgiving him, but was still in a state of hurt over what had happened. He was old enough to have been around when Ella was murdered.

  “How long have the two of you been married?” she asked as though just curious.

  She felt Jamie glance at her.

  Lavinia seemed confused with the question. The poor thing didn’t remember.

  “We celebrated our twenty-fifth last August,” Virgil said with pride.

  “Have you always lived in Never Summer?”

  Lavinia smiled and put her hand on Reese’s arm. “You’re forgiven for not knowing. As young as you are, how could you know such a thing?”

  “You have, then?”

  “I have.” Lavinia dropped her arm and looked fondly at Virgil, who rubbed her back. “He moved here in...what year was that, honey?”

  Virgil tipped his head as he tried to recall the year. Clearly it had been a while.

  “In the eighties,” he said. “Eighty-five?” He looked uncertainly at Reese.

  “Do you remember Ella Neville?” she asked Lavinia, not expecting anything to come of it.

  “Oh, yes,” Lavinia said. “The murdered girl.”

  “We’ve heard all the talk about it. Are you reopening her case?” Virgil asked, lowering his hand from Lavinia’s back.

  “It’s never been closed. I’m taking another look at it.”

  “We knew Jeffrey,” Virgil said. “Used to have barbecues at each other’s houses.”

  Lavinia nodded, the key words triggering something in her. Murdered girl...barbecues...

  “Caused quite a stir in town,” Lavinia said. “Her death.”

  Reese thought she dramatized a little, saying it had caused a stir when she likely didn’t know any details of what people had said or how anyone had reacted. Even if Lavinia could be a suspect, she wouldn’t remember enough to be of any help. And Virgil hadn’t even lived here at the time.

  “Are you going to stay married to Virgil, Lavinia?” Reese asked to end this on a happy note.

  She smiled, fine wrinkles fanning out from her eyes and mouth. “Yes.”

  The vase was unfortunate and Reese did have concerns over Virgil breaking things. “Virgil, do you think you can get your temper under control? I understand it can get difficult at times, but maybe you could find another outlet? Take some deep breaths? Step away and write down everything hateful you’re feeling about your wife and then burn it afterward? Scream into a pillow...?”

  Virgil nodded halfheartedly. Maybe he had little hope of making it through his wife’s condition.

  “I could send you some literature on how to manage this stressful time in your life,” Reese said. “And hook you up with someone to talk to when you need that.”

  His hopelessness cheered a bit. “Thank you. I would appreciate that.”

  “So would I.”

  Reese turned admonishing eyes to Lavinia for her biting tone.

  “Because I love my Virgil.” She put her head on his shoulder and her hand on his chest. “At least, I think I do.” She winked up at him.

  This must be one of her clearer moments, Reese thought. Much different than when she’d called for help. But her lucidity roped in Virgil and he smiled lovingly.

  “What you feel deep down is all that matters,” Jamie said, turning sly, playfully mischievous eyes to Reese.

  A shock wave gripped her. He meant love. Lavinia might instinctively know or feel love for Virgil. In her forgetful states, she may not be aware of that feeling, but it could still be there. While the passionate attraction Reese and Jamie had experienced when they’d first met may not be love or the initial signs leading to love, Jamie intended to point out the deep-down feeling had been there, undeniable and significant. Instinct. Animal drive. Something not thought out consciously.

  She distracted herself with bidding farewell and leaving the cabin. Outside, they walked toward the truck.

  “Other than that last comment, you were awfully quiet in there,” she said.

  “Letting you do your job.”

  “So says the man who Kadin hired.” More likely he was biding his time, strategizing when he’d make his next move—trap her into a relationship she couldn’t resist.

  “Kadin did give me a list of residents living in Never Summer at the time of Ella Neville’s murder.”

  She stopped at the side of his truck to gape at him. “Already?”

  He faced her, getting closer than she felt comfortable with. That was the intent, she was sure. He put his hand on the door handle, arm stretched beside her. “Maybe he thinks it’s important, you being his daughter and all.”

&nb
sp; Glancing warily at his arm, Reese asked, “Do you have the list with you?”

  “It’s on my laptop and my laptop is in my hotel room.”

  His eyes were entirely too captivating for her, with a smile in them even though his mouth remained flat. “Well...maybe you could bring it by the office tomorrow morning?” Certainly she would not go to his hotel room.

  “Sure. It’s a date.”

  “It is not a date.” She turned to the door and he opened it for her.

  “Then I’ll take you on one after. Something nonthreatening, like lunch.”

  Nothing would be nonthreatening with him. Even a walk in the park would set her on fire. She climbed up into the truck and reached for the handle. He still held the frame and didn’t let her close it.

  She should say no to lunch, which would be harmless to him but potentially dangerous to her. But that flirty light in his eyes kept tickling her senses.

  “All right. Lunch. But you have to leave town after that.”

  He chuckled. “It’ll take a lot more than that to get me to leave.”

  Closing the door, he kept his gaze on her as he moved around to the other side. She felt caught, hooked by his line of sensuality. How could a man rev her up with only a look like that? His long strides and muscular chest and arms also played havoc with her. Watching him climb into the truck, slide his strong legs onto the seat and reach for the ignition, she felt ignited herself. How would she ever make it through the inferno?

  Chapter 5

  Jamie still gave in to an occasional chuckle when he thought of how fast Reese got out of his truck and went into the sheriff’s office yesterday. At the door she’d glanced back, wary and apprehensive and probably wishing he’d go away. Not a chance. When he’d asked her if she wanted him to leave, she hadn’t answered. And when he’d kissed her, she’d responded. She gave the outward appearance of distance, but inside her warmth seemed boundless.

  “You new in town?”

  He gave his debit card to the florist, who was five-four and in her early forties with thick, round glasses and a brown shoulder-length bob.

  “Just visiting for a while.”

  “Visiting who?” Her brown eyes flashed to him as she processed his payment.

  “Reese Harlow.”

  She smiled. “Ah. Deputy Harlow. I’ve sold lots of flowers to men who’ve tried to capture her heart.”

  So, she had a reputation? Not a good sign. “All local?”

  “Sawyer Bennington sends her flowers on her birthday and Valentine’s Day. He owns The Ore House. If he can’t win her over, no man can. He’s successful and an honorable man.”

  “She never even dated him?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?” Maybe he’d get the rumors going around.

  “Her mother says she’s focused on her career right now. But others think she’s afraid to commit.”

  “Yeah, that’s my assessment.”

  She handed back his card, angling her head as she studied him. “Where you from?”

  “Wyoming. I work for her father—her biological father.”

  “Oh, yeah. She recently did track down her real parents.” She studied him more, eyes taking in his upper body. “You came all the way here to see her?”

  “Has to count for something, right?”

  “It would for me.”

  Jamie signed the charge slip and took the vase of red roses. Going traditional never felt better. Well, he’d never gone traditional. It felt good to go traditional.

  “Good luck,” the clerk said as he walked toward the door. “You’re going to need it.”

  * * *

  Jamie got out of his truck with the flowers and headed for the sheriff’s office. Reese may not have welcomed her physical reaction to him, but he intended to stay and find out why. Then he’d tear down whatever obstacles stood in his way. He felt good about this, despite Reese’s words that kept repeating in his mind.

  I got tired of men latching on to me, expecting more than I was ready to give.

  Inside the small office, the old wood floor creaked as he walked into the open area with three desks and walls cluttered with pictures of the town, calendars and plaques. The sheriff’s office took up one corner, the break room was straight ahead and a conference room took up the opposite corner. The sheriff had his back to the office door, facing the window, as he worked on the computer.

  Reese sat at her desk, the only one occupied, staring at him. She had a stack of files to the side and held one open in front of her.

  He walked to her. First the flowers, then the list of residents.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Seeing her wide eyes he ignored her surprise and set down the full bouquet of flowers. “What does it look like?”

  She looked at the flowers and then up at him, flustered. “Take them back.”

  “No.” He grinned. She did not want him to take them back. She might feel threatened with what his gesture meant for them going forward, but she liked the flowers. He could tell. He’d thrown her. She hadn’t expected him to do this.

  “Take them back.” Her eyes shifted nervously from the flowers to him.

  The sheriff twisted on his chair to look through his open office door. He studied Jamie for a bit and then saw the flowers. With a slight smile, he turned back to his computer.

  “Calm down,” Jamie said, stopping her jittery eyes and holding them with his. “I’m not proposing.” Yet.

  She looked like a caged animal shying away from a kid with a stick.

  “Are you afraid of rejection or something?” He wasn’t sure he completely bought her explanation of not wanting to hurt another man. What made her run from men?

  “No.” But she eyed the flowers, this time as though she’d like to lean in and take a sniff.

  “Are you an only child?”

  That question seemed to divert her apprehension in another direction. “Why would that matter?”

  Because she was an only child. Maybe that contributed, maybe it didn’t. It was worth looking deeper. “What were your adoptive parents like?”

  She let out an incredulous grunt, mouth dropping open. “Why are you asking me that? They had nothing to do with why I chose to go after a career before I think about settling down with someone.”

  Why did he get the feeling she’d come up with that as an excuse? “Did you have your heart broken?”

  “No.” She closed her mouth and leaned back, folding her arms.

  “That’s right. You’re the heartbreaker.”

  She turned her gaze away. And as she did, he noticed the file contained documents on Ella Neville’s murder case.

  The sheriff’s office phone rang.

  Jamie saw the sheriff answer. “Well, hello, Tad. I haven’t heard from you in over a week. Is everything all right over there in San Francisco?” He listened for a while, leaning back for what he must have decided would take longer than he’d thought. By the sound of his voice, Jamie would say his son had called. “Have you talked to him? If the two of you fought last night and he left upset, I’m sure he just went somewhere to cool off.”

  Reese glanced up at Jamie. “I was an only child.”

  He returned his attention to her, not expecting her to give out any personal information and glad she had.

  “You say that as if you were cursed.”

  From the sheriff’s office, he heard Sheriff Robison say, “Don’t jump to conclusions. Eddy is probably just trying to make you suffer. It’s called manipulation. Your mother does the same thing when we have fights like that.”

  “Not cursed. My parents were good to me,” Reese said, oblivious to the conversation taking place behind her in her boss’s office.

  “Now you sound
like you have to convince yourself of that,” Jamie said. “Were your parents as good as you needed them to be?” She’d been adopted. Maybe she felt something had been missing.

  “Wait until you can talk to him,” Sheriff Robison said. “All right. Call if you need to. If it gets worse, then fly out and see your mother and me.”

  The sheriff told his son he loved him and hung up.

  Reese glanced back into the sheriff’s office with a soft smile and then faced Jamie again. “Maybe not as communicative as they could have been, but good and loving.”

  “Communicative?”

  Her eyes moved up to look at him briefly before going back to the list, but she didn’t seem to read. “My mother couldn’t have children and that’s why they adopted me, but I think they did it more out of a sense of duty. People graduated from high school and college and then got married and had kids. They made families together. I think they would have felt like outcasts if they hadn’t done that.” She looked up at the flowers. “My grandparents were born here. That’s what brought my parents here.” Then she tipped her head up to him. “They couldn’t be a real family in New York, so far away. They saw this town as a place much more appropriate for that. But fitting in was always so important to them. Still is. They need to be respected by the community, and they are. I just think they might have chosen different paths if the pressure of doing what was expected of them had been removed.”

  “You aren’t close to them?”

  “No. I’m close. They’re just, I don’t know... They keep a lot bottled up.”

  She didn’t seem completely truthful. “You fended for yourself growing up?”

  “They took care of me, but I did do a lot on my own. Why are you picking me apart like this? Oh, wait. You’re trying to get to the root of my decision not to get involved in a serious relationship, not yet, anyway. Someday I’m sure I’ll be ready.”

  “You told me you were an only child. I think it might have something to do with your phobia.”

  “Phobia?” She blinked sarcastically and met his eyes.

  “Are you really sure you’ll be ready?”