Authors: Cathie Linz
Bad Girls Don't (19 page)
So how did you respond to a guy who just told you he was sorry for everything, including getting intimate with you?
“You can stuff your apology!” The fury of Skye’s words was diluted by the sudden onset of tears. She quickly blinked them away.
“Hey, are you crying?” He tipped up her chin to get a better look at her face but she pulled away.
“Bad girls don’t cry,” she said roughly.
“Neither do cops.”
“Not even when their wife dies?” There she went again. Speaking without thinking.
He stiffened. “Why this sudden interest in my past?”
“I’m trying to figure you out.”
“Don’t bother.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.” She glared at him.
He glared right back.
“If I want to figure you out, I will,” she said.
“Good luck.”
“I never claimed it would be easy. You’re complicated. And bossy.”
“You’re complicated and rebellious. And probably proud of it.”
“Yeah, so? Your point is?”
“There’s no talking to you,” he muttered, yanking his T-shirt on over his head.
“Sure there is. I can talk just fine. You’re the one with the communication problems.”
His only response was a look of male impatience.
“The sex was great, but your postcoital pillow talk needs a lot of improvement!” she called after him as he walked out.
Work. Nathan immersed himself in it. He began in his office early the next morning. His office with the mud puddle walls, as Skye had called them. Dammit. The woman was everywhere.
Trying to figure him out, was she? Forget it. Not gonna happen. Nathan refused to let her get that close to him.
Of course, last night they’d physically been as close as a man and woman could be. But that was just a biological need. She’d said so herself.
So why had she gotten tears in her eyes? Was she feeling sorry for him? Or for herself for having sex with him?
Talk about complicated. She was a Rubik’s Cube, a puzzle he’d never been good at working out.
“Did you eat breakfast?” Celeste demanded as she placed a healthy oatmeal bar on his desk.
He shoved the bar back at her.
She wrapped her arms around her sizable middle and stared at him as if he were a kid.
Nathan was tired of people telling him what to do. He was the sheriff, for God’s sake. If anyone around here should be issuing orders, it was him.“Get me the dispatcher logs for the past two days.”
“I will if you eat something.”
“Let me explain something to you, Celeste. I’m the boss. You’re the employee.”
“I know that. Now let me explain something to you. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”
“Celeste . . .” His inflection warned her that he was fast losing what little patience he had.
“Fine. Be that way.” She flounced out of his office, returning a few minutes later with the dispatcher information he’d requested. “Nothing exciting there. Lenore Trimble’s parrot out in the Regency Trailer Park dialed 911 again for no reason. Oh, and a burglary was reported yesterday by Bernie Crampton.”
“A burglary?” Finally, a crime he could sink his teeth into. “Why wasn’t I notified immediately?”
“Because Bernie reported that the burglary occurred when his ex-wife came into his kitchen when he wasn’t home, cooked up a batch of pork chops in apricot sauce, and ate them.”
“Pork chops?”
“He said she stole them.”
Nathan tossed down the file in disgust.
Celeste picked it up and hugged it to her chest. “I told you there was nothing exciting. Not like you saving that little girl’s life. I heard about it this morning. How you swooped in to save the day.”
Nathan flashed back to that moment when he’d seen Toni dash into the street, the pickup truck headed right for her. His blood ran cold at the memory. So he did what he always did when something cut too close to the bone. He slammed the hatch on those thoughts and focused on his work.
“Are you going to file a report against Skye?” Celeste asked. “Want me to notify the children’s welfare department?”
“There’s no need for that.”
“You don’t think that was child endangerment?”
“Her mother was right on the curb. The kid just darted off. Kids under seven can’t be expected to remember street safety.”
“That’s why you have to hold on to them at all times. Any good mother could tell you that.”
“Skye is a good mother. She loves her daughter.”
Celeste sniffed. “I’m surprised to hear you defending her. After everything she’s done. Like starting that fight over at the bar. Is that the behavior of a good mother?”
“She didn’t start the fight.” Sure, he’d as good as said so at the time, but once he’d cooled down some, he’d realized how stupid that was.
“That’s not what I heard. I heard she started the fight. And I heard she never married the father of her child. That little girl was born out of wedlock.”
“Not that unusual these days.”
“That doesn’t make it right. I also heard she might not even
know
who the father is.”
know
who the father is.”
Don’t ask the question if you don’t want to hear the answer
. He hadn’t asked . . . and now wished he had. Because he’d started to wonder if maybe Skye wasn’t nearly as bad as she made out.
. He hadn’t asked . . . and now wished he had. Because he’d started to wonder if maybe Skye wasn’t nearly as bad as she made out.
Or was that just wishful thinking on his part? Why did it even matter to him? Why did
she
matter?
she
matter?
And why had she brought up his wife Annie like that? How had she known he’d been feeling guilty?
Was the woman psychic or something?
She definitely was . . . something. Memories from last night filled his mind—her parted lips, her legs wrapped around his hips, the way she took him in, the way she tightened around him as she came.
He yanked his mind back to the present.
He coughed and had to clear his throat twice before he could speak. “Look, Celeste, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bad-mouth Skye.”
Celeste sadly shook her head. “She’s gotten to you, just like she got to poor Owen. Lenore Trimble is just beside herself over it all.”
“Lenore Trimble, the widow with the parrot that dials 911? What does she have to do with it?”
“She and Owen were a couple before that hussy Skye came along with her belly-dancing ways.”
“Celeste, I really don’t have time to talk about the funeral director’s love life.”
“Of course not. You’re the sheriff. An important man. Much too important to waste your time on that hussy Skye. I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you.”
“I wish,” Nathan muttered under his breath as Celeste walked out of his office.
Nathan was actually able to spend the rest of the day on law enforcement work. Some of it paperwork, which never seemed to end. Some of it fieldwork, answering a domestic violence call. Rock Creek might be small, but it suffered from the same social maladies as the rest of the country, just on a smaller scale.
After a twelve-hour day, Nathan headed home to the unimpressive squat brick building also known as the Pine Grove Apartments. There were only four apartments—two downstairs, two up. He was the lessee of Apartment 1, located a mere block from the sheriff ’s office.
As he let himself in, he flicked on the lights and ignored the stacks of unpacked boxes. He had a plasma TV, cable, and a pair of black leather recliners. That’s all he needed in his living room.
That, and a pizza—half sausage, half pepperoni—with everything on it. Which Cole was supposed to be bringing . . .
A knock at door had Nathan heading in that direction. “Love what you’ve done with the place since last time,” Cole said, handing over the pizza.
“I’m not here much.”
“No kidding? Really? I would never have guessed that.”
“What? Like your place is decorated by a designer?”
“At least I don’t have to use packing boxes as tables.”
“I don’t have to, I
choose
to.”
choose
to.”
“Yeah, right. That’s my point. Why do you choose to?”
“You’re a vet, not Dr. Phil.”
“Thank God.”
“Then stop with the stupid questions.”
“I never ask stupid questions. So what game are we watching tonight?”
“The White Sox.” Growing up in Nebraska, Nathan had seen the Chicago games on TV and gotten hooked. When they’d won the World Series in 2005 he’d felt vindicated for all those years he’d been a fan. “Women don’t get this.”
“Huh?” Cole paused with a slice of pizza midway to his mouth. “They don’t get baseball?”
“They try to figure you out.”
“Who does?”
“Women.”
“All of them or one in particular?”
“Why do they do that? Try to figure you out?”
“Because they want to know why you do the crazy stuff you do?”
Nathan yanked the rest of the pizza, still in the take-out box, away from his buddy. “What kind of answer is that?”
“Hey,” Cole protested. “If you don’t want to hear the answer, then don’t ask the question.”
Nathan stopped in his tracks. “That’s what Skye said.”
“She did? When?”
“Never mind.” He set the pizza on one of his unpacked boxes.
“You know, it would be okay for you to settle down here in Rock Creek instead of just . . .”
“Just what?”
“Surviving.”
“Surviving ain’t bad,” Nathan said carelessly. “Don’t knock it.”
“I’ll bet Skye would be willing to help you unpack your stuff.”
“Are you kidding? She’d probably want to do some weird feng shui thing here like she talked about doing in my office.”
“I heard about her daughter running into the street and you saving her.”
Nathan’s throat clogged up and he dropped his slice of pizza back in the box. “Want a beer?” He headed for the fridge, which housed beer and pickles—that was it.
“Sure.” Cole caught the can Nathan tossed to him. “So, how’s it feel to be a big hero?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Was Skye suitably grateful that you’d saved her kid?”
Images flared through Nathan’s mind once again, of Skye touching him, of him touching her . . .
“Yo, Nate.” Cole waved his arms to get his attention.
“Huh?” He snapped back to the present. “Stop asking stupid questions.”
“I already told you—”
“You don’t ask stupid questions. Yeah, I heard you. Just watch the game.”
As Nathan stared at the high-definition screen, which was so clear he could see the actual blades of grass in the ballpark, he was instead envisioning Skye.
“I’ve come for Gravity,” Skye told Wally as soon as she entered the thrift shop on Tuesday afternoon. Today, he was wearing a shirt with little hula dancers on it and green tartan golfing pants.
“Are you taking her to your little girl now?”
“Yes.”
“Gravity likes this basket, but you should wrap her up so she doesn’t get scared when you carry her home in it. She has all her claws, you know.”
The kitten hadn’t gotten any cuter since the last time Skye had seen her. She still looked like a drunken painter had slapped orange paint on her black coat or dipped her in a large vat of creamy peanut butter.
Mmm, peanut butter. Skye’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since the fruit and yogurt she’d had early that morning.
“So you’ve finally come to get your kitten,” Sister Mary noted. “I meant to ask you about it at the theater the other day. But then I got distracted with . . .” Her voice trailed off. She didn’t have to say the words. The image of Toni dashing out into the street still haunted Skye’s dreams.
“Anyway, I’m glad you’re here,” Sister Mary continued. “I wasn’t sure if you’d changed your mind about giving her to Toni.”
“Because of what Toni did?”
“Because it’s been a few weeks since you said you wanted the kitten.”
Skye studied Gravity. “Yeah, she’s gotten bigger, hasn’t she?”
“Abs-o-tively.” Wally beamed. “She’s beautiful, huh?”
“Yeah, in her own way. Anway, I didn’t change my mind. I just had a lot of things to do, you know? Like cashing in the lottery ticket and getting all that stupid paperwork filled out. Have I told you that I hate paperwork?”
“You may have mentioned it a time or two.”
“Or ten,” Wally said with a grin.
“And there was even more paperwork with the realtor,” Skye said. “But now I’m the owner of the building, and I say we can have pets. I just wanted things to settle down a little before I brought Gravity into the picture.”
“I can’t see your life ever settling down.”
“You’re right.” Skye rubbed the kitten’s ear, which got Gravity purring up a storm. “I’m not the type to settle down.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t have to.”
“You’re taking my words the wrong way,” Sister Mary protested.
Skye waved her hands. “Change of subject. I wanted to thank you again for bringing your work crew over to help out at the theater on Sunday.”
“No problem. You’ve helped out at the soup kitchen plenty of times.”
“Well, I’d better get going, so Gravity can meet Toni. I hope they’re both ready for this.”
Sister Mary patted her arm. “Good luck with that.”
“Wait.” Skye stopped in her tracks, the kitten still in her arms.
“What? Are you having second thoughts?”
“Yes. Not about the kitten, but the setup. I think I should tell Toni we’re getting a kitten and then bring her here to see Gravity, and together we can bring her home. Yeah, I like that idea.” She handed Gravity back to Wally. “I’ll be right back.”
Skye raced home to find Angel and Toni in the living room. Angel was working at the spinning wheel while Toni was working on a puzzle on the floor—a kitten puzzle.
“Hey, lovebug, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
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