Bucking the Rules (22 page)

“Continue, Miranda,” Judy encouraged.

“Right, yes.” Flustered, she went on. “I think we all know this is a case of he-said, she-said, with little evidence. And that means . . .”

The doors opened again, and several servers from the bar, along with a few lunchtime regulars, poured in like water through a funnel. Amanda waved cheerfully and pointed to a few seats in the back.

“Please be seated,” the chairwoman droned.

They hushed and quickly settled. But before Miranda could continue, a new flood of people showed up. Some she recognized—the local vet, more regulars from the bar, even Mr. Meldon, who owned soon-to-be-closed Gimmie's. She recognized others, but couldn't place names with faces.

The noise echoed off the tall ceilings in the open room. Feet shuffled over the stained linoleum, chairs squeaked as they were pulled out or pushed forward, bags plopped to the floor, voices were not-so-very hushed as they whispered to save a seat or scoot over.

“This is ridiculous,” Miranda protested.

The chairwoman pounded her palm on the table rapidly. “Quiet. Quiet down now!” But even with the admonishment, it took several minutes before everyone settled down.

Jo surveyed the faces sitting around her, behind her, in front of her. And her throat closed up at the obvious support these people were lending her.

“As I was saying,” Miranda bit out. “It seems to be a little unfair—dare I say, presumptuous—to believe the word of a veritable stranger over the son of a pillar of the community. Jeffrey's family has lived here for generations, as has mine. You all know us. I think that should carry some weight.”

“Who cares?” someone called out from the back of the room, and waves of laughter erupted.

Judy banged her hand again. Jo's own palm stung from the sound alone. Man, that had to hurt. “If you don't quiet down, we'll limit this meeting to necessary personnel only.”

That worked. Immediately, it was as quiet as a church on Sunday with half the congregation asleep. Jo wondered if she should start sweating like a sinner now, or wait until later.

Miranda threw up her hands. “I'm done, I suppose.” She sat with a thump.

Jo raised her hand. “Am I allowed to defend myself here?”

Miranda shot her a steely look. “Why bother?”

“Don't hit her. Don't hit her,” Stu muttered.

Judy motioned for her to stand. “Name, occupation, and business here for the record please.”

Lord, these people were high on power. “Jo—Josephine—Tallen, owner of Jo's Place, and I'm here to, uh, argue the case against me?”

The woman rolled her eyes, but waved a hand to indicate she should go on.

Okay then. The town wanted a little show . . . she'd give them a show.

“T
here's not much to say, really. I served Jeff one beer, which he drank. That's on the receipt. I didn't hand him another one. He was gone quickly. He didn't even eat his dinner. I'm not sure where he got the alcohol, or what he did after he left the restaurant. But it wasn't from me.”

Good old Bill on the end motioned for her attention. “If you have no proof, such as security footage or witnesses—”

“I'm a witness.” Stu stood, imposing and, okay, a little bit scary, in his height and girth.

“You're an employee,” Bill said. “You don't exactly count as an impartial witness.”

Stu grumbled, but sat back down.

“If you have no other witnesses,” Judy put in, “ones that can clearly agree you didn't over-serve J. J. Effingham, then I'm afraid we have no choice but to investigate further. I move to suspend her liquor license until we have completely investigated the entire matter.”

Jo dared a quick glance at Miranda, who was all but bouncing in her seat with glee.

“You can't do that. I've done nothing wrong. There's no proof to go on.”

“I'd like to speak.”

Jo turned and saw Mr. Meldon walking to the middle of the aisle. Oh, God. Was he going to blame her for all this? A parting shot at the competition?

“This young lady runs a nice establishment. Her bar's been a good thing for the community. God knows that building was torn up before she got here. And I think many of the others here would agree she's done a good job with the place. I've never seen anything get too out of hand over there before.”

“There've been a few bar fights,” Judy argued.

“There will always be fights where liquor is concerned. If fights are the problem, you should yank the liquor license of everyone who serves in this town. And none of them have resulted in anything—or anyone—being seriously injured or broken.”

Judy settled back in her chair, not pleased with being shot down.

“Jo Tallen is a sweet girl.”

Sweet girl?
Stu mouthed to her with a grin. She kicked him in the foot.

“She brought me a potted plant when she heard I was leaving. Stayed to chat with me, ask my advice on things, really listened to what I had to say. Can't say the same for other people in this room.” His eyes, still sharp and steely, cut through the people at the front table. “If nothing else, her efforts to bring more business to downtown should be recognized and acknowledged. She's been here a year now. She's not some fly-by-night operator.”

The back of Jo's eyes burned, but she blinked rapidly.

“That's about all I have to say.”

Soft, polite applause ushered him back to his seat one slow, careful step at a time. As he sat, he caught her eye and nodded. She mouthed her thanks.

Jo slipped her professional, impersonal mask back on and turned to the council. “I'm not sure what I've done to warrant such a reaction to a single unfounded accusation, but I'm telling you, I'm innocent and I'm not going to stop saying it. And you'll have the fight of your life if you try to yank my license.”

More applause echoed off the ceilings.

The chairwoman scooted her chair back and the other six followed her into some sort of pseudo-huddle, like a peewee football game.

“I'm sorry.” Miranda stood again, a look of disgust covering her face. “What about her . . . illicit actions above the bar?”

“Are you kidding—?”

“I'd like to say something about that.”

Jo froze. Trace. There was no mistaking his voice. She turned to the right and caught him standing out of the corner of her eye. And in that moment, she realized something she'd been trying to circle around, step over, and ignore for weeks.

She loved him. He'd done this—brought these people together—for her. Even after she'd turned him away, he'd done it for her.

“I hardly think anyone believes Jo is running an old-fashioned bordello here. This isn't 1890. Plus, I'm not sure how she'd manage it, since she spends about ninety percent of her time behind the bar anyway.”

Murmurs of agreement sounded in soft waves.

“I have witnesses that place men in her apartment.”

“What, one snot-nosed kid trying to get out of trouble by spewing lies?” Trace bit out.

“I'm allowed to have a personal life!” Jo called at the same time. They looked at each other and smiled.

Miranda's mouth set in a firm line. “How inappropriate.”

“To have a love life?” Jo asked. “Tell me where in the town by-laws that little gem is.”

The crowd went silent. The council looked . . . she wasn't sure. Some of them looked almost sick, others uncertain or confused. And then she realized she'd all but admitted to an entire town—give or take a few hundred—she was having sex.

Which would lead to speculation about who she was having said sex with . . . those who hadn't already figured it out, anyway.

Which would lead to rumors, gossip, maybe more damaging lies. So why not cut to the chase?

She glanced at Trace. It was his business, too. His permission came in the form of a slight nod, and a wink.

Deep breath. “I can't believe I'm about to do this,” she muttered.

“What's the alternative?” Stu asked.

“Good point. Okay, so I have a love life. I'm not sleeping with a married man, not screwing in the bar, not doing anything illegal. I really don't see how the rest of this is anyone's—”

“Who's the lucky guy?”

Jo shot Mr. Meldon a threatening look. He merely smiled and shrugged. “I'm an old, curious man. Sue me.”

God help her, she smiled back. What the hell else could she do? She'd wanted small town life, and here it was. After a moment's hesitation, she knew what she needed to do.

“I'm not spending time with multiple men. I've been spending time with Trace Muldoon. Just him.”

More silence, but for the hum of the AC. No gasps of shock, no looks of horror, no applause. What, was this really old news to everyone?

“I'm new here. That has been made abundantly clear.” She resisted sticking her tongue out at Miranda's back . . . barely. “But I want roots. I plan to plant them here. And if I have to fight every step of the way, battle for every inch, I'll do it. I've made up my mind, and that's not something that can be easily changed.”

Judy Plumber looked at her fellow high-horsers and once again they huddled together.

“Time to pray,” Stu warned her.

“I've never been much on prayer.” But she could sure start now. As she started to formulate her opening to God, the council finished their mini-huddle and straightened.

“It appears to us,” Judy said in a tight voice, “there is no further action needed at this time.”

The room erupted into applause. Jo grabbed the back of the chair in front of her to keep her legs from buckling with relief.

“Is it over?”

Stu put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Yeah, it's over. I'm heading back to the bar. Not sure why, but I have a feeling we're about to get the bum rush for a late lunch.”

“Yeah.” She grinned. “I think you might be right.”

The next ten minutes were a blur of congratulations, staggering backslaps and handshakes. She smiled so much her cheeks hurt, but she couldn't help it.

From the corner of her eye, she caught Miranda Effingham slip out the side door. Let her sulk. Maybe she'd think twice about picking on the new guy from now on.

A spike of awareness lifted the hairs on the back of her neck. And she knew he was behind her.

“Hey.”

Her body shivered in response to Trace's voice. She turned, and stared up into his eyes, and smiled.

 

She was smiling. That had to be a good thing.

“Hey, yourself, cowboy.” She looked past his arm to the trickle of people who had yet to exit the building. “Interesting meeting.”

“Yeah, well. I heard these things were a real riot. Couldn't pass up a chance to see for myself. Community outreach, and all that.” She said nothing, and he started to feel like an idiot. Rather than reach for her and pull her into his arms for a hug, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “So, you must be relieved.”

“I'm a lot of things.” She ran a hand over her eyes, as if wiping away the stress of the day. “Relieved is a biggie.”

“And?”

“Grateful, for another.” She reached for him, and the skin of his forearm sizzled where she touched. “Thank you. I know it was you who brought all these people out here.”

“I just told them when and where. They made up their minds to come on their own. You might be the new guy, Jo, but you're far from unwanted.” He hoped she understood that he meant that in more ways than one.

But he'd promised not to push.

“Where's Seth?”

Not a question he'd expected. “At home with Bea. I'm sure they're catching up on the week's soaps. When I get home, he'll likely think he's his own evil twin, bent on revenge for one of his stuffed animals ruining his life.”

She laughed. “She's just keeping up on—”

“Industry news,” they finished together, and chuckled.

“Yeah, well, anyway. You heading back to the bar? I think you're going to have a standing room only situation on your hands tonight.”

“Eventually.” She smiled a little, the gesture confusing him. Normally, she smiled at him like that right before she would jump him in bed.

“Then I should let you go.”

“Don't.” Her other arm wrapped around him, pulling them together. “Don't let me go.”

“Jo,” he warned.

“I screwed up. Full disclosure, I do that sometimes. Maybe more than sometimes.”

The words, almost a mirror of what he'd told her before, made him smile. “People are watching,” he said without moving his mouth.

“Let them.” She didn't look around, just kept eye contact. “I freaked out. You've had like a year to handle being a dad. I had a few days with the little guy, and only a couple of hours alone. I still need time to get there, feel comfortable with Seth. But that doesn't mean I don't like him.”

“I know that.” Taking a chance, he stroked one hand down her ponytail, gripping the end at the small of her back. “I do. And he likes you, too.”

“And I like his dad.” She took a deep breath, pressing her breasts into his chest. “Maybe I even more than like his dad.”

“More than like, huh?” He grinned at that. “How about I take the first step? I love you, Jo.”

She let her forehead fall to his sternum. “Why is it so easy for you to say? Isn't the girl supposed to be all in touch with her emotions and the guy all hung up on using words like that?”

“So we've got a little role reversal. No big. I'm man enough to know when I'm in love. And I still get to wear the chaps.”

She laughed. Laughed so hard tears started to roll down her cheeks.“Okay. Take me home to my bordello.”

 

The minute her apartment door closed behind them, Jo tore at his shirt. Her hands slid over warm skin, sleek hard muscles. Oh, God, she'd missed him.

“Oh!” She startled as he lifted her up with both hands under her ass. On cue, she wrapped her legs around his waist and let him carry her the rest of the way to the bed.

“Don't push me away again.” His lips moved over her face. Up the bridge of her nose, over her eyelids, her temple, down to nuzzle below her ear. “Kick me out for the night if you're pissed at me. But don't push me away.”

“No.” She could barely breathe the word through the tightness in her chest.

He lowered them both to the bed and undressed her slowly, pulling her nice jacket off and tossing it to the floor. She had a fleeting thought that it'd have to be hung up, but then he managed to tug the supportive chemise top down over her breast and latch his mouth on her nipple and she didn't care about laundry. Her hands cupped the back of his head, fingers scratching. Her head dug into the pillow as she arched into him.

And then she was cold. Or cooler than she'd been before. Somehow he'd managed to divest her of her pants while she'd been enjoying his attentions up top. Smooth operator, this cowboy. Smoother still, as he slid down her body and put that sweet-talking mouth to good use. His shoulders propped her thighs wider and one hand rested over her stomach, keeping her from moving too much while he licked through her warmth.

Her stomach tightened under his touch, but he rubbed until she relaxed. At least, relaxed her torso. Her hands fisted in the comforter and she resisted the urge to scream. What with a full house downstairs, she figured that wouldn't exactly be good for business. Or the rumors about her running a brothel . . .

“Oh, God. Trace . . .” Her hands found his head and she stroked until she couldn't wait any longer. “Stop, please stop.”

He lifted his head, and she smiled. “With me.”

He broke land records for removing his clothes—if such records existed—and was with her in an instant, pushing inside her, moving with her until they were both sweating from the exertion to hold back. Without saying it, they both wanted to make it last.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing her neck. “I love you.”

She wanted to say something, anything. But her climax caught her off guard and she cried out. He muffled her sounds with a deep kiss, back tightening under her hands, as he came.

Five minutes later, Jo was still struggling to regulate her breathing.