Love Is in the Air (72 page)

“God, I would have loved to have grown up in the country. I think it makes you respect it more.”

His temporary lapse of cynicism ended as Quinton responded flatly, “Not necessarily.”

“Really?” Ralph gave him a sideways glance. “Because rumor is, back in the day, you respected it so much you weren’t above spiking a tree or two.”

Quinton stopped cold and turned on his young assistant. “I never…” He had to hold his rage back. More levelly he answered, “I never monkey wrenched. Never put anyone or any animal in jeopardy.”

“Hey, I’m not saying I’d blame you if—”

“Well, you should. Anyone who does that crap is no environmentalist. They’re self-righteous cowards. Nothing more.”

Quinton held Ralph’s gaze, then the shorter man did the weirdest thing; he smiled. “Dude, I was just going to say I wouldn’t blame you if you got tired of having to defend yourself all the time.” Ralph renewed his stroll down the street. “I thought I’d let you answer the rumor yourself rather than judge you by office gossip.”

“But… I…”

Ralph shrugged. “Back at college, I was at the ER for an ear infection when a logger came in, cut up, bad, after his chainsaw hit a spike. He lost an eye and half his face. I may be new to this, but maybe cut me some slack. I’m not that naïve.”

The younger man took several steps down the road before Quinton’s shock wore off. This kid just kept surprising him. He trotted to catch up. He had wanted to say something, maybe even apologize, but the words just didn’t come so they walked through the twilight in silence.

Only the occasional laugh or shout carried on the wind from the neighboring homes. Some might call the houses cute. Each one had a tidy front yard, and they were all about the same size. They had that early tract home look before the country knew what a tract home was.

As they strolled past the town, his assistant kept fidgeting with his collar. It seemed Ralph was going for a more earthy look tonight and could not get his flannel shirt to lie the way he wanted it to. Quinton did not know much about fashion, but the pocket protector that was neatly filled with mechanical pencils did not exactly go with the plaid shirt or the thick hiking boots that Ralph was wearing.

“You might want to button that top one,” Quinton mentioned. Normally he wouldn’t comment on another man’s wardrobe, but the four stray hairs that poked out of the collar did nothing to enhance the macho image that Ralph was obviously shooting for.

The younger man fidgeted even more. “Why?”

Quinton indicated the offending stray hairs. “Just a little sparse there.”

“What? These?” Ralph preened the hairs as if they were King Solomon’s mane. “The ladies love ‘em.”

Shrugging, Quinton let it go. If the kid thought he looked hot, who was he to stop him? Besides, “Wagon Wheel of B-B-Q” flashed from a cracked neon sign just ahead. The establishment looked like any other small- town diner. The paint on the outside of the building was flaking off in huge chunks. The fake rock exterior had a few gashes in it, revealing the underlying pink primer. The place had the look and feel of a dive. Quinton could only hope that the money they saved on upkeep was spent on the quality of their beef.

Ralph was on his game as they entered the restaurant. His assistant smiled broadly at the hostess, and even though she was a pretty little thing, she smiled back. Ralph really had no shame.

The young hostess asked, “How many?”

“Two, please,” Ralph said with a wink. “Unless, of course, you would like to join us?”

Blushing and giggling, the girl answered, “I’d love to, but my boss wouldn’t like that much.”

Ralph lightly laid a hand on the hostess’s shoulder as they walked down the aisle. “Well, I’ll just have to talk to the him about that.”

Quinton would have gotten himself slapped if he had tried a maneuver like that. But the young woman just laughed and gave them the best seat in the house, although that was up for debate. The booth that the girl led them to was smack-dab in front of the huge open spit. On long skewers, racks of meat and chicken turned slowly over the fire. It had been years since Quinton had been a vegetarian, but the sight of so much flesh still turned his stomach. Maybe he would just have the “monster salad” tonight.

“Look who just walked in,” Ralph said over his open menu.

Quinton looked behind him to find a family of four entering the restaurant, but he did not recognize a one of them. The father of the group was already giving the hostess a hassle while the rest of the family looked on, obviously embarrassed. The mother turned away from the scene and caught Quinton’s eye.

For a brief moment, they looked at one another. Perhaps they were both trying to figure out if they knew each other or not.

“Smile,” Ralph whispered harshly to Quinton as he kicked him under the table.

Without thinking, Quinton obeyed the younger man halfheartedly. But when the woman responded with a shy grin, his own lips widened into a true smile. All else seemed to vanish. The loud hiss of fat hitting the grill. The clatter of dishes being washed. All this faded as he smiled.

The corner of the woman’s eyes crinkled a bit, and he thought she might say something, but the real world intruded upon their perfect moment. The husband grabbed the woman’s arm and jerked her toward a booth on the other side of the restaurant. Quinton felt like jumping up to her defense, but the family was whisked away so quickly that he did not have time.

“Who was that?” Quinton asked, still disturbed by the experience. Whether it was the feeling he had toward the woman or her husband’s cruelty, he did not know.

“Oh, that was the Togglehorn family,” Ralph answered ever so casually as he pulled the menu up in front of his face.

Quinton could not believe it. “No way. How would you know?”

“Hello? The huge mural above the secretary’s desk? The guy practically built a shrine to himself.”

“You… You had me smile at Mr. Togglehorn’s wife?”

Ralph just shrugged despite Quinton’s horrified tone. “Yep. Fun, wasn’t it?”

Quinton did not have time to judge the interaction, only that he had done it. Damn, this new assistant was going to get him into trouble. What had he been thinking? Smiling at a married woman? He could not let Ralph’s Don Juan attitude infect him as well. Quinton knew well the price for such idealism.

“What’ll you have?” the waitress asked, startling Quinton.

Ralph, however, smoothly answered, “Is it just me, or are all the women in this town just lovely?”

Even this stodgy, husky-voiced-from-years-of-smoking-unfiltered-cigarettes waitress unconsciously fussed with her hair. “It must be the water,” the woman replied.

The younger man smiled and nodded over to the far side of the restaurant. “Is that Mr. Togglehorn?”

“Sure enough is.”

“What does he like to drink?” Ralph asked.

Quinton wondered what his assistant was up to. His mind was still trying to wrap itself around the idea that he had just flirted with the local tyrant’s wife.

The waitress held no affection in her voice. “He’s a Coors man.”

“Great. Send him over a Longneck for us. No, wait. Bring the beer here, and we’ll deliver it ourselves.”

The woman raised an eyebrow but wrote down the request on her little green notepad. He tried to keep his eyes to himself, but Quinton kept looking across the room at the woman. Had she been as attractive as he thought?

On closer inspection, the woman was slightly rumpled. A few hairs out of place, not enough to be called messy, but disheveled enough for Quinton to know that she didn’t fuss constantly about her appearance. He liked that quality. But what was he thinking? She was Togglehorn’s wife, the very man that Ralph wanted to go over and chat with. Quinton was barely conscious of agreeing to order the Hungry Man Platter; he was too eager to get Ralph alone again.

Once the waitress sauntered off, swaying her rump far more than she had on the way over, Quinton lit into his assistant. “What in the hell do you think you are doing?”

“When else are we going to have a shot at him? Do you really think he’ll care that Irene highlighted our appointment?”

“No, but—”

The younger man waved his hand. “Just leave it to the master. By the time dinner is served, we’ll have permission to go over their records.”

“Ralph, this isn’t a game, damn it.”

His assistant looked almost amused. “You’re just upset that you smiled at his wife. No biggie.”

Quinton tried to keep his voice down, but he was sure his harsh whisper carried to the other tables. “It is a big deal to me. And I’m sure it would be a big deal to Mr. Togglehorn.”

The younger man chuckled a bit and leaned toward Quinton. “It’s harmless. I just try to make everyone’s day a little nicer, that’s all. Don’t worry. I’m sure she hasn’t even given it a second thought.”

CHAPTER 4

Regina had to keep her eyes on the table, or else they kept straying to the handsome stranger. His smile had somehow warmed her evening. She had barely noticed what Wayne ordered for her.

No matter what came to the table, she was simply expected to eat it and look like she enjoyed it. Meryl had fussed a bit about the selection, but finally settled in to read her school assignment. Wayne had nearly come unglued that his daughter was reading in public, like it was some kind of perversion, but he was too busy talking to Michael about the teen’s glowing future to really stop her.

Normally, Regina’s stomach would have been in knots over Wayne’s arrogant plans for their son, but she was too preoccupied with the stranger. Who was he? Was he just being polite, or did he think she was single? With Wayne around bellowing orders, that was not very likely. Sadly, she had to admit the stranger was simply being nice.

“Mr. Togglehorn?” a man asked as he approached the table.

Regina looked up to find the stranger and another young man beside their table. She had been so engrossed in the tablecloth that she did not see them approach. Her cheeks flushed red as the stranger grinned at her again.

“What in the hell do you want?” Wayne replied. Regina knew how little love her husband had for out-of-towners.

The young man only smiled and offered her husband a Coors Longneck bottle. “We just wanted to buy you a drink. We’d be happy to buy the whole table one if you like.”

Regina tried really hard not to look up, but her eyes were drawn to the stranger. He was tall, probably taller than even Wayne. The man certainly stayed in far better shape than her husband. Underneath the soft flannel, you could see muscles stretching the fabric. And those eyes. All blue-gray. The dark hair with a just a sprinkling of silver could keep her occupied for hours. His matching mustache could tickle her cheek anytime it wanted to.

But what was she thinking, for God’s sake? She was married. No, she was not just married. Regina was married to Mr. Togglehorn. His wife was not allowed to even have thoughts like this.

Wayne inspected the label and then took a swig. “That won’t be necessary. Thanks.” He tipped the bottle toward them, but obviously they did not get the hint that the gesture was Wayne’s equivalent of a dismissal.

“No problem. Sir, we’re the survey team that’s been assigned to—”

“I don’t talk business after hours, boy. Take it up at the office.”

It was the tall stranger’s turn to talk, and his voice was as deep and as resonant as Regina could have hoped for. Not Wayne’s nasal twang.

“Mr. Togglehorn, we’ve tried and haven’t gotten anywhere.”

Wayne’s shoulders tensed. Regina wanted to warn the two men, but did not know what to say. Luckily, they were out in public so her husband held his temper in check, at least a little bit. “Like I said, make an appointment.”

The men must have sensed the finality to his tone, for they both nodded. The younger man stretched out his hand. “Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, then.”

It took a moment for the man to realize that Wayne was not going to shake his hand. Even as the younger man lowered his arm, he kept a smile on his face. “Good night, and have a great meal.”

The tall stranger, on the other hand, looked ready to challenge Wayne’s rudeness. As much as she wanted the stranger to talk some more, Regina begged him with her eyes to leave. Fighting with her husband never got anyone anywhere. In the end, the tall man abruptly nodded his good-bye. Just before he turned around, the stranger smiled again at Regina. This time it was a tight one. A bit crooked and lopsided, but utterly perfect.

Regina watched the two walk away and wished intently that Wayne had not been at dinner.

“Can you say ‘hotty’?” Meryl exclaimed.

“Shh!” Regina chided her daughter.

Wayne turned with a scalding look. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“That guy. The tall one. He was H-O-T. You know, babealicious? Hunk-o-rama?”

“What are you talking about?”

Meryl just shrugged and took another sip of her milkshake. “Mom understands.”

Regina wanted to melt into the fake leather cushions. Certainly she did know, but she wasn’t about to tell Wayne that.

“Well, Regina? What damn bullshit have you been teaching her?”

There was no point in informing her husband that she and Meryl would routinely go through the teen magazines and pick out their favorite guys. Regina had justified this giddy ritual to bonding with her daughter, but really she just plain enjoyed it. When she was Meryl’s age, her family did not have the money to buy anything beyond macaroni and cheese. Once old enough, her father practically sold her off to Wayne.

There was no harm in finally having a little girly fun with her daughter, was there? Well, yes there was, especially if Meryl kept announcing these things at the dinner table.

“She just thought the man was cute, Wayne.”

“And what in the hell was she doing looking at him?”

Meryl cut in before Regina could defuse the situation. “And like you don’t stare at your secretary’s butt!”

Wayne looked ready to bolt out of his chair and launch across the table at their daughter. Regina caught her husband’s arm as it raised and gently but firmly pulled it down to the table. Wayne looked as shocked as Regina that she had done such a thing. Trying to scramble out of the moment without any more violence, verbal or otherwise, Regina scolded her daughter for the outburst. Not that Wayne did not deserve it, but this argument needed to end, and this was the only way out.