The Great Jackalope Stampede (41 page)

“About me not being pregnant?”

“No. That was all too new for me to digest yet, and you confirmed what I had believed before I even walked in the bar—that you weren’t pregnant.”

“Disappointed in me then?” That was nothing new for Claire. She had grown up disappointing her mother on a weekly basis. But Mac feeling that way about her was very different. The cut went deeper because he had believed in her from the start, and letting him down stung like the dickens.

“I’m not disappointed in you.” He glanced over at her, his lips flat. “I’m not Deborah.” He swerved to avoid a deep rut. “But you are who you are, Claire, and I know that commitment in any shape or form scares the shit out of you.”

She stared out at the desert with its barbed outer layer of cholla, barrel, and prickly pear cacti. Why did she get such stomach flutters at the idea of letting someone come close? Mac was so careful not to push her too fast or ask too much of her. While her brain insisted that settling down and spending her life growing old with him might not be such a bad deal, her adrenal glands pumped like a firehose whenever the word “marriage” was uttered.

Maybe it was because her parents’ marriage had sucked. After three decades of staying together through yelling and fighting, they’d ended it with more pain and anger.

Her grandparents on the other hand had seemed to be happy throughout their wedded life. But now Claire knew that while her grandmother may have made a good wife, her mothering skills had been lacking. Had Grandma given all of her attention and devotion to her husband, ignoring her daughters in the process? Claire should probably ask Gramps for his version of the past before painting any pictures on her own.

“You must have been stressed out this last week,” Mac’s voice interrupted her commitment phobia therapy session.

Her laugh held no humor. “Having a baby is some serious shit.”

“I know.” Mac pulled to the side of the dirt road and killed the engine. “I should have been here with you.” He frowned out the front window, nodding his head at the mountain that held the Lucky Monk in its belly. “Someday, I would like to be one of the people you lean on. Like you do with your family.”

“What are you talking about? I lean on you.”

“Ha!” He grabbed his backpack from the seat between them and shoved open his door. “When have you ever leaned on me, Slugger?”

“How about Sophy and all of the crazy stuff that went down with her?”

He bent down and peered inside the cab. “You weren’t leaning on me. You were confiding in me.” He shut the door and waited outside for her.

She grabbed the flashlight and hardhat he had insisted she bring and joined him out on the path that led up to the mine. “How about when I needed your help back in August, figuring out who was trying to take Ruby’s mines away from her?”

He ducked under a mesquite tree and held the thorny branches back for her to follow unscathed. “You didn’t ask for my help with that; Ruby did.”

Oh, yeah. Hmmm.

Now that she thought about it, Ruby had been turning to Mac for help since Claire had met them both. Was that why he wanted her to turn to him for help? To be more like
his
family? She thought of Gramps and his grumping and growling since he had broken his leg. Now it all made sense. He saw Ruby always asking Mac for help, too. Gramps wanted to be the one she turned to for help, just like Mac wanted Claire to lean on him.

“You were going to figure out on your own who was trying to screw Ruby out of her mines,” Mac said over his shoulder. “You’re doing the same thing with that pocket watch, figuring it out.”

“That’s not true. I asked Kate to help me.”

“Exactly.” He turned around, walking backward for a couple of steps. “You asked your sister, not me.”

“That’s because you thought I was making a big deal out of nothing.”

He held onto his rebuttal until he made it to the base of the path leading up to the Lucky Monk where he waited for her to catch up. “That’s not what I said.”

Claire closed the distance. “That’s what I remember.”

“You remember wrong, then.” When she frowned up at him, he grabbed the brim of her Mighty Mouse cap and tugged it sideways a little. “My concern from the beginning was that you were nosing into something that would get you into trouble again. Judging from what you and Ronnie told me last night about Sheriff Harrison and that article about the watch being stolen from a German castle, it appears I was right to worry. Trouble is on its way.”

She straightened her hat. “Not if Ronnie can fix this mess first.”

His eyebrows tipped down in the middle. “You really think she can figure out a way to convince the Sheriff to overlook this?”

“I don’t know. Ronnie is different these days. I have faith in her ability to dig herself out of a mess. She claims to have gotten out of worse during her divorce.”

“Worse what, I wonder.” He grabbed her hand and tugged on it. “Come on. Let’s get you up this hillside.”

She scoffed. “You say that as if my legs are wet noodles.”

His grin warmed his eyes. “I’ve hiked with you before, Slugger. You aren’t exactly outdoors material.”

“Kiss my ass,” she said, passing by him on her way up.

“I’ll take a raincheck on that,” he replied about sixty seconds later when she slowed, huffing, and he cruised on by her.

Dust coated her throat and skin as she climbed behind Mac, taking his hand whenever he offered it. Her pride took a back seat to a heart attack. Under the warm sunshine, sweat ran down her back, soaking the waistline of her jeans and top of her underwear. Mac on the other hand had barely broken into a dew. The bastard.

When they made it to the mouth of the mine, he paused to let her catch her breath.

“Isn’t there … an easier way … up here?”

“Not on two legs.”

She needed to hire a mule.

“Take off your shirt, Slugger.”

She frowned up at him. Had she heard that right? “Did you just tell me to flash you?”

Chuckling, he unzipped his bag and pulled out one of his T-shirts, holding it out to her. “Yes, but for honorable reasons. Your shirt is too sweaty to wear for long in there. You’ll be shivering in no time. As much as I enjoy your body’s reaction to cold …” His gaze lowered to her chest and hovered there for a handful of heartbeats. “I’d rather have you dry and comfortable.”

“Oh, good point.” She shrugged off her T-shirt and took his shirt. “What about my bra?”

“I like the blue polka dots,” he reached out, running his fingertips over the mound of flesh just above the bra. “What do they look like on the inside of the bra?”

She watched his hand explore her flesh and then looked into his eyes, her body tingling from the current crackling between them. This was what had been missing since last night, his flirting and teasing.

She caught his hand. “I’m not asking for your opinion of my bra. You made that loud and clear when you tore it off a few weeks ago on your way down to my underwear. I’m asking if I should take it off as well since it’s damp?”

Mac grimaced. “As much as it pains me to say this, leave it on.” He pulled back and jammed both hands into his front pockets.

Claire pulled his T-shirt on over her head. It hung down to her thighs, so she wound it and tied it at her hip. She took off her Mighty Mouse cap and slapped on her hard hat.

“Okay, let’s go.” She led the way inside the mouth, pausing to turn on her flashlight.

He came up behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her back against him. “How do you feel about having sex in a mine this morning?”

“I bet you say that to all the girls.”

He kissed the back of her neck, his lips soft and tickling, and then chuckled all warm and husky in her ear. “Kissing you after that hike up here is like licking a salt block.”

She pulled away and wrinkled her nose at him. “A salt block? You could have lied and said I tasted sweet.”

“Why?” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along. “I like licking salt, especially off of your skin.”

“That’s a little better.”

They walked in silence for a way, and then she remembered something he had said back in the pickup. “What are you disappointed in, if not me?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He let go of her hand and pulled out a folded map of the mine.

“Why not?”

He paused, using the light on his much fancier hard hat to spotlight the map, and traced one of the lines on it. “Because it will sound stupid if I say it aloud.”

“Try it.”

Folding the map, he took off again, walking faster, pulling away from her in the darkness. “I’m disappointed in us, Claire,” he said quietly, his voice almost blocked out by the sound of their boots on the rock floor. “I thought we were farther along with all that has gone on between us.” He rubbed the back of his neck, turning to her. “See, sounds silly, right?”

Silly? More like a little gut squirmy. As much as commitment made her antsy, she wanted Mac to remain strong and steady in her world. He was kind and smart and witty, and he knew all of her bells and whistles in bed, and in the shower, on the kitchen table, and … she was digressing.

She caught up to him, catching his hand and squeezing it. “I told you last night at the bar, I planned on telling you as soon as we got a moment alone. But lately it’s been hard to steal any time away from everyone else with the new restrooms going up and all of my family hanging around.”

“I don’t know if you realize it, Claire, but it’s always like that now.” His beam of light landed on her for a moment before he turned forward again. “I practically need to kidnap you in order to get you to myself these days. I’m looking forward to the day when you come home without Ronnie in tow.”

A squeaky moan leaked out from her throat before she could catch it.

“What?” he asked, slowing.

“Well,” she winced as she spoke, “you know how Kate’s pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“I sort of offered to let her stay with us in Tucson until she has the baby and gets back on her feet.”

Mac stopped. “You did what?”

She shielded her eyes in the light from his hard hat. “She needs me, Mac.”

“Don’t we all,” he said and did not sound a bit happy about it. He walked away, shaking his head, his light beam moving side-to-side on the walls.

“I’m sorry,” she called after him. “It’s your house and I should have talked to you about it first.”

“It’s
our
house, Claire. But it would have been nice to be able to offer an opinion in the matter.” He looked down one of the side drifts but kept moving forward. “For once.”

“Hey,” she caught up to him. “You’re the one who invited Ronnie to stay, not me. I knew better.”

“You’re right.” He looked down at his map again. “What was I thinking?”

“I’ll tell you exactly what you were thinking if you’d slow your ass down.”

He stood and waited for her, his arms crossed. “I’m all ears.”

She walked up and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling his mouth down to hers. Their hats clacked together. She tipped her head sideways and kissed him hard on the lips.

“You were being a nice guy who was helping his girlfriend’s sister because he wanted to help her family like he always helps his.”

“Wow.” He trailed his finger along her jawline. “I was thinking more along the lines of me being a big sucker, but I like your version better.” He leaned his hard hat against hers. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to come home with me, Claire.”

She took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “Thanks.”

“But I draw the line at your mother. She can stay with Manny.”

Groaning, she clapped her hand over her eyes. The images of Manny and her mother were waiting there for her every time she closed her lids, still crystal clear twenty-four hours later. She prayed her brain did not decide to reformat the film and start showing it in 3-D.

“God, don’t remind me. I’m afraid I won’t be able to have sex again without thinking of them. All of that whipped cream and refried beans.” She groaned again.

Mac pulled her hand away from her eyes and kissed the back of it. “I’ll give you some really good therapy, Slugger.” He flipped her hand over and rained kisses up the inside of her wrist, like Gomez Addams. “Lots of therapy. We’ll get through this together. Now come on. The chamber I told Dr. García I would take a look at is up ahead.”

She fell in behind him, careful not to trip over the rusted ore cart rails leading the way deeper into the mine. Several twists and turns later, he came to an abrupt stop. Claire ran into his back, knocking her hard hat off.

“Oops,” she scooped it up, fitting it back on her head.

She joined Mac, staring down at the four foot wide hole in the mine floor with several one-by-six wooden boards boxing it in. “Is this part of what you wanted to check on?”

“No.”

“Then why are we looking at it?”

“Because of that rope.”

Claire followed the beam of his hard hat and saw a strand of black nylon rope tied to a spike tucked behind one of the boards. She took a step closer to get a better look.

Mac locked onto her arm. “Be careful, Claire. Never get too close to a shaft.”

“I know.” She had learned that lesson the hard way with Jessica up in one of Ruby’s other mines a few months back.

She peeked over the edge of the shaft, shining her flashlight down into the dark inky depths. A rickety looking ladder was bolted to the side, leading into the blackness beyond where Claire’s beam reached. The rope hung taut down along the ladder. Whatever was at the other end was beyond the light.

Goosebumps crept up her arms. She stepped back and grabbed Mac’s hand. “What’s with the rope?”

“That’s what I’m wondering.” He tucked her behind him, shielding her. “It wasn’t there the last time I was back in this area.”

What was at the other end of the rope?

She peeked around his shoulder. “How long ago was that?”

“Last week.”

* * *

The red pickup was back.

It was the same pickup Ronnie had seen here and there—The Shaft, the grocery store, the library, parking lots. The driver was keeping back, following her from a distance but following nonetheless.