A Date With the Other Side (20 page)

“Likewise,” Amanda said with a brilliant pearl-white smile. “Are you brother and sister?” she asked Danny.

Danny, who looked his usual impassive and friendly self, seemed to have recovered from his earlier fascination with Amanda’s height and breasts, and just shook his head. “Actually, Shelby’s my ex-wife.”

Danny locked eyes with Shelby, his gaze dropping to Boston’s hand resting on her. She read the question in his expression and, embarrassed and not sure why, she took a step forward, forcing Boston’s hand to drop.

Before Amanda could voice the question that seemed to be floating from her unnaturally plump lips, Shelby smiled at her. “I run a haunted house tour, Amanda. Maybe you’d like to come one day while you’re here and see the local spirit spots. You look like a thrill seeker.”

Maybe the Bigleys’ cow would moo and scare her back to Chicago.

“Haunted houses? How intriguing. Sure, give me the details and I’ll come.”

“Boston’s house is haunted,” Danny offered. “And so is the house you’re staying in, Amanda, though it’s not on Shelby’s tour. Too far out.”

“The house I’m staying in is haunted?” Amanda looked thrilled at the prospect.

“My house just has drafts,” Boston said, still in denial. Then he shot Shelby an intimate look. “And I still haven’t gotten the complete tour, Shelby.”

And Shelby knew precisely why. Because he’d made her moan in a barn, and she’d panicked. But she wasn’t going to give him any Haunted Cuttersville Tour. He didn’t give a crap about the ghosts, and she knew it. It was just an excuse for him to remind her of how he’d made her feel with her clothes off.

“Absolutely, the house is haunted,” Danny said. “Both of them.”

“Who’s haunting it? Short people?” Amanda asked wryly. “The ceilings were not made with twenty-first-century women in mind.”

“Who haunts the Gray House, Shel, honey? I can’t remember,” Danny asked.

“The woman in the mirror.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

“What mirror?” Amanda looked like she thought it was hooey, but was still curious.

“The one in the second bedroom, the room with the glass in the door.”

“Why is there glass in the door anyway? It’s not exactly private.”

“That was a porch at one time, so that door was an exterior door. No one knows where that mirror originally came from, but rumor has it a young virile German man was passing through town, and stopped to rest for the night at the local drinking establishment.” Shelby lowered her voice. “He met a girl here in Cuttersville that night, and married her, and built her that cute little gray house, a love bungalow. Only one night he disappeared, the only sign of anything wrong a large black dog waiting outside in the yard. Some say it was the devil set to escort the man to hell. For it turned out he was a murderer back in Germany, and carrying a stash of stolen money.”

Danny was grinning.

Boston was rolling his eyes.

Amanda was affecting boredom, but her eyes gleamed with interest.

“So the widow died broke and brokenhearted, ashamed that she had bedded down with the devil’s helpmate, and they say if you look in that mirror, her face stares back at you, beseeching you to understand. And she cries soundless tears, eyes locked on yours…”

The Cuttersville fire engine let out a blast of its horn as it rolled by and they all jumped. Amanda gave a screech before clamping her hand over her mouth.

“Jesus! What the hell is that?” Whirling around, she adjusted her enormous bag on her shoulder. “Oh, shit, it’s just a fire truck. What are they making so much noise for?”

Shelby wanted to laugh. Amanda glared toward the fire engine, and just about every fireman perched at various spots around the truck almost fell off as they gaped at the full frontal view of her. Shelby suspected the ladder wasn’t the only thing rising as eyes plastered all over Amanda’s chest and that offensive T-shirt she was wearing. Walking behind the ladder truck, Howie actually gathered enough nerve to smile and wave at her.

The truck ground to a halt as the parade slowed down, and Howie slammed into the back of the truck, clipping his shoulder. Shelby didn’t think he even noticed, though, especially not since Amanda had deigned to wave back, retrieving her little American flag from her skirt and raising it in salute.

“There are a surprisingly large amount of attractive men in this town,” Amanda said thoughtfully, still eyeing Howie.

Howie? Shelby thought hair dye must have addled the girl’s brains. “Howie’s pretty cute,” she said to be polite, which earned her an evil glare from both Boston and Danny.

“Hey, look, those sweet little boys are throwing candy to me.” Amanda started casually grabbing at the candy the middle-school-aged Boy Scouts were flinging at her by the handful, their eyes as wide as Frisbees.

Amanda bent over and Shelby swore she heard a collective gasp from the boys. It was a day they’d probably remember all through puberty. Amanda stood back up with a dozen pieces of candy and dropped them into her voluminous bag.

Shelby was a little shocked to find out that Amanda actually ate.

“What is
that
thing?” Boston asked with a frown. “It says Samson Plastics on the side of it.”

“It’s the Samson float, can’t you tell?” Shelby thought this year’s was the best yet. “It’s made entirely out of two-liter bottles, the primary product manufactured in Cuttersville.”

Of course, Boston would know that and Amanda wouldn’t give a darn, but somehow she wanted to stress that Cuttersville wasn’t just any old run-of-the-mill hick town. They had spooks
and
plastic. Not every town could claim that.

“It’s very creative,” Boston said wryly. “Oh, and look, there’s a mock-up of a soft drink pouring into a giant bottle. Corporate dollars hard at work.”

“It’s called community involvement,” Shelby said. “It shows Samson cares about this town and the people who live here.” Unlike Fancy Pants there. She glared at Boston for good measure.

“You’re right,” he said, shocking her speechless. “I never thought of it that way.”

“This whole down-home parade business is kind of fun,” Amanda said with a smile and another triumphant wave of her flag, this time at the veterans’ group who all appeared to be saluting her.

Shelby figured she could have this much fun sorting her laundry into whites and darks. “The sun is getting to me. I’m heading home.”

Danny turned to her solicitously. “Maybe you should get some water. I’ll walk you home.”

Boston looked ready to wrest Danny’s hand from her arm, but he paused, watching Amanda, looking torn.

His first responsibility obviously was staying with his boss’s daughter, and the knowledge of that didn’t make Shelby feel any better.

Danny would always be there, true and comforting. Boston was a flash of passion, a hot forbidden desire, like a crack of lightning in the summer heat.

Boston watched her edge away from the street, but before she could fully escape, he leaned down and whispered in her ear.

“I’ll be there to pick you up tonight, Shelby, eight o’clock.” His fingers brushed back her hair, and she shivered as his warm breath danced across her cheek. “Pack your toothbrush and whatever else you’ll need to spend the night.”

Then he turned back to Amanda and the parade.

Just as casual as you please.

Damn, the man was sexy.

Boston pulled onto Turkey Trail and found Bob’s house right away. As he took in the picnickers in their shorts and T-shirts lounging around in white plastic chairs, he was extremely grateful that Amanda had declined his invitation to join him.

She’d had enough of Cuttersville for one morning and had gone back to the Gray House to take a nap, and probably buff the country air out of her pores. Considering Amanda was about as subtle as a raging bull in designer clothes, he couldn’t say he was sorry. He actually wanted to enjoy this picnic.

And he did. A beer and a plastic plate loaded with carbohydrates were shoved into his hand, and he found himself mingling with Samson employees and the Turkey Trail neighbors.

Kids ran around the yard shooting water pistols at each other, occasionally pausing to stuff potato chips in their mouths, but otherwise left unfettered.

Never once in his entire childhood had Boston run unfettered.

He found now that he was kind of enjoying being part of this casual group, sitting around, talking about nothing. He didn’t even mind when someone grabbed a camera and forced all the company employees to stand together for a group photo.

When his Samson acquaintances stood up to refill their plates, a woman took the empty seat next to him.

“I’m so glad to meet you, Boston.” She smiled at him with round cheeks flushed from the heat, her brown hair sitting like a cap around her face. “I’m Cheryl, Bob’s wife.”

“Oh, nice to meet you too.” Boston stuck out his hand. “Thank you for inviting me, I’m enjoying myself.”

“Well…” Cheryl looked around the yard with pride. “Bob and I have done this every year since we got married. It’s fun.”

She crossed her feet. “So are you here for long? Are you liking Cuttersville? It takes some getting used to when you rely on big-city conveniences.”

“A little.” A lot. But Boston sat under the hot sun, listening to the roar of the men laughing over the grill, the chatter of the women, the shrieks of the children playing in the crunchy browning grass, and he thought there were some really good things about Cuttersville.

“I like it more than I anticipated.”

And it occurred to him, for the first time in startling clarity since Amanda had revealed the reasons behind his banishment, that Brett’s purpose in sending him to Cuttersville was not being served. Amanda had followed him, and while she appeared to have no interest in pursuing him, Brett didn’t know that. He might just turn around and whisk Boston, and Amanda, right back to Chicago, where he could at least keep an eye on them and protect Boston from her alleged poverty-creating clutches.

Boston didn’t know how he felt about that.

Two weeks before, he would have willingly shredded his season tickets to the Cubs for a chance to shake the Cuttersville dust off him and go home. But now he wasn’t so sure he’d be in the same frenzy to pack his bags.

Not yet anyway. There were a few things he still wanted to achieve before he left.

Like ensuring the Samson plant was on solid footing.

Not to mention getting Shelby Tucker down on that eyelet spread in his bedroom and following things to their natural conclusion after a quick stop at the drugstore for essentials.

No, he definitely wasn’t ready to leave just yet.

“Mom, I don’t want another cupcake, thanks.” Shelby waved off the proffered treat her mother had shoved under her nose, the blue-sprayed frosting turning her stomach.

She’d already eaten too much.

Displaced physical longing was what it was.

She’d spent all day pondering Boston’s toothbrush comment and wondering if the barn had been a fluke occurrence owing to the alignment of the planets or the supernatural powers of a dead cow, or if she’d actually have another orgasm under Boston’s tutelage.

Or under his mouth, or his hands, or his tongue…

Her mothers hand slapped on her forehead. “Are you coming down with something? You’re turning down sweets and you look all hot and sweaty.”

“It’s almost ninety degrees out. Everyone’s sweating.” Except her mother, who looked fresh and patriotic, an Uncle Sam top hat perched on her blond head.

Dave, her mother’s boyfriend, wandered over and rested his hand on her behind, like it was just magnetically drawn there. “Susan, honey, is there more beer? The boys are going thirsty.”

Her mother got flustered. “Of course there is. I bought just absolute tons, so we wouldn’t run out. Where on earth did it all go?”

She rushed off, in a hostess panic, Dave following at a more leisurely pace, surrendering his hold on her mother’s cherry red backside. The vibrant capri pants were topped with a white tank top sporting a giant blue star in the middle.

Shelby took a swallow of her diet soft drink and wondered if she could muscle her way into the shade, where the seniors were all holding court under three giant elms. There were no lawn chairs left, but she could sit on the ground, none too worried about her shorts. Between Amanda Delmar and her own mother, she felt like a troll anyway.

There were Chihuahuas with better wardrobes than hers.

And there she was, thinking about it again. Dang it, she did not care what she looked like.

Making her way across the lawn, she took in the back of her mother’s little white ranch house. She’d grown up in that house, had broken her arm on the hard-packed dirt under the metal swing set, and had struggled through her homework at the scarred oak table in the peach kitchen.

This was home, where her roots were.

She’d made out with Danny Tucker, feeling grown up and daring, behind that dilapidated shed, right where Brady had Joelle pinned right now.

Shelby veered past him, giving him a little shove. “They can see, you idiot, and Mom’s wondering where all the beer went.”

Joelle jumped back with a guilty flush, but Brady held on to her. He rolled his eyes at Shelby. “I didn’t sneak off with any beer. How lame is that to steal my aunt’s beer at one in the afternoon?”

“Lame,” she agreed.

“Hey, where’s Mac? I thought he’d be here.”

Shelby couldn’t think of Boston by that nickname Cuttersville seemed determined to saddle him with. “He’s with the Samson people. And since when are you all chummy with Boston?”

“We hang out sometimes.”

“What?” Shelby tried to envision Boston and Brady watching MTV together and couldn’t manage it.

“He’s hot,” Joelle ventured, raising shiny brown eyes toward Shelby, her hair slipping from its thin ponytail.

Now it was Brady’s turn to be astonished. “What do you know about him being hot? He’s old enough to be your
father
. Man, that’s just sick.”

“Brad Pitt is hot too, and he’s like forty,” Joelle said with a giggle. “And Russell Crowe and Sean Connery.”