Optical Delusions in Deadwood (32 page)

      “Damn it!” I yelled at the roof of the Bronco.

      Doc’s fingers stilled right at the lacy edge of my underwear.

      “It will go to voicemail,” I said and pulled him closer, teasing his mouth open with my tongue, trying to ignore the world.

      The stupid phone wouldn’t stop ringing.

      “Answer it,” Doc whispered against my lips.

      “I don’t want to stop.”

      “Neither do I, but you have kids.” He pulled back and handed me my purse. “Answer it.”

      I dug the phone out. Natalie’s number flashed. Frickin’ frack! I flipped it open. “What’s up, Nat?”

      “Where are you?”

      “I stopped off at the office for a minute to take care of some paperwork,” I lied.

      “Harvey’s making homemade ice cream. You want some?”

      “Sure.” I could stuff it down my underwear to cool off. “I’ll be right there.”

      I hung up and leaned my forehead on the steering wheel. “I really wanted you to make me scream tonight.”

      Doc blew out a breath and adjusted his jeans. “If I don’t get to have you again soon, I’m going to go blind.”

      Chuckling, I cranked the engine. A minute later, we sat idling behind the office, under the orange glow of parking lot lights. I wished I could ask him to come home with me, eat some ice cream, sit next to me on the back porch steps, but ...

      “I’d kiss you goodnight,” I said, “but I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”

      “Same here.”

      “I’ll see you in the morning.”

      “You will.” He reached for the door handle, then paused. “Just out of curiosity, what
are
you wearing under your skirt?”

      “Hmmm, let’s see.” I bit my lower lip suggestively and inched my skirt up my thigh, slow and teasing. His eyes lit up as he watched. I stopped just short of my panty line. “Nah.” I yanked my skirt back down. “Let’s keep it a secret.”

      I heard him gulp. “Holy shit,” he whispered, “you are a vixen, through and through.” With a groan, he stepped out of the Bronco, shut the door, walked around to my side, and leaned in the open window. His lazy grin softened his face.

      He ran a finger along my jaw line; his thumb brushed over my lips. My body hummed with electricity. He tilted his head toward mine, and I opened my mouth, anticipating his onslaught, eager for it.

      But it didn’t come. “Paybacks are hell, Violet.” He stepped back, his gaze sizzling, my body aflame with need. “Yours is coming.”

      I could hardly wait.

      * * *

     
Thursday, August 9th

      I made it into work extra early the next morning, hoping to catch a glimpse of Doc—or a few touches from him, maybe some well-placed rubs. I’d settle for a lot of ogling. I wasn’t proud, just oversexed, since I’d met him. But his office was dark and locked when I tried. Damn.

      Back at my desk, I busied myself with paperwork. It was a nice feeling to have something to do besides surf the Internet for new listings.

      After yesterday’s insanity, I was ready for a clean slate. A new, normal day, although I’d have to stop by the Carhart house again later to drop off Douglas’ offer. Maybe I could just slide the paperwork under the door and zip out of there. With my luck, I’d run into Lila and her claws somewhere between the front porch and the driveway.

      A peaceful hour later, the back door crashed open and Ray barged in. “Blondie!” he bellowed.

      I tensed. What now? I’d parked in my spot, not his, and there should still be plenty of spaces open all around at this time of the morning. “What?”

      “You’re on fire!” he yelled, his face flushed.

      I frowned at him as he marched up to me. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

      “It means you’re on fire. Call 911.”

      If this was another one of his sexual harassment jokes, he needed to work on his delivery. “I don’t get it.”

      He leaned down into my face. “Your Bronco is on fire in the parking lot. Call 911, now!”

     
Chapter Eighteen

      My Bronco’s violent death burned my eyes. Literally.

      Ravenous flames overtook the old beast, crackling and popping as they shot out of the shattered windows and swarmed across the hood and roof, eating everything within reach. Dark smoke billowed, luring an audience of leather-clad mourners.

      My eyes watered from smoke and heat and a few pity-party tears. I covered my mouth with my hand, hiding ragged breaths that hurt with each draw and tasted bitter in my throat. The smell of flame-broiled rubber and paint and everything in between nearly gagged me.

      Somebody pulled me out of the way when the firemen arrived. Someone else handed me a white handkerchief, which I clutched as if my life depended on it. I couldn’t look away as bright electrical flashes sparked and sizzled inside the remains of the cab.

      Within minutes, it was all over, my Bronco nothing but a dripping, blackened mangle of metal and melted plastic. With faded memories of car seats and spilled Cheerios heavy in my thoughts, I zombie-walked toward it only to be stopped by a fireman covered from head to toe in protective gear.

      “Stay back, ma’am.” His mask filtered his voice. “It’s still too hot.”

      I blinked up at him. “My son’s library books are in there.”

      He looked over my shoulder. “Captain!” he shouted. “A little help here.”

      “I got her,” said a familiar voice, shaking me out of my daze. Detective Cooper grabbed me by the elbow and towed me under the shade of the pine trees lining the edge of the lot. “Sit,” he ordered, and pointed at a stump.

      “This skirt is silk.” When he continued to frown at me, I added, “I don’t want to get it dirty.”

      “Jesus, woman.” He grabbed the twisted handkerchief from my hands and spread it on the stump. “There. Sit.”

      I obeyed, staring at the charbroiled hulk again.

      “Are you okay?”

      “Yeah,” I answered without looking at him. A decade ago, I’d traded in my Mustang to buy the Bronco when I’d found out I was pregnant with twins, knowing I’d need a bigger vehicle.

      “You sure?”

      “Uh, huh.”

      “Violet, look at me,” Cooper said, squatting next to me.

      I shot him a glance, but kept most of my focus on the firemen spraying down the dash.

      “Violet.”

      One of the firemen pried open the hood with a crowbar. “Hmmm?”

      A hard pinch on the back of my arm made me screech. “Ouch!” I whirled on Cooper. “What did you do that for?”

      “To get your attention.”

      I rubbed the back of my arm where the pain still twanged. “Did Harvey teach you that trick?”

      Cooper grinned, a sight so rare I stared out of astonishment. “That, and a few more gems.” His gray eyes searched my face for a couple of breaths. “Are you going to be okay?”

      I nodded. “I’ll probably bruise, though.”

      “I’m talking about your Bronco, not the pinch.”

      “So am I.”

      “Right.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand. “Come on.”

      I squinted at his open palm. “Where are we going?”

      “To the station.”

      “Am I under arrest?”

      His grin widened. “Maybe.”

      “For what?”

      “Withholding information.”

      “You can arrest me for that?”

      His eyes narrowed. “That’s not the response I expected.”

     
Oops
. I pinched my lips tight and curled them inside my mouth.

      “What information are you withholding, Miss Parker?”

      I looked anywhere but at those piercing gray eyes. “Ahh, nothing—I mean, none.”

      “Has anyone ever told you that your nose twitches when you lie?”

      I held my hand to my guilty appendage. “Do I really have to go with you?”

      “Now that I know your ‘tell,’ you definitely do.”

      My eyes met his above my hand. “For how long?”

      His lips twitched at the corners. “That depends.”

      “On what?”

      “How much you know.” He grabbed my wrist and tugged me to my feet. “Come with me.”

      It was a command, one I could tell he was used to people obeying, so I followed on his heels. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re as stubborn as your uncle?”

      “Yep. My mother. Every damned day.”

      As we passed the fire truck, its lengths of hose being rolled up, someone called out, “Hey, Detective!”

      Cooper paused as a salt-and-pepper-haired Sam Elliot lookalike—moustache and all—dressed in yellow firemen’s pants and a dark blue T-shirt waltzed up to us. “What do you need, Reid?” Cooper asked.

      I had a notion that I’d seen Reid and his blue-blue eyes somewhere before, besides looking magnified and handsome on the silver screen, but I couldn’t remember where.

      “What time’s the game tonight?” Reid asked Cooper, smiling down at me, coaxing a return smile from my own lips.

      “Eight, at my place. And if you’re late again, you’ll be thrown in county lockup. The Sheriff is in town tonight.”

      Game night at Cooper’s? Maybe that was why he put me off on prettying it up for potential buyers until next week.

      “Yeah, yeah. The Sheriff doesn’t scare me. He’s a lousy shuffler and can’t bluff worth a damn.” He waved Cooper off, still charming me with his friendly eyes. “So, Miss Parker, we meet again.”

      Dang it, where had I seen this guy before? And how did he know my name?

      He lifted one dark eyebrow. “What is this, your second fire within a month?”

      There it was. I’d seen him at Wolfgang’s house. While the paramedics were working on me, he’d asked me about how the fire started. “Yes, but I didn’t start this one.”

      He laughed. It was that deep-timbre-filled kind of laugh that made heads turn. “I’ll be sure to note that in my report. Your insurance agent will be curious.”

      “Right. Insurance.” Not that his report would do me any good. I had only liability insurance on the Bronco. Financially, I’d just gone from “dire straits” to “beyond fucked.”

      “How’s your aunt doing?”

      Aunt Zoe? A bell dinged in my brain. Of course! Aunt Zoe and Reid. The cupid in me flapped her wings like a hummingbird. He was perfect for her. No wedding ring on his finger, not even a tan line. “She’s great. Still single.”

      Both dark eyebrows raised. “I thought she was seeing some doctor down by Hill City.”

      “A veterinarian, and that’s been over for a couple of years.” Well, months, really, but who was counting? Time flowed like a river and all that jazz. “You should give her a call.”

      “Maybe.” He rubbed his hands together, glancing away. “We’ll see.” 

      “You girls done talking about your nail polish?” Cooper asked, the laughter in his voice taking the sting out of his insult. “Because I have some questions for Violet.”

      “You’ll have to excuse Coop,” Reid told me. “He was raised by a pack of muskrats.”

      “I noticed the big, sharp teeth.”

      “Cute, ladies. Now let’s go.” Cooper tugged on my elbow. “We have some talking to do.”

      I waved goodbye and kept pace with Cooper, the silence growing heavier with each step as my anxiety climbed at being hauled in for questioning. “He’s kind of dreamy,” I said, to fill the quiet.
Dreamy?
What was it about Cooper that turned me into a walking, talking bimbo?

      “What are you? Fourteen with pigtails?”

      “More like twenty-nine,” plus a few-odd years.

      “Don’t make me book you for lying.” He paused next to his unmarked police car as he unlocked the door. “Reid’s too old for you.”

      I wasn’t thinking about me. I had my hands full with Doc.

      “Besides, he’s the captain of the fire department.”

      Oh, really? I tucked away that information. “Why does that make a difference?”

      “It’s an elite position. He doesn’t need to risk losing it over a high-maintenance woman with a ghost-loving reputation.” He held open the door, ushering me into his car.

      I crossed my arms. “I’m not high maintenance.”

      “You’ve been in town how long now? Almost six months?”

      Somebody had been doing his homework. “Maybe.”

      “Six months and all the guys at the station already know your name. Trust me, that’s high maintenance.” He pointed at the front seat. “Come on, I’ll buy you a soda pop.”

      “Your generosity makes my knees buckle.”

      “Great. That will make it easier for you to sit. Now get in.”

      Two blocks later, he pulled into the back lot of the police station.

      “We could have walked,” I said, scrambling out.

      “Yeah, but then my car would be parked two blocks away.”

      He led me into the station and past a check-in desk and waiting chairs. The big gray-haired cop behind the desk looked from me to Cooper and then chuckled. “It’s about time you brought that troublemaker in,” he said with a wink.

      We passed desks cluttered with computers and dirty coffee mugs. Across the room, two policemen—one a bit soft in the middle, the other tall and string-bean skinny—lounged against the counter in a mini-kitchen, each holding a paper cup. They watched us cruise by, returning Cooper’s nod and raising their cups to me. “Miss Parker,” they greeted me in turn.

      Oh, God! They did all know me. My cheeks burned.

      Cooper’s office was in the back of the building, at the end of a long linoleum hall that acted as an echo chamber for the clap of my sandal heels. In his office, I dropped into the chair he indicated and noticed the sparseness of his desk. His walls were even sparser. “What? No pictures of your sweetheart and her prized Pomeranian, Fifi?”

      “I like your spunk,” Cooper said with a deadpan expression as he situated himself behind his desk. “I see why Uncle Willis keeps you around. That and your knees.”