The Alpha's Mate (10 page)

“Thanks. This one will be fine.” Elizabeth
chose a small table for two.

The woman brought over a menu and a glass of
water. “I’m Sally Ann and I’m guessing you’re the lady what rented
the Home Place.”

“Yes, yes I am.” Elizabeth smiled. “Elizabeth
Reynolds. I have your peaches sitting on my shelf. Thank you so
much. It’s nice to have a face to go with the name.”

“Pleased to meet you, Elizabeth. That there
is my sister Eileen. She sent the strawberry jam and tomatoes. This
place is ourn. That’s my man, Roman, back in the kitchen. Eileen’s
man works with George over at the garage. See you brought your
computer. Fire her up. We’re completely modernized here. Like I’m
always telling Roman, if you want your business to flourish, you
got to keep up with the times. What can I get for you?”

Elizabeth waved hello to Roman and mouthed a
thank you to Eileen who smiled shyly and nodded you’re welcome.

“A cup of coffee, please, and one of those
blueberry muffins,” she said, pointing to the glass covered stand
on the counter. “They look too good to pass up.”

She had a hard time concentrating while four
pairs of eyes watched her every move. She read her emails first,
saving her mother’s for last. There were twenty-three from her, the
first from the day she left, the last from that morning at 8:15.
Maybe having no phone was a blessing in disguise.

Her mother’s messages were filled with dire
warnings about living conditions in ‘the back of beyond’, which was
how she referred to anywhere outside her own small city. Brown
Recluse Spiders and rabid raccoons topped the list. Elizabeth
snickered. There was no mention of wolves or snakes. But animals
weren’t her mother’s only concern. Elizabeth would suffer a myriad
of ailments from eating improperly processed foods, undercooked
pork and unpasteurized milk which only reminded her to pick up a
quart before heading home.

More people filed in with each email read.
Sally Ann and her sister ran back and forth carrying orders and
refilling coffee. Every time Elizabeth raised her eyes from the
screen she met another pair of eyes watching her. It was eleven
o’clock and the place was full.

“You really know how to draw a crowd.
Preacher’s going to be coming round asking for lessons.”

Marshall stood across the table smiling down
at her and her foolish heart skipped a beat. He wore a pair of
jeans and an ironed chambray shirt with his silver police badge
pinned to the pocket. He held a mug of coffee, his callused but
gentle hand wrapped around the mug with his thumb through the
handle. Just the sight of him sent shivers up her spine and dirty
thoughts running through her mind. She plastered a smile on her
face while she closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

“Last time I recollect a crowd this big,
Maggie Cramer was a-chasing Roy down the street with a shotgun buck
naked. Roy, I mean, not Maggie.”

There were several hoots from the listeners.
His voice had taken on the cadence and inflection of the hills and
Elizabeth could tell that he was a born storyteller.

“Being of a suspicious mind, she’d followed
that old man when he left the house that mornin’ and sure enough
she’d caught him up at Ruby Taylor’s doing what he hadn’t ought
to.” Marshall looked over at the back corner. “They gave away my
booth. You mind if I sit here?”

“No, of course not.” Elizabeth blushed at her
rudeness. She closed her laptop and set it aside. “So? What
happened?”

“What happened where? Oh, with Maggie and
Roy?” His took a slow sip of coffee while everyone waited for him
to continue the tale. “Well, ole Roy, he was moving mighty fast up
Main Street, a sight to behold with one hand a-pumpin’ and a wavin’
and the other protecting the family jewels. Maggie, she’s hustlin’
right behind him, her eyes a-justa burnin’ with fire. She had that
shotgun aimed right at his backside and everybody around here knows
Maggie hits where she aims. Why, that woman could shoot out one pea
from the can if she set her mind to it. Target as big as Roy’s
behind weren’t gonna be no problem.”

More hoots and laughter punctuated with a
little table slapping. The crowd obviously knew the story and was
enjoying the retelling of it.

Marshall leaned back in his chair and waited
until his audience settled before he went on. “Now, poor Roy, no
doubt thinking about how many hours it was going to take to ease
out all that shot and how many weeks it would be before he could
sit straight in the pew and get right with the Lord, was so busy
watching Maggie over his shoulder that he failed to see Burt
Taylor’s fist shooting out right there in the middle of Main
Street. Poor bastard run right into it. Cost him a broken jaw and
two teeth. Hit truly was a sight to see.”

Elizabeth was laughing, too. “And where was
the local long arm of law during all this?” She didn’t know if the
story was true, but by the laughter around her she suspected it
was.

“Hell, I was right out there watching with
the rest of them.” The Police Chief winked at Sally Ann when she
placed a huge ham and cheese sandwich in front of him. “Maggie
might have peppered his backside a little, but everybody knew she
wouldn’t kill him. I was new to the law back then, but I weren’t no
fool. No way was I getting between Maggie and her man.”

A woman who looked to be in her late
seventies chimed in. She was laughing as hard as the rest of the
crowd. “I jest figured he deserved to be embarrassed in front of
the whole town the way he embarrassed me. Randy old goat.”

“He surely was!” squealed the old woman she
was sitting with.

Maggie pointed a gnarled finger at her
companion. “You keep your thoughts to yourself, Ruby Taylor, or you
can drive your own self over to the dentist next week.”

The crowd howled.

Elizabeth didn’t know her mouth was hanging
open until Marshall popped a corner of his sandwich into it. She
chewed and swallowed, still wide eyed.

A collective sigh spread over the diners. It
was as if someone flipped a switch on a sign that read, “Come say
hello.”

People stopped, one after another, to
introduce themselves and wish her well. A few, she remembered from
the fire. They patted Marshall on the back and a couple of the men
gave him a wink.

“Welcome to Rabbit Creek, Lizzie, where your
business is never your own.” Marshall grinned and took another bite
of his sandwich.

“Weren’t much of a feedin’,” the old man at
the counter muttered to Sally Ann as she refilled his cup.

“Aw, quit your grumbling, Roy. It’s a start.
By the way, Maggie says you’re picking up the tab for her and
Ruby.”

Chapter 10

When Elizabeth trudged through the roses and
into her yard, twenty percent of her erotic dreams was sitting in
her rocker on her front porch. Charles Goodman had his head back
with his hat pulled down over his eyes and his long legs stretched
out in front of him. His feet, in their pointy toed snakeskin
boots, were crossed at the ankles. He was the picture of
relaxation.

And what a yummy picture it was. She took a
moment to catch her breath and check out the broad expanse of chest
filling the western style shirt with pearl snaps and golden brown
trim. His jeans were fresh and crisp, probably new and looked like
they’d been specially designed for his body. They weren’t skin
tight, but they were snug enough to outline the firm thighs and
calves they encased. She wondered if the wide brass belt buckle was
purposely crafted to draw attention to the fly that lay beneath it
and thus, to what lay beneath that. She was startled to hear
herself purr.

She ran her fingers through her hair and
straightened her shirt. Charles had caught her off guard the first
time they met, but she’d been writing every day and Cassandra’s
character was beginning to flesh out. She’d been practicing in
front of the mirror. To make her characters believable of
course.

“Are you going to stay down there looking or
are you going to come up and say hello,” Charles’s warm chuckle
promised more than hello.

Jumping like a frightened cat was not a good
start. She recovered quickly and gave her head a toss to send her
hair flying over her shoulder.

“Mr. Goodman, how nice of you to visit,” she
said deepening her voice a little to sound more like Cassandra.
“May I offer you a glass of tea?”

“Only if you don’t have anything stronger.”
Charles rose from his seat with a lazy grace Elizabeth could only
envy. “A little bourbon maybe?”

New List – Things To Have On Hand For Hot
Guys Who Happen To Stop By.

“Sorry. Rabbit Creek is dry and without a
car, I haven’t had the opportunity to stock my liquor cabinet.” As
if she actually had a liquor cabinet. “All I have to offer is sweet
tea or coffee.”

“Oh I think you have a lot more to offer, but
tea will do for now. Here, let me help you with that.” He lifted
her computer case from her shoulder somehow making the simple act a
caress. He held his hand out for the bag with the milk and made her
feel like she was handing him much more.

Charles held the screen door open for her and
she paused with the heavier door open a crack to take in the scent
of his expensive cologne. She gave him one of Cassandra’s winning
smiles. “Why don’t you sit back down and make yourself comfortable.
I’ll freshen up a bit and be back with your tea in a jiff.” Jiff?
What was she thinking?

She dropped her laptop and the milk on the
couch and ran for the bathroom where she tore off her blouse,
washed the sweat from her face and underarms and found a clean top
in the tiny closet. It was sexiest thing she owned; a black peasant
blouse with gold embroidery around the neck and hem. If she tied it
loosely and let it slip from her shoulder… She wasted another two
minutes changing into her only strapless bra and dabbing a bit of
perfume between her breasts. She thought about changing her
sneakers for a pair of strappy sandals, but after the hike up the
mountain, her feet probably reeked and she didn’t want to waste any
more time. She resolved to start wearing make-up again starting
tomorrow.

Charles was sitting in the rocker, eyes half
closed, when she came out onto the porch. With a slow smile, he
moved his hat to the side to make room on the small table for the
wooden tray with the glasses.

“I don’t even have a cookie to offer you with
your tea,” she apologized as she set the tray down. “When I bought
the milk, a very nice man said he’d be happy to deliver, but
couldn’t until tomorrow. I’ve every fruit and vegetable you can
imagine, but no meat, flour or chocolate chips.”

Oh god, she was babbling about chocolate
chips. Where was Cassandra when she needed her? She took a deep
breath and straightened her shoulders and smiled to herself when
the edge of her neckline slipped a little farther off her shoulder.
She leaned back against the porch rail, rested her foot against a
baluster and toasted Charles with her glass. She said a quick
prayer that the old wood would hold.

“Your chocolate chip cookies aren’t why I
came,” he chuckled slyly. His eyes traveled the length of her body
and lingered on her breasts. “But I might have to stop by again
soon if you’ll be offering me some.” He reached out to touch her
hand.

Elizabeth felt what was now becoming a fairly
frequent and recognizable tingle shimmy down her body and settle at
the apex of her legs. Whoo-boy, that was distracting. She hung on
to Cassandra for dear life.

“You’re welcome anytime.” She ran the glass
of tea along her neck. The temperature had seemed to rise another
ten degrees. “I saw your brother in town this morning. At the Dizzy
Dish. He entertained us with a tale about Maggie and Roy
Cramer.”

“I thought those two would be long dead by
now.” He took a swallow of tea. “What’d my brother say when you
told him you met me?”

Elizabeth thought quickly. She couldn’t tell
him the truth; that after the heat of the moment with Marshall on
the stairs, she’d simply forgotten. Cassandra came to her rescue
once again.

“I’ve heard there are no secrets in a small
town, but I see no reason to advertise my business to others.” She
took a sip from her glass and eyed him over the rim. “You said
you’d come by to see me, so I didn’t mention it. Should I
have?”

“He wouldn’t have liked it if you had.”

Charles smiled and on the surface, it was the
same charming smile as before, but it never reached his eyes. It
made Elizabeth nervous, like she’d just signed a contract and
neglected to read the fine print.

“You and your brother don’t get along?” she
asked.

“No, we don’t. Not since he stole what was
rightfully mine.” He shook his head and laughed. “You look shocked.
Hard to believe Saint Marshall could do anything wrong, heh? You’re
from up north. You think this place is Mayberry and my brother is
Andy Taylor. After you’ve been here a while, you’ll see that things
aren’t always what they seem. Why do you think Rabbit Creek is dry?
And don’t think they only grow corn and tobacco in those
fields.”

He was right. Elizabeth was shocked. She
couldn’t believe Marshall would be involved in anything like that.
“You can’t mean marijuana. Marshall was trying to track some
suspected growers just the other night.” And yet, hadn’t he said
something about not wanting the Feds getting nosey?

“Or run off the competition.” He shrugged and
smiled. “But I didn’t stop by to talk about my brothers. I came to
visit you.”

He put his glass on the table, stood and took
two steps to Elizabeth’s side where he leaned against the post much
as he had the first time they met. His thigh pressed beneath her
raised knee and that small contact sent a tingle of excitement
through her body.