The Sheriff's Secret Wife (12 page)

A smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. "Ah, not the right two words."
She didn't speak and he offered a raised eyebrow. She relented. "Thank you."
He hesitated, then took a step forward, closing the already narrow gap between them. "You working tonight?"
Racy nodded, heart racing, trying to disregard the crisp, clean scent that clung to his clothes and skin. "I'm headed to the bar from here."
"What about tomorrow?"
Why was he asking? Surely he couldn't…"Spending the day in Cheyenne with the girls. We've got a final fitting for our bridesmaids' dresses and other wedding stuff."
"Tomorrow night?"
She shook her head, ignoring the thrill at his persistence. "I should be home around dinnertime. I've got some last-minute studying for my finals next week."
"And your brothers won't get in the way of that?"
Her heart thumped so hard she swore it was visible beneath her suit jacket. Maybe she should've worn something more than bright purple lace beneath it, but hell, this morning she'd needed the mental oomph that she'd got from her favorite lingerie. "Ah, no, Billy Joe and Justin aren't staying with me anymore."
"They're not?"
"Billy Joe moved into one of the apartments over Mason's Garage. You know he's working there, right?"
Gage nodded and his eyes intensified to a dark blue. She didn't know what that meant, but took his silence as a sign to continue.
"Justin is staying at The Blue Creek. He's converting a few of the storage areas on the second floor into an apartment."
The admiration in those blue eyes changed to suspicion. "And Max is okay with that?"
Racy bristled. "No, but I figured it was okay to allow an ex-con to be less than a hundred feet from the safe without consulting Max."
"Forget I said that." His fingers reached out to lightly touch her hand. "How about I get some takeout and come over? We can—" The radio on his hip squawked, cutting him off. He grabbed it and pressed a button. "Steele here."
"Sheriff, you're needed out at MacIntire's place."
"What's going on?"
"The bonfire from last night's senior-class party has been reignited." Alison's clear voice came over the radio. "Jesse MacIntire caught his boy and a few others out by his pond. And I hate to say it, boss, but one of them is—"
"Garrett," Gage interrupted. "Is the fire under control?"
"Jesse said it's out, but the boys were tearing apart an old shack to use for firewood."
"I'm on my way."
Racy bit her lip to keep from smiling at the resigned look on Gage's face. "You know, maybe your brother needs something to keep him busy during his free time."
"With football season over, he does seem to have a lot of it on his hands."
"He could take some of that energy and put it toward the after-hours program at the elementary school." Racy offered the first idea that popped into her head. "I'm sure those kids look up to the high school players. They'd get a kick out of having them act as mentors."
"That might be a good idea. He could recruit some of his fellow pranksters." Gage backed up toward the door. "I've got to run, but I'll call you later?"
He paused, and Racy realized he was waiting for her to reply. She couldn't help herself. "Sure."
The smile he gave her was warm and genuine and it heated her right down to her toes. He was going to call her.
To firm up plans. Just like a real date.
Yee-haw!
She watched him disappear out the door, then tucked the rose inside her bag and set it on the floor to tug on her jacket. Spotting a water fountain, she ducked down the back hall for a drink. She pressed the button, the water cold on her lips when she heard Travis Clay's voice.
"Yep, that pretty little lady made quite a speech."
"I agree with you one hundred percent."
Racy heard the other male voice reply and recognized it as Daniel Gates's, the owner of The Destiny Inn. Pride filled her chest at their words. Damn straight she'd done a good job!
"You know," Travis continued, "I would've voted Miss Dillon's way even if the sheriff hadn't talked to me first."
Racy froze. Her thumb slipped and the stream of water trickled to a stop.
What did he just say?
"So, Gage got a hold of you, too?" Daniel said. "His call came just as I was opening that darn fool letter from the committee yesterday afternoon. Heck, what do I care if a bunch of girls want to shake their butts for a crowd?"
Travis guffawed. "I admit I enjoy watching them Belles myself from time to time, but it was good to listen to the man be persuasive anyway."
"What did the good sheriff promise you?"
"Oh, I vowed to keep that a secret. What about you…"
The voices faded as the back door opened and closed again. Racy stood motionless, shock nailing her feet to the floor.
She couldn't believe it. Gage had tried to sway the vote before the meeting? Her detailed report, her passionate and genuine love for her business hadn't made any difference. He'd already convinced them to vote her way for their own selfish reasons, whatever they were.
She realized she should be grateful to Gage. So why was she so damn mad at him instead?

D
amn, he hoped his tie was straight.
Gage entered through the side door and slipped into the empty space at the front of the candlelit church as the music started. He accepted a smile from Bryce, ignored Chase's scowl and returned Landon's wink. All members of the Cartwright-Stevens wedding party were finally present and accounted for.
Thanks to spending the last two days in Cheyenne testifying at a trial and getting a flat tire on the way home, Gage had only minutes to wash up at his office, change into his tux and head to the church.
The music swelled and Anna, Maggie's daughter from her first marriage, entered the doorway and started down the aisle. She walked slowly, taking her flower girl duties seriously. With every step, she dropped deep red rose petals that matched the color of her dress. Maryann followed, her gaze centered on her husband, who stood at Gage's right.
Leeann appeared next. She wore the formal wear with an easy elegance, which surprised him as he rarely saw her in anything but a uniform or jeans. He watched her until she was halfway down the aisle, but then his breath caught and his attention was drawn to the woman standing in the doorway.
Racy.
Despite the so-called plans they'd made after the hearing, it was the first time he'd seen her in almost a week. Resentment and desire pinged around inside him like a vintage pinball machine as he took in the deep red dress that clung to her curves and the mass of curls piled high on her head. Her peaches-and-cream skin glowed along with her smile as she followed Leeann and Maryann, her gaze moving over the crowded pews and the men standing with him at the altar.
Then her gaze locked with his.
Her chocolate-brown eyes widened for a moment, almost as if she was surprised to see him. He tried to hold her gaze, but she looked away. Her smile remained, but the joy behind it dimmed. She took her place next to Leeann, right in his sights, but she stubbornly refused to glance his way.
What the hell was going on?
She'd blown off their dinner plans last weekend and he was clueless as to why. Calls had gone unreturned and when he'd tried to see her in person…
Everyone rose as the bride entered, but Gage couldn't stop his gaze from going back to Racy. He tried to will her to look at him, but she trained her gaze on Maggie, a wistful look on her face. Maggie arrived at the altar and handed her flowers to Racy, who offered her a quick wink.
The solemn words of the wedding service started. He was instantly taken back to that moment in Vegas when he and Racy had exchanged vows, complete with strangers for witnesses and Elvis as the preacher. Not much of a ceremony and certainly not what every little girl dreamed of, but still special. The words they had spoken were the same Maggie and Landon repeated to each other as they exchanged rings. He found the fingers on his left hand tingling and rubbed at the sensation, then saw Racy mirror his movements, even with two bunches of flowers in her grasp.
The bride and groom kissed and the church erupted in applause. Anna ran from the front pew to join her mother and new stepfather. A crowd gathered, with hugs, kisses and well-wishes for the happy couple.
Now was his chance.
He slipped around the back of the crowd, stepped on the altar, then headed straight for Racy. She'd just handed Maggie's flowers back to her and he grabbed her hand.
"Racy, wait."
The coldness of her skin surprised him, but not as much as the shock in her eyes when she realized who held her. She tugged free and turned away.
Gage moved in behind her, his mouth at her ear, so the surrounding crowd couldn't overhear them. "What the hell is going on?"
She jerked her head to the side and hissed, "Shh!"
"Don't
shh
me. I want to know—"
She slid between Leeann and Nana B., Maggie's grandmother, as the bride and groom started up the aisle. The crowd fell in behind them, Gage included. Those were far from the last words between them.

* * *

Hours later, he headed for the bar in the back room of The Painted Lady, the local bed-and-breakfast inn Maggie and Landon had chosen for their wedding reception, finally accepting the truth.
Racy was avoiding him.
The idea had popped into his head more than once over the last week, but he'd made excuses, refusing to give credence to the notion. He'd waited until the pictures were done and the dinner had started before trying to get close to her again, but her covert moves made sure there were always plenty of people between them. After the first few tries, he got the message.
Loud and clear.
The bride and groom had left for their honeymoon almost an hour ago and the reception was winding down. The disc jockey packed up and most of the guests were either heading home or to the inn's pub to continue the party. He wasn't in a party mood. What he needed was a healthy splash of whiskey. He paid for the drink and walked to one of the arched floor-to-ceiling windows to stare into the dark night.
This wasn't like the fiery redhead. The woman he knew dealt with whatever was bugging her head-on, full force, with no apologies. Not this time. And that caused an uneasy feeling in his gut.
He lifted his glass for another taste, swallowed and then stilled, catching Racy's warped reflection in the window. He turned, knowing instinctively he was her intended target. Her gaze landed on him and she paused. Gone was the social butterfly he'd watched flirt, laugh and dance with everyone else tonight. Everyone but him. Her bare shoulders were stiff, her eyes devoid of emotion as she started toward him.
"We need to talk."
Her voice was low, the tone brittle. Makeup played up her perfect features, smoky dark eyes and shiny pink lips, but it was like she wore a mask for all the feeling he saw there.
"Now's a good time for you?" Gage tightened his grip on his glass. "I thought we were going to talk last week. I tried to reach you twice at the bar, but Justin intercepted my calls."
"I was working."
"I called Sunday about dinner. All I got was your machine."
She lifted her chin, and her eyes, direct and probing, met his. "I was studying. I told you I had finals."
Her clipped answers were getting on his nerves.
"Look, I don't know what's going on." Gage pulled in a deep breath and her familiar vanilla-lime scent filled his head. "Last week we—"
"I don't want to talk about last week."
"What do you want to talk about?"
She yanked a long white envelope from the slim, beaded purse in her hand and held it out to him. "Here."
"What's that?"
"Divorce papers."
The air disappeared from his lungs and bright spots danced in front of his eyes. His skin felt like it was on fire despite the winter chill that seeped through the antique window. Of all the things he'd expected her to say, that wasn't it.
She shook the envelope, her knuckles pale. "Take it."
"How—" He gulped a breath of much-needed air. "When—"
"Last week. I went to see a lawyer when I was in Laramie."
He focused on the corner of the envelope, recognizing the name of the law firm. "One of the most prestigious."
Racy offered an unladylike snort. "I wanted to make sure this time we did it right. You know, with a
real
lawyer?"
Gage stared at the woman in front of him. As beautiful as ever, but without the flushed-with-victory euphoria that had shined from her after the hearing.
When he'd entered the meeting room, he'd been shocked at the sight of her in a dark suit, her hair pulled back in a smooth style. Gone was the wild, girl-from-the-wrong-side-of-the-tracks bartender and in her place had stood a confident professional. And when they'd talked afterward, she'd been on top of the world. It'd taken all his strength not to pull her into his arms and cover her mouth with his. He'd settled instead for a date, sort of. She'd been receptive to the idea of getting together. He'd seen it in her eyes.
"I don't understand. What happened?"
"What's there to understand? W-we screwed up, twice, and it's time to get out of this mess." Her voice shook as she flung her arms wide. "And that's what this is, a mess, not a marriage. What Maggie and Landon have? That's real. They have love and commitment, passion and caring. Two people who've worked through the adversity of their pasts to believe and trust—"
She bit hard at her lip, cutting off her words and dropped her hands. A deep, shuddering breath had her closing her eyes. "Don't you see? This—this sham between us…it's nothing. It's not real to anyone but the law. So here, sign it."
Frozen by the fervor of her impassioned words, it took a hard swallow before he trusted his voice. "Racy—"
"Just sign it, Gage…please."
It was the "please" that got to him. "Fine."
He placed his glass on the table and took the envelope. Holding it, he patted the outside of his tuxedo jacket. "I—ah, I don't have a pen on me."
Racy yanked open her purse as he withdrew the paperwork from the envelope.
He shouldn't be shocked, not really. How had he expected this—whatever this was between the two of them—to end? They couldn't manage a simple dinner date. Did he really think their spur-of-the-moment marriage would transform into the real thing just because dumb luck found him still legally bound to the one woman he'd always wanted?
He unfolded the papers, mentally steering himself for the words.
Buyout Proposal?
After a quick scan of the first few paragraphs, confusion gave way to awareness. He looked up. "You're trying to buy The Blue Creek?"
Racy stilled, a pen in her outstretched hand. "What?"
"This says you're offering Max a buyout, contingent on loan approval and a deposit of—" Gage paused and checked the dollar figure listed again. "Is that what you're spending your Vegas winnings on?"
Racy yanked the papers from his hand. "That is none of your business." She turned and stalked away. "Damn, how could I be so stupid! You'd think at least once I could do something without screwing it up, but no, this is classic me all the way…"
Her words faded as she disappeared into the ballroom.
"Hey, wait!" Gage called out, following her. He dodged the staff clearing away soiled linens and folding tables, and saw her exit the other side of the room into the large, open foyer that served as the inn's lobby.
Racy marched past the check-in counter and stopped at the single antique elevator. She jammed her finger on the up button and spun around. "No, you wait. Right here. I've got the correct paperwork in my room."
The doors creaked open and she stepped inside.
"Room?" Gage reached the elevator just as the door slid closed again. "What room?"
"The bridal suite."
He spun around to find Leeann standing behind him. "Excuse me?"
"She's heading to the suite Maggie reserved," Leeann said. "Maggie and Landon were supposed to stay here tonight, but the groom surprised her with a trip to the Caribbean."
"So why is Racy up there?" With one hand behind his back, he pressed the elevator button.
If she thought he was just going to scrawl his name on some paperwork and walk out of here, she had another think coming. Thank God she'd given him the wrong document and he had a minute to collect his thoughts.
Leeann crossed her arms over her chest. "Maggie told her to use the room since it was paid for. I was just about to go up and see if she wanted some company, since she seemed a little edgy, at least for Racy's standards, when I spotted—" She paused, uncertainty crossing her face. "Can I say something? I mean to my friend, Gage, and not to my boss, the sheriff?"
Gage hesitated, then nodded.
"I don't know what's going on between you two." She drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out. "Personally, I always thought Racy had little use for you, despite what happened in high school."
Chagrin filled him at the old memories that seemed to be foremost in his mind recently. "What did she tell you?"
"That's something between girlfriends." She waved away his interruption and continued. "I was gone for a number of years, years that were hard on her. Of course, her whole life has been one of adversity, but she finally seemed to be in a good place this past summer. Until Vegas."
Leeann took a step closer and lowered her voice, even though no one else was in the lobby. "Maggie believes there's something Racy's not telling us. You and she in the same city, over the same weekend? Could be nothing. But if it's more—if you two are—well, she deserves to be treated like a queen, you know?"
It was the longest he'd heard his deputy speak since her acceptance speech when she was crowned Miss Indian Paintbrush back in high school. But he knew behind her warning was the warmth of a lifelong friendship.
"Racy's got a good friend in you."
Leeann's smile was forced. "That elevator is slower than molasses. If you want to catch her before she gets back down here, you might want to take the stairs. It's the only room on the fourth floor."
Gage eyed the majestic staircase that rose from the center of the foyer before it turned a hard left and disappeared from sight. He'd already pushed the button calling the elevator back, so he should have time. Or he might meet her on the wide oak stairs.
He turned back to say something to Leeann, but all he saw was the closing of the ornate cut-glass doors that led to the inn's covered porch.
Moments later, he was halfway up the stairs, his mind churning over what had happened between him and Racy earlier. She had some explaining to do. About everything. From why she'd blown him off last week to trying to buy the bar. And he wasn't signing a damn thing until he got some answers.
He reached the top floor and jogged past the elevator. No Racy. At the door displaying a brass plate that read Bridal Suite, he paused to catch his breath and prayed he hadn't missed her. Then he heard not-so-feminine cursing, a yelp of surprise and a crashing sound. He pushed open the unlatched door, rushed inside and was greeted with a loud popping sound before a spray of cold liquid hit him square in the chest.
He put one hand up to ward off the rush and it splattered into his face. Damn, that stung. He shook his head, trying to clear his eyes. "Racy! What the hell—are you okay?"
"Yes, I'm fine."
He wiped away the moisture. "What happened?"
Racy lay sprawled in front of the lit fireplace with an overturned champagne bucket nearby and ice cubes scattered everywhere. "I tripped over the bucket. What does it look like?"
He watched her struggle to her feet. Her dress tangled around her legs, revealing strappy shoes and toes painted a matching shade of deep red. Then she bent over to right the bucket and his breath evaporated. The low cut of her dress barely held back her breasts.
He scrubbed both hands over his face. Partially to get rid of the last of the liquid, and partially to block the tempting image in front of him. Too late. She bent again, now reaching for ice cubes. His body responded, hard and fast.
She tossed a few handfuls of ice into the bucket and kicked the rest into the blazing fire. "What a waste. And that was the good stuff—what in the hell are you doing?"
Gage stopped mid-peel, his tuxedo jacket hanging from his arms. He looked up to find Racy staring at him. He continued to tug and placed the jacket on the back of a wing chair. "Trying to save what I can of this rented tux."
"No one told you to strip. And what are you doing up here?"
He tugged at his drenched cotton shirt. "We need to talk. Do you think I could get a towel or something?"
Racy stared at him for a long moment. She then heaved a deep sigh and marched past him, slamming closed the door he'd left open when he'd charged in. He exhaled sharply as she disappeared through another doorway. The bathroom, he guessed.
His gaze moved around the room. Only one way in and lots of windows. It looked like at one time it could've been two rooms, but now was one large space. Matching chairs flanked the fireplace and a huge four-poster bed, piled high with flowery bedding and at least a dozen pillows, took up the far wall.
He recognized the warm Old World French country style thanks to his mom, who'd redecorated the family's home over the last few years. She preferred bright reds, greens and black, while this room, from the wallpaper to the fresh flowers, was done in soft colors and full of charm and romance. Tailor-made for a new bride and groom who wanted to make their special day unforgettable.
He closed his eyes, but the image came anyway.
Racy, dressed in white lace. Soft, flowing and completely transparent in the candlelight. She emerged from the bathroom, red curls falling in soft waves over her shoulders, concealing the tiny silk ties that held the nightie together. She walked toward him, a matching set of champagne glasses in her hands, a large diamond ring, his ring, sparkling on her finger.
Standing in front of him, a sweet smile on her face, she offered him a glass. He ignored it and instead pulled her into his arms, giving one of those silk ties an easy tug. A cloud of lace floated to the ground as he—
A soft thud in the face ended the fantasy. He caught the bath towel before it fell to the floor.
"There's your towel."
Racy stood across the room. She'd changed out of her dress, but instead of silk and lace, she wore pajamas in the same style he'd given her the night she'd stayed at his place. Only this time she wore the bottoms, too. And hers were pink.
Okay, the fantasy had to change a bit, but he was up for that. Very up.
"You changed." His words came out in a rough whisper as he rubbed the towel over his soggy shirt. It didn't help. He yanked the shirt from his pants and unbuttoned it.
"M-my dress got wet, too." Racy's gaze traveled the length of him before she crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. "And the double-sided tape that kept my boobs from falling out was starting to itch."
He didn't know how to respond to that so he remained silent, noticing she kept her gaze focused on the fire as he rubbed the towel over his bare chest. Her hair remained piled on top of her head and she still wore the dangling earrings from the wedding. He glanced down. Her shoes were gone and her bare toes curled into the carpet.
Damn! Sexy and sweet at the same time.
His gaze traveled upward as he walked toward her. "Are those Eiffel Towers you're wearing?"
"Not that it's any of your business—" she looked at him again "—but Maggie, Leeann and I exchanged pajamas for our last birthdays."
"And your dream destination is Paris."
Her mouth dropped open. "How'd you know?"
He took a step closer, the towel partially obscuring his view as he rubbed at his hair. "You told me in Vegas."