Every Vow She Breaks (10 page)

Taking a couple of slow breaths, he unclenched his fists. “Sorry. I guess it threw me, hearing you’d been engaged in addition to the aborted marriage and the high school sweetheart who still has a thing for you.”

“Dallas doesn’t—”

“Let’s not argue. Tell me about the fiancé. Where is he?”

When she managed to eye him steadily, he gave her a brief, encouraging smile.

Exactly why does news of her engagement bother me so much?

“Ross left the magazine about the same time I did. I think he lives in Arizona now, although I’m not one hundred percent sure about that. He’s in advertising.”

“How’d you break this one’s heart?”

She reared back. “I swear—”

“Sorry. No more sarcasm. I just assumed…”

“Well, you assumed wrong. He broke mine. When I found out he was cheating on me, I called off the wedding.”

“Asshole.”

“Yeah, he had the nerve to tell me I was overreacting, that a couple of slips didn’t mean anything. He said he’d settle down once we were married.”

He touched her arm. “You didn’t buy that load of crap, did you?”

“I told you once before—I may be blond, but I’m not stupid. The breakup was the kick in the butt I needed to leave
Nature Exposed
to look for a better job.”

“You must have loved the guy if you agreed to marry him, so the situation couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“It wasn’t. I was young and made another bad choice. I couldn’t see there was no depth beneath Ross’s charm. Live and learn. I’ve been a little more choosey about the men I’ve dated since then.”

“I bet.” He tossed the cake topper figurines on a shelf. “I want to know exactly where your ex-fiancé is. Any idea how we can contact him?”

“We haven’t exactly kept in touch. He did have a couple of close friends on the staff of
Nature Exposed
. Maybe one of them would have his address.”

“I don’t suppose Preston was one of those friends?”

She shook her head. “Preston was on my side of the break-up. He thought Ross was a complete jerk. Still, he could ask Ross’s old buddies for his contact info if either of them still works at the magazine.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Except I don’t have Preston’s cell number.” She gave him a tired looking smile. “I imagine we’ll see him somewhere around town. We’ve bumped into each other often enough over the last few days.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open for him.” Taking her hand, he stood and pulled her to her feet. His gaze scanned her face, noting the shadows darkening her eyes. “Are you going to be okay if I go to the store, or should we just make do with leftovers?”

“Don’t be silly. Of course I’ll be fine.” She glanced toward her dog, who remained prostrate in front of his bowl. “I’m going to feed Scoop, who looks like he may die of starvation at any moment, and then go take that shower.”

He touched her cheek, a brief brush of his fingers.

The gaze she raised to his was so filled with uncertainty, his heart wrenched. Cupping her chin, he kissed her, a slow, gentle caress, then drew away.
No pushing until she’s ready.

“I won’t be gone long.” With a final backward glance, he left the motor home and headed for his SUV. One hand shading his eyes from the glare of the setting sun, he scanned the woods on either side of the site as he rolled through the campground loop.

No one lurked in the shadows. Other nearby campers consisted of an older couple in a fifth wheel, two guys with dreadlocks from whose tent drifted a suspiciously sweet odor and a family with young children. All very non-threatening.

Not that he was exactly worried about Claire’s safety. Her admirer—if that’s what this loon could be considered—didn’t seem dangerous. Still, the fact that the guy had gotten into her RV while they were gone bothered him. Maybe the door hadn’t been locked properly, though it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist—or a criminal mastermind—to jimmy the dammed thing. They’d just have to be more careful about securing the campsite in the future.

He flipped on his blinker and turned down the street toward the market. If Claire had her way, their
future
here wasn’t going to last much longer, anyway. She seemed determined to wrap up her story and get the hell out of Dodge. A dull ache settled in his chest. Having her walk out of his life
again
would just plain suck. Maybe they weren’t exactly involved…yet. Fact was he’d give his left nut for a shot with Claire. The right one, too.

A few minutes later, he parked in front of the market and killed the engine. His lips tightened. Karma had thrown them together, and if he’d learned one thing over the years, it was not to turn his back on fate. Now all he had to do was convince Claire to stick around to see where the attraction simmering between them might lead.

* * * *

Claire pushed open the door to the post office as a flood of memories smacked her in the face. The place looked exactly as she remembered. The same bank of little metal doors with gold numbers on them covered the wall to the left. The same high counter manned by a tiny woman with fluffy white hair was on her right. Maybe a few more wrinkles lined Phyllis Evans’ face, but she’d swear the cat-eye glasses decorated with blue rhinestones hanging from a chain around the woman’s neck were the same one’s she’d worn twenty years before.

A hint of confusion in faded blue eyes disappeared as the postmistress’s lips turned upward in a smile. “My goodness. Claire Templeton, you haven’t changed at all.”

“Neither have you, Mrs. Evans.” She reached across the countertop to squeeze the woman’s frail hand. “It’s good to see you.”

“It certainly is. Quite fortuitous, as well.”

Claire grinned. The woman’s vocabulary put most English teachers to shame.

“Oh, how’s that?”

“You have mail. I tried forwarding the envelope to your parents’ last known address. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but…” Narrow shoulders beneath a pink cardigan rose in a shrug. “Anyway, it was returned. Apparently they’ve moved again?”

“Several times. Theresa Wilson mentioned a lawyer was trying to get in touch with me. Is the package from him?”

She nodded. “He’s been very persistent, which is why I bent the rules and mailed the documents to your folks. I was just about to stamp
return to sender
across the front when you walked in. Imagine that.” She slid a manila envelope with a series of crossed off addresses over the counter.

Claire glanced at the return address label in the corner. William Hutchins, Esquire of Hutchins, Lehman and Zottola, Attorneys at Law in Fort Bragg, California. Certainly sounded legitimate. Fort Bragg was the nearest decent sized town to the south of Shady Bend, which wasn’t saying much. She resisted the urge to rip open the envelope.

“Actually, I stopped by to see if you’d be interested in giving me a quote. I work for a magazine called
Rugged America
. I’m taking photographs and writing a story about the Bigfoot hunters you get in this area.” When Phyllis’s fine, white brows shot up into her cotton ball curls, Claire mustered up her most professional smile. “As a longtime resident, surely you must have an opinion about their activities.”

She let out an unladylike snort. “A bunch of fanatics, although the group out there right now seems brighter than most of the enthusiasts we get. Usually it’s a handful of foolish men old enough to know better, acting like little boys. They dress up in camouflage, wave rifles, cavort in the woods and drink like fish. After a weekend of carousing, they go home without having seen any sign of a Sasquatch. Big surprise.” She rolled her eyes. “Like I said—fools.”

Claire pulled a notebook out of her purse. “Do you mind if I quote you?”

Phyllis’s lips pursed. “You may. I stand by my words.”

“What about the local economy? Does it benefit from the influx of people hoping to catch a glimpse of a Bigfoot?”

“Well, now, that depends. The bars do a thriving business, and I’m sure the restaurants and grocery stores also profit. However, family groups vacationing in the area often leave for a quieter environment, so it’s a bit of a wash. I think you’ll find community sentiment divided over the issue.” She fiddled with the dangling glasses, and her forehead puckered. “This current group is relatively quiet, mostly staying out at the camp they’ve set up. I think the locals have gotten used to them. For the most part.”

Claire glanced up from scribbling notes. “You sound hesitant.”

“There’re always a few who see the world in black or white. I think I’ve said enough.”

“You’ve been very helpful, Mrs. Evans. Thank you.”

The hint of worry in the older woman’s eyes cleared. “I’m more than happy to be of service to a former resident. Will you be staying in town long?”

“Maybe another day or two. I’ve taken most of the photos I need and just have to speak with a couple more locals. Ralph at the diner was full of comments when I stopped by after the lunch rush was over. He’s highly in favor of Bigfoot hunters.”

Phyllis’s chest rose beneath her pink sweater. “Ralph Potter is full of bologna. The man likes to exaggerate.”

Claire smiled. “Augusta set me straight on a few facts after he went back to the kitchen.”

“Good for Augusta.” Phyllis glanced toward the plastic bin full of mail on the chair beside her. “I’ll be closing soon…”

Claire backed up a step. “I’d better not take up any more of your time, then.”

“Heavens, don’t forget your envelope.”

“Right!” Stuffing the mail into her purse, she turned toward the door. “Thanks again, Mrs. Evans. Take care.”

“You, too, dear.”

The wind hit Claire when she stepped out the door. Pushing her hands into her pockets, she hurried toward Jed’s SUV, hoping he hadn’t locked the doors.

“Claire.”

Turning, she pushed wisps of hair out of her eyes. “Hey, Dallas.”

Her old high school boyfriend hurried up the street. Stopping in front of her, he rocked back on the heels of battered tennis shoes. An old letterman jacket stretched across his shoulders and didn’t quite meet over his chest. “One of my employees at the hardware store said you were looking for me.”

“He told me today was your day off.”

“Yes, but I had business…it doesn’t matter.” His gaze slid across her face. “I’m glad I found you. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” He jerked his head toward the small café next to the post office.

She glanced back at the SUV. Jed’s errands were taking longer than she’d expected. A cup of coffee might warm her up, though she hadn’t planned to talk to Dallas in such a date-like setting. Truthfully, she would have skipped interviewing him altogether if Jed hadn’t made such a snarky comment earlier. “Sure. Thanks.”

He held open the door of Java Jane’s, and the scent of strong, freshly brewed coffee nearly weakened her knees. She glanced up at Dallas as they approached the counter. “I know caffeine is bad for you, but coffee—”

“—was always your secret weakness. Even in high school.”

“It was the only thing that got me through our first period econ class senior year.” She smiled at the tattooed girl behind the counter. “A large cappuccino please.”

She snapped her gum as her gaze darted upward. “For you, Mr. Simms?”

“Regular coffee. Black. None of that fancy crap.”

“Got it. I’ll have your order ready in a minute. You can pay now.”

Dallas pulled a wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans. “I’ve got it.”

“Thanks.” Taking a seat at a round table by the window, Claire glanced down the street. Still no Jed. She turned her attention to her companion as he sat across from her.

Dallas ran a slightly unsteady hand through his hair and smiled. “I was afraid you’d left town without saying good-bye. When I talked to Theresa yesterday, she wasn’t sure how long you were staying.”

“I’m wrapping up my story.”

With an eye roll, he leaned back in his chair. “Does that mean the group out in the woods tracked down a Bigfoot?”

Claire opened her mouth then shut it when the barista delivered their coffee. She took a sip of the frothy concoction and sighed. “Afraid not, though they did find a print.”

His chair banged to the floor. “Of what?”

“That’s still up for debate. How do you feel about the Bigfoot hunters, Dallas? Are they good for business in the area?”

“Hardly.” His lip curled. “Mostly they’re just a bunch of rednecks looking for some fun.”

“The group camped in the woods now are all respected scientists.”

One shoulder hunched as he stared down at his coffee. “We’ve had others like them before. They still didn’t find any proof. I wish they’d all just leave us alone.”

“Why’s that?”

Deep brown eyes darkened as he studied her. “Theresa said you hadn’t changed. She said you were still the same sweet girl I was crazy about back in high school.”

Claire ran a finger around the rim of the cup. “We all change.”

“Yeah, I guess so. For you, it’s all about taking pictures for a magazine. I get the feeling anything I say will wind up as a caption beneath one of them.”

“Only if you give me permission to quote you.”

His brows lowered. “When did you become so hard?”

“I’m not hard. I’m realistic. You don’t have to talk to me if it makes you uncomfortable.”

He let out a long breath. “I want to talk to you—the old you. Not the woman waiting for a perfect quote.”

“Fair enough. Everything we say is off the record.” She sat back with her cup cradled in her hands. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. No.” His shoulders rose and fell again beneath his too tight jacket. “Mandy’s been badgering me about extra child support to pay for piano lessons and soccer cleats. She also said missing school to see me for long weekends is too disruptive for the kids. If she has her way—and the judge made damn sure she pretty much gets what she wants—I won’t see them again until Thanksgiving.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I, but I shouldn’t have taken my bad mood out on you. You’re just doing your job, and I’m sure you don’t want to hear my problems.”

“Dallas?”

He glanced up.

“I still care about you. I want you to be happy.”

The anger in his eyes faded. He sipped his coffee, his gaze never leaving her face. “I saw one, you know.”