Heating Up (13 page)

“Guys, I can't tell you anything.” She mimed locking her lips closed with a key. “If it goes through, you'll know soon enough.”

“Do you make a lot of money selling real estate?” Darla asked, effectively changing the subject. Aidan wondered if the hairdresser wasn't as dizzy as she looked.

“I do all right,” Dana replied. “The problem is, you can have long dry spells where you don't sell anything. Recently, the market has been pretty good, though.”

“What's the most expensive place you've ever sold?” Harlee asked.

“When I worked in Tahoe, I once sold a house for two million dollars.”

“Holy crap,” Darla said. “How much did you get of that?”

Even to Aidan, who was an investigator, it was a pretty ballsy question. But Dana didn't appear to mind, telling them a standard agent's commission. He watched her tell a story about the ugliest house she'd ever sold, and by the time he slipped away to man the barbecue she positively glowed.

“What's going on over there?” Brady asked him.

“They're talking real estate and asking Dana how much money she makes.”

Brady chuckled. “It's a weird little town. Want a burger?”

“I want a burger and a hot dog. Here, let me take over.”

“I got it,” Brady said. “This is what I do.”

“Is the cop who's talking to Hutch and Kurtis with Darla?” They'd come together, but Aidan couldn't see them as a couple. The cop had a buzz cut that reminded Aidan of a marine. Despite the patriotic flag hair, Darla struck him as . . . out there.

“Yep.” Brady flipped three burgers in a row and topped them with cheese slices more deftly than any short-order cook. “She's a character, Darla. But good people. Both of them.”

Aidan called to the crowd that they should start lining up for burgers and dogs hot off the grill and proceeded to watch Dana with the group of women he'd left her with. She seemed to be holding her own and even looked like she was enjoying herself. She had on one of those sundresses he liked, her legs long and shapely—and ghostly white. The lady needed a tan. She must've sensed him observing her because she offered up a shy smile and waved. He waved back, and something indefinable but intimate passed between them, something that made his heart move in his chest.

H
arlee had more clothes than a department store. Every time Dana found a skirt or blazer she liked, Harlee threw another one on the bed just to confuse her.

“You can have them all if you want,” Harlee said. “Don't worry about offending me if there's stuff you don't like. I don't know why I bought some of these pieces in the first place. I used to have a shopping problem. If I saw something I wanted, I had to get it in every color. Thank goodness Colin built this house with big closets. But I need to get rid of a lot of these clothes before they overtake the house.”

At the barbecue Harlee had once again insisted that Dana come over to her house to look through her clothes. It would've been insulting to turn her down, and Dana had always wanted a friend to play dress up with.

Harlee went into the hallway and wheeled another rolling rack into the bedroom. “I have so much that I'm forced to keep clothes in the garage.” She pulled a red shift dress from the stand. “This color goes good with your hair and skin tone. Try it on.”

“I don't feel right about taking all this.” Dana looked at her growing pile of pantsuits, dresses, skirts, blouses, and jackets. “Even if you're trying to get rid of stuff, you could sell these clothes.”

“Used clothes don't exactly fetch a fortune. I'd rather give them away.”

“What about Darla?” Dana knew the two women were best friends.

“She's already picked what she wants, which wasn't much. The two of us don't exactly have the same taste. I would say you and I are closer in style.”

Dana was stunned. “Are you kidding me? You look like a fashion plate. I'm just happy to look professional.”

“You have . . . had . . . some nice pieces before the fire. Quality and very classic. But . . . and don't take this the wrong way . . . you dress a little too conservatively, in my opinion. I think the clothes from Farm Supply suit you better.”

“It was so kind of Grace.” Dana went in Harlee's big master bathroom to try the shift dress on but kept the door open a crack so she could still carry on a conversation. “She saved me from having to go out in public in a see-through nightgown the day after the fire, and everything is so cute. But it's all a little more fitted than I usually wear.”

“That's why it looks good on you. Hey, just saying. And Aidan certainly seems to appreciate it.”

“Huh, what do you mean?” Dana popped her head out of the bathroom.

“He can't keep his eyes off of you. I seriously think he's into you.”

Dana came out in the dress. “No, he's going through a bad breakup.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Dana didn't think she was betraying any confidences. Other than to tell her that Sue was getting married, Aidan hadn't disclosed much about his past relationship. “His ex dumped him for someone else.”

“When?” Harlee wanted to know.

“About seven months ago. But the ex just got married.”

Harlee appeared sympathetic at first but then shrugged. “Well, if you ask me, he seems pretty over it.”

“I'm sure it's just an act. Men are good at not wearing their emotions on their sleeves.” Especially an alpha male like Aidan.

“Perhaps. But you're providing quite a distraction for him from what I saw at the barbecue yesterday. He watched you constantly, followed you around like a puppy dog, and smiled at everything you said.”

Dana didn't want to be a distraction to a man who was just longing for someone else. She'd been that enough times to know it ended up with her feeling used and broken.

“Everyone says you're just sharing the house together, but I left the party wondering.” Harlee winged up her brows in question.

“We're just roommates, that's all.”

Sometimes Dana suspected Aidan showered her with attention because he felt sorry for her. She got the distinct impression that the man was a caretaker—probably the reason he became a firefighter—and worried that Dana lacked a social life. That was why he dragged her into his.

“You never know,” Harlee said. “That could change.”

Doubtful, Dana thought, but if she could keep her heart out of it she wouldn't mind having a brief affair with him. It wasn't every day that a single woman in the middle of nowhere had access to a single man like Aidan McBride. Just the thought of being with him gave her shivers. Her times with Griffin had been nice, but Aidan struck her as the kind of man who knew his way around a woman's body. Dana's problem was she'd never been able to separate her heart from sex.

“The dress is perfect.” Harlee made Dana turn around so she could view it from the back. “Add it to the pile.”

“You don't think it's too tight?”

“Are you crazy? I think it fits you like a glove. It'll go from day to night with a little suit jacket and then some chunky jewelry for painting the town.”

As if Dana ever painted the town. But she did adore the dress and could wear Spanx to keep her stomach from pooching out too much, she thought as she examined herself in the full-length mirror.

“You sure you want to give this up? It's a really great dress.”

“I have one in blue that I like better. Plus, for working at the
Trib
the dress is too much. I don't have clients like you do. Around here, I can get away with wearing jeans and boots for most of my interviews.” Harlee grabbed a jumper and a couple of maxi dresses off the rack. “Here, try these on.”

Dana went back inside the bathroom. “I don't know about this.” The jumper was snug, too short, and cut her torso in an unflattering way.

“Let me see.” Harlee let herself inside the bathroom. “No good. I don't know what I was thinking when I bought that. Maybe it would look cute on Lina. She's tiny enough to pull it—” Harlee stopped talking, and an uneasy silence ensued. Dana didn't know why, but she started laughing.

“Sorry,” Harlee said and chewed on her bottom lip. “Was that insensitive of me? I never knew whether Lina was the reason you and Griff stopped seeing each other.”

“It's all right. I'm happy for Griffin and Lina.” Not exactly the truth, but Dana was getting there.

“Try on the dresses.” Harlee sat on the toilet with the cover down.

Dana, who'd originally felt self-conscious about changing in front of her, slipped off the romper and put on the yellow maxi.

“I'm not loving the color on you. Try the green one,” Harlee said, and Dana switched dresses. “Now, that one is adorable. Definitely a keeper.”

Dana stood on her tiptoes and backed up so she could see herself in the bathroom mirror. “I can't believe you're giving me all these beautiful outfits.”

She loved everything and, even more, loved having someone to tell her what looked good and what didn't. Ordinarily, most of these clothes would've been too daring for her. But Harlee, whose taste Dana trusted, gave her courage to experiment with a new wardrobe.

“Yoo-hoo, anyone home?”

“We're in here,” Harlee called.

Darla entered the bathroom, holding a couple of Bun Boy bags and shaking them in the air. “Lunch.” She turned her attention to Dana. “Ooh, so cute.”

“Doesn't that dress fit her perfectly?”

Darla put the bags down on the sink counter and started playing with Dana's hair. “You have such a gorgeous neck. Wear your hair up when you wear the dress. Very sexy.”

“Should we continue the fashion show after lunch?” Harlee asked. “I'm starved.”

Dana changed into her jeans and T-shirt and the three of them ate in Harlee's gourmet kitchen.

“This is a really beautiful house,” Dana said, glancing around at the custom cabinetry and stainless-steel appliances. She had clients who would kill for a home situated on a private mountainside like this. “Colin does amazing work.”

Harlee beamed. The love she had for her husband was so obvious. “What's going on with your rebuild?”

“Colin is working on changes to my plans. As soon as that's done, we go to the city for permits.”

“I wish Wyatt and I could rebuild, or at least remodel,” Darla said. “His house is fugly. Cottage cheese ceilings, rust stains in the tub, and funky carpet in the living room. He actually thinks it's nice.”

“I told you I'd come over and help you rip the carpet out while Wyatt's working,” Harlee said.

“I can't decide what to replace it with.”

“As far as for resale, definitely go with hardwood.” As soon as the words came out of Dana's mouth she felt bad. What if the hair stylist and Wyatt didn't like hardwood?

“That's what I'm leaning toward. It's just so expensive.”

“I told you Colin would help with it,” Harlee said.

“Colin has enough to do. We'll get around to it eventually. In the meantime, I've got gossip.”

“Do tell.” Harlee bit into her fried chicken sandwich and washed it down with a vanilla shake.

Somehow, Darla had known to get Dana a cheeseburger with no tomatoes and sauce on the side, with a large order of curly fries. She must've asked someone at the Bun Boy. Ah, the beauty of small-town living. Folks even knew your food preferences.

“Ray Rosser is talking plea bargain,” she said, and Dana nearly choked on her Coke.

“He's not planning to take the case to trial?” Harlee seemed just as surprised.

The old man wasn't one to quit without a good fight. Perhaps the stakes were too high. First-degree murder carried a penalty of twenty-five years to life in prison. Even if he managed to whittle that sentence down in exchange for a guilty plea, Ray Rosser would never see daylight from outside a prison yard.

“Not according to my dad, who heard about the plea deal from Earl Miller at Farm Supply,” Darla said.

Dana's brain ran a million miles a minute, trying to analyze what this could mean for her client. Gia hadn't gotten back to Ray on the additional thirty thousand dollars. A plea bargain, though, would save Ray money on what was sure to be a lengthy trial.

“How does Earl know about it?” Harlee asked. “If it's true, I'd like to get the story in the
Trib
as soon as possible.”

Harlee got up and returned a few minutes later with a laptop. At the table, she flipped up the lid and began typing. Dana watched as she searched for results on Ray Rosser.

“I don't see anything about a plea deal in the Quincy paper,” she said and continued typing. “There's nothing about it anywhere as far as I can tell.”

“It doesn't mean it's not true. I bet we're the first to know.” Darla downed the rest of her shake.

“How can you find out for sure?” Dana asked Harlee.

“I can call Del Webber, Ray's attorney, or George Williamson, the prosecutor. They probably won't tell me anything, though. Not unless it's a done deal.”

It was on the tip of Dana's tongue to tell her to call the lawyers anyway when her own phone rang. Gia.

* * *

Aidan was supposed to have Thursday off, but he got called out on a suspicious structure fire. A goat barn on a farm outside of Nugget. By the time he arrived, firefighters had knocked down most of the blaze before it could spread to any of the other outbuildings, giving him plenty of time to search the perimeter and the scene itself. And he didn't like what he saw. Luckily, someone had evacuated the goats before they'd become barbecue. But the critters had gotten loose from the pen they'd been corralled in and were roaming wild, getting into Cal Fire's equipment.

“Can someone get these out of here?” Aidan called.

The police chief, Rhys Shepard, who'd apparently been called out too, laughed and started shooing away the animals nibbling on hoses and turn-out gear. Shepard gave a commanding one-handed whistle and two dogs came running down a path. They rounded up the stragglers, got them back inside the pen, and stood guard.

Aidan watched in awe. “They just know how to do that?”

“Yep,” Rhys said. “It's in their blood.”

“The owner have kids?”

Rhys gazed out over the herd of goats and nudged his head at a few of the babies as they ran through the corral, taking occasional sideways leaps into the air.

“Not those kinds of kids.” Aidan's lips curved up. He had to admit they were damned cute. “The two-legged ones.”

“Sean and his little brother, Seth. Whaddya got?”

“Firework mortars.”

Captain Johnson joined them, took his fire helmet off, and mopped his forehead with the back of his hand. “You show Rhys what you found?”

A firefighter Aidan didn't know approached. The first thing Aidan noticed was that he still had his mask and hood on—a little overkill, considering the fire was out. Johnson rolled his eyes.

“Go kick rocks, Duke.” When Duke walked away, Johnson muttered something about him being a whacker. A whacker was a guy who spent his day on Twitter and Facebook, telling the world about all the fires he'd fought when, in fact, he hadn't done dick.

“McBride show you the shed?” Johnson asked Rhys.

“I was just about to.” Aidan motioned for Rhys and Johnson to follow him to a ramshackle outbuilding filled with electrical equipment, mortar tubes, and a collection of pyrotechnic chemicals he'd discovered earlier. “I found the remnants of a few of these”—he held up the cardboard tubes—“in the barn and suspect someone was celebrating the Fourth of July on the fifth.”

“You think Sean or Seth?”

“And maybe a few friends.” Aidan guided Rhys and his captain back to the burned-out barn and showed them a youth's denim jacket that had been badly singed in the fire. But it hadn't been damaged enough to obscure the ranch logo over the breast.