The Marriage Charm (Bliss County 2) (20 page)

“I’ve decided if he wants to take me to dinner, I’ll accept,” she finally said, “and that would be a good start. Help me out here. I figure that what needs to happen is the separation of sexual attraction and friendship. You know, so we have a better understanding of each other. Do you agree?” Melody ran her fingers through her hair, briefly closing her eyes. “I don’t want to be
that
girl, the one who uses sex to get what she wants. It’s flattering that he’s so interested, but I need more. Spence has never told me how he feels about marriage. As a matter of fact, he’s never told me how he
feels
. Period. End of story.”

“He didn’t have the easiest childhood,” Hadleigh said, curling her legs up under her.

“I know. Neither did you. Neither did I. I still remember the day I found out my father was sick.”

“But he didn’t reject you. He fought his battle with cancer so he could stick around as long as possible for you. Besides, we’re women. We tend to work through our problems by talking about them. Men, on the other hand, usually just ignore their emotional issues.”

Truer words were never spoken. But Melody was still prepared to argue. “I can’t handle a relationship based purely on physical attraction.”

“Maybe you should tell him that.”

“And force his hand one way or the other?” She got restlessly to her feet, unable to sit still. “I know he cares about me. And it’s probably a foolish sentimental notion, but I have to know he
loves
me. If he asked me to marry him tomorrow, and I thought he wasn’t one hundred percent in
love
with me, I’d say no.”

“So go to dinner with him, for heaven’s sake. Do
something
.” Hadleigh brightened. “Wait. The trail ride! That’s perfect.”

“What trail ride?”

“Spence wants us to chaperone a trail ride for teenage girls. That’ll provide quality time together and no chance of even sharing a sleeping bag. Three days. I was going to ask you and Bex to help out, anyway.”

Three days in the saddle? She wasn’t a complete tenderfoot, but...

“I haven’t been on a horse in a while.” She had to be honest.

“I doubt many of the girls have, either. When he asked me if I’d participate, Spence promised an easy pace. Just enjoying the scenery and being outdoors is the whole point. Cooking over a campfire. Spence swore to me that the guys will do the cleanup, set up the tents, saddle the horses and handle all the details. Tripp can’t go, but he’s going to ask Jim to come along.”

She adored Jim Galloway, so that sounded good. Melody wasn’t positive she and Spence would spend a lot of “quality” time together on this outing, but it was an intriguing opportunity.

“I suppose it would test his devotion, dealing with a saddle-sore woman,” she said, only half joking. “Since I can’t work until I replace my tools, do you mind if I come out tomorrow morning and take a ride on Sunset, just to practice?”

Hadleigh grinned. “Atta girl.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

S
PENCE TOOK THE
piece of paper from his desk drawer and smoothed it out again, at odds with himself emotionally, something that was unusual for him. He’d always been action-oriented, which was why his job suited him. If a decision needed to be made, he made it and damn the torpedoes. What happened next was what happened. He’d deal with it as it came.

The portrait was interesting.

He studied it, head tilted, wondering if it was just a physical representation or a subjective and emotional one.

He didn’t think he looked that remote and wondered if that was a personal perception of hers.

He was on horseback in her sketch, and she’d done a good job with Reb, too. There was a hint of mountains in the background, but it was mostly him, clad in his usual gear. He seemed to be looking into the distance, his features shaded by the brim of his hat, his mouth unsmiling.

He felt guilty for having this picture, and equally guilty for being the star of the show.

He’d, in essence, swiped it.

Yes, he, Spencer Hogan, police chief, had stolen it from the floor of Melody’s studio when he’d stumbled across it after the robbery, crumpled and in the corner. During the vandalism, the thief or thieves has ripped apart her sketch book. Once he saw that the portrait was clearly of him, he’d tucked it away in his pocket without saying a word.

He should probably return it, but that would just embarrass both of them, because she’d know
he
took it, and he knew
she’d
drawn it. When, he wondered, had she made this sketch? Recently, he’d guess; that pad was the one she was currently using.

“Knock, knock. You look a million miles away, son.”

The familiar friendly voice brought him out of his contemplation. The door to his office was open, and he glanced up to see Jim Galloway there, dressed in his usual ranch attire even though he lived in town now. His battered hat had been replaced by a brand-new Stetson, no doubt at the insistence of his wife.

As he strolled in, Spence got to his feet and offered his hand. “I see you got my message. I’d have stopped by the house.”

Jim’s calloused grip was as firm as ever. “I was out and about, so took a chance you might be in. Save you the trouble. Us retired folk have a little more time on our hands, though I have to say the missus keeps me hoppin’. Got to admit I’m curious. What can I do for you?”

“Have a seat.” He gestured at the chair by his desk. “I’ve got two favors to ask. Listen, Junie makes a mean pot of coffee. Want a cup?”

“Old cowboys live on coffee. Black, no sugar.”

Spence went out to the small break room, poured a cup and brought it back then sat down behind his desk again. “I want to pick your brain about this recent string of burglaries. Tripp’s suggestion.” He smiled. “He seems to think pretty highly of you for some reason.”

Jim chuckled. “The feeling is mutual.” He sobered almost immediately. “I’ve taken to locking my doors. Gets my hackles up. I’ve even told Pauline to keep ʼem shut up tight when she’s alone. If I can help in any way, I’d be happy to.”

Spence picked up a computer printout on his desk and leaned forward to hand it over. “Here’s a list of the victims so far. Of course, it’s possible that they were chosen at random, but I don’t believe that. There are certain similarities, and my gut tells me these crimes are planned. Since you know just about everyone around here, I wondered if you could think about it. Tell me if you see a connection between these seven people.”

With a small grimace, Jim fished a pair of glasses from the pocket of his shirt and slid them on. “Can’t read without these damn specs anymore. It’s better to get old than not to get old, if you catch my drift, but there
are
inconveniences.”

Spence thought about the card still sitting unopened in his desk drawer. He’d had no idea if his mother was still alive until that card had arrived. She’d be in her late fifties now, which wasn’t old, but it wasn’t young, either, and life could deal a person an uncertain hand as it played out the game.

When he was younger, he’d often wondered what had happened to her, if she’d remarried, if he had half siblings out there, but as an adult, he’d put it behind him. People could change a lot of things in life, but not the past. Once he’d come to terms with that, he’d stopped thinking about it, stopped thinking about
her.
But then that card had to turn up.

Jim squinted at the list, obviously mulling it over. “I might have to ponder this a bit. What could sweet little Melody Nolan have in common with crotchety ol’ Lily Rayburn? That pious pain in the ass could have a passel of people who dislike her, but not Melody.”

Spence hid a grin. First of all, he doubted Melody would enjoy being called little and sweet, and certainly Mrs. Rayburn wouldn’t enjoy
her
description. “Among assorted other things, like a DVD player, a television and some small appliances, they stole Mrs. Rayburn’s prize teapot collection, some of which she bought in England. That seems pretty strange to me. The average thief isn’t going to know what to do with that. Sure, they can fence the other stuff—that’s easy—but teapots? And unless you come prepared, how do you even carry them without breaking or chipping them and ruining their value?”

Jim held up his cup and snorted. “Teapots. I’m a coffee drinker myself, but I get your point.”

There was one more thing that bothered him. A lot. “As you think this over, keep in mind that in the first six robberies, the thief or thieves went in, took what they wanted, messed the place up some and slipped out. In Melody’s case, they completely trashed her studio.” He folded his arms and leaned on the desk, recalling the chaos. “It seemed to me that they’re getting bolder. Or else this one was personal.”

“Maybe she should stay out at your ranch until you figure that out, son.”

Of course Jim had been at the party and knew their history, and that sage advice was a direct reflection of Tripp’s opinion. He said neutrally, “I didn’t want to put the cart before the horse, if you know what I mean. But maybe you’re right.”

“I’m old-fashioned.” Jim’s weathered face was thoughtful. “But I sure as hell, after all my years on this earth, am not naive. I’m going to guess that horse bolted out of the barn a long time ago. What’s the second favor?”

Spence wasn’t convinced he could sell the female trail ride, but Jim was surprisingly interested.

“Pauline might tag along if you don’t mind. Don’t think she’s ever done anything like that.”

“Perfect.” Spence liked the idea of an older woman as one of the chaperones. Then he raised a brow. “Has she ever been in the saddle?”

“Nope,” Jim said with a cheeky grin. “That’ll be part of the fun.”

*

M
ELODY SLID DOWN
from Hadleigh’s horse, feeling pretty good, but then again, the soreness usually kicked in later.

The ghosts of those unused muscles would appear soon enough; she had no illusions about that. Luckily, Sunset was a patient animal and had forgiven her rusty riding skills. Tripp met her at the barn and took the reins. “Nice morning. Enjoy the ride?”

“Absolutely,” she answered. It was indeed a lovely morning, the breeze cool and clean, and the upcoming trail ride might be just what she needed. A break from her current woes, some time with Spence, not to mention Hadleigh and Bex. It sounded like a mini-vacation. She rubbed Sunset’s neck, saying, “She’s an extremely well-mannered horse.”

“That she is.” Like Spence, Tripp was calm and relaxed with animals, so they were comfortable with him. He slipped off the mare’s bridle, and she nudged him affectionately. “The minute I saw her, I knew she’d suit Hadleigh.”

“Yeah, it was definitely love at first sight.”

He fended off another affectionate nuzzle. “Speaking of which, how’s everything with Spence?”

Faced with such a direct question, she felt she’d been put on the spot. It wasn’t as if she and Tripp weren’t friends, but he was more in Spence’s camp than hers. “I, well...I don’t know,” she managed to stammer out under his discerning gaze. She met it squarely. “I don’t know how serious he is, so I’m going to stick with that answer. I just don’t know.”

Tripp began to loosen the girth as he spoke. “He’ll tell you eventually. That’s how he works. It all has to be settled in his mind before he takes a step. That makes him a great cop and a great chief.”

Melody nodded then stepped forward, eager to change the subject. “Let me take the saddle. You don’t need to coddle me.”

He deposited it in her arms. “Here you go. It’s true. On the trail you’ll have to handle yourself and your horse. Put your own tack away.”

She managed to heave it up onto the post. “It’s been a few years, but I hope it’s like riding a bicycle.”

“Except with legs and occasionally a temper.”

“Yeah, I guess horses are unpredictable.”

“So is Spence,” he said with a laugh. “I was talking about him.”

She blushed. “You’re as bad as your wife.”

“Worse.” He winked.

She shook her head, playing along, pretending to be shocked. “How does Hadleigh put up with you, anyway?”

“God knows. I’ve wondered that myself.”

She nudged a pile of straw with her toe, not meeting his eyes. “She loves you. That’s how she does it.”

He hung the bridle on an iron hook. “You don’t love Spence?”

Loaded question there.

“I tried that once. It didn’t work out so well.”

Tripp swung around. “Try it again, Mel.”

“Whatever I tell you, you’ll tell him, so can I just exercise my right not to respond?”

His mouth curved in another grin. “I think you’re confusing our little talk with the amendments to the Constitution. I’m asking because he’s like my brother. Look at it this way. If you thought I might hurt Hadleigh, you’d come after me like a rabid wolverine on steroids, right?”

True, although she’d never seen a wolverine, rabid or otherwise.

She left shortly after that conversation, not precisely unnerved, but certainly unsettled.

It only got worse.

Mrs. Arbuckle’s sleek Jaguar, complete with chauffeur, sat in her driveway, all polished silver exterior and immaculate headlights.

Melody got out of her little yellow BMW and summoned her best smile, even though she smelled like horse; it was impossible to ride a horse and not smell like one. Added to that was the odor of dogs, because Muggles and Ridley seemed to be her biggest fans. Their greetings involved a great deal of leaping around, and she never emerged unscathed. “Mrs. Arbuckle. How are you?”

The lady emerged from her vehicle, placing one expensive but practical shoe in front of the other. Her gray hair was perfectly coiffed, and her slacks and blouse pressed. Roscoe, her terrier, followed, naturally. “Busy,” she announced, as if Melody’s tardiness was an affront, although she’d made no appointment or given any indication that she planned to drop by. Then she softened her response, saying briskly, “I suppose I bring that on myself. Now then, I heard what happened.”

Melody herself might not be pristine at the moment, but she and Hadleigh had spent a lot of time scrubbing away every trace of the intruders in her home, so it was tidier than usual. For that, at least, she was grateful. “The stones for your necklace were in the safe, and the thieves didn’t even try to get into that, according to the police,” she informed her unexpected visitor as she unlocked the door. “Please come in.”