The Marriage Charm (Bliss County 2) (25 page)

*

T
HE FIRE WAS
burning well. The promise of food made the boys gather around, and when Spence checked the horses he discovered that they’d all done a decent job. Moe did the grilling—it was his turn—and after they’d eaten, Spence did the cleanup and declared it a night. He claimed his bedroll, which he spread out some distance from the tents.

He’d chosen to sleep under the stars, except that he couldn’t sleep. Instead, he looked up at the skies and thought about life. This trip came at an interesting time for him.

Was he ready to become a parent?

He had not used a condom the last time he’d made love to Melody, and she hadn’t asked him to. They’d both been carried away, yes, but the decision had been mutual, even deliberate. He had the unreasonable hope that she’d turn up pregnant. Where did
that
come from?

Marriage was a big step, not that he’d asked her yet. But becoming parents—that was monumental.

He was ready. For all of it. Marriage
and
becoming a father. It might have taken nine years, but he was finally ready.

Tripp and Hadleigh were trying, he knew that. They’d make wonderful parents when the time came.

He looked around at the tents in the clearing. A couple of the boys were clearly still awake, cutting up and laughing and shushing each other when it got too loud. In the distance a wolf howled, which shut them up pretty fast, and Spence had to smile at the ensuing silence. The clean scent of the forest embraced him. The first night he’d heard that lonely sound he’d been tongue-tied, too, a frightened kid in a sleeping bag, but it was an exhilarating kind of primal fear.

“What was that?” It came from the closest tent, with the youngest boys.

“Wolf, dummy.”

“It sounded close.”

One of the boys snorted derisively. “You scared? How many people do you know who’ve been killed by wolves? Let me guess. Zip.”

“I don’t want to be the first one!”

“The chief isn’t even sleeping in a tent. Just cool your jets. If it was dangerous, would he do that?”

“Yeah, well, at least he has a gun.”

“You are such a wuss.”

The wolf howled again, and another one answered. The twelve-year-old muttered a word Spence was sure he’d never say in front of his mother.

He stifled a laugh.

He didn’t go camping often, now that he was older and had so much responsibility.

He definitely wanted a son, or a daughter to take on outings like this.

He just needed Melody to be part of it all.

He said clearly, “Boys, go to sleep. It’ll be light soon enough. Besides, those wolves might hear you and know where we are.”

The silence that followed was peaceful. He drifted off.

*

F
IVE O’CLOCK IN
the morning. Too early to be up.

Harley was still snoozing on her bed, but now that she had her replacement tools it was as if an irresistible force had awakened her. She could work again!

So she got up and did exactly that.

She had soft music playing in the background, a combination of Bach concertos and then some Kenny Chesney, rounded out by Brandi Carlisle. She sat at her worktable and drank two cups of coffee and made some real progress on the bib necklace.

It was always a gratifying moment when she knew she was hitting her stride. This piece was going to be gorgeous. A lot of the credit went to Mrs. Arbuckle because the semiprecious stones were superb, but Melody was very pleased with the design now that it was coming together. Mrs. A. could wear it at any of her fancy events and be a sensation.

The ring would have to wait. Her heart just wasn’t in it, not without the right stone. Despite the fact that it was unlikely, she held out an unrealistic sliver of hope that the Pierce diamond would be recovered.

She needed to get past that fantasy, but art wasn’t an on-demand sort of profession. Inspiration came when it came, and sometimes it went on an unexpected vacation. Her muse, the one she needed for the ring, was currently on the Riviera, soaking up sun, not answering calls or email.

Speaking of vacations... Spence and his troop of boys would be back today. It was going to be interesting to hear how it’d all turned out, especially since she and Bex and Hadleigh were about to undertake the same kind of adventure.

That one ride on Sunset wasn’t enough to prepare her for the trail, but it did remind her of forgotten skills. That was something, anyway. Bex was the fittest person she knew, with a killer body and toned everything, and Hadleigh often rode with Tripp. All of which meant that Melody wasn’t likely to be voted queen of the trail ride.

Her questionable riding skills could be addressed later. She had something else on her mind.

The design for the clock was rough, but Tripp had agreed to help her cut out the numbers—and to keep it a surprise. He’d offered to mount the clockwork, too. She’d immediately accepted that very generous offer, because this was definitely not her area of expertise.

When it was light enough, she fed Harley then said, “Come on, boy.”

He obligingly hopped in the car, his canine grin endearing.

Her expertise was much more geared toward the clock’s background picture. Today she’d try some sketches, see which worked the best for the design she was planning.

The house, the barn, the corral... She sat in the grass, Harley next to her. Biting her lip, she concentrated on the scene before her, sketching until lunchtime, starting to get a feel for it. That was where she was, what she was doing, when she heard the sound coming up the drive.

Hoofbeats.

Hm.

She’d known they were supposed to return the boys around eleven, so she’d packed a picnic basket with several chicken salad sandwiches, tossed in the leftover potatoes and included some of Hadleigh’s famous cookies. She’d even put in some dog treats in a plastic bag for her new best friend and loyal canine companion. When Spence trotted into sight on Reb, she would have shouted, but Harley took care of that for her, barking and dashing down the incline toward the house to greet him. She merely waved and went back to her task at hand.

He would come to her. She knew it.

He did.

Not for another twenty minutes, though. He walked toward her, his hair still wet, and she could see that a shower had obviously been at the top of his list. He didn’t bother with hello, but dropped down beside her and pointed at the basket. “I’m really hoping that’s the lunch you promised.”

She’d left him a note.

“It is.” She closed her sketchpad and set it aside. “Harley missed you.”

“Just him?” He reached for her and pulled her close for a memorable, lingering kiss.

When it was over, she said mischievously, “Yep, just him.”

“Maybe I don’t need lunch, after all,” he whispered, his fingertips caressing her shoulder.

She sat up and pushed him away. “I’m starving. I suspect you are, too.” She opened the lid. “How was it?”

He relaxed on the grass, all long legs and hungry male. “The trip? Pretty good. The boys were remarkably well behaved, and so was the weather. I can control the boys, the weather not so much. I was happy with the nod from above. Those teenagers are bursting with energy. Stick them in a tent for too long, and you’re asking for problems. Luckily, we had beautiful days and clear nights, so they all got along.”

She handed him a sandwich, chicken salad on bread from the bakery downtown. “Here you go. I didn’t bake the bread. I wanted to. Hadleigh made the cookies, though. I like baking, but I’ve been too busy.” She gave a self-conscious shrug. “I’m not positive I even combed my hair this morning.”

“Doesn’t make any difference to me. From my viewpoint, you always look great.” He took a moment to make his point, studying her from head to foot with obvious appreciation before he unwrapped his lunch and dived in. Operation Sandwich took thirty seconds flat.

Luckily, she’d anticipated his hunger and gave him another one, plus some of the cookies. “Hadleigh will want to know if you liked them. Milk chocolate and dried cherries.”

“Dried what? Cherries in a cookie?” He frowned at the red spots sprinkled in the dough, but then quickly ate one. “Good,” he said with enough decisiveness that it sounded genuine. If she’d handed him a stale Fig Newton from the cookie aisle at the local grocery, she suspected he would’ve said the exact same thing.

She wouldn’t tell Hadleigh she’d probably agonized over that recipe for nothing, as far as Spence was concerned. Maybe the girls would be more discerning. After all, he’d just spent the past three days in the saddle and cooking over a campfire.

Melody thought they were delicious. If this was a bake-off, Hadleigh would’ve won the first round. For her part, she was going to whip up some Hot Brown sandwiches invented—and named after—the famous Kentucky hotel. They were made with garlic toast, turkey slices and a mornay sauce, although she’d have to figure out how to broil them for the finishing touch.

Wave a stick of flaming wood over the top? That would be the pioneer way.

Meanwhile, Spence was looking at her with a certain speculative desire in his eyes, and even though it was a sunny afternoon, even though they were completely private—except for Harley—and getting naked with him sounded like exactly what she wanted to do, she was going to stand firm. This time.

The breeze moved his wavy dark hair.

Melody refused to be swayed by that appealing image. “We’re divided on your invitation to live here,” she told him frankly, taking another cherry-chocolate cookie. “Harley, of course, votes yes. Hadleigh’s on your side, but Bex and I aren’t so sure. The cats are also pretty comfortable at my place and would prefer to stay where they are.”

“Their opinions are paramount, of course.”

She ignored that wry comment. “That’s five to two.”

“Um, my vote doesn’t count?”

She modified her response. “Okay, five to three, but you’re still outnumbered.”

“Reb says it’s the best idea he’s ever heard. Now we’re five to four. Can I do an office poll? I’m pretty sure Moe and Estes would give you a big thumbs-up as a roommate. There. I just won. Junie would agree, too, come to think of it. She’d want me to be happy.” He tumbled her over and took the cookie away. “That was some great chicken salad, Ms. Nolan. I liked the cookie but can I have another dessert?”

She touched his face. “I need some space to work this out. Give it to me?”

Spence didn’t argue. He could seduce her, they both knew it, and she fell even more in love with him when he didn’t press his advantage. He rolled away, staring up at the blue sky, then got to his feet and offered his hand to help her up. “Thanks for a fantastic lunch.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“S
O THE NAME
didn’t come up in Mustang Creek?”

“Nope.” Junie shook her head, frowning over his shoulder at the computer screen. “I tried it a dozen different ways. I checked it out on the internet with search engines, and contacted all the state law-enforcement agencies.”

“So this person doesn’t exist.”

“Mary Allen? Oh, heck, yeah, she exists all over the place, but not here.”She eased a hip onto his desk. “I’m insulted no Mary Allen ever moved here. What’s wrong with this town?”

“Nosy dispatchers would be my guess. It blows our entire tourism campaign.” He waved goodbye as he started to read the information she’d unearthed. “Thanks for checking. You go have a good evening. Headed to Bad Billy’s?”

“Of course. It’s dollar beer night.” She winked and stood up then sashayed off. “Glad the trail ride went well.”

He nodded absently, unsettled by what he was seeing.

Mary Allen had no existing address in Mustang Creek, which might explain why she’d never wanted him to pick her up but always suggested they meet somewhere on the few dates they’d had. There hadn’t been much chemistry, and he was doing his best to remember what she’d told him about her past.

Pretty much nothing.

She claimed to be an appraiser specializing in antiques.

He’d seen her entering the antiques store a few days ago, and it was bothering him.

He picked up his cell and called Melody. “When you bought that ring from Ronald, who waited on you?” Was “Mary” working for him now? And if so, in what capacity? As some sort of “consultant”?

“He did.” She sounded puzzled. “It was a big-ticket item. Surely you don’t think he—”

“No.” He scratched his chin. “I’m thinking about teapots.”

“
You’re
thinking about teapots? Why? You aren’t making much sense to me at the moment.”

“I’m going down a rabbit hole. I don’t make much sense to me, either, but I’m working on it. What are we doing tonight, by the way?”

“That’s quite an assumption, Chief Hogan. Who said we were doing anything?”

Maybe he hadn’t been too smooth there. Time for a quick drop on the fumbled ball. “I meant would you like to have a pizza and movie night? You get to choose the movie. I don’t need action-packed, but let’s leave the box-of-tissues kind out of the equation. I’ll pick up the pizza and meet you at the ranch in, what, an hour or so?”

“I’ll compromise on the movie,” she agreed with a laugh in her voice, “if you’ll include at least one vegetable on the pizza you order. Not just double pepperoni and heavy on the sausage. Two vegetables, and you’ll win my heart.”

“Done.”

They ended the call, and he sat and thought about the resources he had. He did have a buddy in Cheyenne who might be able to help him out. He could call, get a second opinion even though Jack Pearson was a homicide detective, and this wasn’t exactly his area, but he did in-depth investigation a lot more often than Spence did.

Jack was out of the office.

Figures
. He left a message, called Mike Mule’s Pizzeria, asked for a large thin-crust with the works, and logged off for the night. Estes, who was at the desk, gave him a cheeky salute. “Have a good night, Chief.”

“I’m hoping to.”

“Second trail ride this weekend. We’re taking bets that you come back pretty cranky from that one.”

The ride for the girls had filled up faster than the one for boys, if that was possible. Teenage girls and horses. No wonder the parents had been so upset when it was a no-girls-allowed event. “Nice to know my mood’s a source of humor in this office.”