Trespass (20 page)

By the time Russ found her, she’d settled on a pair of red velvet flats, not terribly well made, but marked to sell and cute as all-get-out. Russ didn’t ask the price of anything, simply went with her to the checkout and paid, carrying her bags to the truck.

“Thanks again,” she said.

“You’re welcome.”

“You should give me the receipt, so I can keep track of what I owe you.”

Russ stowed her purchases in the back of the cab and they climbed inside. “I’ll stick it to the fridge, how about that?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Where to next?” he asked.

“I guess I could use some clothes…so a mall with all the usual chain stores, or one of those big Kohl’s-type places. Even Target’s fine.”

“I think there’s something like that just up the street.” Russ drove them back onto the road, and she wondered if he noticed what she did—the bus station. The last place she’d slept before Russ took her in. Shame gnawed at her nerves. She held her breath, convinced for a moment that he was going to pull in and give her the boot. But they cruised right on by and sure enough, there was a Kohl’s only two blocks away.

“Perfect.”

“How long do you need? I want to swing by a feed store, a ways outside of town. Is two hours too long?”

She laughed. “Two hours to shop sounds like heaven.”

“Great. Let’s see…” Russ dug his wallet out again and counted out bills. “Is a hundred and forty enough for some new outfits?”

“Oh God, that’s plenty.”

“Well here, take it.” He handed her the twenties. “If there’s anything left over, that’s a bonus.”

“Wow. Okay.” As she folded the bills and slid them into her pocket, a scary thought flashed across her mind. He was giving her this money because he wasn’t coming back. For a second the cab seemed to close in on her, then she swallowed and got herself together. “Where should I meet you?”

“I couldn’t say exactly when I’ll be back, so I guess I’ll just try to find you in the store.”

She nodded.

“I’ll aim for two hours, but it may be a bit longer.”

“Cool. Perfect.”

Russ searched her face. “Everything okay? You look sort of…stressed out.”

“No, I’m just a little overwhelmed. It’s weird to be doing something this normal again.”

“I’ll bet.”

“See you in a couple hours.”

“Have fun.”

She climbed out of the truck and waved as he drove off.
Please come back.
Please let this store’s proximity to the bus depot be a coincidence.

But no, Russ wouldn’t do that. He was a man of his word if ever she’d met one. Still, the fear dogged her as she entered the store. For the first half hour, she couldn’t concentrate. She touched pretty items but couldn’t focus enough to really comprehend what they were.

He wouldn’t have bought you all those shoes if he didn’t plan on bringing you back home.

His home, not yours.

But he didn’t give me the receipt. Maybe he’s planning to return them.

You’re being irrational. He’s the one who’s worried
you’ll
run off when his back’s turned, remember?

Finally, her brain reached its capacity for worry and switched gears. She poured all her attention into the racks, got lost in them like a pleasurable, colorful labyrinth. After what felt like two hours, she carried her carefully selected items to the register, praying the sales tax wouldn’t push her over her budget.

As it turned out, Montana was one of those renegade states that didn’t do sales tax, and she accepted her receipt with nearly twenty dollars to spare.

The clerk handed over her bag, heavy with jeans and sweaters and underwear.

“Thanks. Do you have the time?”

The woman consulted the register. “Ten past five.”

“Thanks.” Shit, that was ten minutes over the two hours Russ had estimated.
Two hours or more,
she reminded herself. No reason to panic. She took a seat on a bench by the entrance and flipped through her new clothes. She’d wear the velvet shoes and patterned blouse and a new pair of jeans tonight to the party.

If he comes back,
her brain reminded her.

She muttered “Shut up,” to herself just as a mother and child came through the sliding doors, cold outside air enveloping Sarah as they passed. She watched them heading for the kids’ section, envying how normal they were. Envying how boring that woman perhaps found her own life.

“Hey.”

She jumped, shocked to find Russ standing to her left. “Hi!” she said, way too loud.

He laughed. “Did I scare you? I’ve been wandering around for almost fifteen minutes. It’s like a hall of mirrors in here.”

“You didn’t scare me. I was just off in another world.”

“Find some good stuff?” He opened the bag beside her on the bench and peered inside.

“Yeah, thanks. And I have your change.”

Russ seemed to hesitate before accepting the bills she dug from her pocket. “Eighteen bucks…” He scanned the store.

“What?”

“Have you um… Did you decide what you’re wearing tonight? To the bar?”

“Yeah. Nothing too fancy.”

Russ wandered away and she followed, confused. He led her to the jewelry department, glass cases of more upscale rings and bracelets, cheaper costume stuff hanging along the partitions.

“Why don’t you pick out something to go with it?” Russ suggested, browsing.

She felt a blush rise in her cheeks. “This trip was really about practical things. I don’t want to spend your money—I mean, my future wages—on something silly. Four bucks for that stupid magazine was wasteful enough.”

“What color are you going to wear?” Russ asked, eyes still preoccupied with the necklaces and earrings.

“The top’s sort of patterned…red and fuchsia and gray. But I really—”

“What about something like this?” Russ plucked a necklace from its hook, red and pink beads.

“That’s pretty, but it’s a bit too matchy-matchy. Plus like I said, I don’t need any jewelry.”

Russ met her eyes. “Just let me, okay?” No challenge this time, merely a kind request, a favor being asked, even.

She sighed and submitted. Taking a slow inventory of the cheaper jewelry, she found a necklace made of three wire strands of crystal beads. “This is very nice.” She scanned for a salesperson before sneakily unclasping it from its tag and trying it on. Checking her reflection in a cheap, wavery plastic mirror, she decided it was indeed beautiful. Russ stood just behind her shoulder, and suddenly this twelve-dollar necklace was worth more to her than that diamond-and-ruby monstrosity Richard Gere had given to Julia Roberts. She placed her palm to it, overcome for a moment.

“I like it,” Russ said.

She met his gaze in the reflection. “Me too.”

He left her and she studied herself a moment longer.

“There’s earrings,” Russ said and she turned to find him holding them up. Before she could decide whether or not to protest, he was walking toward the registers, his stride telling her the earrings would be leaving the store with them. She took the necklace off and followed.

Sarah watched the same clerk who’d helped her earlier checking Russ out. Like,
checking him out.
She didn’t mind. In fact, Sarah followed suit, studying him as he made small talk and paid. So handsome. Not movie-star handsome—the kind of looks that conked a girl over the head—but the sort that if a woman were attracted to the type of man Russ was, she couldn’t help but melt. And he wasn’t Sarah’s type, even, but she melted all the same. She was a lump of chocolate and Russ was a warm radiator. The longer she lingered near him, the gooier she felt. It felt nicer than getting conked over the head by some stunning man’s looks. Far nicer by miles.

The horses weren’t impressed to be kept waiting an extra half hour for their nightly attention, but Russ didn’t let them guilt him. The trip had made him feel better than he had in ages, and not in the over-excited, desperately hopeful way he had when he and Sarah had first messed around. He just felt plain old satisfied. He finished putting the animals to bed and headed inside.

Sarah was standing in the den when he entered, and he had to stop and stare at her. She’d done her makeup again, pulled half her hair up into some style he had no word for. Her jeans were new—dark and stylish—and she had on her Christmas-y shoes and a colorful collared shirt. The necklace he’d bought her looked like snowflakes or diamonds scattered across her collarbone, matching beads dangling from her ears.

“Wow.”

She laughed and looked down, checking out her feet in their new shoes. “It’s not like I’m wearing a ball gown.”

“I know, but still. You look…”

She nodded. “I look like me on a good day. I look like the old me, I guess. As a brunette.”

Russ turned that around in his head. The “old” Sarah wasn’t the type of woman he’d ever imagine would want to be with a man like him. Not a glamour queen or anything, but perhaps the sort of woman who required a man with a certain amount of urbane charm. Russ had never even tried sushi or ridden on a subway. He didn’t know the names of any bands from after he’d graduated high school.

“What?” she asked, addressing his prolonged study.

“You look real nice, that’s all. Wish I had something nicer to wear, so you wouldn’t show me up so bad.”

“I’m wearing jeans.”

“Yeah, but those jeans aren’t like the jeans we wear around here. You’re gonna look like a celebrity.”

She laughed. “Maybe that can be our cover story.”

“Maybe… Well, I better get cleaned up. Party’s probably started already.”

Sarah took a seat on the couch and turned her attention to the puzzle.

Closing himself in his room, Russ felt his stomach growl, only a fraction of it the fault of an overdue dinner. A larger fraction was fear, irrational worry that Sarah might somehow have her cover blown when they ventured into town. But that was extremely unlikely. No, by far the biggest hunk of his anxiety came from simply being out with her, not knowing what to tell people they were. He was stuck with the lie he’d told Jim now, pretending she was here because of an interest in horses. That he could deal with. It was how to introduce the pair of them that made him itchy.

They weren’t lovers anymore, and he certainly couldn’t claim she was his girlfriend. That left her open to get flirted with by other men, a thought that made Russ’s clothes feel suddenly stifling. He unbuttoned his shirt and swapped it for a clean one and changed into fresh jeans. He switched the light off and wandered to the den.

“Almost ready. Just need to shave.”

She frowned. “No you don’t.”

“No?”

“No way. You look sexy all unshaven. Women love that.”

“Do they?”

She shrugged. “I do, anyhow. And probably all the rugged ladies around here too.”

He ran a palm over his stubbly chin, remembering with an unwholesome sexual pang what had happened the last time he’d shaved. “Well, I can use all the help I can get. Fine. Let’s head out before whatever food they’re providing gets gobbled up.”

She rose from the couch and Russ noticed her face again, the makeup and the darker hair making her look dramatic in hard-to-pinpoint ways. He made a terrible mistake and imagined that hair spread out across his white pillowcase.

He cleared his throat. “You look real nice.”

She laughed, glancing down at her clothes. “So you keep saying. You’re probably just as sick of that other outfit as I am.”

He looked to the couch and the floor, all the places those familiar garments had once been scattered. “You ready?”

“Yup.”

Russ got his shoes on at the door and led her to the truck, opening her side first. He started up the engine in the freshly fallen darkness. It had been years since he’d done this—what felt like a date.

“We should figure out our story,” he said. “And I think we need to at least stick with what I told Jim, about you being named Sarah and interested in horses. A stranger comes to town once in a blue moon here, so you’re bound to be the most interesting thing to gossip about.”
Especially to the men.
“The sheriff and Ben—his deputy—could already have traded notes on you.”

“Where should I be from?”

He considered it as he turned them onto the road. “I’d normally suggest Buffalo, to keep things simple, but I guess we better err on the side of caution.” Russ smirked to himself, probably unseen in the low light. He’d never in a million years have seen it coming, but taking part in this conspiracy with the most dangerous woman he’d ever met was just a tiny bit thrilling. “You said you always wanted to start over, and I guess this is your chance. Where’d you always want to be from?”

“Florida,” she said without hesitation. “I always wanted to be from Florida. Orlando.”

“Good. So you’re Sarah from Orlando.”

“Sarah Roberts,” she added. “I thought Julia Roberts was the most glamorous woman alive when I was little.”

“Easy enough. So, Sarah Roberts from Orlando, Florida, what made you develop an interest in horses at the ripe old age of twenty-seven? You talk to anybody for three seconds in this town, and they’ll realize you’re clueless, so we need a good reason why you’re suddenly so keen.”

She was silent a couple of minutes, thinking. “Well…I’ve been a bartender for a long time, in Florida. For a resort. And after all those years in the tidy tourist industry, I started craving something more rugged and smelly.”

“Okay, I’m buying that.”

“And I was friends with someone who was in charge of taking care of the horses that draw the carriages around the parks, with like Cinderella riding in them. They turned me on to it.”

“I’m impressed. That sounds half-plausible.”

“And the rest stays the same,” Sarah said. “I left town at the end of the summer with my meager savings, came west and met you by chance.”

“How did we meet?”

She considered it a moment. “I looked up horse vets in Montana, and you were nice enough to talk to me on the phone, give me advice about schools and invite me to come stay for a while, to do chores for you and decide if I like it.”

Russ smiled, ready to believe the story himself. “Seems solid. And yeah, the rest can stay the same, really. What we’ve been up to, minus the night you made a run for it.”