Renegade's Pride

He cocked his head. “I don’t think so. You’re sleeping in a queen-size bed all by yourself wearing my old T-shirt. I know you’ve hardly dated since I left.”

He’d been keeping tabs on her through someone here in town? She bristled, outraged. “You kept track of me, but you didn’t bother to contact me?”

“I couldn’t. I knew your brother would expect that.” He sat down on the edge of the bed again. She moved to the far edge away from him. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, Lillie. I was a fool. But I never stopped loving you. No matter what happens now, I’m not leaving until I get back what I lost.” He reached for her.

Lillie jumped up, dragging the quilt with her to put distance and clothing between them. She’d seen that look in Trask’s eyes too many times. It had always sparked a burning desire in her that matched his own. She didn’t know how much Trask had changed, but how he made her feel hadn’t. It would have been so easy to fall back into that empty bed with this man, this man she’d ached for all these years. Just to feel his arms around her...

“You need to leave before I call Flint,” she said, her voice warbling with both fear and a yearning that made her sick with need.

“You won’t do that, even if it is true and you don’t love me anymore. I only came here because I couldn’t let another day go by without telling you how I felt. I can understand that you’ve moved on.” His look said he didn’t understand it, couldn’t accept it. “But know this, I am no longer running when things get tough. I’m sticking it out. I love you, Lillie. That will never change no matter what.”

She said nothing. They stayed like that, eyeing each other across the empty bed, the crumpled sheets between them a reminder of what they’d once shared.

“I’m going to clear my name. Once I do, I’m coming for you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Or fighting for you, if that’s what it takes.” With that, he stood, turned on his boot heel and headed for the door.

“Wait a minute.”

Trask turned expectantly and almost took a step in her direction.

“How did you get in here?” she demanded.

He looked surprised. “Seriously? I was picking locks before I was ten.” Sometimes she forgot the kind of family Trask had come from. His father had been a trick roper, traveling all over the country with a carnival. Trask’s mother had taken off when he was a boy. He’d had a stepmother of sorts for a short while, just long enough for him to think his life was going to settle down, before she took off with her son, Emery, from another relationship.

Trask had been raising himself most of his life. But after the so-called stepmother had left, Trask, then fifteen, had started getting into trouble. Nothing big, just enough trouble that the local law knew him well and would come looking for him when something happened—like the murder of Trask’s boss after there’d been an altercation that had been witnessed.

Lillie followed him at a safe distance to lock the door behind him. Not that it would do any good if he decided to come back. She’d have to get better locks if she hoped to keep him out. Too bad there wasn’t a lock for her heart.

She felt a chill and realized she was still wearing his old worn T-shirt. She raced back up the stairs, shivering. She could still smell his male scent mixed with the night air and the cloying scent of her perfume. It made the ache deep within her hurt even worse.

Stripping off Trask’s old T-shirt, she threw it in the hamper and dug in the bottom of her dresser for the brand-new flannel nightgown some aunt had given her for a college graduation present. Pulling it on, she stepped to the window, opened it and let the cold breeze cool the heat that had her cheeks flushed, her body damp with perspiration.

She heard the sound of a truck engine start in the distance. Would he head for town? She listened until the sound died off in the distance, relieved when the truck headed for the mountains. At least he was smart enough to hide out. But then what?

Her mind reeling, she closed the window and climbed into bed, even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep tonight.

* * *

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, Maggie Thompson picked up her scissors and cut one-hundredth of an inch off the hank of hair spread between her fingers, her mind on her date tonight with the sheriff instead of this morning’s long list of difficult clients.

She felt a bubble of excitement rise in her at the thought of tonight. Her relationship with Flint—she could think of it as that now—was about to go to the next level. They’d taken it slow, since both of them were leery after their former bad experiences. But they seemed to click. It was time to see where this was going.

“Not too short,” Mrs. Appleby warned. “You know Herbert complains if it’s too short.”

“Yes, Sandra. I’m just trimming off a tiniest bit just to shape it up.” They’d had this conversation so many times that Maggie could have recited it from memory.

Sandra Appleby touched her thinning gray locks and considered her profile in the mirror. “Did you hear about Jenna Holloway?”

Beauty shops were a hotbed of gossip. Maggie didn’t encourage it, but she also knew that her clients came here to relax and catch up on who was pregnant, who was getting a divorce, who had gone into the nursing home and who was seeing whom since their last visit.

Some clients thrived on being the first to know what was happening in town—and spreading it. It was the nature of a beauty shop in a small town. Maggie did her best to keep out of it. She didn’t want to hear in town that she’d said something she hadn’t. So she kept quiet as she finished the haircut.

“I heard she’s missing,” Sandra said. “How could she be missing?”

Maggie had no idea and said as much. Sandra was one of those who loved to be the first with the town news. It helped that she had a niece who worked as a dispatcher at the sheriff’s office.

“I thought the sheriff would have told you,” Sandra said, eyeing her in the mirror. “You two are still seeing each other, right?”

“I don’t tell him about my clients and he doesn’t tell me about his cases,” she said.

“Well, I suppose that’s for the best given some of your clients.” Sandra chuckled at her joke. “Still, you can’t help but wonder if Anvil did something to her.”

In the second chair, Irma Tinsley piped up. “He kept her on a short leash, that’s for sure. Maybe she just got tired of it.”

“She was so sweet and shy,” Daisy Caulfield said as she combed out Irma’s short do. Maggie had hired Daisy after she’d come out of beauty school looking for a job. She was young and full of life and was darned good at her job.

“I did her hair not all that long ago,” Daisy was saying thoughtfully. “I remember because she didn’t have an appointment. Just walked in and said she wanted something different.” Daisy’s eyes widened in alarm as she met Maggie’s in the mirror. “Maybe the haircut was the start of something.”

Maggie laughed and brushed it off, though it was strange that Jenna of all people would just show up without an appointment. “We hope all our haircuts are the start of something for our clients.”

“I’d like to start up something,” Irma said with a laugh. A small dark-haired woman in her late fifties with a great sense of humor, Irma had been widowed now for five years.

“There is always Merrill Forster,” Sandra said, tongue in cheek.

Irma laughed gaily. Merrill was the over-fifty bachelor who apparently read the obits regularly because he turned up at each new widow’s door like clockwork.

“I already gave Merrill a whirl,” Irma said, making Sandra gasp.

“She’s joking,” Maggie assured her client.

Sandra looked disappointed. “I’ve heard stories about Merrill. I was hoping you could verify them.”

Everyone laughed but quickly stifled it as the sheriff pushed open the door. Flint stood for a moment just inside the door. He looked afraid to come into this female domain.

“I was just leaving,” Irma said as Daisy finished with her. “You can have my chair. Looks like you could use a trim.”

Maggie smiled at him. “I believe he prefers Tim’s Barbershop down the street.”

“That’s where Herbert goes,” Sandra said. “You think they don’t gossip like old women down there? Ha!”

“I’m almost finished,” Maggie said, running a brush through Sandra’s thinning hair. “What do you think?”

Sandra studied herself in the mirror. “It makes me look younger, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would,” Maggie agreed.

“Definitely,” Daisy agreed and thanked Irma for the tip she gave her.

Flint held the door open for Irma and waited as Sandra settled up and left, as well. “Can you sneak away for lunch?” he asked Maggie.

“Sorry, not today. I have a highlight coming in.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Actually, Angie should be here.” Angie North was running late. That surprised Maggie. Angie was always early. She loved to come in and visit with whoever was getting their hair done before her appointment.

Maggie always got the impression that Angie had too much time on her hands. Either that or she was just glad to escape the house for a while. Not that her husband, Bob, didn’t call at least once while she was in the chair to see when she’d be home.

“I’m going to run over to the drugstore for a milk shake,” Daisy announced. “Can I get you something?”

Both Maggie and the sheriff declined.

“Smart girl,” Flint said.

“She can take a hint.” She smiled at the man she’d been dating for several months now. It still seemed too good to be true. Sometimes she had to pinch herself. It also scared her. Flint Cahill could break her heart without even trying.

He stepped to her, looked toward the street as if to make sure no one was watching and gave her a quick kiss. “I can’t wait to see you tonight.”

She nodded, making him smile. Flint seemed as excited as she was. Neither of them had actually come out and said that they would make love tonight. But somehow, they both seemed to be on the same page and knew that they would.

Flint cleared his voice and went back to sheriff mode. “I also wanted to ask about Jenna Holloway.”

“We heard that she’s missing,” Maggie said. Flint seemed surprised for a moment. Like her, he probably forgot sometimes how news traveled in this small town.

“Did she have her hair done here?”

“Daisy was just talking earlier about the last time Jenna was in.”

“Anything unusual happen?”

“Kind of. She was a walk-in. So that was odd. She always made an appointment way in advance. Also, when she sat down in the chair, she said she wanted a new do, which might mean absolutely nothing. Except that she’d had the same hairstyle as long as I’ve known her. I don’t think it was an impulsive decision. I think it had been coming for some time.”

Flint nodded. “Jenna was one of the least impulsive people I’ve ever known. Isn’t that what you got from her?”

Maggie chuckled. “I’d put her in the top five for sure.” She could tell that he was worried. “If I hear anything...”

He smiled. “Thanks.” He had a great smile that made his gray eyes crinkle. She was almost sorry he was so handsome. Wasn’t there a country song about why a man should marry an ugly woman? She thought it might go both ways.

Daisy returned with her milk shake and Flint left after saying, “See you tonight.” His stopping by, even on sheriff’s department business, made her day. See you tonight. She smiled as she began to clean up around her workstation. Angie still hadn’t shown up.

When she’d finished, she glanced at the clock on the wall. “Maybe I better call Angie. It isn’t like her to forget a hair appointment,” she said, picking up the phone.

“Mine’s late too,” Daisy said. “Maybe there’s a traffic jam.” They both chuckled at that, since they didn’t even have one stoplight in town and most people felt stop signs were just suggestions. Gilt Edge was a small town with small-town problems. Traffic wasn’t one of them. Daisy sucked on her straw. “Oh, this shake is to die for.”

Maggie dialed the number. It rang four times before voice mail picked up. “Just wanted to remind you about your hair appointment, Angie. You’re probably on your way.” And yet, as she hung up, she had a bad feeling that something must have happened.

* * *

DARBY TOOK ONE look at Lillie the next morning when she came down to the kitchen at the back of the bar and let out an oath. “Rough night?”

He had no idea. “I had trouble getting to sleep.”

“Probably worried about that bear you thought you saw.”

Something about the way he said it put her on alert. “Probably. I’m just glad I have the day off. I think I need it.”

“I looked around out back this morning when I got here,” he said, his gaze intent on her face. “I didn’t see any tracks. At least no bear tracks.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m sure I imagined it,” she said, trying to laugh it off. “It was probably just the stress of Dad being arrested and all that.”

“Lillie, if there’s more bothering you—” Darby handed his sister a cup of coffee. “Seriously, if you aren’t feeling well—”

She cut him off with a shake of her head as she took the coffee. “Thanks. I’m fine.”

“Flint called earlier,” her brother said.

Her pulse thundered in her ears. She tried to keep her face blank. Her first thought was that Flint had caught Trask. Which meant he was either behind bars or possibly dead.

“What did Flint want?” She hated that her voice broke.

“Said he wanted to get together soon and talk about Dad. It felt more like he was checking up on one of us than Dad, though.” She saw worry in Darby’s expression and knew at once which of them might cause a person to worry.

Lillie wasn’t sure if she should be relieved or not. At least Flint hadn’t been calling about Trask. “Did you tell him we’re all fine and we don’t need him checking up on us?”

“No, I saved my breath, since we both know it wouldn’t do any good.” He frowned and studied her openly. “You did have a rough night, huh? You should try to get a nap today. Otherwise, I pity Wainwright.”

She stared at him, uncomprehending. “Wainwright?”

“Your big date with him tonight. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“That’s tonight?” She let out a curse and slapped her palm against her forehead. Just when she thought things couldn’t get any more complicated.

“You can always renege on the bet.”

The one thing a Cahill never did was renege on anything. Even a stupid bet. “You know I can’t do that. Maybe he had enough to drink that he won’t remember.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Darby said. “He likes you and has for some time, but I think you already know that.”

Junior Wainwright had asked her out several times over the past few years. Then he’d caught her at a weak moment a week ago when he’d suggested they let fate decide if she should go out with him. He was in the bar drinking with friends and everyone was having a good time.

“One date, dinner, maybe dancing, definitely champagne,” Junior had said. “Your luck against mine.” He had rattled the leather container with the dice in it that was kept behind the bar to roll for drinks or money for the jukebox.

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