Troublemaker

CHAPTER 22

BO WAS GOOD WITH LEAVING THINGS UP IN THE AIR FOR a while until she was able to give the situation more thought or until something actually happened. She’d have felt a lot worse about being pressured to make an immediate decision because this was too important. She could think of this thing she and Morgan had going on, as he’d put it, though it felt strange to regard herself as half of a couple. She could imagine him being a part of her life for a while, perhaps even quite a while. She could embrace what they had now without regret despite what he’d told her. Those were the things she could do. What she couldn’t do was bring herself to think in terms of permanency because that meant she’d have to deal with more than she was ready for. She could handle the near future, she could handle the now, but she couldn’t handle more of a commitment than that.

She wasn’t blind to the circumstances that had shaped her; she had deliberately made the decision to close off the romantic part of life and be solitary. She’d liked being solitary, liked the security it gave her. It had required a traumatic event to get her to change her mind, one that had shaken her to the core and that she would rather have not experienced, but yesterday had happened. It was real, and she dealt well with reality. Things were different now. She had rearranged her priorities, willingly and deliberately.

On the drive from the lake back to the house, she sat quietly in the back, occasionally glancing at Morgan as he expertly steered the Jeep through the huge granite boulders, around trees, and angled it across dips. She liked the solid set of his head on those broad shoulders, the sure grip of his big rough hands on the steering wheel, the alertness with which he noted every detail, his head constantly turning. Nothing would surprise him, she thought.

She watched as he reached over to stroke Tricks’s neck and was rewarded by a quick lick. Tricks was practically beaming; she’d had a great day. She had ridden to and from the lake in the front seat, gone swimming, and retrieved her ball until she was too tired to chase it anymore. She’d had a good nap and a chew bone. Looking at that happy, innocent creature made Bo’s heart fill with love and tenderness, and she had to smile.

“Thank you for her,” she said quietly.

He gave her a swift glance in the rearview mirror. “I couldn’t let anything happen to either of you. I’d have killed him with my bare hands first.”

He would have too; that wasn’t an empty boast, it was a flat statement of what he could and would do. She accepted that, was even comforted by it. She wasn’t certain what it said about her that she liked having his lethal ability standing between her and the world. She’d never before felt the need to be protected, but yesterday had proved that bad things could happen anytime and anywhere, and men like Morgan stood ready to step in. Jesse would have done the same, or any of her officers, but even though they would have known Kyle, would they have recognized that something was out of whack simply because he wore a jacket? Maybe, maybe not; they hadn’t dealt with that type of situation before. Morgan had immediately recognized the threat and taken action, and no matter what happened between them in the future, she would love him forever for what he’d done the day before.

When they reached the house, he got out and went around to unclip Tricks’s harness and let her out, then waited for Bo to climb out of the backseat. When she was mostly out, he gripped her by the waist and lifted her out the rest of the way, set her on the ground.

“Thanks,” she said, pushing her hair back, then looked up when he didn’t immediately release her.

He pulled her in and bent his head, taking her mouth in a kiss that was too long and too deep to be comfortable for either of them. She responded with so much warmth and passion that she surprised herself, but that was the “thing” between them, and she accepted the strength of it. When he drew away, she let her head drop forward to rest against his chest, and he stroked his hands up and down her back, down to cup her ass and hold her against him.

Oh, God, she enjoyed this, the freedom to touch him and be touched. It was enough for now. He was here, Tricks was here, and Bo was a little surprised to realize how happy she was despite what he’d told her. Annoyed, yes… but happy.

They unloaded the Jeep and he took the cooler; with his free arm around her they walked to the house and she unlocked it. Again she had the sense of family, the three of them, with Tricks dancing around their feet while she and Morgan emptied the cooler and put things away.

Bo hadn’t taken her cell phone with her, wanting to ensure that their peace wasn’t disturbed, and when she glanced at the big industrial wall clock in the kitchen, she was a little startled to see that it was after three o’clock. Either she’d napped longer than Morgan had estimated, or their lovemaking had taken longer than she’d guessed-maybe both. The time at the lake had flown, so what had felt like just a couple of hours was twice that.

There would be more days spent at the lake. She intended to make an outright habit of it.

She checked the answering machine: no messages. There weren’t any missed calls or texts on her cell either. She had to suspect that Mayor Buddy had laid down the law and told everyone not to bother her today, which made her want to give him a hug. Just as she had the thought, her phone played a fanfare, her text signal. That was what she got for tempting fate by thinking about the lack of calls. This text, however, was from Daina, who was pretty much immune to Mayor Buddy’s benign tyranny. The message said: You okay?

Bo texted back: Pretty much.

Daina: Want me to bring dinner?

Bo started to say no, then reconsidered: What’s on the menu?

Daina: LOL. Any takeout you desire.

Just joking. Thx for the offer, but we’ve got plenty of food.

Daina: K, let me know if you need anything.

I will.

Daina: Is Hot Stuff taking care of you?

Bo smiled. When had Morgan become “Hot Stuff”? To tease Daina she texted, Who?

Daina: Oh, pls. The hunk who looks at you like he could eat you up.

She texted back: Oh, him. But she was taken aback, because-really? Morgan looked at her like that?

Daina: Snort.

Bo deleted the texts because she always did, on the theory that she could never be embarrassed by something that wasn’t there. She smiled a little as she put the phone down, glad she had friends, glad she was no longer so solitary. Despite her best efforts to not let anyone matter to her, they did. Slowly and surely she had developed relationships, even if there hadn’t been any romantic ones-until Morgan.

Because that was the way she rolled, she went to the computer and sat down. She needed to carefully consider all aspects of the situation; to that end, she set up a chart of pros and cons, so she could clearly see and balance each item.

“You’re working?” Morgan asked from the kitchen. She thought he might be about to cook something, but she didn’t look over to verify her hunch.

“Not exactly,” she absently replied.

Under the con heading she listed: Put town at risk. She sat there another minute or so, thinking, but to her surprise she couldn’t come up with anything else. Yes, he had lied by omission, but that came under the risk to the town. He also thought any risk to the town was negligible, that trouble was more likely to come here, to her house. Maybe that also came under the same heading, and he’d taken steps to minimize that risk.

Other than that… what?

After fruitlessly staring at the blinking cursor for a while, she moved over to the pro column. The first thing that came to mind was that as soon as they had moved into an intimate relationship, he’d come clean. He hadn’t tried to hide it, hadn’t made excuses. His honesty there completely counterbalanced the whole lied-by-omission item. He was a man, not a man-child. He accepted responsibility for his own actions, as well as the actions of others.

He’d risked his own life to protect her and Tricks.

He stood willing to back her up any time she needed it but was confident enough that he didn’t have to make a production of it. He trusted her to handle her life and her job.

Those were big things.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him moving toward her and knew he was about to be nosy given that she’d said she wasn’t working. She hadn’t entered any of the things she’d been thinking in the pro column, and an imp of mischief prompted her to quickly type: Has a big dick.

He moved like a ghost, without making a sound, but she felt his presence like a mild electrical charge as he stood behind her.

There was a short pause as he read the headings of the columns, then the two items listed. He gave a quick snort of laughter and pulled her up from the chair, turning her to face him. His eyes were dancing with amusement, his hard mouth quirked in a grin. “All I need to know is, does the pro outweigh the con?”

She looped her arms around his neck and nestled her head against his shoulder, sinking into his warmth and strength. “No, but all the other stuff I didn’t write down does.” She had needed to think it out, but now that she had, there was no doubt, no hesitation. She knew this man, knew the steel that made him, and the fact that he was a surprisingly nice guy was the cherry on top.

“I won’t ask what the other stuff is. I will ask if spaghetti with a salad and garlic bread will suit you for dinner.”

“Yes, it will, and why ask when the sauce is already cooking? I can smell it.”

“I needed an excuse to come see what you’re doing.”

She smiled against his shoulder. “Daina called you ‘Hot Stuff.’ She also said you look at me like you could eat me up.”

“Yeah? How about that. Seems to me I already have.” His voice dropped a couple of notes and memory sent a frisson of pure sensual pleasure up her spine. “I plan on doing it again too.”

He was seducing her before she’d even had the promised spaghetti. Bo tried to remember if she’d ever been seduced before; she didn’t think she had. Two days ago she’d have said she didn’t want to be seduced, but that was two days ago.

She was happy, she thought with a little shock. Happy. She’d have said before that she was happy, certainly that she was content, but the fizz of euphoria in her veins showed her the difference.

Happy. It would take some getting used to.

Going back to work the next day, and taking Tricks with her, was more difficult than Bo had anticipated. As the clock ticked toward time to head to town, her sense of dread grew. She started to ask Morgan to keep Tricks at home for her, but when it was time to leave, he joined her. “I’m not ready to let you out of my sight,” he said flatly, scowling. “It’ll take me a while to get over seeing that son of a bitch pull his weapon and knowing I couldn’t take a shot.”

She’d felt much the same way, knowing there was nothing she could do to save Tricks. She looked at the dog, who was bouncing at the door in anticipation. “I’ve always felt she was better off with me, but being with me may put her in danger.”

“Only from Kyle Gooding, and the bastard won’t be poking his head out of a jail for quite a while.”

“He’ll get bail.”

“He could. But he won’t. He knows better.”

That was all Morgan said, but Bo got a clearer picture of why Kyle was going to plead guilty-and now she had no doubt that he would. Morgan was waiting for him if he got out of jail.

The citizens of Hamrickville had become accustomed enough to Morgan’s black Tahoe that any time they saw it, they expected Bo and Tricks to be inside. Morgan let down the windows so the people could see Tricks, and Tricks could collect her accolades. There seemed to be more people in town today than usual, so there were more calls of “Tricks!” and more waves. Tricks, of course, acted as if it were a continuation of the parade and began woofing happily, turning her head from side to side to include all her subjects.

Seeing that, seeing Tricks’s enjoyment and happiness, helped soothe Bo’s heart. She smiled back at Tricks, grateful that the dog was untouched by the terror that had so devastated her. She wanted Tricks to be happy and confident every day of her life.

Morgan parked behind the police station as he always did, and they went in the back. Bo was in front; she skidded to a stop when she saw what was at her desk, and Morgan bumped into her from behind, sending her lurching off balance. His arm immediately locked around her to support her, holding her against him until she was steady again.

A huge bouquet of balloons was anchored to her office chair, gently swaying and bobbing in the office air currents. Tricks froze, staring at the balloons for a moment before darting forward, her tail wagging madly as she planted herself under them, looking upward with such intensity Bo thought she might be plotting the trajectory needed to get to them. There had to be at least thirty of the things, in all colors, and they were definitely within Tricks’s leaping range.

“Those balloons are about to be toast,” Morgan said as he eased himself between Tricks and her target. He untied the strings from Bo’s chair and re-anchored the balloons to the handle on the top drawer of a tall filing cabinet. Tricks followed him, her dark gaze still locked on the tantalizing arrangement, then she turned her head and stared at the chair positioned beside the cabinet.

Bo said urgently, “Move the chair!” and Morgan whisked it away just as Tricks was gathering herself to leap into it, and from there to the balloons. Thwarted, Tricks gave a disgruntled huff and trotted to Bo’s desk, where she raised her nose to the edge and sniffed at a mystery box perched in the middle.

“Mayor Buddy brought the balloons,” Loretta announced, a disembodied voice rising from her cubicle across the office. “Daina brought the cookies.”

“Cookies,” Morgan said. He was fast; he reached the desk before Bo did and opened the box to examine the contents. “Chocolate chip for sure, probably sugar cookies, and what looks like sugar cookies with something reddish in them.”

“Snickerdoodles,” replied Loretta, still out of sight. “Don’t you know cookies?”

“I know Oreos. That’s all a man needs.” He offered the box to Bo. “They’re for you, so I’ll let you have first choice.”

“Gosh, that’s so big of you,” she said and took one of each variety. Tricks began bouncing up and down at the sight and smell; because it was evidently a day for treats, Bo broke off a bite of a sugar cookie and held it down for her.

Looking at the pile of paperwork on her desk, Bo sighed. That was what taking a day off work got her: double the paper. There was nothing to do but get started, so she did, with her chosen cookies lying on a napkin to the side. Morgan brought a cup of coffee and set it next to the cookies, then took himself over to have a chat with Loretta.

Then the parade started.

There was never a crowd, usually just one visitor at a time, but the police station door might as well have been a revolving one. Miss Doris came bustling in with several boxes, which Morgan immediately took control of so he could investigate. “Cupcakes,” he announced, and slanted a fierce blue-fire glance at Bo. “Don’t lick the icing,” he growled, pointing a finger at her for emphasis.

What? She stared at him in bewilderment. “I always lick the icing.”

“Don’t.”

Miss Doris giggled, and Bo looked over to see the older woman blushing. She looked back at Morgan, and his expression spelled it out for her. She felt her own face getting warm. “Okay,” she said, forcing out the word because her throat was suddenly tight from the heat wave sweeping up from her toes. She felt like a high schooler-or what she imagined a high schooler would feel like because her own high-school years hadn’t involved any relationships other than friends on her swim team.

Morgan returned to the box. “We also have dog-shaped cookies. Just to be on the safe side, Miss Doris, are these people cookies or-”

“Oh no, they’re for Tricks,” she said before he could try them out himself. “I made up my own dog-safe and healthy recipe for her, you know.”

“I’ll know for sure you love me when you make man-shaped cookies,” he said and winked at her, which left Miss Doris in a blushing, giggling mess.

A little while after Miss Doris left, Patrick brought in a dozen doughnuts, a mixture of chocolate-filled and lemon-filled. “Hey, Chief,” he said, setting the box on her desk. “I figured you could use some sugar therapy. Are those Miss Doris’s cupcakes?”

“They are. Help yourself,” Bo invited. Holy hell, she was going to die of sugar shock, but she felt obligated to try one of everything that had been brought. “Those are for Tricks,” she added, when Patrick began nosing around in the box of dog treats too. They wouldn’t hurt him, but Tricks might hold a grudge if she noticed someone else eating her treats.

Jesse and Kalie came in with a fruit basket; at least that sugar came with some vitamins. Bo began to wonder if the whole town thought she had collapsed from the trauma, then realized she damn near had. If she’d been the one Kyle had tried to kill, she’d have been frightened, but not devastated. Not only that… it dawned on her that even though they weren’t saying a word, evidently they all knew Kyle had been aiming at Tricks and not her. Christa, who had been beside Tricks on the float, knew the truth; Bo assumed she’d been interviewed, and she would have told them the truth. It didn’t matter. Kyle was pleading guilty to trying to kill the police chief, and that’s how it was going to stand.

Evan Cummings, the school principal, came by with a flower arrangement from him and his wife, Lisa. He apologized to Bo over and over, as if the whole thing were his fault for talking her into letting Tricks ride on the float. Bo was so grateful he hadn’t brought more food that she almost hugged him; instead she reassured him they were all right, asked if he’d heard from Mrs. Simmons how her husband was-he was fine, had spent the night at the hospital but was released yesterday morning-and tried to press some of the overflow of goodies on him. He took a chocolate-filled doughnut for himself, then escaped.

After Miss Virginia Rose finished her shift at the supermarket she brought a box of chocolates; by this time even Morgan looked as if he’d had his fill of junk food, but Bo enthused over the chocolates anyway. They might not get eaten right away, but they would eventually, for sure. And the more people who came in, to ask how she was and to pet Tricks, the more touched and teary-eyed she became. These people cared about her, about each other, about their town. She wasn’t alone, hadn’t been alone for far longer than it had taken her to realize.

If she hadn’t had such a wall around her in high school, would she have made close friends then? She’d never know, she couldn’t redo the past, but she had to wonder. People were pretty much the same, big city, small town, or rural; they made friends, and they protected their own.

Eventually the procession dwindled and she settled down to work in earnest. Morgan took Tricks out for a walk. As soon as they were alone, Loretta got up and left her cubicle, coming over to give Bo a pat on the arm. “Congratulations,” she said.

Startled, Bo looked up. “What?” she asked in bewilderment.

“Morgan. That’s more man than most women could handle, though if it weren’t for Charlie, I wouldn’t mind giving it a shot,” she mused and went back to her cubicle.

Well, hell. Evidently that was something else the entire town was clued in on. She thought about it for a minute, then shrugged mentally. She wasn’t embarrassed. She hadn’t even thought of telling Morgan to keep their new involvement on the down low, which said something about how drastically things had changed for her.

The days slipped from May into June, easing from late spring toward summer. The wheels of law weren’t in any hurry and Kyle was still in jail, waiting arraignment so he could enter his guilty plea. Bo half-expected Warren Gooding to pay her another visit, but all of the Goodings seemed to be making themselves scarce. Melody wasn’t seen shopping in town, and neither was her mother. The people who worked at the sawmills had no gossip to report, nothing overheard, no threats made. Perhaps Kyle had stepped so far out of bounds this time that his parents knew there was no making this go away; Bo wouldn’t bet the farm on it, but she’d take what she could get.

Morgan began working out like a fiend. He swam every day that it didn’t rain, and some days when it did. His reasoning was that “wet’s wet.” As long as there was no lightning, he swam. He ran; he started out with what he called an “easy hour,” which seemed to extend every day by five or ten minutes. Of course she knew he’d already been doing some running, but it was astonishing how fast he built his endurance. She could almost see the difference every day as he began packing on hard-toned muscle.

One day he took Tricks out for a walk to give Bo some uninterrupted time to finish a tech job. She pushed hard, her concentration aided by caffeine, and finished just in time to grab a bite to eat before leaving for town. She got up from the desk, stretched, turned to say something to Morgan-then noticed that they hadn’t returned. She checked the time; they’d been gone well over an hour.

Alarm shot through her, her stomach bottoming out. Had Morgan tripped, maybe hit his head or broken his leg? Had Tricks gotten hurt? The ideas of eating and work vanished, and she ran to the door, only to skid to a stop so fast she almost slammed into it. Through the glass she saw Morgan and Tricks in the yard. Tricks was nosing around, her tennis ball forgotten on the grass, and Morgan was doing push-ups.

Just that fast Bo went from panic to admiration as she watched his shoulders and arms bulge with each rep. His gray tee shirt was dark with sweat, which meant he’d either been running with Tricks or he’d been doing push-ups for a while. While she watched, he stopped, lying on his stomach, and called Tricks to him. She pranced over and when he patted his back she seemed to know what he wanted, because she daintily stepped onto his back and lay down. Morgan began doing push-ups again.

Bo’s mouth fell open. Tricks wasn’t a huge dog, her weight staying around sixty-two or sixty-three pounds, but still-that was sixty-two pounds! Push-ups were tough enough, at least Bo thought they were, but Morgan was popping them off as if he could keep going for hours. How long had he been using her dog as added weight?

Long enough for Tricks to be comfortable with it, evidently. Her tongue was lolling out to one side as she half-closed her eyes in bliss. She liked new things, she liked Morgan, she liked going for rides. Being on his back while he did push-ups hit a lot of her likes.

Bo opened the door. She was intending to just stand there for a few minutes-the scenery was fine-but as soon as she moved, Tricks noticed her and gave a welcoming bark. She shot straight off Morgan’s back and over his head, her paws digging into him for purchase, as she rushed to get to Bo. Morgan yelped, because those paws had to hurt, not to mention that he was startled by the way she bolted over his head. Bo laughed as she knelt down to welcome Tricks into her arms, hugging her and receiving a few enthusiastic licks.

Morgan rolled to a sitting position and used his sleeve to wipe off his face. His dark hair was black with sweat, all visible skin glistening. He’d smell pretty rank, she thought, and didn’t care. She wanted to throw herself against him despite how sweaty he was, wanted him to take her down to the ground and get on top of her. Her lower body clenched at the thought and she tightened her muscles against the temptation to do exactly what she wanted to do. She had to go to work.

“How long have you been using Tricks as weight?” she asked, getting to her feet and stepping to the edge of the patio.

He squinted up at the sun. “A week or so. She caught on fast. I need to up the weight, though, so you’re on board next.”

She gaped at him. He wanted her to get on his back while he did push-ups? “Are you nuts? I weigh a lot more than Tricks!”

“You don’t think it’d be fun?”

Okay… that put a different slant on the idea. She gave Tricks one final pat and tilted her head. “I’ll think about it. How many push-ups do you do?”

“You don’t want to know. Hell, I don’t want to know. A lot.”

“More than a hundred?”

The look he gave her as he got to his feet and strolled toward her told her she’d underestimated by a lot. “A thousand?” She couldn’t imagine doing a thousand push-ups. She was healthy and strong, but push-ups had always challenged her.

Again the look.

“I can’t deal with this,” she muttered. “The idea of that many push-ups makes my head hurt. What am I supposed to do while you rip off fifty thousand push-ups with me on your back? Nap? File my nails? Read War and Peace? You should go to the gym and lift weights like normal people.”

“Not quite the same thing, but I see your point.” He went past her into the house and she realized she’d been right about his smell. She was also right that it didn’t matter at all.

Oh, shit. She didn’t mind if he stank. She’d accepted that she was in lust with him, accepted that he meant way more to her than she’d felt comfortable with, even accepted that he could cause her a lot of heartache, but until now she’d managed to avoid admitting the truth to herself. Not minding if he smelled like a bear was the kicker, and she couldn’t dance around with her emotions any longer.

She was in love with him.