“Uh-huh.”
“Blunt.”
“I never learned to be any other way.” In for a penny, as they said. “Besides, like I said yesterday, we both know we’re interested. I was going to be all female and let you take it from there.” Her good humor fading a bit, she admitted, “But to tell you the truth, this case has me a little rattled. I’m finding it hard to stay completely aloof. And, honestly, I could use some company after hours.”
She didn’t up the ante, didn’t say she could use some company in the long, empty nights when the bad dreams and her own need for physical connection kept her from any real rest. She wasn’t trying to fool herself. Stacey had no doubt she wanted to go to bed with the man sitting beside her. But there was only so much even the bluntest of women could say to a guy she had known for only a few days.
“I’ve been wondering if you were going to make this personal.” He reached over and touched the tips of his fingers to a strand of her hair, which had loosened from its bun and fallen to her cheek. Rubbing it between his thumb and index finger, he murmured, “I know better, but still, part of me wanted you to.”
“You know better?”
“I am in no shape to get involved with anybody.”
“You’re preaching to the choir here, Special Agent Taggert. I’m not looking for any kind of long-term involvement.” Especially involvement with somebody like him, who would leave here soon and continue making his way through the bloody world he inhabited. The one that had briefly invaded her little corner of the universe, and which she wanted gone just as soon as they nailed the bastard they were after.
“I’m so far out of practice with this game, I don’t remember the rules.”
“Rules aren’t laws. They’re sometimes made to be broken,” she said, a tiny shiver coursing through her. It had nothing to do with the chilled air pouring from the vents in the dashboard and everything to do with the way his fingertips oh-so-gently brushed her cheek before he slowly pulled them away. “Besides, I don’t feel like playing games.”
“Me, either.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m bad at this, Stacey. I never even noticed my wife falling out of love with me.”
“Jeez, I didn’t ask you to marry me; I asked you to come over for a beer,” she said with a forced chuckle. This needed to stay light and easy, for both their sakes. He was one year off a divorce. She was two years out of the worst period of her life. He was saturated in death and violence. She’d moved back here specifically to escape that darkness. No way did they have anything that could resemble long term.
Simple. No strings. That was all either of them could afford.
She knew all that. But she still opened her dumb mouth. “Have you fallen out of love with her?”
He thought about it, staring out the windshield. “Yeah. I guess I had long before we split up. I just didn’t realize it until she forced the issue. The divorce didn’t bother me much. The custody, though, that’s pure hell.”
“I’m sure.”
As if wanting to scare her off, to make one more effort to put up barriers for her protection, he admitted, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone else.”
Been with-as in, had sex with. The tension in the close confines of the car shot up a notch. Or a hundred notches. She felt the warmth of his strong body, heard the slow breaths that seemed as deliberately cautious as her own. Smelled the clean scent of soap and an earthier one of pure masculinity that encompassed him from head to toe.
And every female particle inside her reacted. “You’re not alone,” she finally said, the words shaking as she tried to keep them light. “I’m not exactly a man magnet myself.”
Man repellent would be more like it. The last guy she’d been with had been an attorney down in Roanoke, who’d been able to separate his job from his emotions. He couldn’t understand why she couldn’t get over what had happened. Of course, he hadn’t been an early responder to one of the worst mass killings in U.S. history.
“I find that hard to believe. You have a whole town ful of people who like and respect you.” That sexy, amused glint returned to his eye. “You have at least one admirer.”
Thinking of the scene with Rob Monroe in the diner, and in the doughnut shop the other morning, she visibly shuddered in distaste. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Is he the only available guy around?”
“No. But knowing everyone here is a double-edged sword. Since nearly every man in this county is either scared of me or hates my guts, the social opportunities aren’t exactly limitless. Believe me, I don’t have much of a personal life.” Shrugging, tired of dancing around it, she could only meet his direct stare and be entirely honest. “I’m attracted to you, Dean, for any number of reasons. And I think we’re both in the right place right now to do something about it.”
He didn’t argue; they were past that. “Attracted physically.”
And mentally. And possibly even emotionally. But that was miles ahead of where she would consider walking, even in her own head. “Yes.”
He hesitated, then merely murmured, “Well, okay, then.”
“Okay, then?” Whatever that meant. A beer? Dinner? More?
“Okay,” he explained, “I’d love to come over for a beer.”
And maybe more. She’d just have to wait and see what.
Smiling in self-satisfaction, as she acknowledged that waiting for a guy to take the lead had never gotten her anywhere, Stacey cut the engine. “Guess we’d better get on with it. The crowd’s not getting any more sober in there.”
Stepping out of the car, she spotted one very familiar, dented four-by-four, and couldn’t contain a frown. Damn it, Tim. Her brother had sworn he wasn’t getting in over his head with his drinking or with Randy and his rough-edged new friends. Who, she suspected, appealed to him, since many of them carried scars of their own, physical and emotional.
She also suspected the shrink Tim refused to go back to would say he was trying to escape from his former world into a new one where he didn’t have to give a damn about anyone. Even himself. One where he could escape the memories of whatever had been done to him-and whatever he’d done-in the Middle East, before a roadside bomb had shattered not only his face, but his spirit as well.
“Let’s get this over with.” Pushing her sunglasses back over her eyes and donning her broad-brimmed hat, she took a deep breath, determined to remain the sheriff no matter what happened inside. If her hardhead of a brother started anything, he’d be talking to her back at the station.
With Dean at her side, she strode around the side of the building, her gaze scanning the parking lot. As she walked, she also checked for expired tags, unsafe vehicles, and, mindful of the case, any late-model American-made pickups. That there were a good dozen of them right here in this one parking lot said a lot about how that lead was going to pan out.
Just inside the doorway, Stacey paused, but didn’t remove her sunglasses. She knew from experience that the dark lenses, and the inability to gauge her expression, was intimidating to people. Especially people she was questioning.
She allowed her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, a sharp contrast from the bright sunshine, then scanned the place. She instinctively counted the bleary-eyed men sidled up to the sticky bar. Two slow-moving couples rubbed against one another on the dance floor, their feet scuffing the oak planks rubbed smooth and chalky gray by a thousand couples before them.
Patrons sat at every wobbly table in the room. Loud, twangy music emerged from the ancient jukebox. The yeasty scent of newly tapped beer was overpowered by the stench of unwashed bodies and puke from the Friday-night crowd who’d left here a little more than twelve hours ago.