If looks could kill, Reece would have been a dead man. Of all the times in her life when she’d embarrassed herself, Lanie couldn’t remember ever having been more humiliated. Nor had she ever been so cleverly manipulated.
To make matters worse, the local newspaper ran both a print and online article that stated that “the Stop the Highway campaign may have derailed when outspoken opponent Lanie Weatherford switched tracks in a surprise move Friday night.”
Lanie leaned forward in her swivel chair and propped her elbows on the newspaper spread open on her desk. Her head in her hands, she closed her eyes and tried to think of a way to correct the error before Tuesday night when the Board of Supervisors would hold its referendum.
But, unfortunately, the weekly paper wouldn’t hit the stands again until the day after the referendum.
Idly, she turned the page and saw her name yet again. This article was topped with a picture of Lanie as she stood beside Reece at the podium. The piece consisted mostly of Karl Wertzle’s account of Weasel’s rescue.
Lanie remembered telling the reporter that her part in it had been blown out of proportion. In print, the statement made her appear modest. She frowned. Lanie certainly didn’t mind taking credit when it was due, but Karl’s glowing portrayal of the event made her uncomfortable.
Over still another story, the headline declared Man of Year Chased by Gunman.
It must have been a slow week for news, Lanie thought as she finished glancing through the twelve-page paper. The other articles covered the highway debate and the events of the Bliss Festival being held this week.
As she scanned through the festival schedule of animal judging, craft exhibits, parade, carnival, and dance, Lanie came up with the perfect idea for urging folks to vote against the highway. She smiled as she closed the paper.
A light knock sounded on the office door. Lanie turned to see Reece smiling at her. She didn’t smile back. Since he’d made a fool of her at the awards banquet, she’d been polite and businesslike. Nothing more.
“Elgin Thurloe is here to see you,” he said, laughter glittering in his warm brown eyes. He stepped aside to allow a burly mountain of a man into the small room.
Lanie sucked in her breath. Instinct told her to dive for cover, but Reece seemed unintimidated by the man’s presence. She settled for pressing her fingertips indelibly into the chair’s seat edge. Unconsciously, she made ready for a quick escape if he should lunge at her.
“May I help you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I b’lieve this belongs to you.” The bearded man in coveralls pushed a pink wastebasket at her.
“Wh-why, thank you.” She glanced up at Reece. He was still smiling as if he found it all amusing. “I’m sorry we trespassed on your property,” she said.
“’at’s all right. I thought you was highway surveyors.” The gunman tugged at a fringe of beard on his chin. “So, when I read that story in the newspaper, I knew I had to bring you back your trash can, miss.” He turned to Reece. “If I’da known you was Man of the Year, I’da shook your hand.”
Lanie set the wastebasket on the floor. “Why did you think we were surveyors? The highway’s not supposed to come anywhere near your property.”
The big man humped his shoulders. “Beats me. Y’all looked like city people, all dressed up and everything. Guess I just got nervous. My apologies for scaring you, miss. See ya, Reece.”
Lanie stared after him as he left. “That’s amazing.”
“That he returned your trash can?”
“No,” Lanie joked. “That he reads the newspaper.”
Reece chuckled. “Elgin has a college degree.”
Lanie raised an eyebrow.
“Animal husbandry. Anybody with a question about breeding goes to Elgin. He knows his stuff.”
“If you knew the guy, why didn’t you stop him from shooting at us? We could have been killed!”
Reece crossed his arms over his chest. Lanie’s gaze took in the sinewy strength of his muscular forearms. “If you expected me to stand there and argue with his gun,” he said, “you’ve got a lot more to learn than I thought.”
Silently, she agreed. She did have a lot to learn. And the first was how to be in the same room with Reece without noticing the golden hue of his tan, the broad and powerful muscles that flexed with his every move, or those little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Maybe, with enough practice, she could learn to ignore the way she felt whenever he was around.
Saturday morning dawned bright and clear, without a hint of clouds. It was a perfect day for a parade.
Using her best penmanship, Lanie printed Stop the Highway: Vote No on two poster boards. She colored the letters with a red, broad-tipped pen so the message would be visible from a distance. Then she connected the boards by stapling lengths of ribbon between them. Stepping back to examine the results, Lanie was satisfied it would be an eye-catcher.
And just to make sure, she went to the dresser, pulled out her star-spangled shorts outfit, and put it on. The cuffed, red-and-white-striped shorts were topped by a clingy blue T-shirt with various sizes of white stars sprinkled across the front and back.
Lanie tucked the sandwich board under one arm. “C’mon, Winnie, let’s go for a ride.”
The wait at the high school football field proved to be a long one. And hot, too. Lanie went to her car to get Winnie a drink from the insulated water jug. In a matter of minutes, Lanie was passing out cups of water to the cheerleaders and high school marching band and urging them to get their parents to vote against the highway proposal.
At precisely eleven o’clock, the caravan of fire trucks, floats, and performers lined up and headed off down Courthouse Road. Twenty minutes later, Lanie took her place behind the 4-H Club float and proceeded to walk the mile to the judges’ stand in front of the courthouse.
Heads turned and children waved, but Lanie wasn’t the least bit self-conscious as she tossed lollipops to spectators. She was glad of the attention since it might help rustle up some support for the highway opposition. And Winnie didn’t seem to mind, either. The animal trotted from one side of the road to the other, as far as her lead rope would allow and accepted goodies from delighted onlookers.
Reece cut short his comment to Harley Ferguson when the people around him pushed forward to see a parade exhibit. Out of curiosity, he stepped up on the low wall that enclosed the courthouse lawn.
“Aw, isn’t that cute!” a young girl exclaimed.
Reece peered over the girl’s head. It took only one look to know exactly who and what everyone was talking about.
Trotting smartly with blue-painted hooves, Winnie wore a large sandwich board proclaiming Stop the Highway: Vote No. Red, white, and blue ribbons festooned the little horse’s mane and tail, and she pulled a toy wagon that had young spectators clamoring for a turn at a ride.
As striking as that sight was, it was Lanie who caught and held his attention. From the red, white, and blue bow perched atop a perky ponytail, to her red canvas shoes, Lanie was a walking Uncle Sam. But instead of declaring I Want You, the patriotic-colored banner that flew from her broomstick pole read simply, No!
Reece’s eyes returned to take in the long slender legs that extended from the cuffs of her red-and-white shorts. Even though summer was now fading, her shapely calves were only barely tanned.
From her fair complexion, Reece guessed that even if she were a faithful sun worshipper, she’d get little darker than a faint creamy beige. With a strange twinge, he realized he found her legs appealing just for the fact that they were attached to her.
His attention roamed to the body-hugging shirt. The sight brought to mind a number of road signs he’d passed on the way to the parade. Soft Shoulders. Dangerous Curves. With a sense of foreboding, he recalled another sign that summed up his feelings about Lanie: No Way Out.
Sweat had gathered between her breasts and trickled down her abdomen, leaving a dark line down the front of her blue top. Reece felt a compelling urge to go to her and pull the fabric away from her hot skin.
He rubbed the perspiration from his hairline. The temperature seemed to have shot up in the last thirty seconds. With a jolt, Reece knew the Labor Day weekend sun had nothing to do with his internal fire.
And if he felt this way just from looking at her, what might she be doing to all the men on the sidelines? As much as he hated that other men were looking at her with desire—just as he had been—he knew Lanie was unaware of the effect she had on them. Still, that knowledge did nothing to soothe his jealousy. It was all he could do to keep from going to her and hauling her bodily out of the parade to insist that she cover those luscious swells with a baggy, shapeless shirt.
Reece’s jaw ached, and he realized he’d been clenching his teeth.
Harley poked him with an elbow. “Hey, Masardi, isn’t that your office manager? I thought you’d won her over to your side.” He took his sunglasses off, wiped them on his shirttail, and settled them back on his nose. “Kinda easy on the eyes, ain’t she?”
Reece ignored his friend’s comments.
Lanie’s eyes found his. For a brief instant, her expression conveyed defiance. Then, with a smug smile, she seemed to say, “Gotcha!”
Apparently not expecting Lanie’s hesitation, Winnie plowed into the back of her legs. Lanie lurched forward a half step before regaining her footing. Reece sighed as he realized her offbeat ways had rubbed off on the horse. He suspected she had that effect on everyone whose life she touched.
With a scowl, he turned and stepped off the brick divider. He walked away from the crowd, away from the feeling of impending doom that had settled around him.
Lanie had been so aware of Reece’s eyes on her, of the hard scowl that had glazed over his face, and of the fact that he’d left so abruptly, that she almost failed to notice she was nearing the judges’ stand. Jerking her attention back to the task at hand, she stopped and turned to face the woman and three men seated on the platform.
Hoping Winnie would remember the trick she’d been taught, Lanie grasped the halter and gave the signal. Amazingly, on the second try, Winnie extended one tiny blue hoof and lowered her head in an exaggerated bow. The judges appeared delighted by the show.
Satisfied, Lanie gave the little horse a hug and led her beside Etta’s Eatery. Borrowing a bucket from Etta, she filled it from the outside tap. While Winnie quenched her thirst, Lanie removed the signs and unhooked the wagon. She left them on Etta’s large back porch for safekeeping.
A crowd of children quickly gathered around Winnie. Lanie smiled at the kids as they argued over whether Winnie was actually a pony and whether she’d bite. Their interest in the horse quickly waned when their parents asked whether they wanted to buy hot dogs or Brunswick stew.
Lanie had no sooner led Winnie to the shade of the courthouse lawn when she was approached by a teenage girl who wanted to pet the horse. The girl’s black hair sprouted wildly from a loose ponytail at the base of her neck.
Her brown, flower-printed dress flowed loosely over her doughy body. One of her sneakers was untied. Her smile, though friendly, was little more than a contorted grimace.
“I ride,” she said. Her words were guttural, almost unintelligible. The black-haired girl lifted her knee as she turned toward Winnie. With horror, Lanie realized what she intended to do.
Reece stopped at the edge of the courthouse lawn and watched Lanie swiftly but gently catch the girl’s arm in an effort to restrain her. He debated whether to intervene. Jasmine Hicks was strong, and she could be a handful when frustrated.
While he hesitated, Lanie covered Jasmine’s hand with her own and patiently showed her how to rub behind the horse’s ears. Reece marveled at Lanie’s ability to make friends with everyone she encountered.
He tucked one of the two canned sodas that he’d bought into the crook of his arm and pocketed the change. Now Lanie was urging the girl to feed Winnie a handful of grass. When the horse’s lips touched her fingers, the girl giggled and dropped her hand to her side.
Lanie laughed. It wasn’t a malicious sound, but one of joy at shared fun.
Jasmine’s mother called out to her. Reece smiled when he noticed Lanie seemed as disappointed as Jasmine to end their play.
Reece stepped forward and handed Lanie one of the drinks. While she popped the top, Winnie nuzzled his shorts pocket. He surrendered his butterscotch candy to the little urchin.
Lanie raised her soda can in mock salute. “Thanks. You’re a mind reader.”
“No,” Reece admitted with a wry smile. “If I were a mind reader, I would’ve had you working overtime today to keep you from making a mockery of me.”
Did she detect a flash of anger in his statement? If so, she quickly concealed it. Her lips pressed into a thin line.
“Made a mockery of you?” she asked softly. “You mean, the way you made a mockery of me at the banquet last week when you inserted me into your Vote Yes comments?” She twisted Winnie’s lead rope around her hand and made a fist.
Reece sighed. She was still out of torque over that. “Okay, so this”—he waved a hand to encompass her outfit and Winnie’s streamers—“makes us even. Truce?”
He didn’t know why he cared whether Lanie was still upset with him. Maybe they’d both be better off if they’d just agree to disagree. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, he had to know that she wasn’t still angry with him.
Lanie unfisted her hand and ventured a smile. “Truce.”
A feeling of relief washed over him. But his reaction unsettled him. Why should it matter to him whether he was in this wacky woman’s good graces? How could he remain in control of his actions if he was seeking to please someone else? Especially if that someone was sure to wreck the orderly calm of his life.
The loudspeaker system squawked, and the parade spokesman began announcing honorable-mention awards. When he got to the second-place winner, he called Lanie’s name. With a squeal of delight, she flashed a brilliant smile at Reece and trotted Winnie up to the platform to accept her trophy.
Reece watched as she urged Winnie to bow for the crowd. When he realized he was smiling as broadly as Lanie, he knew he’d gone too far. Not only had he let himself care what she thought of him, but he’d committed the ultimate foolishness and let himself care for her.
She wound her way back through the throng, clutching the trophy to her star-studded chest. In a desperate act of self-preservation, Reece disappeared into the crowd.
He bought a hot dog at the concession stand in front of Tinsman’s Auction Barn, then went behind the courthouse. The library bench was already occupied by an elderly couple, so Reece sat on the cement porch and let his legs dangle over the edge.
With fewer people on the back side of the square, it was quieter here. Reece relaxed and ate his hot dog. His gaze wandered to the two women chatting by the water fountain, and he immediately recognized Mrs. Parker, a friend of his mother’s. The younger woman was about his age, with a luxurious mane of tousled blond hair and a petite body that wouldn’t quit. Something about her nagged at his memory, and he tried to place the painstakingly made-up face.
The bite of hot dog formed a leaden lump in his mouth as high school memories swelled to the forefront. Jennifer Jordan. Reece swallowed hard, his appetite suddenly gone.
Jennifer had been his idea of the perfect girl. But she’d gone steady with Reece’s best friend all through high school. Shortly after graduation they’d broken up, and she’d married someone else. A thousand times after that, Reece had called himself a chump for having been too “honorable” to make a play for his best friend’s girl.
Something cold and wet touched his bare leg. Reece looked down to see a pregnant beagle begging for the rest of his hot dog. He tossed it to her and turned his attention back to Jennifer.
The years had been good to her, adding only enough pounds to flesh out the curves on her slim frame. She wore a crisp pink-and-white shorts jumpsuit that was clearly intended to emphasize her fantastic tan. When she laughed at something Mrs. Parker said, Reece noticed that her smile was as perfect as ever.
But more than her physical good looks, it was her quiet, demure ways that had held Reece transfixed.
Demure. Reece wondered if Lanie knew the meaning of the word. With that flag outfit she was wearing today, demure would be the last word he’d think of to describe her. No, he’d never seen Jennifer wear jungle prints or the bold, dynamic colors Lanie seemed to prefer.
Mrs. Parker caught him staring at Jennifer and said something to her. The next thing he knew, they were walking toward him. Reece hopped down from the porch ledge and greeted them both warmly.
“Reece Masardi, how are you?” Mrs. Parker asked as she slipped an arm affectionately around his waist. “How’s your mama?”
Reece returned her hug with a one-armed squeeze. “I’m fine. And Mom’s around here somewhere.”
Jennifer waited quietly—demurely—until Mrs. Parker got around to reintroducing them.
“You remember my niece, don’t you? Jennifer’s moving back to Bliss now that she’s … divorced.” Mrs. Parker’s voice dropped on the last word.
Jennifer didn’t seem to mind her mentioning it. She held out her hand for him to shake, and he noticed how small and frail it felt in his. She had no grip. It would be a stretch to imagine her picking up large sacks of grain. Reece let go and shoved his hands into his back pockets.
“I’m sorry to hear about your breakup,” he consoled, “but Bliss is fortunate to have you back.”
“Thank you.” She cast her eyes becomingly downward. Reece thought her action a bit too calculated. “It wasn’t much of a marriage, actually,” she confessed. “We always did things his way, and when I told him I wanted children, he refused.” She shrugged one shoulder. “So, we parted ways.”
“It’s just as well,” said Mrs. Parker, “the way that man walked all over you.”
An image of Lanie flashed through Reece’s brain, her chin thrust upward in defiance and her hazel eyes clearly issuing a warning not to push her too far. No, he couldn’t imagine anyone walking over Lanie. He grudgingly acknowledged that he admired her spunk, but he still thought she could take a few lessons from Jennifer and tone it down a bit.
Annoyed with himself, Reece shook the vision from his mind. Here he was with the girl of his dreams—who had just announced that she was available—and he was thinking of Lanie. He was getting to be as wacky as her.
They made small talk, and Reece learned that Jennifer was an elementary school teacher. A nice, conservative job, he thought, unlike working in a psychiatric clinic. An involuntary smile sprang to his lips at the thought of Lanie impersonating the Good Witch of the North. That must’ve been a hoot.
“…so anyway, she’ll probably end up staying home tonight because she’s too much of an old-fashioned girl to ask anyone herself,” Mrs. Parker was saying.
Jennifer batted her lashes prettily. “Oh, Aunt Judith, don’t embarrass Reece. Besides, he probably already has a date for the dance.”
Dance. Reece remembered that the Bliss Festival Dance would be held at the Memorial Building tonight. He hadn’t been to the dance in three years. He’d certainly make a whopper of a comeback with Jennifer to accompany him.
All he had to do was ask her—her eyes pleaded with him to do so—but something held him back.
“You know, Reece, I had the biggest crush on you all through high school.” As if embarrassed by her disclosure, she dropped her gaze and smoothed a pleat on the front of her jumpsuit.
“You did? But you were going with Stevie.” A warmth crept up Reece’s collar. After all that soul-searching and agonizing over his decision to do the honorable thing and leave his best friend’s girl alone, here she was—fifteen years later—telling him she’d had a crush on him. “Why didn’t you say something then?”
“I…” She toed the dirt with her pink sandal. “I didn’t want to hurt Stevie’s feelings. He was such a nice guy.”
Reece shook his head. None of what she was saying made sense. “But you two broke up after graduation.”
“It wasn’t my idea. Stevie wanted to date around before we made a commitment.”
“Well, that was his loss,” Mrs. Parker interjected. She turned to Reece. “Stevie took so long getting around to popping the question, Gordy Johnson jumped right in and beat him to it.”
He’d thought Stevie foolish at the time to risk losing such a pleasant, attractive girl as Jennifer. But now it was beginning to make sense.
On their double dates, she’d always gone along meekly with whatever Stevie wanted to do. Reece had thought Jennifer conservative and easygoing. Now he saw her for what she really was—bland and opinionless.
If he wanted her, all he had to do was say so. It would be easy to mold her into the kind of mate he’d always wanted. If he wanted her to stay home and raise a houseful of kids, she would readily give up the teaching career she said gave her so much pleasure. And she’d probably be just as compliant in the bedroom.
Lanie would probably like Jennifer. Lanie seemed to like everybody, faults and all. She’d been so accepting of Jasmine Hicks, even after the girl had almost unwittingly hurt Winnie. Why couldn’t he accept Lanie as readily?
Jennifer was exactly the kind of girl he’d always pictured himself settling down with. But in the past month or so, it seemed his plans had gone topsy-turvy.