It was the best sex Rainie had ever had, made all the sweeter because it wasn’t merely a physical joining, but also a melding of their hearts.
Afterward they collapsed on the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms. Parker laughed weakly. “Well, there went abstinence out the window. On a bright note, if I’m gonna burn in hell for it, I can’t think of anybody I’d rather sizzle with.”
Rainie twisted away, flipped up onto her knees, and straddled him, her blond-streaked curls forming a curtain around their faces as she leaned down to kiss him. “If I’m going to hell, I want to enjoy you as much as I can before I get there.”
He chuckled and rolled with her in his arms to be on top. “I like the way you’re thinkin’, lady,” he whispered huskily. “I’ll also add that I can’t believe anything so beautiful can possibly be wrong.”
What they felt for each other
was
beautiful, and Rainie didn’t believe anything that happened between them could be wrong, either. She decided that it was a matter of conscience and returned Parker’s sultry kisses without a trace of guilt.
Chapter Seventeen
H
alloween fell on a Friday, and Rainie was excited about celebrating the occasion with Parker. For several days in advance, she spent her alone time decorating her house before he arrived in the evening. She carved three pumpkins: one for her front porch, one for the table, and one for the bedroom. She draped orange and black streamers adorned with dangling witches and goblins from the ceiling. Her windows were covered with ghoulish cutouts and silhouettes.
Right after lunch on Halloween day, she went to find Parker in the stables. She located him in Montana’s stall and slipped inside to hug his waist. After giving him a long, languorous kiss, she leaned back to smile up at him. “I’m leaving early. I want tonight to be special. It
is
our first Halloween together, you know.”
Parker tugged his cell phone from his belt, punched a button, and waited a moment before saying, “Hey, Clint. Rainie’s leavin’ here in a couple. Can you tail her early today, or would you rather opt out and let me do it?” He listened for a moment and then smiled. “Thanks, bro. I really appreciate it. I’m still babyin’ Montana’s leg and need to apply salve and a wrap. I could have Toby take care of it, though.”
After listening for a moment and then saying good-bye, he snapped the phone closed. “Clint has nothin’ goin’ on, so he’ll follow you into town.”
Rainie wanted this day to be carefree and special, and she wished with all her heart that Peter no longer cast a shadow over her life. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a reasonable expectation and probably wouldn’t be for a few more months. “I hate that I’m putting you and everyone in your family to so much trouble.”
“It’s no trouble, honey. Clint needed to go into town to run some errands anyway, so your leavin’ early will save him the extra trip. Once he sees you home, it’ll still be early enough for him to take care of his own stuff.”
“He’ll be on duty a little longer than usual today. I have to stop by the store for the ingredients for mulled wine and cookies.”
He narrowed an eye at her. “What all are you plannin’ for tonight, anyway?”
“Lots of fun stuff. I need to mull our wine, and I want to bake and decorate cookies, and I have to get the candy set out so we’ll be ready for all the trick-or-treaters when they start coming around five. After all that’s done, I need to get into my costume. I’m going to wear a black caftan, my Elvira wig, and a witch’s hat.”
“How old did you say you are?” he asked as he released her from his embrace.
“Old enough to know better, but still young enough not to care,” she replied flippantly. Grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling him toward her, she added in a sultry voice, “And don’t pretend you don’t like me this way. I’ll know you’re lying.”
He laughed and adjusted his Stetson. Without fail, she always knocked it askew when she kissed him. “Don’t get so wrapped up in Halloween that you forget to lock up tight as soon as you get in the house, and be sure to keep the phone close at hand until I get there.”
Over the last few days, Rainie had so seldom thought about Peter that this second reminder made her frown. “Don’t spoil the fun of Halloween. I want to pretend, just for today, that Peter doesn’t exist. I don’t want to think about him. I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Fine by me. Just be careful. Okay?”
“I’m always careful. It’s becoming second nature for me.” She touched a fingertip to the dimple that slashed his cheek. “I want tonight to be perfect,” she whispered. “Absolutely perfect.”
“Sweetheart, if I’m with you, it can’t be anything but perfect. Make plenty of mulled wine, okay? And don’t drink it all before I get there. We’ll get tipsy together, and when the kids stop coming, I’ll show you the cowboy version of bobbin’ for apples.”
The husky timbre of his voice told Rainie that Parker’s version of apple bobbing would probably make her shiver with delight. She went up on her tiptoes to graze his lips with hers. “One more for the road?” she whispered.
Angling his head to possess her mouth, he delivered on the request. She laughed when she saw that his hat had been bumped off center again. Reaching up to straighten it, she said, “Try to come early. You can help me frost cookies.”
One hard arm still locked around her waist, he said, “I’d rather frost you.”
Just at the thought, Rainie’s skin tingled. “Hmm. Which parts of me would you frost?”
“Use your imagination.”
Rainie did just that all during the drive into town.
Clint was executing a curve in the country road when his truck engine suddenly sputtered, hiccoughed loudly, and then died. The vehicle shuddered to a slow stop. The Dodge had been running perfectly yesterday when he went into town, so what the hell was wrong with it now? Sometimes diesel rigs burped and coughed when the fuel filters got dirty, but Clint’s mechanic changed them regularly.
He glanced through the dusty windshield at the back of Rainie’s Mazda, which was quickly getting so far ahead of him that he could barely see it. He keyed the ignition, hoping the vehicle might roar back to life. Instead, it only hacked, shuddered, and died again. Fuel injector pump? It was the only thing Clint could think of besides a clogged filter that might cause the vehicle to behave this way.
“Well,
shit
!” What he really,
really
wanted to say was the F-word, but Loni had a strict rule against that because of the kids, so Clint never allowed himself to transgress, not even while alone, afraid that habit might lead him to slip up when little pitchers with big ears were present. He tried the ignition switch again, got the same result, and settled for yelling, “Son of a frigging
bitch
!”
He jerked his cell phone from his belt, started to dial Parker, and saw only one bar in his signal window. He tried to call out and couldn’t. “
Damn
it!”
He was in a dead zone. Mountainous sections of Oregon were famous for expanses of highway where no signal came through. He glanced up to determine precisely where he was.
Double damn.
He was at the bottom of Haymaker Hill. Normally when he was on this section of road and lost his signal while talking with someone, he just called back when he got out of the dead zone. Not possible this time. In order to call Parker and let him know that no one was tailing Rainie, he would have to hoof it nearly three miles to the summit.
Clint piled out of the pickup and broke into a run up the incline, which would grow much steeper as he neared the top. Ranch work kept him in peak physical condition, and he didn’t mind jogging up a hill. He just wished he were wearing some decent shoes. Riding boots had never been intended for long-distance running.
Stupid truck.
Parker was counting on him to look out for Rainie this afternoon, and now he’d let him down.
As Rainie made her way up and down the aisles of the supermarket, she was still focused on Parker and the kinky delights of frosting. Just imagining them made her feel a little weak at the knees. Unfortunately, it also distracted her, and she had to double back in the aisles several times because she’d overlooked something on her list.
She was glancing at her wristwatch by the time she opened the trunk of the Mazda to stash her groceries. It was only a little after one o’clock, but even so, time was running short. Thank goodness she’d thought to get premade icing. All she’d have to do was add dabs of food coloring to create the colors she needed. If she put the wine on the stove to simmer first, it could mull while she mixed the cookie dough and did other stuff. Then maybe she could carve out an extra few minutes for a nice, hot bath in scented water before she put on her costume. If Parker wanted to decorate her like a Halloween cookie and slowly devour her, she wanted all parts of her to be pristine. And that wasn’t to mention the cowboy version of bobbing for apples. What, exactly, had he meant by
that
?
Rainie was still considering the possibilities as she unlocked the driver door and slipped behind the steering wheel. She dumped her purse on the seat beside her. Humming the theme song of
Legends of the Fall
, she drew the door closed, fastened her seat belt, shoved the key in the ignition, and sparked the engine to life. As she backed from the parking space and shifted into drive, she smiled dreamily. If someone had told her a year ago that she would meet a cowboy, fall wildly in love, and feel this happy, she never would have believed it. It just went to prove that miracles could happen, heroes actually did exist, and fairy-tale endings weren’t only for storybooks.
Just as the car began to roll forward, something flat and cold angled across Rainie’s larynx, the pressure so abrupt and forceful that it snapped her head back against the rest. For a moment, her brain went into a free fall of confusion, and her only thought was,
What?
“You unfaithful, spoiled, stupid little
bitch
.”
The voice near Rainie’s ear was one straight out of her nightmares.
Peter.
Oh, God, he was right there in the backseat of her car. Terrifying thoughts ping-ponged inside her brain.
A knife.
He had the flat side of the blade pressed against her jugular. With only a turn of his wrist, he could kill her. She could imagine it all too clearly. The warmth of her blood streaming down her neck to pool in the cleavage of her breasts. The wet gurgle of crimson as she fought to breathe. She remembered telling Parker that she could defend herself even if Peter came at her with a weapon.
Not.
Somehow she’d never envisioned this scenario, with her hands on the steering wheel, the car rolling forward, and the knife already in position at her throat.
She’d locked the car. How had he gotten in? And why, oh, why hadn’t she checked the back floorboard before getting in herself? Just because she knew that Clint was somewhere in the parking lot and watching her vehicle was no reason for her to be careless.
Stupid, so stupid.
Any idiot knew to look through the back windows. It was a simple safety rule that all women with half a brain followed nowadays. Where had her head been?
Parker.
She’d been daydreaming about Parker.
Oh, God, oh, God.
Where was Clint? Had Peter harmed him? The thought no sooner entered her mind than she discarded it. Like Parker, Clint was in superb physical condition and could handle himself in a scuffle. Besides, it wasn’t Peter’s style to face off with a man who could fight back. Clint was fine. He
had
to be fine. Peter had probably just delayed him somehow.
Rainie could almost hear Parker’s voice whispering in her mind.
Be smarter than he is. Use your head. He may be bigger and stronger, but you’ve got the element of surprise on your side.
Only nothing he’d taught her covered a situation like this. A random act of violence. This was so classically Peter. He was probably already tensing to slit her throat, his plan being to leave her slumped over the steering wheel. He would take her purse to make it look like a robbery.
Rainie forced her mind back to what she needed to be thinking about, not Peter’s plans, but how she might come up with one of her own. How could she catch Peter by surprise and take control of the situation? Butting him in the face with the back of her skull wasn’t possible. The seat’s headrest was in her way. She thought about slamming down hard on the brakes, but the car wasn’t moving fast enough to throw him violently forward. She also worried about the backlash of reverse momentum. With a lethal weapon at her throat, she’d have to be nuts to bring the car to an abrupt stop. Not a smart move. Same went for tromping on the gas and driving into a light post.
Bracing herself, she forced her gaze to the rearview mirror. Shock spilled through her like ice water. Peter wasn’t wearing a stocking cap, as she’d once imagined he might. Instead he had no hair, absolutely
none
. His head was as bald as an onion. His thick, golden eyebrows had vanished. Even his eyelashes were gone.
He smiled at her—the same thousand-watt, charming smile that had fooled so many people into believing any lie he told them. “DNA precaution. I watch forensic shows a lot, and the percentage of murderers who are caught because they leave a trace of DNA at the scene is incredibly high. I don’t plan to make the same mistake.”