The Trouble With Valentine's Day (10 page)

“Don't even think about it.” Tuttle missed his next shot, and Kate stepped away. She'd had enough. Enough of Rob and enough of the Worsleys. She bent over the table and shot the eight into the corner pocket.

“My turn at her,” Victor announced and approached the end of the table.

“Guys, I'm finished.”

“You can't leave until you play Victor.”

“I'm not playing Victor,” she said as she moved to the cue rack and placed the stick inside. Her nerves were raw and she just wanted to go to bed. “I'm going home.”

“You have to play,” Victor insisted. “No one beats us Worsleys.”

“Especially a girl,” Tuttle added.

Uh-oh. They were drunk, she told herself. “Maybe some other time.”

“Everyone knows that it isn't right for a woman to beat a man.”

She supposed she should let that one go, but she'd been biting her tongue all evening. She was tired of trying to be nice. “Victor, if it takes beating a woman to make you feel better about yourself, you have some real problems that go beyond the way you play pool.”

“What does that mean?”

She really wished she didn't have to explain. “It means that a real man isn't threatened by a woman.”

“I'll show you a real man.”

Lord, if he grabbed his crotch, she was going to throw up. She shook her head. “Are you on crack?”

“No.”

“Fall on your head?”

“No. Got kicked by horses plenty.”

“Well, that explains it,” she said and tried to move past. He stepped in front and wouldn't let her by.

“You're not leaving till we play.”

Kate looked into Victor's mean, bloodshot blue eyes and felt her heart slam against her ribs.

“Hey, numb nuts,” Rob interrupted from behind Victor. “She said she doesn't want to play with you boys anymore.”

Kate's gaze moved passed Tuttle to Rob who stood a few feet away. A vast sense of relief calmed her speeding heart to a steady pound.

“This isn't your business,” Tuttle said.

“I'm making it my business.”

“Figures you'd take up for her. She's mannish, but that's probably what you like about her.”

“Exactly what are you trying to say Tuttle?”

“That you're a faggot.” He pointed with his thumb to Kate. “And she's your dyke.”

Kate guessed that answered the question.

“That wasn't nice.” Rob sighed as he took off his hat and tossed it on the pool table. “You owe Kate an apology.”

“Or what?”

“Or I'll make you wish you had.” He ran his fingers through the sides of his hair. “You might want to stand back, Kate.”

She didn't have to be told twice. She wedged herself between the racks of pool sticks.

“I'm not afraid of you,” Tuttle announced as he bobbed and wove like some sort of boxer reject. Rob stood with his hands at his sides, watching with a bemused twist of his lips. Then Tuttle finally swung, and Kate barely saw the blur of Rob's fist before it plowed into Tuttle's face. Tuttle flew back, and Kate jumped out of the way an instant before he hit the wall where she'd been standing.

Tuttle slid to the floor, his gaze unfocused and glassy-eyed. “Son of a bitch!” Victor roared and launched himself at Rob. Hit with the weight of Victor's compact body, Rob staggered a few steps backward.

“I'm gonna kick your ass for that,” Victor warned as he swung wildly and connected with Rob's jaw. Rob's head snapped back, then he hit Victor with a one-two jab that left the shorter man dazed but still on his feet.

Peirce ran into the room and moved to Tuttle, who was muttering incoherently. Peirce waved a hand in front of his brother's face, then he grabbed a pool stick from the wall. Before he could move, Kate stepped in front of him. “It looks like Rob's about finished with Victor. Why don't you wait your turn.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“That depends on you.”

“Get out of my way, lesbo.”

Lesbo
? Kate hadn't heard that word since grade school. The Worsley brothers obviously needed to get out more. She kept her eyes on the cue as Peirce raised it and stormed toward her, his gaze glued on Rob. Rob gave Victor one last punch, sending him to the floor. As Peirce passed, Kate stuck her foot between his big boots. Her elbow slammed into his back and he went down. On the way, he hit his head on the pool table, and he landed on the floor in a heap. He moaned and rolled onto his back, the pool cue still clutched in his hand. Within the dim light hanging overhead, he looked up, his gaze as glassy and unfocused as Tuttle's.

“Well, God damn,” he moaned just before his eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out.

Rob looked over at Kate, his green eyes alive and shining. “Are you okay?”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat and nodded.

Outside the small pool room, someone unplugged the jukebox. Over the sound of Kate's heart pounding in her ears, she heard yelling and swearing. Through the doorway, she could see broken tables and chairs and bodies flying through the air.

“Hell, yeah,” Rob said and touched the red mark on his jaw. He grinned like he was having the time of his life.

“Did I miss something? Was that fun?”

He grabbed his hat and laughed, a sound of pure pleasure that mixed with the noise of breaking glass and the distant wail of police sirens.

He was insane. Crazy. A big old numb nuts.

Seven

The front of the Buckhorn was lit up like
the fourth of July. Beams of red, white, and blue slid across the facade and the patrons lined up in front. The rotating lights of three police vehicles bounced off cars in the parking lot and chased the inky shadows in the dense forest beyond.

From inside the sheriff's Blazer, Rob looked out at everyone standing in front of the Buckhorn, his gaze taking in the two deputies as they checked for sobriety before letting anyone go. The backseat of the Blazer had no leg room, and a pair of cuffs cut into his wrist. He was uncomfortable as hell, and he might have stretched out a bit if not for the pain in the ass cuffed beside him.

He'd always known that Kate Hamilton spelled trouble. He just hadn't known how much trouble. Since she'd arrived in Gospel, she'd started that gay rumor that had some of the rednecks in town looking at him funny. He wasn't afraid. Just annoyed.

Then tonight she'd breezed into the Buckhorn and engaged three of the biggest idiots around. It'd been only a matter of time before things got ugly between her and the Worsleys and someone would have had to step in. That someone had been him, and now he was cooling his heels in the back of a cop car. To top it off, she didn't seem all that grateful.

He glanced across his shoulder at her dark profile. “You're welcome,” he said.

“For what?” The lights from another squad car lit up one side of her face as she turned to look at him.

“For saving your ass.”

“I figure we're even.” She shook her head. “Peirce would have taken your head off with that pool cue if I hadn't stepped in and saved
your
ass.”

“He would have tried,” Rob scoffed. He'd been hit in the head a few times with hockey sticks and pucks, but he'd always been wearing his helmet. He doubted the pool cue would have knocked him out, but it would have hurt like hell. “I know you think you can do anything a man can do. That you can take care of yourself, but there's a reason why people ignore the Worsley boys. Everyone knows they don't play well with others.”

She was silent a moment, then said, “Well, it would have been nice if
everyone
would have told me.”

“I did.” Rob scooted down in the seat as far as his long legs would allow. “Twice.” His coat and flannel shirt fell open around him, and a chill crept across the front of his T-shirt and stomach. Nothing to do now but kick back and wait to be hauled in alongside the ingrate beside him. “I told you to call it a night and go home.” He guessed he could have warned her about the Worsleys earlier, but he'd been busy trying to ignore her. Kate wasn't exactly his favorite person, and by the time he'd even noticed her with the Worsleys, she'd already sunk three balls. At that point, the best he could do was stand around and watch her play and wait for things to get out of hand.

Rob turned his attention to the front of the bar. Tuttle had called Kate mannish, which was just moronic. She was so blatantly female, with large breasts, slim waist, and long legs, that there was no way anyone would confuse her for a man. Sure she was tall, but Rob liked tall women. He liked long legs cinched tight around his waist, draped over his shoulders, and wrapped around his head. He liked the way a tall woman fit against him in and out of bed.

Watching her stretch her long body across the pool table had annoyed him even as it had turned him on. Then he'd touched her because he hadn't seemed able to stop himself. He'd touched the side of her throat and her hair. He'd fit his hand in the curve of her waist, and he'd slid his palm across her stomach. For a few seconds, he'd welcomed the hot punch of lust in his belly instead of fighting it.

Muttering from the other side of the seat drew his attention. “What?” he asked.

“I'm just wondering how long it will take to bail out of jail,” she said through a sigh as she leaned her head against the window. “I don't want my grandfather to get called about this.” One side of her hair fell forward and covered her face. “He's old and shouldn't have to get a call from the sheriff in the middle of the night.”

“I'll bail us out.” For some reason, he was starting to feel sorry for her, and he was having a hard time remembering why he didn't like her. “How much?”

“I don't know. It depends on the charges.”

“Well, how is it done? Is there a teller machine somewhere? Or do I write a check?”

“You can only use cash.” She straightened and looked over at him. “Don't tell me you've never been arrested.”

“Nope.”

Even through the darkness, he could see that she found that bit of news incredulous. “You're kidding?”

Why did she find that so hard to believe? “No.” He scowled. He'd just offered to pay her bail and she insults him. Now he remembered why he didn't like her. “How many times have
you
been arrested?”

“Never. I'm a private investigator. At least I used to be. I know how the system works.” She thought a moment. “Or at least I do in Nevada.”

He turned his attention to the front of the Buckhorn once more. He no longer cared what she did. Maybe the men around town were right about her. She was a real ballbuster.

He heard her take a deep breath and let it out slow. The seat shook a little as she wiggled around, trying to get more comfortable.

“Rob?” She said his name just above a whisper.

He looked over at her. She'd turned and pulled her bent leg up on the seat. The light from outside lit up her face, and her knee almost touched the outside of his thigh. “Yeah?”

She licked her lips and her voice got low and kind of throaty. “Thank you.”

Hell. Just when he was trying to work up a real dislike of her, she had to ruin it by turning all nice and girly. Her change in moods was giving him whiplash. “You're welcome.”

She leaned forward a bit and spoke into the darkness just above his left cheek. “How's your chin?”

“Hurts like a bitch, but I'll live.”

“I'm sorry you got hit. Let me know if you need anything.”

He lowered his gaze to her mouth and wondered if she was going to offer to kiss it better for him. Not that kissing Kate was a good idea. “Like what?” Although it would definitely keep her quiet; keep her mouth too busy to talk, too.

“An ice pack.”

An ice pack might be good, might keep him from thinking up all the ways he could keep her mouth busy. “Why don't you tell me how the gay rumor got started?” he asked to take his mind off her head in his lap.

She leaned back. “I think I'd only lived here a few weeks, and you weren't back in town yet. Ada came into the store one morning and started telling me about the owner of the sporting goods store not being interested in any women in town, so I said something like maybe you didn't like women. I was thinking misogynist. I really didn't know she was talking about
you
.”

Right.

She shrugged. “I never thought you were gay. Not even after the first night we met. It never even entered my head.”

Well, that's something, he thought as he sat up and tried to get more comfortable.

“Erectile dysfunction, yes. Gay?” She shook her head. “No.”

He stilled. “You don't think I can get it up? I can get it up plenty!” He hadn't meant to yell, but Christ almighty, just because he hadn't been
using
his hard-ons lately didn't mean he wasn't
capable
.

“If you say so.”

God, she'd done it again in a matter of minutes. Just when he was starting to think she wasn't so bad, she pissed him off. Just when he was thinking about kissing her, she told him he had erectile dysfunction. If they hadn't been cuffed, he would have grabbed her hand and shoved it on his dick just to prove her wrong. She'd feel for herself that he functioned just fine.

The car door opened and Sheriff Dillon Taber stood in the opening. “Come on out, you two.”

Rob didn't hesitate before sliding out of the vehicle. He wanted to be as far away from Kate as possible. “Erectile dysfunction,” he scoffed.

“Did you say something, Sutter?” the sheriff asked.

He frowned. “No.”

Kate moved from the Blazer and stood beside Rob within the head beams of a police cruiser. “Peirce swears you never touched him,” Dillon informed Kate as he moved behind her to take off her cuffs. “He says he must have tripped because there's no way a girl knocked him out.” She turned and rubbed her wrists. “But I'm going to give you some advice which I'm sure you'll ignore,” the sheriff continued as he shoved the cuffs in a leather case hooked to his belt. “Stay away from anyone with the last name of Worsley.” He thought a minute, then added, “And while you're at it, go ahead and steer clear of Emmett Barnes and Hayden Dean.”

“I plan to stay clear of the bars around here,” she said as she grabbed her leather backpack off the hood of the Blazer.

“That's probably wise. How much did you have to drink tonight?”

“About half a beer.”

“Then you're free to go. Drive careful, Ms. Hamilton.”

“I will. Thanks,” she said and walked away. For one brief second, a flash of light caught in her hair. Then she was gone.

Dillon moved behind Rob and removed his cuffs. “Several people have confirmed that Tuttle Worsley swung first,” the sheriff said as he released the cuffs from Rob's wrists. “You're free to go.”

Rob had first met Dillon last summer when he and his son Adam had signed up for fly-fishing lessons. He'd liked the sheriff immediately and had hired Adam to help out in the store. The eleven-year-old had done a good job sweeping up and emptying the trash. “What's Adam up to these days?” he asked as he rubbed his wrists.

“No good. He can't wait to knock the hell out of the trout population this summer.”

“Tell him to stop by the store and I'll put him to work again.”

“He'd like that.” Dillon pushed up the brim of his cowboy hat. “How much have you had to drink, Rob?”

“I was on my second beer.”

The radio clipped to Dillon's shoulder squawked, and he reached up to turn it down. “What do you know about Stanley's granddaughter?” he asked as Kate's SUV pulled onto the road from the parking lot.