A Creed in Stone Creek Part 10

That last part was certainly no lie. She'd snitch one of the culinary triumphs Ashley always kept on hand, in case of G.o.d knew what kind of food emergency, slip some foil-covered ca.s.serole dish into the oven at her place, and gladly accept all the accolades.

Without actually claiming the cooking credit, of course. If anybody asked, she wouldn't lie. If they didn't didn't ask, on the other hand, why say anything at all? ask, on the other hand, why say anything at all?

Steven still looked troubled, but Melissa could tell that he wanted to take her up on the offer, too, and that knowledge did funny things to her heart.

"How else are you going to get to know people in Stone Creek," Melissa urged, starting toward the door as though supper were a done deal, "if you don't let them feed you? It's the way we country folks do things, you know. Your best bull dies? We feed you. Your house burns down? We feed you. Not that being new in town falls into that kind of category-"

Why was she rattling on like this, making an idiot of herself? was she rattling on like this, making an idiot of herself?

At last, Steven made a decision. "Okay, six o'clock," he said. "Can we bring anything?"

Matt let out a whoop of delight, and the dog joined the celebration with a happy bark.

"Just bring yourselves," Melissa said.

Steven, Matt and the dog followed her out into the brightness of afternoon. Splotches of silver and gold sunlight danced and flickered on the waters of the creek as they burbled by.

A smile flashed in Steven's eyes when Melissa tossed her purse and clipboard into the pa.s.senger seat of her roadster.

"That's some ride," he said. "I was admiring it earlier."

The remark seemed oddly personal, as though he'd commented on the shape of her backside or the curve of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s or the scent of her hair.

And Melissa was immensely pleased.

"Thanks," she replied, her tone modest, her cheeks warm.

"One question, though," Steven went on, opening the door of the ginormous blue truck parked next to the roadster. The dog went in first, then the little boy, who submitted fretfully to being fastened into a safety seat. Melissa waited for the question to come.

Steven didn't ask it until he'd shut the truck door again and turned to face her. "Where exactly do you live?"

Their toes were practically touching; Melissa breathed in the green-gra.s.s, sun-dried laundry smell of him, felt dizzy.

"I've never been very good at giving directions," she said, when she thought she could talk without sounding weird. "Why don't you follow me over right now? That way, when you come back later, you'll know the way."

"Okay," Steven said, with a little nod. His expression, though, had turned serious again. "I still think you've been painted into a corner here, Melissa, because you didn't want to hurt Matt's feelings about all of us having supper together, and while I certainly appreciate that, I'm not real comfortable with the idea of imposing on you, especially on short notice."

"It's only one meal," she pointed out.

If it was "only one meal," another part of her mind wanted to know, why was her heart beating so hard and so fast? Why was her breath shallow and why, pray tell, did she feel all warm and melty in places where she had no d.a.m.n business business feeling all warm and melty? feeling all warm and melty?

Steven was quiet, absorbing her answer.

It was disturbing for Melissa to realize that she even liked watching this man think. think.

"You're right," he said at last, with a sigh that was all the more wicked for its boyish innocence. "It's only supper. We'll be there at six."

"Good," Melissa said, wondering exactly when-and how-she'd lost her reason. Hadn't she been down this same road with Dan Guthrie a few years ago?

Dan, the s.e.xy rancher, widowed father of two charming little boys.

Dan, the patient, fiery lover who'd turned her inside out in his bed on the nights when they managed to have the house to themselves.

Dan, who'd finally dumped her, in no uncertain terms, claiming she couldn't commit to a serious relations.h.i.+p, and had taken up with a waitress named Holly, from over in Indian Rock?

Dan and Holly were married now. Expecting a baby.

And the little boys Melissa had come to love like her own children called Holly Mom. Mom.

Inwardly, she took a step back from Steven Creed, and he seemed to know it, because a shadow fell across his eyes and, for just a millisecond, a muscle bunched in his jaw. He wanted to lodge a protest, she guessed, having sensed her sudden reticence, but he didn't know what about. about.

"Follow me," Melissa said, in the voice of a sleepwalker.

Steven sighed, like a man who thought better of the idea but couldn't think of an alternative, and nodded.

Melissa drove slowly from the parking lot of Creekside Academy, out onto the main road, and straight into Stone Creek.

Every few moments, she checked her rearview, and the big blue truck was back there each time, Steven an indiscernible shadow at the wheel.

You just want to sleep with him, Melissa accused herself silently. Melissa accused herself silently. And what does that say about your character? And what does that say about your character?

Melissa squared her shoulders and answered the accusation out loud, since there was no one else in the roadster to overhear. "It says that I'm a natural woman, with red blood flowing through my veins," she replied.

You'll start caring for Steven Creed. Worse, you'll start caring for Matt. It's a case of burn me once, shame on you, burn me twice, shame on me.

Have you forgotten how much it hurt, losing Dan and the boys? It was like losing your mom and dad all over again, wasn't it?

"Oh, shut up," Melissa said. "I'm serving the man supper, supper, not a night of steamy s.e.x." She sighed. She could really have used a night of steamy s.e.x. "And the joke's on you. I not a night of steamy s.e.x." She sighed. She could really have used a night of steamy s.e.x. "And the joke's on you. I already already care for Matt." care for Matt."

You need a child of your own. Not a subst.i.tute.

"Didn't I ask you to shut up?" Melissa countered, almost forgetting to stop at a sign.

Sure enough, Tom Parker's cruiser slipped in between her car and Steven's truck, lights whirling. The siren gave an irritating little whine, for good measure.

As if she wouldn't have noticed him back there.

Swearing, Melissa kept driving the half block to her own house, and parked.

"Did you see that stop sign?" Tom asked cordially, climbing out of the squad car. His dog, Elvis, rode in the pa.s.senger seat. In Stone Creek, Elvis counted as backup.

"Yes," Melissa said tersely, "and I stopped stopped for it." for it."

"Just barely," Tom pointed out, glancing back at Steven's rig.

Melissa watched as the flashy blue truck, which probably sucked up enough gas for four or five cars to run on, drew up alongside her roadster, and the front pa.s.senger-side window buzzed down.

"Is everything all right?" Steven leaned across to ask. His eyes were doing that mischievous little dance again, generating blue heat.

Tom waved at him, smiled cordially. "Everything's fine."

Steven studied Melissa for a long moment, and when she didn't refute Tom's statement, he seemed satisfied. "See you at six," he said.

And then he just drove away.

Just like that.

Not that that annoyed her or anything.

Melissa folded her arms. "What's this all about?" she demanded. "You know d.a.m.n well you had no business pulling me over. I stopped for that sign. I stopped for that sign."

Tom was still gazing after Steven's truck. "I just wanted to say h.e.l.lo," he lied.

"What a load," Melissa replied. "The truth is, you're just as nosy as your aunt Ona. You saw Steven following me and you wanted to know what was going on."

"He said, 'See you at six,'" Tom went on, as if she hadn't spoken. "You two have a date or something?"

"Or something," Melissa said. "Not that it's any of your business." She flexed her fingers, then regripped the steering wheel, hard. "This is hara.s.sment," she pointed out.

Tom chuckled, shook his head. But there was something watchful in his eyes. "At least let me run a check on Creed's background before you get involved," he said. "A person can't be too careful these days."

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Melissa retorted, exasperated. "A person can can be too careful. Like you, for instance. When are you going to ask Tessa Quinn out for dinner and a movie, you big coward?" be too careful. Like you, for instance. When are you going to ask Tessa Quinn out for dinner and a movie, you big coward?"

Tom blinked. Straightened his spine. "When I get around to it," he said, in a mildly affronted tone.

"Have you run a background check on her yet?"

"Of course I haven't."

"A person can't be too careful," Melissa threw out. Then she sighed and changed the subject. "I was just coming from the Parade Committee meeting," she said pointedly. "You know, that little thing I'm doing because your aunt, Ms. Ona Frame, has to have her gall-bladder out? You owe owe me, Sheriff Parker. And if you think I'm going to put up with being pulled over for no reason-" me, Sheriff Parker. And if you think I'm going to put up with being pulled over for no reason-"

Tom did a parody of righteous horror. Laid a hand to his chest. Back in the squad car, Elvis let out a yip, as though putting in his two cents' worth. Then Tom laughed, held up both hands, palms out. Elvis yipped again.

Melissa leaned to retrieve her purse and that stupid clipboard.

He laughed again. "He's got you pretty fl.u.s.tered, that Creed yahoo," he said, looking pleased at the realization. "I haven't seen you this worked up since you were dating Dan Guthrie-"

Too late, Tom seemed to realize he'd struck a raw nerve. He stopped, reddened, and flung his hands out from his sides. "I'm sorry."

"You should be," Melissa huffed, turning on one heel.

Tom followed her as far as her front gate. "It's not as if you're the only person who's ever loved and lost, Melissa O'Ballivan," he blurted out, in a furious under tone. "Imagine how it feels to be crazy about a woman who looks right through you like you were transparent!"

"I can't begin begin to imagine that, for obvious reasons," Melissa replied, heading up the walk. to imagine that, for obvious reasons," Melissa replied, heading up the walk.

Elvis howled.

Tom stuck with Melissa until she'd mounted the first two porch steps and rounded to look down into his upturned face. "You deliberately misunderstood that," he accused, but he'd lost most of his steam by then.

Melissa sighed. "You were referring to Tessa Quinn, I presume?" she asked, though everybody in town and for miles around knew that Tom loved the woman with a pa.s.sion of truly epic proportions. Everybody, with the probable exception of Tessa herself, that is.

Tessa was either clueless, playing it cool or just not interested in Tom Parker.

Tom thrust out a miserable breath. "You know d.a.m.n well it's Tessa," he said.

Melissa c.o.c.ked a thumb toward the squad car and said, "Get Elvis and come inside. I made a pitcher of iced tea before I went out."

But Tom shook his head. "I'm supposed to be on patrol," he said.

"Well, that's n.o.ble," Melissa replied, as the dog gave another long, plaintive howl, "but I'm not sure Elvis is...o...b..ard with the plan."

"I was just taking him over to the Groom-and-Bloom for his weekly bath," Tom said. He took very good care of Elvis; everybody knew that as well as they knew his feelings for Tessa. "He's just worried about missing his appointment, that's all. He's particular about his appearance, Elvis is."

Melissa smiled. Nodded. "Tom?"

He was turning away. "What?"

"Why don't you ask Tessa for a date?"

He looked all of fourteen as he considered that idea. His neck went a dull red, and his earlobes glowed like they were lit up from the inside. "She might say no."

"Here's a thought, Tom. She might say yes. Then what would you do?"

"Probably have a coronary on the spot." Tom sounded pretty serious, but there was a tentative smile playing around his lips. "Same as if she said no."

"So you're d.a.m.ned if you do and d.a.m.ned if you don't."

"That's about the size of it," Tom said.

"I dare you," Melissa said. When they were kids, that was the way to get Tom Parker to do just about anything. Of course, she hadn't tried it since playground days.

He flushed again, and his eyes narrowed. "What?"

"You heard me, Parker," Melissa said, jutting her chin out a little ways. "I double-dog dare dare you to ask Tessa Quinn out to dinner. Or to a movie. Or to a dance-there's one next weekend, at the Grange Hall. And if you don't ask her out, well, you're just plain- you to ask Tessa Quinn out to dinner. Or to a movie. Or to a dance-there's one next weekend, at the Grange Hall. And if you don't ask her out, well, you're just plain-chicken."

Instantly, they were both nine years old again.

Tom stepped closer and glared up at her. "Oh, yeah?" he said.

"Yeah," Melissa replied stoutly.

"You're on," Tom told her.

"Good," Melissa answered, without smiling.

"What do I get if you lose?" Tom wanted to know.

Melissa thought quickly. "I'll buy you dinner."