thing he needed. She believed he meant it. If he’d wanted a woman in his life, he certainly would have had one before she’d shown up in town. There were plenty in Gospel to choose from. He didn’t want a relationship. He’d made that clear. He wanted sex, and while she wanted sex, too, she knew she would ultimately want more. She knew she would begin to care about him more than she did already, and she would be hurt when he didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was just the way things were between them.
It would be best to end it now, before she got hurt.
If and when he called, she would just have to tell him she couldn’t see him anymore. She’d have to find the willpower to just say no.
In the end, she didn’t talk to him at all. When the telephone rang, she didn’t pick up. She didn’t trust herself. Since the moment Dylan had kissed her the night of the Buckhorn incident, her willpower had gone into hiding. She didn’t trust that it would make an appearance now. Not after the memory of his kiss, and not after the night they’d spent together painting each other with frosting. Not when all she had to do was close her eyes and feel his mouth on her body. Not when she could recall with perfect clarity the seductive timbre of his voice when he’d lowered his face between her legs and said, “Relax, honey, I’m just going to eat this little peach right here.”
No, her willpower was less than zero.
She would have to avoid him for as long as possible, but complete avoidance would be impossible in such a small town.
The next time she saw him, she’d just act natural. Cool, as if she’d had lots of affairs in the past.
At around midnight, she went to bed and jumped at every sound, wondered if he’d show up at her house, or if it was even Dylan who’d called earlier. It could have been Shelly. Or Walter. Or a telemarketer. It probably hadn’t even been him. The jerk.
At a little before ten the next morning, Shelly knocked on Hope’s front door. Hope had just gotten dressed and her hair was still wet from her shower.
“Dylan just phoned me,” Shelly said as she followed Hope into the kitchen. “He wanted me to come over and see if you were okay. He said he tried to call you last night, but you weren’t home.”
“I wasn’t answering the phone.” Hope reached for the coffeepot and poured two cups. “I was busy working.”
“He said he called this morning, too.”
Hope raised her mug and blew into it to keep from smiling. She hadn’t heard the phone, but maybe she’d been in the shower when he’d called.
“Is something going on between the two of you?”
“Not a thing. Do you want milk and sugar?”
“No.” Shelly raised her own coffee and blew into it. Both women stared at each other through the steam. “Did you know that an informant inside the sheriff’s department gave the FBI information about Hiram Donnelly?”
“I’d figured that out.”
“But have you figured out who is it?”
“Hazel?”
“No.”
“Dylan?”
“Wrong again.”
“Do you know?”
“Yes,” Shelly answered through a smile. “But I’m not going to tell you. And do you know why?” She didn’t wait for Hope to answer. “Because I can keep a confidence. No one knows but me and the FBI. If someone tells me to keep something a secret, I can. I’m a good friend.” She looked pointedly at Hope as if to say Hope was not.
“Okay.” Hope relented and it all came out in a rush. “Okay, I spent the Fourth of July night at Dylan’s house.”
“I knew it! When Paul told me that Dylan was giving you a ride home, I knew he was going to try his old cheap moves on you.”
Hope was too embarrassed to admit that he hadn’t tried very hard. “You can’t talk about this to anyone. I don’t know how I feel about what happened, and Dylan doesn’t want this to turn into town gossip.”
“Oh, that Dylan,” Shelly scoffed and waved her bad hand. “He thinks his business is sacred or something. Somehow more off-limits than everyone else’s. He thinks everyone is just dying to know what’s up with him.” She shrugged. “Which, of course, we are, but I swear I won’t breathe a word.”
Hope blew into her own coffee and took a drink. When she looked up, Shelly was staring a hole into her. “What? Do you want details?”
“Not if you don’t want to give them.”
“I’ll just say that I stayed with him all night, and I had a really good time.” She took another sip and added, “Really good.”
Over their coffee mugs, they smiled at each other. Two completely opposite women who recognized a true friend in the other.
“How’s your hand?” Hope asked.
“Good.” Shelly looked at it and remarked, “This polish makes Paul frisky, but it’s starting to chip now.”
“Come on, let’s do our nails.” Hope motioned for Shelly to follow. She gathered her supplies and set them on the coffee table in the living room. She chose Rebellious Red polish, while Shelly settled on Mountain Huckleberry.
“Are you going to see him again?”
Hope shook her head. “No. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Why?”
Hope reached for a bottle of remover and a bag of cotton balls. “Well, it can’t go anywhere because I’m leaving in five months.” The thought of leaving sent an unexpected qualm of dread through her. She felt so alive here and had found so much, but this wasn’t her home. She just couldn’t see herself living here forever, but then she’d never tried to envision it, either. She removed the lid and soaked a cotton ball. “Dylan doesn’t want a girlfriend, and I would end up hurt.”
Shelly thought for a moment, then said, “Probably. Too bad you can’t just have fun. You know, use and abuse him while you’re here.”
Hope thought it was too bad, too.
After Shelly left, Hope fixed her hair in an inverted ponytail and put on a blue summer dress. The top of the dress looked like two bandannas sewn together and tied behind her neck and back, while the skirt hit her about mid-thigh. When her makeup was perfect, her lips a glossy red, she drove into town. She stopped first at the M & S to pick up some fresh produce and a Hershey’s big block.
She looked over a small selection of CDs displayed near the postcards and gum. She’d never been a fan of country-and-western music, but since she was living in a town where if it wasn’t country it wasn’t cool, she grabbed a Dwight Yoakam CD and placed it in her basket. She’d never listened to his music, but she’d seen him in
Stanley stood behind the counter as always, a copy of
“Are you reading about aliens again?” she asked him as she set her basket next to the cash register.
“Yep, only this time there is a pack of ‘em living in the Northwest. Says right here they’re masquerading as humans, running around playing tricks on people.”
“Really? Hmm.”
“Says they’re responsible for lost backpackers and a few injuries.”
She made her eyes go wide. “Wow.”
“Says they place bets.”
“That’s horrible.”
“It ain’t right betting on others’ misery.” Stanley spun the paper around and pointed to the center spread. “Call me crazy, but that looks like Gospel Lake.”
Hope took a closer look at the photograph she’d taken the day she’d met Shelly and the boys on the beach. She
