But back to this nursing business. “I’m afraid to pull the tape off,” she said.
“Just do it.”
“It’s going to hurt.”
“You can kiss me better later.”
She smiled. He was reading her mind.
Blowing out a breath, she went to work on the tape, tugging it off while he grunted in pain. When it was done, she wadded up the bandages and stared down at the display of Dick Webber’s shotgun art.
“Jeez, Coop,” she whispered. “You poor guy. That blast had to hurt like a sonuvabitch.”
“It didn’t tickle. You said you wouldn’t pity me.”
“I said I wouldn’t have pity sex with you. This is different.”
“How’s it look? Any visible infection?”
“Nope. It looks pretty good overall, more like a bad rash than a shotgun blast.” The lower corner of his back had taken the brunt of the birdshot, with only a few scattered spots up near his ribcage. “Gramps has more bandages in the bathroom,” she started to ease off the bed. “I’ll get them.”
He grabbed her by the wrist. “No. That tape hurts worse than the birdshot. I’ll wear my T-shirt tonight and sleep on my stomach.”
“But what about—”
“No.” He pushed up onto his elbow, turning carefully. “Now, I held up my end of the bargain. It’s your turn.”
She looked down at her work shirt, smelling the beer that Kate had spilled on her along with the scent of fried food and grilled meat. Under it all, was a layer of dust and sweat from an afternoon of working on the deck. “I want to go shower first.”
“This late?”
“I do it all of the time. It’s just across the drive.”
He started to move toward the edge of the bed. “I’ll walk you there.”
“No, stay put. The door to the showers has a lock. I’ll be fine.”
“Be quick while you’re at it.”
She nodded, bending and planting a kiss on his lips. Before she changed her mind about showering and just climbed back on top of him, she pulled away, grabbing Ronnie’s knee-length terrycloth robe. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll be back smelling fresh and pretty.”
“As long as you’re naked, I don’t care what you smell like.” He stretched out on his uninjured side and yawned.
She blew him a kiss. “Get some shut-eye. I promise when I return I’ll wake you in a way that you’ll never forget.”
“Hurry up, woman.” He closed his eyes, his boyish grin and the dim lamplight making him look years younger. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
He wasn’t the only one.
She closed the bedroom door on her way out, grabbing her shower bag and a razor from the bathroom before heading into the cold dark. She jogged across the drive and locked herself in the shower room. She grabbed the old radio Claire kept in the supply room.
As the water washed over her and golden country oldies played on the radio, she imagined what awaited her back in the Winnebago’s bedroom. What did he mean, he wanted to run the show? Her body tightened and ached at the images her mind conjured.
She hurried in the shower, but shaving her legs slowed her down. Coating herself with Ronnie’s berry-scented lotion after she’d dried off added extra minutes, too. All the primping would be worth it in the end. Soft, smooth, and sweet smelling was part of her arsenal. She wanted this night to haunt Coop long after the sun came up.
Twenty-five minutes later, she stepped out of the restroom into the desert night. The bright, glowing fireball across the drive made her gasp.
She dropped her shower bag. “Oh, God!”
The front half of Gramps’s Winnebago was engulfed in flames. Black smoke roiled out from under the hood. Heat blasted her, like she was bending over a campfire, while the stench of burning plastic and engine grease filled the air.
“Coop!” she yelled.
Chapter Twenty-One
Wednesday, January 2nd
Just after midnight …
Ronnie stepped outside, quietly closing the General Store’s door behind her. Grady should be here any minute to pick her up and take her home with him for the night. She stared toward Jackrabbit Junction, searching for headlights.
She tightened her flannel-lined jacket around her, pulling up the collar to keep her neck warm. She could smell Chester’s cigar smoke in the fabric—a little sweet, a little acrid, and a little obnoxious; just like the bristle-haired buzzard. The stars were out in abundance, a sparkling dust scattered across the black sky. The cold, dry air made her nose tickle when she took a deep breath. The desert breathed in the darkness, a small breeze stirring the wind chimes at the end of the porch with each exhale.
Was the killer out there? Watching? Waiting for the right moment to strike?
Where was Grady, damn it?
Between a few New Year’s disturbances by local yokels and the Tank versus the diamond killer bout, Grady had worked an extra long day. When he’d called to ask where he could find Ronnie, mentioning the need for her in his bed “for safekeeping,” she’d told him to go home and get some much-needed rest.
But Grady was stubborn. It was probably one of the traits that helped him reach his sheriff status in the county. He’d wanted her to be part of his so-called rest and had insisted on driving out to pick her up, asking her to be ready for him so he didn’t have to get out of his truck.
And who was she to disobey the sheriff of Cholla County when he gave her a direct order?
Headlights shone in the distance coming toward the RV park, growing brighter. She eased back into the shadows in case it wasn’t Grady heading her way.
The attempt on Lyle’s life had her jumping at shadows more than usual tonight, which was why she’d opted to stay tucked away at Ruby’s place with Chester and Harvey
