A Creed in Stone Creek - Linda Lael Miller [82]
Tom bent toward her. His eyes sparkled. “Because you’re already involved with him,” he said slowly, and with a note of cocky triumph. “That’s why.”
“Says who?”
“Says you. Do you think I can’t read simple body language, after all these years as a cop? Hell, Melissa, you might as well have hired a skywriter—the pulses in your throat and wrists are pounding so hard, they’re visible.” He paused, spread his hands in that way he had. “Case closed.”
“Oh, shut up,” Melissa said, just as Steven started toward their table.
She loved the way he walked, the way he moved, easy in his skin.
She loved the way he did a few other things, too, but that was beside the point.
He was trouble—the way they’d butted heads in Tom’s office that morning should have been proof enough for anybody, including her.
So what was she doing?
“I’ll be looking forward to Saturday,” Steven said, when he reached them.
“Me, too,” Melissa said, without intending to say anything of the kind. She definitely needed some space, a chance to figure things out, at least a little bit, but she also wanted to get up from that booth and follow him home.
Steven checked his watch. “Time to pick Matt up at school,” he said.
Melissa’s heart slowed and warmed at the thought of the little boy. “Tell him hi for me,” she said.
“I will,” Steven told her. Then he nodded to Tom and walked out into the midafternoon sunshine.
Melissa must have stared at the empty space where Steven had just been standing for a beat too long, because when she met Tom’s eyes again, he was grinning like a fool.
She made a face at him.
Tessa brought the coffee. Along with two slices of fresh peach pie and forks rolled up in napkins. She blushed when she set Tom’s down in front of him.
“Thanks,” he said, turning shy all over again.
Tessa turned and hurried away.
Melissa unwrapped her fork. She’d had a carton of designer yogurt for lunch and it wasn’t enough. Suddenly, she was starving.
GIVE HER SOME ROOM, warned a voice in Steven’s mind, as he walked around to the side parking lot and unlocked his truck with the key fob.
He wanted to turn on his boot heel and go right back inside the café, grab Melissa by the hand and take her home with him. Smooth over the awkward stuff. Hear her laugh. Watch the late afternoon sunlight glinting off her hair. And, yes, he wanted to make love to her again.
Steven sucked in a breath and got into the truck, started it up. Slow down, cowboy, he thought.
She was a complex woman, that was for sure. In bed, she’d been a tigress. Ditto that morning, when she’d showed up at the jail. And yet asking him to a country dance had made her turn pink from her collarbone to her hair.
Easing out of the lot and onto the street, Steven shook his head, marveling at the things that were going on inside him just then. Not that he could identify any of them—the fact was, he’d never felt quite this way before. Never wanted to know everything there was to know about a woman, and more besides.
He reached Creekside Academy within a couple of minutes, and Elaine Carpenter brought Matt out, holding his hand as they came down the front walk.
Matt, a big piece of drawing paper in his free hand, glanced in Steven’s direction then turned his attention back to Elaine.
Steven shut off the truck and went to meet them at the curb.
“I made a picture!” Matt crowed, as Steven leaned down to scoop the boy up.
Elaine smiled. “As first days go,” she said to Steven, “this one rated an A-plus.”
“Thanks,” Steven said to her.
“Don’t you wanna see the picture?” Matt all but shouted.
With a chuckle, Elaine turned and headed back into the school.
“Sure,” Steven told Matt, “but let’s get into the truck first.”
He carried the boy to the rig and buckled him into his safety seat. Matt waved the piece of paper in Steven’s face the whole time.
“All right, already,” Steven said, laughing. He took the paper and looked at it.
Three stick figures—man, woman, little boy. A stick dog and a stick horse stood