Mercy Kill_ A Mystery - Lori Armstrong [72]
What relationship? It’s just sex, right?
Seemed my brain, pissed off by the alcohol-induced pounding headache, had decided on that theme today.
“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It’s none of my business—”
“Of course it’s your business. But don’t worry that a former female lover will step forward during the campaign and out me, because I’m not gay.”
Geneva turned her head and looked at me. “You’re not?”
“No.” She’d drifted completely into the other lane. “For Christsake, Gen, keep your eyes on the road.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” When she swerved back into the proper lane, I swear the wheels left the pavement.
Jesus. I could not watch the woman drive. “Out of pure nosiness, we’ve been friends forever. You’ve known me longer than anyone. Did you really think all of a sudden I might be batting for the other team?”
She rolled her eyes. “You pointed out to me last summer how much I didn’t know about you, and that I never knew you as well as I thought I did, so it’s a legit question, Mercy.”
“True.”
“Besides, you never talk about this kind of girly shit with me. So I don’t have any idea if you’ve been in any serious relationships.”
“A few. My inability to have kids is a big issue. If things became more than a fling, I’d ’fess up and most guys walked away. No big loss. I focused on the career I loved and kept all relationships casual. Men have come and gone. Some stayed longer than others, but they’ve all moved on.”
“I didn’t ask to be nosy.”
“Yes, you did.”
Geneva laughed. “Also true.”
“But know what’s funny? I have been seeing someone since I moved back here.”
Dumb move, Gunderson.
What had possessed me to share that secret? It didn’t feel like I was trying to give Geneva back the trust she’d lost with me; it felt like I was offering her proof that I wasn’t a lesbian.
“Really? Who?”
I didn’t answer.
Geneva mulled over the possibilities.
When she hit the brakes and we skidded to a stop on the shoulder, I knew she’d figured it out. Damn good thing my seat belt worked.
“Please tell me it’s not Dawson.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“Can’t tell you it’s not Dawson, when it is him.”
Geneva flat-out gaped at me. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Mercy, you’ve been screwing around with the sheriff ?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“How long?”
“Off and on since last summer.”
“Even after he arrested you?”
“The irony is we’d been together before he arrested me.” Even I knew how freaky that sounded.
“Who else knows?” she demanded.
“John-John, only because he overheard something he shouldn’t have. I doubt Dawson’s told anyone. We’ve kept it private, for obvious reasons.” I felt her gaze burning into me, and I found the guts to look at her. She wasn’t mad; she wore a look of pity. That got my hackles up. “What?”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Running against him? Because you asked me to.”
“Mercy, you know that’s not what I meant.”
“I don’t know, okay? When we’re alone and everything is good—great actually—I can forget who he is. But when it comes to him doing his job, I compare him to what my dad did as sheriff. Then I wonder what the hell I’m doing with a man who doesn’t measure up.”
Geneva was quiet, which drove me batshit crazy.
“Jesus, Gen, what?”
“Hate to burst your bubble, but Wyatt Gunderson wasn’t a saint. However, Dawson did measure up, or else your dad wouldn’t have given him his endorsement for sheriff.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“I’ve known you a long time, Mercy, and you’re damn good at self-sabotage.”
I faced her. “Are you talking about what happened with Jake?”
She poked me in the arm. “See? More’n twenty years have passed by and you still haven’t gotten over it. Stop using your one bad long-term relationship as an excuse. And for God sake, stop comparing all men to your dad. It’s really kind of twisted.”
I hated that she had a point.
“So why did you come out of the closet to me about your relationship with Dawson, Mercy?”
“Your job as my campaign manager is to keep me focused on the issues. Make certain that I keep whatever weird fucking thing I feel