Rumors: The McCaffertys

“About time you got home,” Karla reprimanded.

  Kelly stretched the phone cord so that she could stir her soup as it heated on the stove. “I do work for a living.”

  “So do I.”

  “It wasn’t a dig.”

  “I know that,” Karla said quickly.

  “I’m just in a lousy mood.”

  “And I thought you’d be euphoric what with Randi McCafferty waking up.”

  “So you heard.”

  “Everyone’s heard. I wondered what she had to say,” Karla said.

  “Not much.” Kelly turned the burner down. “Come on, Karla, you know I can’t discuss a case with you.”

  “Yeah, but I heard over at the Pub’n’Grub that Randi hasn’t told anyone who the father of the baby is.”

  “You shouldn’t listen to gossip.”

  “Oh, right. I work in a beauty parlor, Kelly.”

  “Then you should know everything already.”

  “Very funny. Besides, I heard a report on the television at noon. The anchors were hinting that there would be more information, even an interview with Randi on the evening news.”

  Kelly leaned a shoulder against the wall of her kitchen and looked out at the snow swirling around her window. “They’ll have to break through a barricade of half brothers and hospital security to get to her, and then, believe me, she won’t have a lot to say.”

  “What do you mean? Why not?”

  “Look, I’ve said more than I should already.” Then, hoping to change the subject, Kelly asked, “How’re my favorite nephews?”

  “In trouble. Big trouble,” Karla said, as if her boys were hovering nearby and could hear the conversation. “Aaron found some extra tubes of hair dye here at the house and Spencer took it upon himself to give the bunny a new hairdo. He tried to change the color of Honey’s fur from tan to red—I think the official name of the color is Heavenly Henna or something like that, but let me tell you, it’s more like Hellish Henna. You should see the poor thing—all those red blotches. This year we won’t be dyeing Easter eggs, we’ll color rabbits for Thanksgiving instead,” Karla joked.

  “But Honey’s okay?”

  “Yeah. Just as embarrassed as all get out. I think she might have to go to one of those animal psychiatrists, she’s so traumatized. I’m afraid Honey Bunny will be in therapy for years to come.” Kelly chuckled and Karla added, “I guess I should count myself lucky the boys didn’t decide to give her a perm. Think how that would’ve turned out.” She sighed. “It’s really not funny. They could have gotten some of that stuff into her eyes. I took all my supplies down to the shop and I’ll have some more closets built—better yet, safes with combination locks, but, enough about all this, tell me about your love life.”

  “What?” Kelly should have expected the question from her straight-shooting sister, but it still caught her off guard.

  “You were in Seattle yesterday, right? And so was Matt McCafferty. I happened to overhear that bit of news at the coffee shop. I figured it wasn’t just a coincidence.”

  “You’re fishing again.”

  “And you’re dodging the question.”

  “Since when is my love life any of your business?”

  There was a pause, then all of the humor left Karla’s voice as she said, “Since you fell in love with that son of a bitch, Matt McCafferty.”

  * * *

  Thanksgiving was a nightmare. Though Kelly enjoyed being with her family, she felt distant, somewhat removed from the festivities. Her mother and father had each other, Karla had the boys, and though Kelly was a part of it, she also felt alone.

  Because of Matt.

  A part of her wanted to share the holiday with him and his family. She’d ordered an apple pie and pumpkin pie from the local bakery, and had spent the morning helping her mother stuff the turkey and prepare the sweet potatoes, but still there was something missing.

  The family had prayed together, and her father had made a big show of carving the bird, but Kelly felt, for the very first time in her life, as if she belonged somewhere else, which was just plain stupid.

  “Something’s bothering you,” her mother said as she loaded the dishwasher. Karla was wiping the table and couldn’t help but overhear the conversation as her boys were in the den with their grandfather, making out their Christmas lists. One holiday was about over, so on to the next.

  “I’m okay,” Kelly argued as she angled a serving dish into the overloaded washer.

  “Is it the case?” Eva Dillinger prodded.

  Karla snorted. “Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?” Her mother’s smooth forehead furrowed with concern. “Kelly…?”

  “It’s nothing, Mom.”

  Karla snapped her dish towel, then folded it over the handle of the oven door. “Kelly’s in love,” she said.

  “You are?” The worry lines disappeared and Eva Dillinger’s mouth curved upward in anticipation. This was news she’d been hoping to hear for years.

  Kelly shot her sister a warning look.

  “Who’s the lucky guy?” Eva persisted.

  “Karla shouldn’t have said anything. I’m not in love,” Kelly lied.

  “But you’re seeing someone. Who?”

  Kelly squared her shoulders. “It’s nothing serious, okay, so don’t freak out.” She wanted to strangle her sister, and if looks could kill, Karla would be six feet under.

  “I wouldn’t…” But Eva’s voice faded with her smile and she glanced to the doorway.

  “What?” their father said, rolling into the room. “What are you talking about? Kelly’s got a boyfriend?”

  Inwardly groaning, Kelly lifted a hand. “Not a boyfriend. Not really. I’ve just been spending time with Matt McCafferty. Because of the case.”

  No one said a word. From the den the sound of the television could be heard. Other than that, nothing. Karla had the sense to wince, as if she finally understood the magnitude of her faux pas. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No. No, it’s good you did.” Ronald’s face had turned scarlet, while his wife had paled to the point that she had to lean a hip against the counter for support. “You know, Kelly girl, your mom and I, we only want the best for you and…and I can’t imagine why you would take up with—”

  “Hush, Ron. Don’t. Kelly’s old enough to make her own decisions,” her mother reprimanded softly, and her support of her daughter along with the wounded look in her eyes cut Kelly to the bone. She wanted to apologize, and yet she knew she had no reason to offer up any kind of “I’m sorrys.” Her father clamped his jaw and wheeled in silent agony back to the den.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” Karla muttered under her breath, then added, “I’m sorry. I should have kept my big mouth closed.”

  Amen. But Kelly didn’t say it out loud. Instead she said, “At least it’s out in the open.”

  The rest of the evening was tense, conversation revolving around Aaron and Spencer, and Kelly couldn’t wait to escape. She felt claustrophobic and restless and, for the first time in her life, undecided about her future. She’d grown up always knowing she wanted to be a cop, and she’d never let anything deter her. No man had derailed her from her objective. But then she’d never let any man as close as she’d let Matt. She drove home hardly aware of the city lights or the traffic. On autopilot, she pulled onto her street and hit the button of her remote garage door opener.

  Somehow, she’d have to figure out what she was going to do with the rest of her life. Worse yet, she thought, as she steered into the garage, she’d have to figure out if Matt McCafferty would be a part of it. But how was that possible? His home, his love, was his ranch. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, ask him to give it up and her life was here. The situation was impossible.

  She got out of her car and cl
imbed the stairs to the main floor of her home, tossed her jacket and scarf over the back of her couch and saw the red light blinking on her answering machine. Kicking off her boots, she hit the play button and waited, then heard Matt’s voice. Her heart skipped a beat.

  “Hi, it’s Matt. I thought maybe you’d like to join me and my family for Thanksgiving dinner.” Her heart plummeted as she glanced at the clock. After nine. Too late. “We’re celebrating in about three days or so, I’m not quite sure yet, but whenever Randi’s released from the hospital. It just didn’t make sense to go through all the folderol twice. Anyway, I’ll let you know when we pick a day…and…well, I’ll be talkin’ to ya.” The machine clicked and automatically rewound.

  Kelly played the message again.

  So he was inviting her to a family get-together. “Heavy stuff,” she muttered under her breath, and caught her reflection in the mirror. She saw the glint of hope in her eyes, the flush on her cheeks that couldn’t be entirely attributed to the cold weather she’d just endured.

  “Oh, Dillinger,” she said on a sigh. “You’ve got it bad. Real bad.” She’d have to steel her heart. No matter what happened, Matt would eventually leave. He was tied to his ranch hundreds of miles west of Grand Hope and this was her home. There was no future with him for her. Absolutely none.

  Yet, what they’d shared was nice. Intimate. But it meant nothing in terms of commitment. He was a cowboy who lived a nearly solitary life in the wilds of western Montana; she was a cop, a dedicated officer of the law, whose ties were here in Grand Hope. Fleetingly she thought of her mother and father, Karla and the boys. They were her family.

  She glanced at her left hand and her ringless third finger. Did she really harbor the ludicrous notion that she would some day marry Matt McCafferty?

  Because they slept together?

  She knew better.

  Squaring her shoulders and tossing her hair off her face, she told herself it didn’t matter. For the moment, if not the rest of her life, she’d enjoy the sensation of falling in love.

  Even if it was one-sided.

  After all, what was the worst that could happen?

  Chapter 11

  Matt forked hay into Diablo Rojo’s stall and the two-year-old eyed him warily.

  “Still don’t trust me, do ya, boy?”

  The Appaloosa snorted and pawed the straw.

  “Then that makes two of us. I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”

  Diablo lifted his head and shook it, jangling his halter and causing a nervous nicker from the bay in the box next door.

  “Now look what you’ve done,” Matt grumbled, but Diablo, ever the headstrong colt, didn’t appear the least bit sheepish. Not much intimidated, that one. Maybe why Matt felt a connection with the beast.

  He finished feeding the stock and walked outside. It was early morning, not yet light, the moon giving off a ghostly light that created shadows on the snow. Matt’s breath fogged and his boots crunched as he followed the path he’d broken from the back porch. At the back door, he paused long enough to stomp the snow from his boots and walk inside, where a solitary light over the range was the only illumination. He’d gotten up early after a restless, sleepless night. When he had dozed, he’d dreamed of Kelly, and when he’d been awake, his brain had run in dizzying circles of memories of making love to her over and over again. In his mind’s eye he’d seen her flawless white skin, her pink, puckered nipples, the teasing spark in her eyes and the way her red hair had spilled over her shoulders. Only pausing long enough to throw on clothes and plug in the electric coffeemaker, he’d trudged out to the barn and stables, intent on working out Kelly’s image.

  But it hadn’t happened. With every lift of the pitchfork or ration of oats he’d poured into the mangers, he’d thought of her and the fact that he was, whether he would admit it to himself or not, falling in love with her.

  He ground his back teeth at the realization and poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe steaming in the coffeemaker. Kicking out a chair by the window, he drank his coffee and wondered what he’d do about her. He’d always planned to marry. Someday. When the time was right. He figured he’d find a local woman who was pretty, yes, and smart, but certainly not one so headstrong and career-minded. Never a cop. Never.

  And not a woman who was tied so closely to Grand Hope. Her entire family lived here. She would never leave her home for a remote outpost in the western hills. And then there was the bad blood between the families.

  Too much baggage.

  Too much water under the bridge.

  Too much…oh, hell.

  He just couldn’t get any more involved with her than he already was. He didn’t want a long-distance love affair, nor, he guessed, did she. She was the wrong woman for him and that was all there was to it.

  But even now, as he was trying to talk himself out of falling in love with her, his pulse jumped a notch and his groin tightened. Hell, he was horny as a schoolkid, always fighting his damned arousals. He hadn’t felt this way in years. Or maybe ever. Not about one woman.

  Nor had he ever in all of his thirty-seven years invited a woman to share the holidays with him. He’d considered it a time or two, but never had extended an invitation, always figuring the woman would see it as a sign of some kind of commitment or intent to commit. He’d also never accepted an invitation to be a part of some woman’s family celebrations, either. Yet, even with the trouble between the McCaffertys and Dillingers, he’d be willing to take that step. And he’d make it right with Kelly’s family. Somehow. Yep, this time it was different.

  He took one final scalding swallow and forced his mind to other issues. Randi was coming home this morning, going to meet her son for the very first time. He’d have to concentrate on that reunion, of getting Randi into the house. Some of the staff at St. James weren’t happy that she was being released, but she’d been adamant and chomping at the bit. Since Nicole was living on the ranch, all the release papers were being signed by the appropriate docs. The empty guest room on the main floor was being converted to Randi’s bedroom, and a hospital bed was being transferred this morning before the guest of honor arrived.

  Hopefully then, she’d be safe and get well. At least being close to the baby should help her peace of mind, maybe even jog her memory…if in fact she was telling the truth about her amnesia. Matt wasn’t so sure. Randi had been John Randall’s favorite child, the only one conceived with his second wife, Penelope, and the only girl to boot. Though she’d been raised in part as a tomboy, probably more because of the fact that she lived with three older half brothers than anything else, she’d also been pampered, the “princess,” as John Randall had often referred to her. She’d grown up believing she could do anything she damned well wanted and that everyone in the world would treat her with the same regard and adoration as her father.

  And she’d been proved wrong. Whatever had happened between her and little J.R.’s father couldn’t have been good. Not good at all. That was the trouble with relationships—even with the right intentions, they usually went sour. His father had had two marriages and two divorces to prove Matt’s point.

  Headlights reflected against the side of the barn and shortly thereafter Juanita’s station wagon slowed to a stop near the garage. Within minutes she hurried into the house. Blowing on her hands, she shivered, then unwound the scarf covering her head.

  “You are up early,” she said, and poured a cup of coffee.

  “Big day.”

  Her smile was wide. “Señorita Randi will come home.”

  “That’s the plan.” He stretched from his chair. “I guess I’d better start moving some of the furniture out of the guest room to make room for some of the other stuff.”

  “And then, once she is home, we can have the wedding.” Her dark eyes shone at the thought of the first McCafferty nup
tials. “Sí?”

  “Sí.” Matt nodded. “You bet.”

  “And you, perhaps you will be next.”

  “To what? Get married?” He shook his head quickly, by habit, as he always did when anyone brought up the subject of him getting married. “I don’t think so.”

  Juanita didn’t comment as she hung up her coat, but he didn’t miss the smile that played upon her lips and the knowing glimmer in her eyes. In her mind, he was only one step away from the altar. Was it so obvious?

  He thought of Kelly. God, he wanted her. Ached for her, but he couldn’t imagine that she would ever want to be a rancher’s wife, marry and settle down so far away…no, he concluded for the dozenth time, it just wouldn’t work.

  He heard the sound of a baby crying and made his way to the nursery where J.R. was starting to wind up, his little voice making coughing-hiccuping noises. “Hey, big fella,” Matt said, picking up the baby and holding him to his shoulder. “What’s wrong, hmm? Hungry, are ya?” While the baby stared up at him, Matt carefully placed him on the changing table and, with more dexterity than he ever thought possible, unsnapped the tiny pajamas, removed the wet diaper, cleaned the baby and fastened a clean diaper in place. J.R. kicked while Matt refastened the pajamas and carried him downstairs where Juanita was heating a bottle. She handed it to Matt and he carried the baby into the living room, plopped down in the old rocker and sat by the banked fire in the old stone grate. J.R., eyes bright, suckled hungrily as Matt stared down at this little wonder. “Mama’s coming home today,” he whispered, and the baby moved one tiny fist beside the bottle. “And then watch out. She’s gonna take one look at you and melt.” But that wasn’t all, he decided, keeping his thoughts to himself. When Randi returned home, he was certain all hell would break loose. “You and I, we’ll have to take care of her, won’t we?”

  He leaned back in the chair and rocked, wondering if he’d ever do the same for his own infant. Thinking of Kelly, he imagined a baby—maybe a girl—with bright red hair and wide, curious brown eyes.

  Surprisingly the thought wasn’t frightening at all. If anything, it was downright seductive.