TOM CANADAY WAS a happy man in general, always upbeat and positive even when times were challenging. It was his nature. His father was the same way and his mother might fret sometimes but she was both hopeful and helpful. Lately his happiness had been elevated a notch or two. He had a good woman in his life.
Tom had married his high school sweetheart when they were very young. They’d had four children, a handful for anyone. Zach, the youngest, was still in diapers when Becky left them and Tom became a single working father. Had his parents, brother and sister-in-law not helped from time to time, he never would have made it. Becky had moved out ten years ago now. Tom was the first to admit he’d had trouble moving on, but he was emotionally free now. There wasn’t a sliver of attachment to Becky left.
About the time Tom cut the ties he noticed Lola. Really noticed her. He’d known her almost all their lives; they were both raised near Timberlake and attended the same schools. They’d both married and divorced while still young. They saw each other around town all the time. Lola worked full-time at Home Depot, where Tom bought a lot of building supplies, and she was also a part-time waitress at the diner, just part-time enough for him to stop in for the occasional cup of coffee.
Tom had been getting a lot more pie and coffee the past six months than ever before.
Tom had been courting her for over six months and for two single parents to find time for romance was beyond difficult. But every time he kissed her he wanted more. He found Lola to be the most beautiful of women. She was strong and independent, but her strength and independence had not made her bitter. She was kind and compassionate. When he was able to put his arms around her and smell her sweet skin, he became aroused. She filled his arms with softness and he loved holding her against him.
But their schedules were impossible. They had to get by on what little time they could find here and there, maybe going to a home show or open house. They were both really into remodeling. In fact, they found they had many things in common. But they wanted to get alone together and just hadn’t found the opportunity.
It was 10:00 a.m. on a Thursday morning when Tom Canaday knocked on Lola’s door. When she opened it, smiling broadly, he handed her a gift-wrapped box.
“What is this?” she asked, taking it from him.
“Open it,” he said.
“Oh, Tom, you’re always so thoughtful,” she said, pulling the ribbon off. “Always thinking of others.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s me.”
She pulled off the top of the box and frowned. “What’s this?”
“You know what it is,” he said.
She pulled the item out. “A dead bolt?” she asked in confusion.
“For your bedroom door,” he said. “And I have a matching lock installed on my bedroom door.”
“I don’t think either of the boys will surprise us today,” she said with a laugh. “They’re both in school.” Cole had college classes and Trace was in high school.
“We’re not taking any chances.”
“They never open my bedroom door, Tom,” she said. “They’re scared to death they might see me in my underwear!”
“This is going to be different,” he said. “There will be no underwear. And they might hear noises and mistake it for you screaming in pain.” He grinned. “It won’t be pain.”
She put down the box and put her hands on his cheeks, kissing him soundly. His arms went around her to pull her closer, moving over her mouth with precision. He parted her lips with his, going deep, groaning as their tongues began to play. His hand slid down over her butt and pressed her close against him. The kiss went on and on, too long, really. He had to force himself to pull away. “Lola, quick—get me your toolbox.”
“You sure know how to woo a girl,” she said. She couldn’t help but giggle as she went to get the box. Having done a lot of her own repairs and renovating, she knew exactly what he’d need. By the time she got back he was already getting the lock out of the package. She immediately started handing him tools. First the screwdriver to remove the old doorknob, then the chisel and hammer to enlarge the opening in the jam. “I wish I’d gotten this done before the kissing,” he grumbled. “I gotta say, this is my first lock repair with a hard-on.”
“Just how long has it been?” she asked.
“Oh, about two minutes now,” he said.
“Not that!” she said with a laugh.
“You mean since I’ve had sex with a woman?” He wanted to clarify.
“Oh, my. Maybe we should talk about who else you might be having it with...”
He looked at her over his shoulder, lifting one eyebrow. “My left hand,” he said. “Believe me, you have nothing to be jealous of.”
“Tom,” she said in a scolding voice.
“It’s been such a long time,” he said, drilling in the screws.
She put down the toolbox where he could reach it and backed away from him. He grumbled a little bit at a stubborn screw but he made very fast work of the job. He closed the door, turned the lock and tested it, trying to open it. “Success!” he said.
But he turned and she wasn’t there.
“Lola?” he said.
She stepped into the doorway of her master bath wearing a sleek and satiny black robe. It took his breath away. “Whoa,” he said, running a hand over the top of his head.
Lola was so voluptuous. She wasn’t skinny or tiny. She was five-nine or so and full-figured. When they first started seeing each other she admitted she was self-conscious about her shape and considered herself overweight. Tom convinced her he loved her figure, loved her softness, loved that he could fall into her, fill his arms with her. She was full and rosy and smelled divine. He wanted to gobble her up from her dark, curly hair to her toes. “Holy God,” was all he could say. And he frantically began to tear off his clothes. At the last second, seeing her standing there in that lovely black robe, he left on his boxers. But before he’d gone to the hardware store to buy the privacy lock, he’d chosen them carefully. These were his best boxers.
“God, you’re so beautiful,” he said. He lifted her chin to kiss her while his other hand untied her robe and let it fall open. “Oh my God,” he said.
She rolled her shoulders back and the robe slid easily from her shoulders. And there she was, all pale flesh.
They’d been together for six months, and while they hadn’t been able to make love yet they’d done a lot of touching and talking. They were prepared in every way except one—they hadn’t lain down together without clothes.
“Why do you have these?” she said, giving the elastic of his boxers a snap.
“Why bother taking them off?” he said, pulling her against him. “I’m going to blast right through them.”
She pulled on his hand and they found the bed, lying down side by side, rolling together, holding on to each other, kissing like teenagers, their hands roving over each other’s bodies. Lola sighed, Tom moaned, lips were moving. He kissed her shoulders, her breasts, her belly. She stroked his butt, his thighs, and she managed to get rid of those boxers. Then he was on top, spreading her legs with a knee, moving closer and closer. He pushed forward and smiled against her lips. “I could embarrass myself here,” he said. “I’m wound a little tight.”
She shook her head. “Let’s not worry about making it perfect, okay? We’ve had to wait so long.”
“I know people who waited longer,” he said.
“But we’re forty,” she reminded him. “And we’re getting older by the minute...”
“You’re right,” he whispered. Then he found his way home. “Good God, it feels like you were made for me.”
She just hummed and covered his face with kisses.
Tom moved, they rocked, the bed squeaked, they clung to each other and it happened so fast. Both of them, bursting. Gasping. Then falling slowly and softly back to earth. He could not take his lips from hers; he didn’t even consider rolling away. He held his weight off her by bracing on his elbows.
“You have the softest lips in all creation,” he whispered against her mouth. “You have the sweetest body, the most beautiful dark lashes.”
“How do you do it?” she asked him. “How do you always make me feel so beautiful?”
“You are,” he whispered. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know. And I love you.” He kissed her again. “I hope it was all right, because I’m in heaven.”
She laughed softly. “It was all right. Wonderful, in fact.”
“God, that was perfect.” He moved a little. “I’m not leaving.”
“That’s okay. I’m feeling very safe right now. Safe and satisfied.”
“That’s so good to hear.”
“That lock really turned you on,” she said.
“It wasn’t the lock,” he said, snuggling closer. “Please don’t let me fall asleep...”
“Tom, we should talk about something...”
“What?” he asked, lifting his head from her shoulder.
“The lock—it’s probably a good idea. A better idea is telling the kids we’re more than friends. They’re old enough that they deserve to know.”
“I don’t know. You have boys. I still have a young girl. Brenda is sixteen...”
“It’s no different with boys,” she said. “The kids all have to know the facts of life, the dangers and responsibilities, the joys. We’ve both been left by our spouses and have made good families while unmarried, but we’re entitled to be happy, too. Do you worry that your kids still hope you’ll reconcile with Becky? Because my boys don’t want that for me, for us. They’ve probably already guessed that we love each other.”
He smiled and moved a little. He moved a little more.
“You can’t be ready again,” she said. “That’s inhuman.”
“It’s just what you do to me.”
She put her arms around his neck. “Fine. We’ll talk when we have our clothes on.”
“Probably a good idea,” he said.
* * *
Dakota went to Rob’s bar for dinner on a Thursday night. It had become his habit for several weeks now and it had not gone unnoticed. When Sid saw him she just shook her head slightly and gave him a half smile. She slapped a napkin down on the bar in front of him.
“Back again, I see,” she said.
“Great seeing you, too, Sid,” he said, treating her to his sparkling grin. “How have you been?”
“Excellent. The usual?”
“Beer, then I’ll consider dinner.”
“And if Alyssa shows up, you’ll bolt?”
“I’m afraid I’ve been a big disappointment to Alyssa,” he said. “She wants a boyfriend and I’m not him.”
She put his beer in front of him. “Alyssa seems to be more tenacious than I gave her credit for.”
“Then I’ll be an even bigger disappointment. Because I’m tenacious, too.”
“I’m getting that.”
“So, what’s on your agenda for this weekend?” he asked.
“I’m pretty good at relaxing,” she said. “I have a couple of things scheduled. Nothing terribly exciting.”
“I’m off on Sunday,” he said. “Saturday night, too. What’s it going to take to get on your schedule?”
“We’ve been over that...”
“I could get a background check,” he suggested with a grin.
“Just give up, Dakota,” she said.
And then he noticed a little movement beside him.
“Isn’t this a nice surprise,” a woman’s voice said. And just as quickly, Sid was moving down the bar, asking people if they needed anything.
Neely. He hadn’t seen her in weeks. “Hi,” he said. “How are things?”
“Excellent. And you?”
“Good,” he said, lifting his beer.
“I’m Neely,” she reminded him.
“That’s right,” he said, as if he’d forgotten. “Dakota.”
“Oh, I remember.” She snapped her fingers, bringing Sid back. He frowned at that action. “Can I get a chicken Caesar and a club soda with lime?”
“Absolutely,” Sid said. “Dakota?”
“Nothing for me,” he said.
“So, you’ve been in Timberlake for over a month now,” Neely said. “Does that mean this little town appeals to you?”
“It’s a nice little town.”
“And have you settled in for a long stay?” she asked just as Sid put down her drink.
Dakota didn’t really feel like discussing his plans with her, but on the off chance that Sid might overhear, he told the truth. “I have a job here and I’ve rented a place, but long means different things to different people.”
“So tell me what you’ve seen and done since we last saw each other,” she said, sipping her drink.
“Nothing very interesting,” he said. He told her about the job, secretly hoping to put her off with his career as a garbage collector.
Then she told him she’d gone to a concert in Denver and she’d been shopping for things for her town house—area rugs, throw pillows, art. She suggested she’d have to show him sometime.
Dakota frowned. She would just invite him over? She didn’t know him. They had no people in common as far as he knew. All she knew was his first name and that he was a trash collector. That kind of rush to intimacy always made him suspicious.
She talked on, asking very few questions of him and those few he answered with one word if he could. He was thinking he would have to skip dinner tonight if she was going to hang around, but when she finished her salad she put her money on the bar. “Well, I’m off,” she said. “I hope we run into each other again soon.”
He was so grateful to see her go that he said, “I’m sure we will.” And when she cleared the door, he sighed.
“How does it feel to be a chick magnet?” Sid asked with laughter in her voice.
“Do not make fun of me,” he said. “There’s something about her that’s a little scary.”
“She seems perfectly nice,” Sid said. “Are you ready for your dinner now?”
“Almost,” he said. He picked up a menu and opened it. “Give me a couple of minutes. I think I might have to try something different tonight.”
“I thought you were close to doing that...but she gave up,” Sid said, walking away with a laugh.
Dakota looked through the menu while Sid waited on other patrons and mixed drinks for the waitstaff to take to tables. She paused for a moment to laugh with young Trace, the seventeen-year-old busboy. Dakota was thinking about wings and potato skins when Neely appeared out of nowhere. He jumped in surprise.
“I’m so sorry to bother you,” she said. “I have a flat. I could call AAA but I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind helping me out. I could make it up to you one of these days by buying dinner or even cooking for us.”
He thought about telling her to call AAA. But he couldn’t. He’d always considered it a point of honor to be kind and helpful to women. He said, “No problem.” Then he called out to Sid. “Hey, Sid! I’ll be right back. I’m going to help with a car problem. Reserve my spot, please.”
“Sure thing,” she said.
He held the door for Neely. He tried to walk behind her but she looped her arm through his.
“It’s down this way,” she said as she led him past the diner and around back. “The BMW is mine,” she said. Her flashy little BMW sat in the dark alley, just two spaces away from his Jeep SUV. He wondered immediately if that could possibly be a coincidence. He bent at the waist, looking at the tires.
“Which one?” he asked, straightening.
Neely pressed herself up against him and her lips were on his so fast he didn’t see her coming. Dakota had had many interesting experiences with women but this kind of aggression was a first. He gripped her upper arms and tried to move her away from him but it was hard—she was determined. Finally he managed to get some space between them. “What the...? Flat tire?”
She smiled and shrugged. “I thought maybe we’d get to know each other a little. Away from the nosy barmaid.”
He wasn’t sure what made him more angry—being tricked into leaving the bar for a potential tryst or Sid being referred to as a nosy barmaid. “Don’t ever do this again. It’s a bad idea.”
“Little uptight, aren’t you, Dakota?” she said, rubbing a hand over his chest.
He stepped back, out of her reach. He was seething inside, but he kept his cool. “Here’s a lesson in manners. If you want to get to know someone, you ask them. If they say no, you move on. You never trick them. This is creepy. Now go home.”
“Come on, you’re a big boy...”
“Good night,” he said, taking long strides away from her. He walked around the diner and back to the bar. He tried to shake off the weirdness of what had just happened. He got back on his favorite bar stool and saw that Sid had put a glass of ice water there. Grateful, he took a drink.
And left lipstick on the glass.
“Shit,” he muttered, grabbing a napkin and wiping off the rim of the glass and his mouth. She’d nailed him good.
“Beer?” Sid asked, slapping down a fresh napkin in front of him.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “And the Juicy Lucy with onion rings instead of fries.”
She looked at his face and pointed to her upper lip. “Missed a little here,” she said.
“I did not kiss her,” he said, maybe a little too loudly.
“You were attacked by a runaway lipstick tube?”
“You have it almost right,” he said.
“I thought you were going to try something different tonight.”
“Changed my mind. I like what I eat here. I look forward to it. I enjoy it.”
“Don’t get all goosey. I’ll take care of it.”
He wiped off his lips again. He sighed. No wonder he wanted to get to know Sid better and not Neely. He liked Sid. She was remarkably sane. She was so obviously smart. Her instincts were sharp. He thought she was pretty. She made him laugh and she challenged him by playing hard to get, except he knew she wasn’t playing. She was hard to get.
His hamburger arrived and he realized he was sulking as he ate. Every time he came to this bar when Sid was working he was hopeful she’d warm up to him, and every time Alyssa or Neely showed up, things got strange. So, Sid had been through something painful and was playing it cool. Well, so was he. He wasn’t looking for a lot, just a nice woman to spend time with, not some crazy broad who was always on the attack.
“You okay?” Sid said to him.
“No.”
“Look, she’s just a girl trying to make a date with a guy and—”
“There was no flat tire,” he said. “She lured me away from my beer and my meal to get me alone in the dark and threw herself on me. I had to peel her off me. It was terrible. I know guys who would have jumped at the opportunity but there’s something seriously off about her. If a man had done that to a woman, he’d be arrested. I don’t know how to make it any more clear—I’m not interested in getting to know Neely any better, or Alyssa for that matter. Both of them creep me out. And put me in a bad mood.”
Sid stared at him, transfixed for a moment. “Whew,” she finally said.
“It was awful,” he said, picking up an onion ring. “I’d never do that to a person. There’s this thing called manners. And personal space. You know?”
“I know,” she said.
“Sorry,” he said, chewing on an onion ring. “I got pissed off.”
“I understand completely.” She picked up his beer and dumped it. “That got a little warm while you were breathing fire,” she said, getting him a new frosty mug and fresh beer. “Here you go.”
“Thanks,” he said.
He nursed it slowly, done flirting for the night. In fact, he might be done for all time. He was a little surprised by the turn of events. He’d been on the receiving end of some blatant come-ons in his day but he could usually discourage the idea without anyone being hurt or becoming angry.
He finished his beer and stood to get his wallet.
Sid was in front of him with his check. “Two beers and a burger,” she said in her usual businesslike tone. “And here is where I’ll be on Saturday night if you still feel like coffee,” she said, handing him a second slip of paper. There was an address on it. He raised his eyes to hers. “You’ll be perfectly safe. Besides, that shade of red does nothing for my coloring.” Then she grinned.
“I don’t want your pity,” he said, but he said it with humor in his tone.
“Good. Seven o’clock.”
He walked to his car thinking that yes, she felt sorry for him. He was clearly insulted and angry about being played as he was. But that was okay. Even though it hadn’t been a strategy of his, he was willing to take advantage of the situation. And over coffee he would charm her and make her laugh. It was with this very hopeful and encouraged feeling that his SUV came into view.
All four tires were flat.
He looked around to see if anyone was there. Neely’s car was gone and the small parking lot behind the diner was quiet. He looked at the other cars—tires all fine. Then he went back to the sidewalk, where it was well lit. He pulled out his phone and called Cal.
“Hey,” Cal said.
“Hey. I’ve never done this before. Called my big brother when something happened.”
“Hmm. What happened?”
“I’m in town. I was having a burger at the bar and grill—Rob’s place two doors down from the diner. A woman asked me to help her with a flat tire, and when I went with her, there was no flat, just a very eager woman. So I extricated myself, but it was awkward—I must have offended her. Now, I find my tires are all flat.” He took a breath. “I guess I have to find a tow truck...”
“Sheesh,” Cal said, sounding more alert. “You know this woman?”
“Just her first name. I thought she was a nice woman, but her come-on could use a little polish...”
“You think she did it?” Cal asked.
“Doesn’t that seem a little extreme?”
“You have to call the police before you call the tow truck. And I’ll come and pick you up.”
“I can handle this myself...”
“You want the next guy who’s not interested in her to get four flat tires?”
“We don’t know for sure that she did it,” Dakota said.
“Sounds like we do, we just can’t prove who did it. Call the police, tell them what happened, ask them what towing service they recommend.”
“Aww,” Dakota groaned.
“This is Timberlake, Cody,” Cal said. “We don’t experience a lot of that sort of thing. If you don’t say anything, another guy could be vandalized. Or maybe she’ll try something bigger on you.”
“I think I’d rather just handle this...”
“Now you sound like a woman,” Cal said. “I want you to think about that. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
The notion that women don’t report crimes because they’re afraid or they just want to forget it happened and hope it won’t happen ever again had briefly crossed his mind, but he’d pushed it away. There was also a certain amount of humiliation involved in being victimized. Victimized and then tattling.
He wouldn’t have called Cal if he hadn’t been looking for someone to cut through his bullshit. Of course it was Neely. Of course she shouldn’t be pulling that shit. Then his mind wandered further. He didn’t want Sid to know. He didn’t want to seem less than strong.
The way a woman didn’t want her boyfriend or husband to know she’d been assaulted because she wouldn’t want him to think she was dirty? Or think she’d brought it on herself?
Cal arrived before the deputy. “Show me the damage,” he said. Once he’d checked out the car, he said, “That took a lot of effort. Look out for this one—she’s mean.”
* * *
To Dakota’s relief, only one tire on his SUV was slashed; the rest were merely deflated. Odd that he should have that in common with Neely—deflating tires to prove a point. And it gave him no peace of mind to know she was traveling around with some dangerous sharp object. He thought about the incident a great deal more than he wanted to. The vandalism would probably just be a misdemeanor. He tried to imagine her in her fancy clothes and boots crouching in the dark, manipulating the air out of the tires.
His insurance company covered the tow but he had to get Cal to drive him to work early in the morning. He was pretty angry about the whole thing.
But by Saturday he was looking forward to seeing Sid. After work he plugged the address Sid had given him into his GPS. He focused not on his unpleasant experience with Neely but rather on going to some coffee shop in Colorado Springs where he would concentrate on demonstrating how desirable he was. He would find out more about Sidney, entertain her with stories of his world travels and, if necessary, exploit his actions as a soldier and hero. He never did that first. He always saved that as a last resort.
He looked around but couldn’t find the address she’d given him. The directions were clear but he had trouble believing they were correct. He hadn’t been to Colorado Springs before but he had trouble envisioning Sid inviting him to a trashy side of town. Please, God, don’t let Sid be a whack job! One is enough.
He drove around the block but no coffee shop turned up. There wasn’t even a Denny’s or truck stop. He finally bit the bullet and took the slip of paper she’d given him and, after locking his car, went into the only place on the block that appeared to be open. It was pretty run-down, had a big cross on the door and the sign, which could not be seen in the dark, said Free Dinner.
He thought it might be a storefront church of some kind and they would at least know the neighborhood. He walked inside and discovered it was a soup kitchen. He had to weave his way through people standing in some kind of line to find whoever was in charge to get better directions. Then he saw her.
Sid was standing behind a serving counter, smiling like she’d never been happier. She wore a green apron, a scarf covering her hair, and rubber gloves, and wielded a big spoon. He chuckled and shook his head. He cut the line to walk up to her.
“Coffee?” he said, giving her his best smile.
“Glad you made it,” she said. “Clay? Give this man an apron and show him what to do!”