Ingrid Weaver - The Angel and the Outlaw

Pete returned his attention to the woman outside. “That’s hard to say, ma’am. Cooper’s got a killer commute.”

“Then I’ll wait.”

“Let me give him your phone number and—”

“It’s all right, Pete,” Cooper said. He might as well get this over with, he thought, as he moved from behind the bar. “I’ll take it from here.”

Pete stayed where he was until Cooper reached him. “Sure, boss.” He let go of the door and gave Cooper a friendly punch in the arm. “But if you don’t want her phone number, give it to me.”

Cooper had seen the punch coming so he managed not to get knocked sideways. He waited until Pete moved off to begin righting the chairs and setting them on the floor before he looked outside.

He had an instant of confusion. He’d been expecting Hayley to return since he’d driven her home. He’d been certain he’d recognized her voice—Hayley Tavistock had a throaty way of talking that any man would remember—but the woman who stood in front of him didn’t look anything like the one he’d left six hours ago.

She was still as blond as she’d been in high school. With all the mud, he hadn’t been able to tell before. Rich curls like the kind he’d expect to see on pictures of angels framed her face and tumbled over her shoulders. She was wearing a tailored jacket the color of cream. The matching skirt ended well above her knees, treating him to a good view of her long legs. She looked classy and sexy at the same time.

“Hello, Mr. Webb.” She shifted the purse she carried to her left hand and extended her right. “If you’re not too busy, I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes.”

He glanced at her hand. The mud was gone from that, too. Her skin was pale, her nails clean and buffed to a shine. He remembered how good it had felt when she’d gripped his leg. He wondered how much better it would have felt without the barrier of denim. He enclosed her hand in his.

As soon as he touched her, his confusion dissolved. She might have cleaned up, but she hadn’t been able to scrub away the tremor in her fingers.

He moved his gaze to her face. Back in high school she’d been cheerleader-cute. Not his type, yet he couldn’t deny he’d noticed. Problem was, she’d been an underage girl from a family of cops so he’d steered clear. Now she was all woman. She had the kind of bone-deep beauty that even mud and matted hair hadn’t disguised. Her lips were full and shaped in a feminine bow. Her eyes were hazel and tipped up at the corners, as if she should be on the verge of a smile.

She didn’t appear to be a woman who had smiled much lately. The hollows in her cheeks weren’t from a trick of makeup. And no amount of makeup could hide the weariness that pinched the edges of her lips or the despair that shadowed her gaze.

Cooper studied her more closely. Her skirt was too loose on her. He realized she didn’t quite fill out the jacket, either. Along with the hollows in her cheeks it all pointed to a recent weight loss. He felt a sudden rush of sympathy. And he had a crazy urge to yank her closer and do what he hadn’t done last night. He wanted to kiss her until her lips lost their tension and her eyes filled with desire instead of despair.

And he had an even crazier urge to wrap her in a blanket again and carry her someplace safe.

He dropped her hand and hung on to the door. Since when was he anyone’s protector? She might stir his hormones, but she was an inconvenience, a distraction he couldn’t afford. “There’s not much point talking, Hayley. I already said everything I wanted to say.”

“All I ask is that you hear me out.”

“I’m busy.”

“Tending bar?”

“Not right now. We’re closed.”

“That man called you boss.”

“Yes, he did.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. I own this place. I also work the bar. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

She shook her head. Her hair rippled in the sunshine. “Why are you going after Oliver Sproule?”

“What difference does it make as long as I get him?”

That made her pause. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

Damn, he still wanted to kiss her. He swung the door open and motioned her inside. “You might as well come in before you draw a crowd.”

Was it his imagination, or did she hesitate a beat before she lifted her chin and stepped over the threshold? “Thank you, Mr. Webb.”

“Call me Cooper.” He closed the door and shot the bolt. “I’m expecting a delivery in ten minutes so that’s all the time I can give you.”

She acknowledged his words with a smile that was too stiff to call real.

There was a clatter of chairs as Pete continued to clear off the tables. Cooper stepped aside and gestured Hayley toward the door at the other end of the room. “We’ll talk in my office.”

She remained silent as they walked past the bar, her gaze darting everywhere. He had taken her out the rear door when they had left here earlier this morning, so she hadn’t seen anything except his office and the back hallway. Cooper looked around, trying to see the place as she would.

Four years ago the building had housed a custom welding shop that had been going out of business. Cooper had liked the location on the outskirts of town since there were few neighbors to complain about noise or traffic. The large, two-story main room had suited him, too. He’d kept the renovations simple, laying down a hardwood floor and installing a rectangular oak bar as an island in the center. He’d also lengthened the existing windows that had been set high under the eaves so he had a view of his surroundings.

Enlarging the windows hadn’t been all that practical, since the bar’s busiest hours were after dark, but Cooper liked to see outside. It was one of the legacies of the time he’d spent inside.

Each year he’d poured any profit he’d made into added improvements. Now he had pool tables, a big-screen TV and a top-of-the-line sound system. On Pete’s suggestion, last winter he’d added a raised stage in the corner beside the front door where local talent had the chance to show what they could do. He liked being able to give them a break.

Cooper was proud of what he’d done with the Long Shot. It wasn’t fancy, but it was solid and getting more popular every year. Best of all, it was his.

For now, anyway.

Hayley had asked him why he was going after Oliver Sproule. She was walking through the answer.

Damn Tony and his bargain. It had been four years since he’d made it. It had gone on so long, Cooper had begun to hope that Tony was going to let it slide, but he should have known better. Tony Monaco wasn’t the kind of man who forgave anything, especially a debt.

“This is very nice,” Hayley said. “It’s much bigger than it looks from the outside. I like all the wood.”

Her compliment sounded sincere. He tried to keep it in perspective. She wanted something from him, he reminded himself, so she’d say whatever she thought was necessary. “I guess you haven’t been here before,” he said.

“No. I’ve been living in Chicago for the past ten years. I only moved back to Latchford last fall. Since then I’ve been too busy to…socialize.”

He pushed open the door that led to the back hall, then stepped to one side so she could go ahead of him. Last fall? Right. That’s when her brother had been killed and her father had had his stroke.

But it was more than grief that had kept her out of the Long Shot. Hayley Tavistock didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who would normally come to a place like this anyway. She was probably too much of the good girl to let loose and enjoy herself.

She brushed close enough for him to catch her scent. There was soap and shampoo, but there was still a trace of earthiness. Maybe he was wrong about her not letting loose. Just because she was a Tavistock and dressed with class didn’t mean there wasn’t passion beneath the surface. He’d already seen some of it.

They reached his office in silence. Hayley stopped in front of his desk and looked out the window. The shade was up, so she had a good view of the orchard on the far side of the parking lot. The trees had come into bloom the week before. The blossoms were pretty well finished now. Last night’s rain had knocked down of most of them but there were a few still stubbornly clinging to the boughs.

Again, Cooper caught himself wondering what she thought. Before Sproule had set up business here, much of Latchford’s economy had depended on the surrounding farms. Only a few pockets were left, like this overgrown apple orchard. Although this window also overlooked the loading ramp at the back of the building, a practical feature which allowed Cooper to keep track of delivery trucks when they arrived, the trees were the main reason he’d chosen this room for his office.

The bargain he’d made with Tony was what allowed him to have this. It could also make him lose it all.

He closed the door behind him more forcefully than he’d intended.

Hayley gave a nervous start and turned to face him.

He felt like a jerk for making her jump. “I’m sorry about your troubles, Hayley,” he said.

“Everyone’s sorry. No one except you wants to do anything about it.”

He wanted to pull her into his arms. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans instead. “That’s right,” he said. “I mean to do something about it. I plan to see that Oliver pays for his crime. If you want that to happen, the best thing you could do is keep out of it. You shouldn’t have come here.”

She chewed her lip again, as if restraining herself from asking the same question as before. “While I do appreciate your help last night, I’m afraid you might have gotten the wrong impression about me.”

“Oh, yeah? What part?”

“I’m not always that…” She paused, as if searching for the right word.

“Passionate?” he supplied.

“Irrational.” She straightened the cuffs of her jacket. “As you mentioned, I was pushed to my limit. I snapped. I wasn’t myself.”

“Sure, you were. No one can fake feelings that strong.”

“Yes, well, I feel much better now.”

“Did you sleep?”

“Excuse me?”

“After I took you home. How much sleep did you get?”

She brushed at a wrinkle in her skirt. “That really isn’t relevant.”

She was right; he wasn’t her keeper. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to kiss the weariness from her expression. He locked his elbows to keep his hands in his pockets.

“I came here to assure you that you don’t need to fear I would hinder your plans if we worked together,” she said.

“Soap and clothes won’t change who a person is, Hayley.”

“That’s my point. You got the wrong impression.”

“Not about one thing. There’s no mistaking the fact that you’re a Tavistock,” he said bluntly.

Color flared in her cheeks. “I won’t apologize for my brother. He was a dedicated policeman.”

“Right. I know. Just like your father. You come from a long line of cops.”

“What does my father have to do with this? Adam’s the one you’re holding a grudge against.”

“I was locked in a cage for three years of my life and your brother was the one who put me there. Saying I hold a grudge doesn’t cover it.”

“What were you arrested for?”

“Hijacking a truckload of computer chips.”

She studied him for a moment. “Were you innocent?”

He kept his gaze steady on hers. She would probably feel more comfortable if he lied, but he wouldn’t deny what he used to do any more than she would apologize for her brother. They both were what they were, and there was no changing that. “I was guilty as sin, Hayley.”