Heartache Falls Part 7

In his experience, more often than not, those G.o.d-given talents ended up making people jerks.

And jerks attracted some women like moths to flame.

Red neon light flashed through the half-drawn curtains of the run-down hotel room in Oklahoma City. He sat on the corner of the bed and watched as his mother stroked cherry red lipstick across her mouth while she stared into a cracked and dusty mirror. "Just imagine. The champions.h.i.+p buckle. How exciting is that? Now, you be a good boy and don't get into any trouble while Mama's gone. You hear?"

He was seven years old. She didn't come back for three days.

Celebrities. Mac exhaled a long, heavy sigh. What he wouldn't give for a good embezzlement trial.

He hit the garage door opener as he pulled into the drive, which served as the signal for Gus to go wild. Barking, running, jumping-the dog did everything but flips when Mac let him inside. Grinning, he sat in one of the kitchen chairs and let Gus plop his paws in his lap as Mac scratched him behind the ears. "I'm glad to see you, too, boy. Just ... whoa. Keep the tongue to yourself, okay?"

He reached into the treat jar he kept on the table. "Here you go, boy."

Gus gulped it down in seconds, then came back at him with a dog kiss he wasn't quite fast enough to dodge. The weird mood from earlier returned with the rough sc.r.a.pe of Gus's tongue and he was back in that hotel room, this time with bright yellow suns.h.i.+ne beaming through the window.

"But Mama, please? I'll take care of him. I'll feed him and water him and he won't be one bit of trouble." Mac had named him King, and they'd become pals-best friends-in the days his mama had been gone.

"Don't be ridiculous, Mackenzie. He's a stray. You can't go picking up strays."

"Why not? You do."

It wasn't the first time she'd hit him. Nor was it the last. It was, however, the last time he asked for a dog. When they left Oklahoma City the next day, King didn't go with them.

And when Louise brought him his mail today at the office, he'd had a letter from his mother, the first contact he'd had with her since he'd turned eighteen.

d.a.m.ned celebrities. d.a.m.ned paparazzi. d.a.m.ned Court TV.

A month after running to the mountains, Ali returned to Denver. As she pulled into line for valet parking at the Brown Palace Hotel downtown, she told herself she should have dressed in feathers for tonight's events. Heaven knows she was just as much a chicken as what was likely on the menu for this evening's meal. The dress she'd purchased specifically for the awards dinner still hung in her closet at home. Rather than face Mac alone at home for the first time since she'd left, she'd chickened out, stopped at her favorite boutique, and bought a new outfit, from earrings down to shoes, then sent him a text saying she'd meet him downtown.

Nerves had her drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. She wished she'd never committed to attend this dinner. She'd been dreading it like a bikini wax since she told him she'd be here. Just thinking about Mac was hard these days. She sensed that seeing him, speaking with him, would be just short of torture.

The last few weeks in Eternity Springs had been packed full from morning to night. Being so busy had enabled her to think about something, anything, other than the sad state of her marriage, and with each day that pa.s.sed, her heart grew a little lighter. She knew she wasn't solving anything by ignoring reality, but she thought she'd needed this breather. Her heart was wounded, and she'd needed a little R&R before joining the battle once again. But when the valet opened the door for her and she exited the car, Ali knew she wasn't ready to resume hostilities after all. Had someone not called her name at that very moment, she'd have ducked back into her car and sped away.

Instead, she pasted a smile on her face and turned to greet Trudy Hartsworth, the society editor for the Denver Post. "h.e.l.lo, Trudy."

"My oh my, don't you look divine! That's a new look for you, isn't it? I hope you're seated out of Mac's line of sight during his speech or he's liable to babble like an idiot."

Ali summoned up a confident smile. The boutique had been low on inventory in her size this afternoon, but she hadn't had time to try another shop. The dress she'd chosen was a filmy, flirty sundress with a plunging halter neckline in emerald green. She wore strappy jeweled sandals, dangling earrings, and a matching locket that nestled between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

Trudy was right. It was a different look for her, one she probably wouldn't have tried had she not been desperate and running out of time. But the minute she put the dress on, she'd loved it. She'd wanted it. The dress made her smile. It made her feel pretty. It made her feel s.e.xy.

And yes, she wanted Mac to take one look at her and babble like an idiot. Swallow his tongue. Drool with desire. Go from soft to stallion in 2.3 seconds.

Or at least, that's what she had thought she wanted. Now that the moment was upon her, second thoughts consumed her. She knew better than to let it show, however, so she smiled brightly and said, "Thank you! I thought it was time to shake things up. I've become just a little too dependent on twin sets."

"Darling, that is no twin set." The writer glanced around, then asked, "I a.s.sume you're meeting Mac here? I'm hoping he'll introduce me to Sandberg's defense attorney, Christina Fiore. I'm sure she'll be here tonight. That's not inappropriate now that he is a judge, is it? I certainly don't want to do anything untoward."

Untoward? Trudy Hartsworth had built a career on untoward.

"I'm sure Mac will do whatever is right," Ali said as they walked into the luxurious hotel lobby and made their way toward the Grand Ballroom, where the dinner was being held. Trudy saw someone else she knew and flittered off, disappointing Ali, who had hoped to have the woman at her side when she approached Mac.

"This is stupid," she murmured beneath her breath. He wouldn't make a scene in public. Mac didn't make scenes in private. Just walk up to him and say h.e.l.lo and get this behind you.

Ali stepped into the ballroom and glanced toward the reserved tables in the front of the room. She didn't see him, but it was still early and most people had yet to take their seats. Mac was always on time and usually early. His height ordinarily made him easy to spot in a crowd.

She moved through the room making her way slowly toward the front. Halfway there, she again heard her name, and she turned toward the sound. This time, the person doing the speaking was a complete surprise. "Zach?"

He offered her an easy, welcoming smile. "I can't tell you how glad I am to see a friendly face in this crowd."

"I didn't know you were going to be here."

"Yeah. I couldn't get out of it." He grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. "Things like this are so not my cup of tea."

Ali wouldn't have guessed it. Zach looked perfectly at ease in his charcoal pinstripe suit and an aqua tie that complimented those amazing eyes of his.

She liked Eternity Springs's sheriff. She'd spent time with him on a handful of occasions since their first meeting, and she found him to be intelligent, industrious, and a lot of fun. He was certainly the most laid-back, charming lawman she'd ever met. "Are you here with a date?"

"No. I'm stag tonight." He gestured toward one of the bar stations set along the wall. "Can I get you something to drink? Champagne? A gorgeous woman like you wearing a stunning dress like that ... You need a gla.s.s of champagne in your hands."

She couldn't help smiling. "Thank you, Sheriff Turner. You're too kind. I don't ordinarily drink at events like these."

"Well, this time is different. I insist." He made a show of looking her over. "The dress demands it, and besides, you can't say no to me. I'm one of tonight's stars."

"You're a speaker?"

"No, I'm an award winner."

"You are?" Ali beamed a smile at him. "I didn't know that! How did I miss this news?"

When he simply shrugged, she persisted. "I know that Alton Davis has seven Twitter aliases. I am aware that Marlene Lange auditioned for American Idol. For heaven's sake, I know that Dale Parker is going in for a colonoscopy tomorrow, so how in the world did I miss the fact that Eternity Springs's very own sheriff is being honored as a hero by the governor's office tonight?"

He shrugged. "I didn't tell anyone."

"He didn't tell anyone," Ali repeated, gazing up toward the ceiling and shaking her head in frustration. "So spill it, Turner. Why are you being honored?"

He winced. "They're gonna yammer on about it later. Truly, it's not that interesting. Now, let's get that champagne and I'll tell you something you'll really want to know. A prime bit of Eternity Springs news." He placed his hand at the small of her back and guided her toward the bar.

Despite his relaxed att.i.tude, Ali could tell he wasn't comfortable. She didn't know him well enough to know if he simply didn't like the attention or if it was the incident itself that bothered him, so she let it drop. "Something I want to know, hmm?"

"Yep." He ordered two gla.s.ses of champagne from the bartender, handed one of them to her, then saluted her with his gla.s.s. "To new friends."

"New friends," she replied with a smile, toasting him back. "And interesting news."

He clinked their gla.s.ses, bent his head toward her, and murmured, "I have the scoop-pun intended-on the new ice cream flavors being unveiled next week at the opening of the Creamery."

"How did you manage that?" Ali asked, arching her brows. "Did you confiscate the truck?"

She knew that the opening of the Taste of Texas Creamery for the summer season was a highly antic.i.p.ated event and that speculation over the season's flavors lasted for months. There was even a betting pool at the Red Fox Pub to guess the flavors.

Ali's friend and the town veterinarian, Nic Callahan, had explained what all the fuss was about. The ice cream shop's owner, Jared Kelley, taught at a small private college in Texas during the school year, but for the past few years he'd spent his summers in Eternity Springs. Because he had a pa.s.sion for the ice cream made in a small south-central Texas town, he'd had a summer supply s.h.i.+pped to him each May. After three consecutive years of running out of the creamy concoction by mid-June, Jared made the decision to open Taste of Texas. He owned his own refrigerated truck and made the fifteen-hour run to the factory whenever required.

"Confiscate the truck? Are you kidding? Someone would knock me down, steal my gun, and shoot me if I tried to do that."

Ali laughed. "I have this sudden mental picture of Reverend Hart doing a kung-fu kick and-"

"Alison," a chilly and familiar voice interrupted from behind her. "It's time we took our seats."

SIX.

Mac couldn't recall the last time he'd been this furious.

He'd waited for his wife for twenty minutes beyond the time when they'd needed to depart their home in order to reach the Brown Palace with a comfortable cus.h.i.+on. It wasn't until he'd grabbed his phone and car keys from the console by the front door where he'd left them an hour earlier that he'd found her text message. He'd listened for the phone to ring but had ignored notice of incoming texts-a reasonable act considering that Ali had never once sent him a text before today.

He'd stewed about the situation all the way downtown. He'd wanted to hash out their problems in private before they faced the public. She would have known that, too.

Communication between the two of them had been next to nothing since she left. No phone calls, just a brief exchange of terse emails over a couple of issues with the kids, a question he had about her credit card bill, and one she had about the warranty on her tires. He'd pictured her having a blowout on a hairpin mountain curve, and he'd wanted to ask why she needed the warranty information, but he'd refrained. Logically, if something too bad had happened, she wouldn't be asking for information.

The fact that he'd had to worry about it at all annoyed him, and it was one of the items on the list of things he wanted to tell her. Only she hadn't come home. She'd outmaneuvered him, and he wouldn't have the opportunity to talk to her before he had to see her and pretend. That totally chapped him-as did the fact he could have been late to his own speech because of her.

When he'd pulled the Porsche up to the valet parking area, he'd tipped the driver well and asked, "Have you parked a red BMW convertible tonight? Good-looking blonde driving?"

"I haven't, but my buddy did," the young man responded. "We noticed both the car and the babe."

He'd been relieved to hear it. At that point he wouldn't have put it past Ali to stand him up. A check of his watch as he'd entered the ballroom showed he'd made it with ten minutes to spare. Barely enough time to glance through his notes for his speech.

He'd stopped just inside the ballroom and scanned the room looking for his wife. She wasn't at the reserved tables in the front, and it didn't help that he didn't know what she was wearing. Nevertheless, he expected to find her in something simple, stylish, and black. His gaze gravitated toward that look.

He didn't see her anywhere. He took a slow walk through the center of the ballroom, his gaze skimming over the crowd, until the unmistakable sound of her laughter amidst the din of conversation stopped him short. He turned toward the sound, but he still didn't see her. Then a flash of emerald caught his eye and he identified his wife.

Her shoulders were bare. Her dress was short. Her heels were high. And there was another man's hand at the small of her back.

Son of a b.i.t.c.h.

Mac didn't exactly storm across the room, but he definitely marched with steely determination. "Alison, it's time we took our seats."

He watched her spine straighten as she went rigid. The free-handed man she was with moved his mitt away from her waist and extended it and a lazy smile toward Mac. "Judge Timberlake, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. I'm Zach Turner, formerly of Prowers County. I understand that you were instrumental in my being nominated to receive this award tonight. I want to thank you. It's a great honor."

It took Mac a couple of seconds to process the information. Zach Turner. He'd been attached to a federal task force and worked undercover in Oklahoma. Went into a burning trailer to rescue a couple of children when a meth lab exploded. He was the guy with his hands on Mac's wife? Great. Just great.

"Yes, of course." He accepted the man's handshake. "I was glad to be of help. Your actions were the definition of heroism. You deserve the recognition. I'm just sorry it's taken so long for you to get it."

Mac could tell that Turner's revelation had caught Ali by surprise, so he asked, "How is it that you know my wife?"

Ali finally found her voice. "Zach is the sheriff in Eternity Springs."

"Really." Mac placed his own hand at the small of his wife's back. "Small world, isn't it? Now if you'll excuse us, Alison and I need to take our seats."

Sheriff Turner lifted his champagne gla.s.s in a salute that Mac considered a shade mocking. "Enjoy your evening, your honor. Ali."

"You too, Zach," Ali replied. "And congratulations on your award."

Mac guided her through the milling crowd toward the head table. Though she hid it well when greeted by friends and acquaintances along the way, he knew she wasn't happy. Shoot, if her spine grew any stiffer, she just might break in two.

Not that he cared. He was plenty torqued himself. If her game had been to make him angry, she was racking up some score.

The head table was actually two reserved rounders, each set for six, at the front of the room. They found their places just as the emcee for the evening stepped up to the podium and asked those gathered to take their seats. Before he could exchange a private word with Ali, they were joined at the table by an honoree and his guest. Mac inwardly winced when he spied Sheriff Turner ambling their way.

The dinner proved to be a trial. Mac had attended countless events such as this throughout his career, but he couldn't recall ever being quite so uncomfortable. The company was affable, even interesting. Ali had always been a master at directing conversation in such circ.u.mstances, and tonight was no different. Yet tonight was completely different.

It was almost as if Ali were here with Turner and Mac was the one who'd attended solo. Throughout the meal, he and Ali communicated sparingly, avoiding each other's gazes. In contrast, his wife and the sheriff gave the impression of being longtime friends. Mac heard more than he'd ever wanted to know about the curious personalities of Eternity Springs.

He brooded over his steak and would have missed his cue to rise for his speech had Ali not elbowed him sharply in the ribs. He was glad to escape the table, and he put his personal troubles out of his mind as he gave the talk about heroism that he had worked hard to perfect in recent weeks.

He managed a jab at the celebrity-wors.h.i.+p phenomenon while he spoke about qualities found in heroes, of courageousness and determination, of selflessness and sacrifice. It had occurred to him while writing the speech that once he'd have ascribed such attributes to his wife. Their children certainly had recognized it. How many times had he heard one or another of them say, Thanks, Mom, you're my hero?

That wasn't what the kids were saying about her now, and Ali needed to know that. Here, tonight. He'd be d.a.m.ned if he'd give her the chance to dodge him again.

After concluding his speech and introducing the video prepared about each of the honorees, Mac slipped outside the ballroom and made his way to the lobby, where he rented a room. He returned to the dinner just in time for the award presentation, and he tried not to begrudge Zach Turner the enthusiasm Ali displayed on the sheriff's behalf when they announced his name. The man truly was a hero.

Of course, that didn't mean Mac had to like it when he caught said hero enjoying the view presented by Ali's plunging neckline.

The emcee thanked everyone for attending and announced the date for next year's awards dinner, then the lights came up and the crowd rose from their seats. Individually, Mac and Ali took a few moments to personally congratulate each of the honorees. They both saved Zach Turner for last.

Mac shook the sheriff's hand and thanked him for his service. Then he placed his hand at the small of Ali's back and waited, letting both Ali and Turner know that he wasn't going anywhere without his wife. Except for the slight firming of her spine, Ali ignored his presence when she spoke to the sheriff.

"The story of that rescue was amazing, Zach," she said. "I am in awe of your bravery, your courage, and your compa.s.sion. I'm so glad I was here tonight to hear about it." Adding a teasing note to her voice, she added, "Especially since it'll give me cachet at the next Patchwork Angels quilters meeting."

Turner grimaced and scratched his cheek. "Any chance I could bribe you to keep quiet about this? Maybe a sample preview of the Creamery's new flavors?"

"That is definitely a tempting offer, especially since the information is bound to come out whether I say anything or not. I saw a reporter for the Denver Post here tonight, and Celeste reads the newspaper religiously. Besides, if I'm smart about it, I can leverage this news for something from Sarah's oven. The Creamery's ice cream may be good, but it can't possibly top Sarah's desserts."

"You're right, I'm afraid."

Ali glanced toward the crowd of others waiting to speak to Turner, then said, "Again, congratulations, Zach. Have a safe trip home."

"Thanks." Following a quick glance at Mac, the sheriff added, "You too."

Ali turned and walked toward the exit. Mac stayed right behind her. Upon reaching the lobby, she opened her evening bag and withdrew her valet ticket. Mac grasped her elbow and tugged her to a halt. "We need to talk, Alison."

She closed her eyes. "Yes. But not now. Call me and-"