Naughty, But Nice. Jill ShalvisЧитать онлайн книгу.
follow me, don’t follow me. She felt him watching her every step of the way, until she turned the corner.
Only then, when she knew she was truly alone and out of his sight, did she break stride and start running. No one stopped her. No one cared enough to.
Down Magnolia Avenue to Petunia Avenue, and then finally she turned off onto Pansy Lane. For the first time she didn’t stop to sneer at the ridiculous flower names of the streets, and instead ran down the driveway of the duplex she’d shared all her life with her mother.
Her aunt and cousin lived on the other side. Kate would be a huge comfort right now, the voice of calm reason, but she’d still be with her date from the prom. Probably having the time of her life.
Cassie didn’t go inside the house. Didn’t want to face her mother, who would get misty-eyed at the sight of Cassie all over again. They both knew Cassie was leaving, and soon. The day she graduated, if possible. She had a life to find.
And someday she’d come back here and show them all. She’d come back driving a fancy car. She’d live in the biggest house on Lilac Hill, just because she could. And…oh, yes, this was her favorite…she’d get the sheriff. Somehow, some way.
But most of all, she’d…become someone. Someone special.
She went around the side of the duplex to the backyard. Kicked off the Nine West pumps she’d saved all last month for and dug her toes into the grass. Tipping back her head, she gauged the distance she had to jump in the dress wrapped around her like Saran wrap.
And took a flying leap for the rope ladder. In her skimpy black dress, she shimmied up the tree and landed in the tree house that had served as her and Kate’s getaway all their lives.
It was cramped. And musty. Probably full of spiders. It’d been a long time since she’d needed to be alone, but she needed that now. Desperately. She was close—far too close—to losing it, when losing it was not an option. Ever.
Opening the small wooden cigar box she and Kate kept hidden, she took out her private and personal vice and lit it. A cigarette. It helped steady her nerves. There was also her diary, and Kate’s, inside the box. She reached for hers.
Leaning back against the trunk of the tree, she studied the stars, mentally reviewing the list of things she wanted to accomplish with her life before she scribbled them into her diary. Kate would get a kick out of the fancy-car goal, she was sure of it.
When she was done writing, she leaned back and watched a falling star, and though she would have denied it to her dying day, she wished.
She wished that life would get better soon as she got the hell out of Pleasantville.
1
Ten Years Later
SHERIFF SEAN TAGGART—Tag, as he was commonly known—had eaten, showered and was sprawled naked and exhausted across his bed when the phone rang.
“Forget it,” he muttered, not bothering to lift his head. He didn’t have the energy. God, he needed sleep. He’d been up all night helping a neighboring county sheriff chase down a man wanted for two bank robberies. Then this morning, before he could so much as think about sleep, he’d had to rescue four stupid cows from the middle of the highway. He’d also wrestled a drunken and equally stupid teenager out of a deep gorge.
Then he’d delivered a baby when the mother had decided labor pains were just gas so that she’d ended up stranding herself thirty-five miles from nowhere.
Now, though it was barely the dinner hour, he just might never move again. He lived alone on a hill above town. Not on Lilac Hill like the rich, but in a nice, comfortable, sleepy little subdivision where the houses were far apart and old enough to be full of character—aka run-down. His place was more run-down than most, which was how he’d afforded it.
Renovation had come slow and costly, so much so that he’d only gotten to his bedroom and kitchen thus far. But it was his, and it was home. After growing up with a father who ruled not only the town with an iron fist but his kid as well, and no mother from the time she’d left for greener pastures when he’d turned eight, having a warm, cozy home had become very important to him.
Truth be known, he was ready for more than just a home these days. It wasn’t his family he wanted more of, as he and his father had never been close. How could they be when they didn’t share the same ideas, morals or beliefs, and to the older Taggart, Tag was little more than a disappointment. Regardless of the strained relationship with his father, Tag felt he was missing something else. He was ready for a friend, a lover, a wife. A soul mate. Someone he could depend on for a change, instead of the other way around.
But right now, he’d settle for eight hours of sleep in a row.
The phone kept ringing. Turning his head he pried one eye open and looked at it. It could be anyone. It could be his father, ex-sheriff, now retired, calling to tell Tag how to do his job. Again.
Or it could be an emergency, because if life had taught Tag any lesson at all, it was that just about anything could happen.
“Damn it.” He yanked up the receiver. “What?”
“Dispatch,” Annie reported in her perpetually cheerful voice. Off duty she was his ex-fiancée and pest extraordinaire. On duty, she was still his ex-fiancée and pest extraordinaire. Not long after becoming engaged, they’d decided they were better coworkers than co-habitors, and they’d been right. Tag could never have taken her eternal cheerfulness in bed night after night.
“Heard you didn’t even kiss Sheila good night after your date,” she said. “I’ll have you know I went to a lot of trouble to set that up. You’ve got to kiss ’em, Tag, or you’re going to ruin your bad-boy rep.”
He groaned and rolled over. “God, I hope so.”
“I just want you happy. Like I am.”
She was getting married next month to one of his deputies, which was a good thing. But now she wanted him as almost married as she was. Sighing would do no good. Neither would ignoring her—she was more ruthless than a pit bull terrier. “If it’s any of your business, which it’s not, I didn’t kiss Sheila because it wasn’t a date. I didn’t even want to go in the first place—” Why was he bothering? She wouldn’t listen. Rubbing his eyes, he stared at the ceiling. “Why are you calling?”
“Know why you’re so grumpy? You need to get laid once in a while. Look—” As if departing a state secret, she lowered her voice. “Sex is a really great stress reliever. I’d give you some to remind you, just as a favor, mind you, but I’m a committed woman now.”
Tag wished he was deep asleep. “Tell me you’re not calling me from the dispatch phone to say this to me.”
“Someone has to, Tag, honey.”
“I’m going back to sleep now.”
“You can’t.”
“Why not?” He heard the rustling of papers as Annie shifted things on her desk. He pictured the mess—the stacks, the unfiled reports, the mugs of coffee and chocolate candy wrappers strewn over everything—and got all the more tense. “Look at the computer screen in front of you,” he instructed. “Read me your last call.”
“Oh, yeah!” She laughed. “Can’t believe I forgot there for a moment. There’s a stranger downtown, driving some sort of hot rod, causing trouble. We’ve received calls on and off all day, complaining about the loud music and reckless driving.”
He opened his mouth to ask what had taken her so long to say so, but bit back the comment because it wouldn’t do him any good. Back on duty whether he liked it or not, he rubbed his gritty, tired eyes and grabbed for his pants. “Theft? Injuries?”
“Nope, nothing like that. Just the music and speeding.”
“Speeding?” He’d given up sleep for speeding? “Why didn’t…hell, who’s