The Woman For Dusty Conrad

Not that Erick’s age had kept him away from the station. Or even from following the truck out on runs.

Scott Wahl’s face flashed in Dusty’s mind and he shook his head, wondering if firefighting was some sort of disease. And if it was, if there was a foolproof cure.

A hundred feet away, the funeral attendants were getting out of their cars. The sun glinted off the maple coffin where six pallbearers lifted it from the back of the hearse. He instantly recognized John Sparks as one of those men, though he was wearing civilian clothes rather than his sheriff’s uniform. He squinted at the others gathered, recognizing most of them, although the pastor was unfamiliar. Definitely not Pastor Adams. He wondered who had passed away. Then he remembered John saying something about Violet Jenkins being found elbow deep in dirt, planting tulip bulbs in her garden a couple of days ago. He rubbed his closed eyelids. God, Mrs. Jenkins had seemed ancient when he was a kid. He wondered how old she’d ended up living to.

The thought immediately led to the young age of Erick when Dusty had lost the battle with the fire that took his brother’s life.

He stood numbly, staring at the headstone.

“Dusty.”

He looked up to find John Sparks standing a few feet away, his suit jacket swung over his shoulder, his other hand in his pants pocket. He couldn’t be sure how long he’d stood there, but a glance around told him it must have been a while, for the place was nearly deserted.

“Sparky.”

John took that as an okay to come closer. He stepped up next to Dusty and both of them stood looking at Erick’s grave.

“You know, he’s probably up there now getting a big kick out of us both standing together like this mourning over him.”

Dusty shifted a glance toward the too bright autumn sky. He grinned. “Yeah, he probably is.”

John folded his jacket over his forearm. “So what brings you here?”

Dusty looked at him. “What do you mean?”

The younger man shrugged. “Well, rumor has it you stayed at Jolie’s…er, your old place last night.” His grin was decidedly suggestive. “I would have thought you and she would, um, be catching up on old times.”

Dust bent down and put the toy fire truck back where he’d found it. If only Sparks knew how close to the truth that statement came to describing what had happened between him and Jolie this morning.

John held up his hands. “Trust me, I’m not looking for details. It’s hard enough being a single guy and working with a woman who looks like Jolie without knowing the details.” His chuckle was light.

Dusty straightened. “Who’s the new pastor?”

John stared at him, probably recognizing the change in subject for what it was. Dusty didn’t know what Jolie had told everyone, but he was guessing it wasn’t much given their co-workers’ response to his being back. For whatever reason, she hadn’t shared the truth with any of them. And it wasn’t up to him to tell them. Long after he had gone, Jolie would have to live here. Better she should handle things the way she saw fit.

“He’s not new, really. Just temporary. You know, while Pastor Adams is on a pilgrimage to Lourdes. He said it was the first time the collections were enough for him to make the trip and he was damn well going to use every cent of it.”

Dusty grinned. “Sounds like Adams.”

“Jonas is the name of the fill-in. Jonas Noble. They say he’s from Montana, but nobody knows for sure. He doesn’t much like to talk about himself.”

“Ah, he’s got the gossips’ tongues to wagging, has he?” Good. That left them with less time to try to pick apart his and Jolie’s crumbling marriage.

“Wagging? If you could channel the energy the townsfolk generate, we’d never pay for another electric bill.”

The two of them chuckled. Then they both fell silent and turned their attention back to the headstone.

“I miss him, you know?” Sparks said quietly.

Dusty nodded. He missed his brother, too. More than he could say.

John cleared his throat. “I’ve, um, been out to Darby’s a couple times. You know, to see if she needs any work done around the house and stuff. Figured Erick would have wanted me to keep an eye out for her and all.”

Dusty nodded. “How’s she’s doing?”

“As well as can be expected, I guess. As independent as all get out. Wouldn’t even let me take out the garbage. And trust me, with all those damn animals she’s got out there, there’s a lot of it.” He frowned, then looked off into the distance. “I get the impression she blames Erick for what happened.”

Dusty digested the information. What would Darby do if she knew the blame rested solely on him? “I think that’s only natural. She never much liked Erick’s passion for his job.” Just like he could no longer stomach Jolie’s obsession with hers.

“What about the girls?” he asked.

“Couldn’t tell you anything there. They don’t seem to like me much.” It slightly startled Dusty when John dropped an arm over his shoulders. “Everyone should be gathering at Eddie’s for a drink about now. What do you say we head over and tie one on? You know, for old times’ sake.”

Dusty thought of Jolie back at the house, lying in the middle of that old bed. Visualized the tangle of her rich brown hair spilled across the pillow. Imagined her sleep-warm skin….

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Um, lead on.”

It was only twelve o’clock, but he was willing to do something, anything, to keep from going back to the house, climbing those stairs and slipping into bed with Jolie.

Chapter 4

Jolie fingered through the fresh greens in the produce corner of Old Jake’s General Store, passing her own favorite of collard and going for the dandelion that Dusty always liked so much. Curling her fingers into her palm, she pulled back her hand altogether, then pushed the cart toward the tomatoes.

The past half hour had been spent doing exactly the same thing. She’d reach for an item, then something would catch her eye and she’d automatically reroute to finger a choice Dusty would favor. The items in her cart totaled four. Laundry detergent, flour, sugar and milk. Generic items that didn’t have any connection to Dusty.

Well, okay, maybe she preferred that specific brand of detergent because she loved the way it smelled on Dusty’s clothes where they rested against his skin. But no one but her need know that.

In the three hours since Dusty had left the house after kissing her, she’d tried to sleep, but failed. Scrubbed the kitchen floor to exhaust herself, and still was wide awake. Then she resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t going to get the rest she needed after twenty-four hours at the firehouse. It was a good thing she’d stolen a couple of hours’ rest between calls late last night or else she’d be dead on her feet right about now.

Not that her current emotional state was any improvement. She picked through the tomatoes, then chose a bunch of green lettuce. Even now her nerve endings seemed to tingle, jolted awake by Dusty’s skillful kiss and refusing to lie still. Her muscles were tense, her lips still felt swollen…and her body cried out for more than the brief, fevered contact. Not even running errands had been successful in banishing the unwanted feelings. But it had added a decidedly sharper edge to them and her reaction.

When she’d set off in her Jeep, she’d conveniently forgotten the smallness of the town and the open curiosity of the townsfolk. No matter how well-meaning they were, they were downright nosy now that word of Dusty’s return had gotten around. She’d kept busy enough at the station that she hadn’t heard much from her fellow firefighters. But Madge at the post office had been another matter. Then there’d been Gene at the combination dry cleaners-launderette. On top of that, Roger at the gas station had rested a hand against the rooftop of her Jeep and grinned down at her while the pump automatically filled the tank and asked why she didn’t look more cheerful, what with Dusty being back and all.

“Jolie? Jolie Calbert Conrad, is that you?”

Jolie tightened her hands on the cart handle, filled with the incredible urge to run. She wouldn’t have stopped at the general store at all except that she was out of the essentials and had to. She’d known before going in that the central town gossiping center, second only to Eddie’s pub, was a minefield of astronomic proportions. In fact, she was surprised she’d gotten through a half hour of shopping without someone approaching her.

Carefully fastening a smile onto her tired features, she turned toward Elva Mollenkopf. “Hi, Elva. Doing some shopping?”

Yes, the question was mundane, but sometimes when you stated the obvious, the other person dove into a monologue on what they were buying and why.

Not Elva. Her almost predatory smile made Jolie want to set the cart wheels spinning, then jump on the foot rest and let it carry her away.

“Is it true?” Elva asked.

Jolie blinked. “Is what true?”

“Is Dusty really back…and staying at the house?”