Part 2 (1/2)

”I try to watch my mouth,” Carlin confessed, giving another swipe at the corner, just in case. ”The problem is I come from a long line of smart-a.s.ses, and things just...pop out.”

”DNA's a b.i.t.c.h.” Looking over at her, Kat suddenly grinned, her eyes lighting up. ”I guess that explains your name, huh?” grinned, her eyes lighting up. ”I guess that explains your name, huh?”

”Carlin? Yeah. At least they didn't name me 'George.'”

They both snickered. Carlin relaxed more now that she knew she didn't have to tamp down her more irreverent observations-everyone remembered a smart-a.s.s, and not drawing attention to herself had been tough. On the other hand, staying alive was really good motivation, so she'd been working on being as anonymous as possible.

”My mom loves George Carlin,” Kat said. ”She's always said any man who can make her laugh...” the sentence trailed away, as if some unexpected remembrance had derailed her thoughts.

They worked in silence for a few minutes, but the quiet didn't help. Carlin was getting antsier by the second. Why wait until Kat decided to start the questions? Why not begin with some of her own?

”So, what made you decide to hire me? That was a fast decision, especially after I told you I needed to be paid under the table.”

Kat looked a little startled, as if she hadn't expected her new employee to take charge. She paused, her head tilting a bit to the side, her pale, clear eyes sharp as she gave Carlin a considering look. ”I know what it's like to be afraid of a man,” she finally said, her tone completely level. ”Never again.”

That simple explanation was good enough for Carlin. If she ever got out of this mess, if she was ever free and clear...she'd gladly help another woman who found herself in a similar situation. Call it karma, call it grat.i.tude...call it one woman who had survived helping another to make it through another day. For now, Carlin decided just to call it good luck.

As her employer, Kat could've asked for details, could've demanded them, but she didn't. Instead she went to the jukebox, carefully avoiding the segment of the floor Carlin had already mopped while digging change out of her large ap.r.o.n pocket. She didn't study the selections, just dropped in some quarters and started punching b.u.t.tons, lining up a few songs for them to work by. As Kat turned around, the first song she'd chosen began to play. An instrumental Carlin didn't recognize began, the notes filling the quiet cafe; Kat half-closed her eyes, her body moving in a gentle s.h.i.+mmy and sway. A moment later, Michael Buble began to sing an upbeat version of ”Cry Me a River.” jukebox, carefully avoiding the segment of the floor Carlin had already mopped while digging change out of her large ap.r.o.n pocket. She didn't study the selections, just dropped in some quarters and started punching b.u.t.tons, lining up a few songs for them to work by. As Kat turned around, the first song she'd chosen began to play. An instrumental Carlin didn't recognize began, the notes filling the quiet cafe; Kat half-closed her eyes, her body moving in a gentle s.h.i.+mmy and sway. A moment later, Michael Buble began to sing an upbeat version of ”Cry Me a River.”

Why that song? Carlin was suddenly tempted to tell Kat more. She wanted to tell her new boss that she had never cried over Brad, that it hadn't been that kind of relations.h.i.+p, not ever. She had cried over some of the things he'd done, but mostly she'd been angry and frustrated-until Jina died, and after that things had changed. She didn't cry now. Now, she worked hard at surviving.

But Kat simply put on the music and got back to work. She didn't speak, and Carlin pushed away the temptation to talk. Was this Kat's normal way of doing things, or had she fired the jukebox up so it would be possible for them to work without speaking? Questions would inevitably come, but obviously not right this minute. Good enough.

When ”Cry Me a River” ended it was followed by Trace Adkins, with a kickin' country song about bars and nice b.u.t.ts. Kat had an eclectic taste in music. Carlin was interested, but not surprised.

Music filled the background, set the pace for their work, made it impossible for either of them to take notice of uncomfortable silences, because there were none.

When she'd driven into Battle Ridge, Carlin had looked around and pretty much written the town off. She'd asked about a job out of habit, but hadn't expected anything. She hadn't expected she'd find herself here, mopping The Pie Hole, taking on a new job in the blink of an eye. And now she had a place to sleep, two meals a day, and she'd take in a little bit of cash along the way. Perfect. She wouldn't stay here long. She of an eye. And now she had a place to sleep, two meals a day, and she'd take in a little bit of cash along the way. Perfect. She wouldn't stay here long. She couldn't couldn't stay anywhere for very long. But she was safe for now, and that was enough. stay anywhere for very long. But she was safe for now, and that was enough.

When the cafe was spotless and put to rights, they moved into the kitchen. The music came to an end, and there it was...silence. Everything unspoken seemed to hang in the air. Kat stopped working and turned to Carlin, looking at her with those arresting eyes.

Okay, here it was. Carlin didn't exactly hold her breath, but she went still, waiting. This was the moment, and it could go either way. If Kat didn't ask, she wasn't going to volunteer information. But if Kat did ask, she'd have to either lie or simply refuse to answer. Much as she would love to spill her guts, unload on a kindred spirit...The less Kat knew, the better off she'd be.

But when Kat started talking, she went straight into a territory Carlin hadn't expected. ”If you're going to be here awhile, there are a few things you should know.”

Depends on how long ”awhile” is.

”There's a drugstore and a grocery store at the edge of town. Neither of them is much to look at, but they sell the basics: mascara, tampons, cookies, milk. If you want anything fancy you're going to have to drive into Cheyenne.”

”Good to know.” Amus.e.m.e.nt at what Kat considered the basics made her lips twitch. But she wouldn't be driving into Cheyenne, barring some kind of crisis. The bigger the town, the less comfortable she was. It was impossible to spot a stranger, but larger towns tended to have more security cameras, more curious cops, just...more. Besides, she didn't have any exotic needs; it sounded as if she could get everything she wanted right here in Battle Ridge, Wyoming.

”There's a library just down from the hardware store,”

Kat continued. ”They don't have a great selection of books, but they do have a decent fiction section and a couple of public computers, if you have need for that sort of thing.” Kat continued. ”They don't have a great selection of books, but they do have a decent fiction section and a couple of public computers, if you have need for that sort of thing.”

”Thanks.” Public computers Public computers. Her cup runneth over. ”I could stand to do a little reading while I'm here.” She saw no need to share the news that her heart had gone pitter-pat at the mention of a public computer.

”And a warning,” Kat said ominously. ”Stay away from the cowboys.”

”Cowboys?”

”Battle Ridge is lousy with them, I'm afraid.”

”You don't like cowboys.” The tone of Kat's voice when she said the word made that a fact, not a question.

”They'll break your heart and leave you in a trail of dust,” Kat said dramatically, widening her eyes, but then she ruined her own show by laughing.

”Did a cowboy break your your heart?” Carlin asked, her tone as irreverent as her boss's. heart?” Carlin asked, her tone as irreverent as her boss's.

”Oh, h.e.l.l no. I grew up around here. I've known from birth that cowboys are to be avoided at all costs.”

She could relate to that; since meeting Brad, Carlin hadn't wanted a relations.h.i.+p with any any man, for reasons both emotional and practical. The emotional part was kind of like the time she'd eaten a slice of bad pizza, and spent the night and next day throwing up; she hadn't wanted pizza at all for the next several months. The practical part was, she couldn't have a relations.h.i.+p when not only did she fully intend to keep moving around, but if Brad did find her and she was involved with someone else, that person's life was then in danger. But instead of going there, she said, in her best John Wayne voice, ”I'm sorry to hear you say that, little lady.” man, for reasons both emotional and practical. The emotional part was kind of like the time she'd eaten a slice of bad pizza, and spent the night and next day throwing up; she hadn't wanted pizza at all for the next several months. The practical part was, she couldn't have a relations.h.i.+p when not only did she fully intend to keep moving around, but if Brad did find her and she was involved with someone else, that person's life was then in danger. But instead of going there, she said, in her best John Wayne voice, ”I'm sorry to hear you say that, little lady.”

Kat laughed again, finished wiping down a stainless-steel counter beside the large stove, and directed Carlin and her mop to an area by the oversized freezer. Carlin smiled as she continued to clean. How long had it been since she'd relaxed enough to laugh? smiled as she continued to clean. How long had it been since she'd relaxed enough to laugh?

Too long. But at the same time, getting too comfortable in Battle Ridge would be a Bad Idea.

They finished up at about the same time, and Kat said, ”I officially call this finished, and in half the time it usually takes me. Good deal. How about a decaf, or a cup of tea?”

Carlin glanced at the clock on the wall, a little startled to see how much time had pa.s.sed. They'd been working for a couple of hours. Hard work deserved a treat. ”Tea would be great.”

”Something else to eat? There's pie left. Or I could throw together some sandwiches.”

”No, that's too much-”

”No trouble at all. I have to eat, too. I can either eat here, or I can drive home and eat, but it'll be a sandwich, regardless. After cooking all day I never cook dinner for myself.”

Her tone was wry, and completely honest. Carlin wasn't hungry, but she knew she would be later if she didn't eat something now. Besides, she couldn't a.s.sume this little town was as safe a haven as it appeared to be, that Brad couldn't find her here. She didn't see how he could could, but she'd underestimated him too often. She might well be running again tomorrow.

”Okay, thanks. That would be great. I'm not picky, and I don't have any strong likes or dislikes. Except for cabbage. I hate cabbage. And caviar. Blech Blech. Whoever thought eating fish eggs was a good idea? And rutabaga. I don't like rutabaga.”

Kat waited a moment, then said, ”Is that all?”

”Pretty much.”

”Good. I can firmly promise you that I won't make a cabbage, caviar, and rutabaga sandwich.”

”Good G.o.d, that's a repulsive idea,” Carlin said, shuddering.

The sandwiches Kat slapped together were regular ham and cheese, and the two women sat on stools in the kitchen, eating and sipping hot tea. In between bites Kat shared tidbits about Battle Ridge. This was home for her, and while she loved the place, she recognized its faults. And yet she stayed. Carlin started to ask why, and stopped herself. She didn't need to know; didn't need to like Kat Bailey any more than she already did. Maybe the fact that this was home was reason enough for Kat to stay.

Carlin didn't want to get personal, but she did ask questions, about shopping and parking and business, about her new job, and the clientele-lots of cowboys, apparently. They even talked about pie, which was evidently a subject near and dear to both of them. Kat had learned the art of pie-baking from her mother, and Carlin loved to eat pie, so there was an instant connection. She'd seen some of her girlfriends get married with less in common with their new husbands than that.

The shared meal and the conversation were nice. Comfortable. Carlin felt herself relaxing even more, almost as if something inside her was uncoiling. She shook it off, gave herself a good, hard mental poke in the ribs.