Part 37 (1/2)
”You're not?”
”I never did get what you were trying to prove. Or who you were proving it to.”
Tia woke to the smell of steak and coffee and a pair of golden eyes. She didn't dare move until the animal brushed past with a furtive gait no one would mistake for tame. A small version of the mother wobbled up behind on stumpy legs.
Coyotes. Liz hadn't lied.
The moment the animals pa.s.sed, she shot upright in Jonah's recliner, a blanket slipping to the floor. The last thing she remembered was telling Jonah about Reba's new baby and their inadvertent nondisclosure. She dropped her face to her hands, ma.s.saging her eyes-and froze at the touch of Jonah's hand on her neck. She turned. Rumpled and ragged, he looked achingly irresistible.
He whispered, ”Sarge sleeps in, so let's take our plates out to the porch and let the dogs roam.”
He acted as though it were nothing, having her there in his kitchen in the morning, handing her steak and eggs that wafted a glorious aroma and a mug of coffee creamed blond, the way she had drunk it as a teenager-and still did when she didn't have tea.
”Come on.” He balanced his mug on his plate to open the door and motioned her silently out into the misty mountain morning.
A stream that would eventually feed Kicking Horse Creek burbled in its bed, while jays and chickadees hopped and twittered in the trees. He held the door for the coyote and her offspring. When the puppy whined at the perilous ledge of the first step, Jonah set his plate on the half-log railing and carried the pup down, carefully setting it on its wobbly legs. Enola knocked it over with her tongue.
”Now was that necessary?” Jonah put his hands to his hips.
The dog must have thought so since she kept licking. Jonah came back up.
Tia set her dishes on the railing, the end of her nose and fingertips chilling, her jeans and brown ramie sweater barely warm enough. She could just imagine her hair. ”People will think we slept together.”
”We did.”
”I mean-”
”I know what you mean. You need to stop worrying what people think.”
”Right.” She expelled her breath. ”Jonah, I've worked hard to repair my reputation. I've been scrupulous about appearances, but people haven't forgotten. There are plenty out there just waiting for me to show my stripes.”
”Like who?”
She looked over her shoulder. ”Like Sarge for one. If he sees me here, he'll know everything my mom said about me is true.”
”You misjudge him.”
She dropped her head to the side. ”Jonah, I know exactly what he thinks of me.”
He frowned. ”I'd have expected this conversation if we'd done something last night. But I'm having a hard time seeing what I should feel guilty about.”
”I'm not saying you should feel guilty. But I don't have the luxury of everyone's respect. I've had to overcome years of my own rebellion and others' judgment. Now it looks like-”
Jonah spread his arm. ”Who's going to see?”
She looked around at the dark trees and aspen. Maybe she was overreacting, but, ”All it takes is one word, and the whispers start again. The looks, the raised eyebrows. People thinking they know.” She glared. ”I've had to live down what we did, on my own. I can't risk-”
”Being with me?”
”Being with anyone in a way that dredges it all up again.”
”We're having breakfast. And by the way, I like it hot.” Scowling, he lifted his plate and stabbed a bite of eggs, the yolk running down his fork.
”I didn't know you're grumpy in the morning.”
”You'd know a lot of things if you hadn't kicked me to the curb.”
Touchy too. She cut a sliver of thin, rare steak. ”You'd know some things also.”
”Like what?”
”I prefer my steak medium.” She'd been joking, but he grabbed her plate and swept back inside. She stared at the swinging screen, jaw slack. Obviously neither were at their best today.
Gripping the hot cup, she took a sip of coffee and watched the coyotes sniff around the base of the porch. The puppy could not be more than a few weeks old, still tumbling off his legs. She could see what looked like German shepherd markings in the mother, although her shape was all coyote.
Jonah came back, returned her plate, and took a bite from his own cold steak. He chewed in silence.
”I was joking.”
He washed his bite down with coffee. ”Let me tell you about appearances, Tia. My father sat in a pew every Sunday with his lovely wife-except for the times when her bruises would have shown. He and other respected officials chuckled together as they wove their webs and slept with other men's wives and decided who should be punished and who got a pa.s.s.” He speared her. ”So guess what? I don't care about appearances.”
”But that's your world, Jonah. You haven't had it held over you for nine years.”
”The h.e.l.l I haven't.”
”Not by everyone you lost.”
”By the one who mattered.” He put his half-eaten breakfast on the porch floor and turned to her. Leaning one arm on the post, he said, ”I need to know if you're in this with me.”
”Or what? You have someone else?”
His face darkened. ”Yeah, Tia. I have them waiting in line.”
She looked down. ”That's what Liz said.”
He grabbed her chin and raised her face. ”The only women in my life are that four-legged one and you.” His eyes pierced. ”If there's no chance-”
”I wouldn't be here.” The words wrenched her emotion out with them.
He searched her face, then buried his hands in her hair and kissed her. Eyes closed against the tears, she kissed him back with nine years of loss and longing.
They both stiffened at the snarling growl, and Jonah's fingers slackened, coming to rest against her cheek. ”Don't panic.”
She tried to look around him at the coyote.
”Hold still.” He slowly lowered his hands, moving back inches at a time from her.