Wyoming Winter. Diana Palmer
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you okay?” she asked worriedly.
“I’m fine.” He tugged at the neck of his polo shirt. “I’m just hot.”
“It’s cold in here,” she began.
“You’re always cold,” he shot back. He turned away. He stopped and looked back at her. “You still going around with J.C.?”
“Sort of,” she said, surprised. “We went over to the casino at Lander last week.”
He laughed hollowly. “I’ll bet Daddy loved that.”
“He doesn’t interfere.”
His eyes narrowed. “J.C. won’t settle down, you know.”
“I know that, Rod.” She studied him. “You and J.C. were close before you got out of the service. You don’t spend much time with him now.”
“We have different interests, that’s all.” His face hardened. “He’s such a straight arrow,” he muttered. “I guess it’s his background.”
“His background?” she probed, always interested in any tidbit of information about J.C. that she didn’t already know.
“He was a policeman before he went into the armed services,” he said. “Worked in Billings for a couple of years as a beat cop. They said he was hell on wife beaters. Almost put a man in the hospital. The guy had beaten his pregnant wife bloody and threw his toddler down the steps. Killed the little boy. J.C. did a number on him. There weren’t any charges. The guy attacked J.C. the minute he walked in the door with his partner. Bad move. He’s a lot stronger than he looks.”
“I can’t imagine anyone bad enough to hurt a child,” Colie said solemnly.
“The guy used,” he said. “Idiot. You never take more than you need for a buzz. That’s just stupid.”
He was using terms she’d heard at work when her bosses dictated letters about drug cases they were defending.
“I don’t know anything about drugs,” she commented.
“Just as well,” he told her. “What’s for supper?” he added, changing the subject.
“Meat loaf and mashed potatoes. And I made a cherry pie.”
He managed a smile. “Sounds good.”
“I’ll get busy.”
He watched her walk away. He was uneasy. He didn’t dare let anything slip that she might pick up on. If she found out what he was doing and told J.C., his friend would go to the authorities in a heartbeat, despite their years of friendship. J.C. had serious prejudices about people who used drugs. He was even worse about dealers.
* * *
COLIE WISHED SHE’D thought to give J.C. her cell phone number, or that she’d asked for his. She could have sent him text messages.
Then she caught herself. He didn’t seem the type of person who did a lot of chatting. She’d had only one phone conversation with him, if you could call it that. He’d called that time when he was invited to dinner, that first time that he’d asked her out. He’d said he was going to be a few minutes late. He’d said barely two words to her and hung up. That was the extent of their phone conversations.
She wished he’d called her, though. She’d have loved to hear the sound of his voice, even if it was only two or three words’ worth. But he didn’t call. And his two or three days turned into a week.
She knew he was still in Denver because her friend Lucy had a cousin who worked in retail, and he was also attending the gadget convention. He mentioned to Lucy that J.C. was chatting up a gorgeous platinum blonde and said maybe that was the reason he hadn’t come home sooner.
Lucy told Colie when she persisted, but she hated doing it. Colie’s face fell. It was what she’d expected to happen. She wasn’t pretty or sophisticated. J.C. had even mentioned that the girl he fell in love with was like a supermodel in looks.
She was so depressed. She’d had all sorts of stupid dreams, about being with J.C. for the rest of her life, of changing his mind about having a home of his own and a family. Now those dreams were being changed into nightmares with platinum blonde hair.
* * *
IF SHE COULD have seen J.C., the depression would have lifted. As most gossip was, the bit about him and the blonde was blown all out of proportion. He’d been overseas with another man who trained local law enforcement in the Middle East during his vacations, an Apache man named Phillip Hunter who worked private security in Houston. Hunter’s wife, Jennifer, was a geologist. She was so beautiful, even in her thirties and with two children, that she turned heads everywhere. It was Jennifer that J.C. had been talking to while Hunter went to talk to one of the vendors about an updated closed circuit camera system for Ritter Oil Corporation, where Hunter was head of security.
Jennifer was as conservative as her husband, and it would never have occurred to her to cheat on him. She was simply enjoying talking about her work to J.C., who knew something about the mining industry. Geology was an interest of his. When he was very young, his father was always bringing home unusual rocks from work. J.C. hated the memory of his father, but he’d always loved geology.
He missed Colie. He didn’t want to. He knew that he could never give her the things she wanted. It was sad, because she was the kind of woman any man would be proud to call his own. But a family, kids...that wasn’t him. He’d been on his own too long.
Maybe he was overthinking it. He should just take it one day at a time and not take life so seriously.
Phillip Hunter rejoined them, smiling. He was older than Jennifer, probably in his forties by now. He had silver at his temples and threads of silver in his thick, straight jet-black hair. But he was still as fit a man as any J.C. had ever seen. He kept in fighting trim. He and Jennifer had two children, a daughter, Nikki, and a son, Jason. They seemed perfectly happy together, for an old married couple. J.C., who had rarely seen a good marriage, was impressed. His foster parents had been like these two. Their deaths had been worse than a tragedy to him. He was only eleven when he lost them in the fire. That placed him in other foster homes, ones not as nice or welcoming or secure as the one he’d had. He had painful memories of those days, after the fire, memories he’d shared with no one. Not even with Colie.
“Are you going back over month after next?” Phillip asked J.C., meaning Iraq, where they both were involved in training courses. But while J.C. taught police procedure, Phillip taught private security.
“I am,” J.C. replied. “I like the challenge.”
“You like the risk,” Jennifer chided, glancing at her husband with a grin. “Like someone else I know.”
Phillip pulled her against him and kissed her hair. “I can’t live without a little risk. You knew that when you married me, cover girl,” he teased.
She pressed close with a sigh and closed her eyes. “Yes, I did. Warts and all, I can’t imagine any other way of life. It’s been wonderful.”
“It has,” her taciturn husband replied gently. The look they shared made J.C. uncomfortable. It spoke of a closeness he’d never known.
“I guess you’re going to be a bachelor forever,” Jennifer mused as she studied J.C.’s hard face.
“Looks like it.” He sighed. He smiled. “I’m not domesticated.”
Phillip chuckled. “Let’s get something to eat. All these electronic gadgets remind me of stoves, and stoves remind me of wonderful meals,” he added, winking at Jennifer.
“Lucky you, that I finally learned to boil water!” She laughed.
It was a private joke. She’d always been a great cook.
J.C. was impressed by the way they got along. He’d had lovers; never a woman he could tease or joke with,