Silver Bracelets: A Loveswept Contemporary Classic Romance Page 7
“Relax, buddy, all I want is some information.”
“Yeah, what?”
“You know anything about the locksmiths in this county? I mean I busted my cuffs and I want to find somebody to take a look at them.”
“Well, there’s Jimmy J. over on Roswell Road.”
“No, I mean—I heard that there’s a woman who’s pretty good.”
He’d thought he was being casual, but from the quick jerk of Clarence’s head Asa knew that he hadn’t fooled him at all.
“Sarah, huh? That’d be Sarah Wilson. Everybody knows Sarah. Her daddy, Big Jim Wilson, was one of the best catchers the Atlanta Crackers ever had.”
Asa didn’t recognize the name, but he’d heard some of the men over at the courthouse talk about Atlanta’s Triple A team and Jim Wilson, the man with the big heart. He’d played hurt for the last two years of his career. When he’d finally hung it up, he’d still been a young man, but with a body that was broken and maimed. But locksmith? Canyon was surprised.
“Where is her place?”
“In Oakdale, between South Cobb and Atlanta Road. You can’t miss it.”
Asa knew the area. He told himself that he wasn’t going over there. Sarah was too young for him. She was too fresh and innocent for him. She was too giving for her own good. He had to protect her from herself. But he didn’t listen.
Sarah’s building was dilapidated and in need of fresh paint. The Wilson’s Lock Service sign was almost unreadable. Leaving his truck running, Asa got out and stepped up to the shop. Resting against the window was a message printed on a piece of cardboard:
PLAYING IN A TOURNAMENT TODAY. OPEN MONDAY ABOUT 10:00, PROBABLY. SARAH.
He hadn’t expected her to be open on Sunday, but certainly on Monday. Open about 10:00, probably? What kind of business did she run? No regular hours. Midnight calls to a location she didn’t know, to unlock the handcuffs on a man chained to a brass bed. What kind of risks did she routinely take? He bet she didn’t even have an answering service that kept up with her calls.
A quick stop at a phone booth proved how right his guess was. An answering machine crackled on and Sarah’s cheerful voice chimed out, “Hi, this is Sarah. I’m at the ball park. Be back sooner or later. If this is Mother, the money for the electric company is under the mat. If it’s anybody else, don’t you dare touch it. Bye now. Oh, yes, if this happens to be Asa, the coffee pot’s on the stove if you want to come by later. I’ll be alone and in need of company.”
Asa swore.
The money’s under the mat.
I’ll be alone and in need of company.
Sarah Wilson was practically inviting anyone who called her number to rob her. Asa cringed.
At least she hadn’t given out her address. Anybody who took advantage of her open invitation would either have to know where Sarah lived or look up her address, which was—he flipped through the directory—listed right there under her name.
Being trusting was one thing, but being foolish was something that Asa Canyon couldn’t tolerate. He’d learned that the hard way. He told himself it was his sense of responsibility that made him slam the phone book closed and burn rubber as he roared off down the highway.
Twenty minutes later he was knocking on Sarah’s barn door. The loading door to the hayloft creaked open and Sarah looked down.
“Come on up. The outside door’s open.”
“Of course it is,” he grumbled under his breath as he climbed the steps. “Why?” he asked as she opened the door to her living quarters. “Why would you leave such a message on your answering machine? Suppose somebody other than me called you?”
“Suppose they did? If their name isn’t Asa, they aren’t invited. The coffee’s hot.”
Open-mouthed, Asa just stood there. He was so stunned that he could neither move nor answer her. Sarah must have been in bed, reading—with the door open.
She had a pair of eyeglasses with red frames shoved back on her head, holding her boyish hair away from her face. She was wearing an oversize white T-shirt with a seashell and the name “Jekyll Island” spelled out across her breasts. The bottom of the shirt hit her thighs about halfway to her knees. Her feet were bare. She looked so desirable, and he wanted to smother her in his arms.
“Do you have an oilcan?” he said, cursing himself for not having a reasonable argument against what she thought was a reasonable statement.
“An oilcan? Why, are we playing Wizard of Oz?”
“We’re not playing anything.”
“Are you angry with me, Asa?”
“Yes! No! I don’t know what I am.”
Asa felt his frustration tighten into a knot somewhere between his belly button and his—damn! He couldn’t even let himself think about that part of his body. He knew that he was cutting her into pieces with his gaze. His rigid control was in shambles, all because he wanted to kiss her so badly that it frightened him.
Sarah met his frown with a smile. “Don’t worry, Asa. I know you’re worried about me. You wouldn’t be yelling if you weren’t. I forgive you. Come inside and close the door. I think there’s an oilcan around here somewhere.”
Once he was inside, she raised her hand and placed one finger against his lips as if she were imploring him to put his anger away. And somehow the gesture worked. Her touch seemed to calm the anger that raged through him.
“Your outside door to the hayloft squeaks,” he said at last. “I’ll oil it for you.”
“It does? I hadn’t noticed.”
“I know. You never see a problem, do you?”
“Not if I can help it.” Sarah was now on her knees in front of the cabinet beneath the sink, pulling out an assortment of cleaning supplies and cooking utensils. “I know it’s in here someplace.”
Asa squatted down beside her, choking back a reprimand. “You keep all this stuff in here together?”
“Sure. I don’t use these pans much so it doesn’t matter if I can’t get to them easily. Nope, not here. Maybe it’s mixed in with the canned goods.”
“But, Sarah, all the cleaning supplies should be in one place. Pots and pans should be in one place, and food—”
“Oh, yes, I remember,” she interrupted. “It’s in the van in my tool kit. I’ll be right back.”
Asa automatically began replacing the items in the cabinet in an orderly manner. By the time Sarah returned he had organized the two adjacent cabinets, using every available space.
“My, my, that’s really neat,” she commented, handing Asa the can of oil. “Do you do windows?” she asked as he greased the noisy hinges.
“Every March.”
Sarah folded her arms across her chest and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. “And you’re kind to women and children. You have the oil in your truck changed every 3,000 miles, and I’ll bet you never tear the label off a pillow, do you?”
Asa was having trouble focusing on her question. Her folded arms lifted her breasts enticingly. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and he couldn’t keep himself from staring.
“I’ve never met anyone as innocent as you, Sarah,” Asa said in a gravelly voice. “You seem to have appointed yourself my guardian angel and I don’t know what to do about it. When I opened that door last night and you were standing there you turned me to butter and I haven’t been worth a damn since and I don’t like that.”
“I know.”
“How do you know? What makes you so smart, lady?”
“Because I feel the same way. The only difference is, I’ve decided not to fight it.”
“And that’s what I don’t understand. Why?”
“Come over to the table and sit down.” Sarah held out her hand. Asa took it.
Together they walked over to the little table by the window that overlooked the pasture beyond. Asa let go of Sarah and forced himself to sit down across from her. He ought to get out of there. She wasn’t part of his future, and he knew it. But, damn it, he wanted her like he’d never wanted anyone before.
“My father was a baseball player,” she began.
“I know. Big Jim Wilson, with the Atlanta Crackers. Hit twenty-four home runs in his last season.”
“He’d known for a long time that his knees were going. He’d already lost hearing in one ear from being hit by a foul ball … but what the world didn’t know was that he had diabetes.”
“I hadn’t heard about that.”
“Eventually he had to have both legs amputated. By that time I was attending technical school at night. I’d been tagging along after him for years, helping with the locksmith business in the off-season at first, then later, well, I did all the work.” Her hands left her chin and curled into fists on the table.
“I’m sorry, Sarah. I didn’t mean to bring up sad memories for you.”
“That’s all right. They aren’t sad. My father never let me be sad, even when we both knew that he was dying. He was special. He started playing with the Crackers when he was only sixteen. He gave up a chance to go to college on a scholarship. Playing baseball was his Pulitzer Prize, his pot of gold. Even when he knew that it was killing him.”
“You mean because of the diabetes?”
“Yes. He reached a point when he couldn’t tell that he’d been hurt. He had little feeling in his feet and legs.”
“But he kept on playing? What did your mother think of that?”
There was a slight pause. “She didn’t like it. She never understood that Pop had a different way of seeing everything. Life was to be lived, enjoyed. There was a good side to everything, and he always managed to find it.”
“Just like you,” Asa said softly, beginning to see where Sarah got her unorthodox approach to life. Her father had found silver linings in the rain clouds and Sarah was doing the same thing. But their rose-colored glasses didn’t make the storms go away. And storms could kill you.
“I don’t know about that. I do know that we’ve been given only so much time to live and if we waste it with being negative it only hurts us. Being happy is up to us and we mustn’t lose a chance at every bit of what’s available.”
Sarah uncurled her fingers and lifted her cup. “Drink your coffee before it gets cold.”
Asa welcomed the heat of the liquid as he sipped it. “Perfect. You got the sugar right and that rarely happens. People are always trying to change my taste.”
“I watched you. Since you’re so precise I thought I’d better pay attention.”
“Speaking of paying attention, Sarah, I wish you’d be more careful about the message on your answering machine. I know you think there aren’t any dishonest people in the world, but there are. Don’t invite them to find you by saying there’s money under the mat.”
“Asa, I’m not as foolish as all that. Even if they looked up my address, they wouldn’t bother me. They’d go to the house. And Mother has a burglar alarm that would protect Fort Knox. We’re in the locksmith business, remember?”
“Doesn’t your mother worry about you?”
“After twenty years with my father she finally decided that it’s better to leave me alone. Besides, she’s remarried.”
“Remarried?”
“She loved my father, but he never understood her. Her new husband is a normal man who lives the kind of normal orderly life she always wanted. Pop would have wanted it for her.”
“I hate to say it,” Asa observed wryly, “but I can understand her confusion. If her life with your dad was anything like my being with you, she must have felt like she was living in a fantasy half the time.”
“Yes. She used to say that being in love with Pop was like being the little girl in an old nursery rhyme she knew. When it was good it was very good …”
“But when it was bad, it was horrid.”
Sarah gave Asa a long, sad look. “Yes, I guess, for a man like you, the way I live must look pretty horrid.”
Asa couldn’t keep back a half-smile. “I don’t know. At the moment I think I’m too caught up in feeling good.”
Sarah looked at Asa’s strong face and cloudy gray eyes. He was such a complex man, and there was a vulnerable side to him that drew her. “You know you’re taking a risk talking like that.”
“I know,” he murmured. “It’s foolish for me to even be here.”
“Yes. I suppose this could be considered very improper. But being here might turn out to be fun. It might even become addictive.”
“I know, and it scares the hell out of me.”
“Don’t feel like that, Asa. Sometimes you have to take risks. There may be pain but we can’t appreciate the joy without the sorrow, can we?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ve never had any kind of joy to make the comparison.”
“Until now, Deputy Canyon. I’m about to show you how to have fun. My kiss is a promise, remember?”
“Forget that,” he said ruefully. Anybody that could make me have fun would have to be a genie.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe I wrinkled my nose and wished you here.”
“Maybe you did. And maybe I’m glad.” He stood up and held out his hand.
Sarah moved into his arms and gave herself to his embrace. This time he asked, and he knew that he was asking. When she returned his kiss and pressed herself against him, he accepted and offered himself in return. There was no urgency as they explored each other’s mouths, as their hands touched and caressed.
“There’s nothing wrong with loving each other,” Sarah said, sliding her fingers inside his shirt.
“No, there’s nothing wrong with this.” His hand was circling her breasts, teasing her nipples through the soft cotton shirt.
“Ahhh!” Sarah couldn’t hold back a moan of pleasure.
He stopped kissing her and held her in his arms, rocking her back and forth as he tried to calm his senses.
“Sarah, we have to stop. I can’t believe what I just did, what I’m doing. I should never have come here. This is wrong.”
“That’s not what you said a minute ago. You said it was good. You’re a contradictory man, Deputy Canyon, and I think you’re just a little turned on.”
Asa dropped his arms and stepped back. She was right. There was no concealing his desire. Nor could he deal with her open statement of fact. He simply couldn’t think of an answer of any kind.
“So are you,” he finally said.
“Absolutely,” she agreed, taking a step forward. “Would you kiss me again?”
“Absolutely not,” was his answer. At least he thought it was. “Go to bed,” he mumbled, then cursed himself for his inane remark. “I’m leaving now, Sarah. Lock the door behind me, please.”
“If you insist.”
“Of course I insist. I don’t want you to be robbed.”
“I mean on leaving.”
“I do.” He turned and started down the stairs.
“Call me, Asa, when you get home, so I won’t worry.”
“I can’t,” he said. “I don’t have your number.”
“Yes, you do. The shop number rings both places. I’ll pick up when you call.”
When Asa reached his cabin and dialed her number, he decided to make his words short and sweet.
“Hi, this is Sarah,” the recording said. “Please leave a message if you need me and I’ll get back to you.”
“I’m home, Sarah. Good night. And it was good, very very good,” Asa said. As he hung up, he added under his breath, “But I wish it had been horrid.”
Five
Sarah drove into the empty parking area adjacent to her building, and looked around. There was no old man waiting for his safe, just as there hadn’t been for the past five days.
There was no silver t
ruck either, though she half expected it. Since the night Asa had kissed her in her hayloft, he had either stopped by the barn at night to check on her, or waited at the shop in the mornings. They’d had lunch together a few times in between, talking, getting to know each other, learning that opposites can coexist and draw from each other.
Asa hadn’t touched her. They hadn’t even held hands. His determination to keep a safe distance between them was driving her crazy. And she was getting very worried about Mr. Grimsley.
Opening the safe had seen so urgent to him, yet she hadn’t heard a word since he’d left the safe. She would have had to report failure, if he’d called. She had tried every conceivable combination and the safe was still locked. Whatever it held was likely to be there for all time, unless she got lucky.
She opened the door and flipped on the air conditioner, breathing a sigh of relief that a cold front was coming through. The state tournament was next week and she didn’t look forward to playing in 100 degree August weather. She turned on the answering machine to pick up her calls. There were four inquiries about having dead bolts installed.
The fifth message was a surprise—not the voice, but the request. It was Asa. He must have called just after she left the house, otherwise she’d have heard the phone ringing.
“Sarah, the sheriff’s department is sponsoring a booth at the Cotton Patch Days festival on the square Saturday. I’ve been drafted to help. Would … would you like to go? I’d pick you up about eleven o’clock and we’d probably stay through the street dance that follows. I’ll call you about seven tonight for your answer.”
The rest of the day seemed to fly by. Sarah felt as happy as one of the seven dwarves going off to work. The deputy sheriff had asked her to go out in public with him on a real date. He was making their relationship official. Life couldn’t get much better than that.
Jake Dalton called, asking her to take in a movie on Saturday night. Sarah had to refuse, explaining that she had plans for the weekend.
“Deputy Canyon?”
“Yes.”
“I knew it.” Jake seemed disappointed but resigned. “Just remember, Sarah, I’m here for you, if it doesn’t work.”