He flushed again.
His ability to flush might be endearing, but she wasn’t letting him off the hook so easily. “I might have to rent some space on a billboard. I’ll tell the town what a marshmallow you really are.”
“You’d have trouble finding a spare billboard in this town.”
Luke looked downright human when he fought a grin, which was good enough for her.
She turned to study the town. The buildings around them were a hodgepodge of materials and styles, some were stucco and others brick. A few stood vacant with boards where the windows would have been. Others appeared to be closed up for the night. She spotted a convenience store and a restaurant with a line of trucks in the parking lot.
She guessed the taverns must be out of the city limits. There were no neon cocktails flashing on the side of the road. She remembered Joey with a jolt of pain. It was just as well the taverns were out of reach.
“You people really do roll up the streets at sundown.”
“We like it quiet.”
He turned west and the sky was on fire with the setting sun. She sucked in her breath at the glory of it. “It’s magnificent.”
“Yeah. It’s pretty. With no skyscrapers or trees to block the sky you can literally see for miles. This part of the country is known for its big skies. Just wait till the stars come out.”
He pulled into a small motel.
A small thrill of alarm swept through her. “I figured we’d go and get my car.” She pulled a piece of hair around to rub against her cheek.
“I’ll deliver it tomorrow. You look tired.”
“I’m not tired. I slept all day.” She put her hand up to cover the yawn that threatened to give her away. “I feel naked without my car.”
Roxy couldn’t see if he was blushing again, or if it was the light from the sunset coloring his face. She hated this mushy, vulnerable feeling. Who was he? Why did he make her feel as if he could cleanse her tarnished soul with his innocence?
The ability to blush is no indication of innocence. He’s probably had his share of binges and women. Get a hold of yourself. You’re just tired and sick.
She flinched when he reached over as if to touch her face. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I can tell you’re not feeling great.”
“How?”
“Your freckles get darker when you’re feeling poorly.”
She covered her nose. “It’s not polite to point out a woman’s flaws. I don’t have any makeup with me.”
He grinned. “You don’t need any makeup.”
It went straight to her gut.
He left her sitting with her mouth open when he got out of the car. Slowly she followed him, wondering what had just happened. Did Sheriff Luke Hermann have a soft spot for women with freckles?
Luke went into the lobby of the motel. Through the window she could see him conversing with an older man. Rubbing her hands on the front pockets of her shorts, Roxy turned to watch the fading glory of the sunset.
It felt strange to be sober and still have no resources. She didn’t want to rely on Luke, or anyone. Once she checked out of the clinic, she’d planned to turn off on a side road and sleep in her car. She just couldn’t spend the night in the clinic. The smell of the place brought back some really bad memories.
I can pay him tomorrow when the money comes. She didn’t suppose she had any choice. And if he’d found her in her car tomorrow he might have done that records search after all. She didn’t know if she could have faced him if he’d discovered she’d been hauled into jail.
Mostly to dry out. But no decent person could understand the life she’d led before. Especially not Farmer John.
He’d never understand the struggle she faced daily, taking her life a day at a time. He was far too perfect to understand someone as flawed as her. Even if he liked freckles.
“Lloyd put you in room fourteen. He says you can use the pool anytime. Just use your key to open the privacy gate.”
Grateful to have her back to him, Roxy regained her composure. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep.” She finally turned to face him. He stood, illuminated in the fading light. Her own eyes were full of shadows.
“It’s over here, near the end. He only has the fifteen units. There’s a pool beside the last one.”
She followed him down a sidewalk lined with cactus. She watched his buttocks move beneath his pants as he strode along on those long masculine legs of his. Watch it, girl! Those attributes just happen to belong to a cop.
They passed three cars lined up outside the doors. A neon sign above them flashing a dancing cactus in verdant green lent the building an unearthly quality.
As Roxy brushed past the sheriff to look beyond the end of the building, she ignored the tingle of awareness and the heat coming off of him. The huge neon sign sat primarily above the fenced pool area. She couldn’t see the pool for the high privacy fence shielding it from the highway.
She looked back over her shoulder and gestured toward the sign. “I’ll bet all that neon gives the pool some interesting ambience. How far are we from Roswell?”
Luke stood stubbornly in front of the room. “That sign can be seen for miles and miles. It’s probably a godsend for travelers who think there’s not another town till El Paso.”
“There isn’t. This place doesn’t qualify as a real town.” Roxy headed back.
“You should be grateful there’s a town. You’d be coyote bait if I hadn’t found you.”
She didn’t look back. She just stood at the door of room fourteen. She wondered if she should invite him in and then throw him out. It was a tempting thought. He needed to be taken down a few pegs.
“What? No gushing gratitude?” he asked as he stopped next to her in front of the room. He handed her the key with a plastic cactus hanging from it.
“The owners of the motel overdid the desert theme,” she commented, figuring it was a safe topic. She couldn’t imagine why she’d want to invite him in unless her illness had caused temporary insanity. Roxy just wanted him gone. “I’ll bet you the room is orange.”
“I’d lose. I think Lloyd’s color blind. He always wears the same shade of brown.”
Roxy blinked. “Isn’t there a Mrs. Lloyd to help him with the color scheme?”
“Naw, she moved to Laredo. I guess she doesn’t like small towns, either.”
Roxy tried to concentrate on opening the door. How awkward to be standing in front of a motel room with a man she hardly knew. A place where strangers went to be intimate.
Her normally clever fingers fumbled with the key.
Everything external went away when he gently took the key from her hand. Her fingers tingled from the contact. He felt so masculine looming over her, making her feel a sense of security—and an unaccustomed hunger. His strong hands took hold of the knob. Her breath caught, then released in the rhythm of his actions. Her body hummed to a tune she hadn’t heard in over two years.
She licked her lips as he fit the key into the lock.
Could he feel it? The air thickened. Everything stood still. Storm weather. Would it be slow and easy when he touched her or would all hell break loose?
With agonizing patience he slid the key home.
She blinked. How had he mesmerized her with so simple an action?
“The lock’s sticking.”
Roxy