on his trail than these two. They suddenly seemed a little scary to him.
AS LUKE DROVE HIS SUV DOWN Cindy’s street, his stomach did a little flutter. It was the same little flutter he got every time he walked into the Miracle Café for his morning coffee and biscuit. And it was Cindy Lefler who did it to him.
He’d been crazy in love with her at one time. Cindy’s naive adoration of him, her pure, uncomplicated emotions, her gentle ways, had gone a long way toward healing the abandoned little boy inside him, and he’d never forgotten it. But she’d been appalled when, just after high school graduation he’d suggested they get married and settle down. That was before he’d realized settle down were dirty words to Cindy.
It wasn’t long after that when long-haul trucker Jim Lefler had stopped for lunch at the Miracle Café and had become entranced with his young waitress, and she with him. Three weeks later, they’d eloped.
When Adam had come along and they’d bought a house in Cottonwood, Jim had fit right in, and everyone agreed that they made a terrific family.
Even Luke came to like Jim Lefler. His unexpected death was an awful thing, and Luke had mourned the passing of a friend and an essential member of the community.
But then there was Cindy, alone again and apparently here in Cottonwood to stay. Luke had promised himself he would wait at least a year before even flirting with Cindy. Then that jerk Dexter Shalimar—Marvin Carter, he reminded himself—had shown up, taking advantage of a woman not only grieving for her husband but her mother, who’d passed not long after Jim. Luke’s timing had always been bad when it came to Cindy.
Luke pulled in to the driveway of the tidy little three-bedroom house Jim and Cindy had bought. The grass needed mowing, he noted, and the flower beds were full of weeds. The blinds were drawn.
Before going to the front door, he peeked through a window into the garage. Cindy’s car was there. He felt a prickle of unease.
He climbed the three stairs to the front porch and rang the bell. He could hear a TV inside, then a child’s babble. Adam was okay, at least. But Cindy didn’t answer the door.
He knocked loudly. “Cindy? It’s me, Luke. I know you’re in there, so open the door.”
“I’m busy, Luke,” she finally called through the door. “You’ll have to come back another time.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“Would you just for heaven’s sake open the door?”
He heard her unfasten the chain, then crack the door. “What is it?”
He could see only half her face. Her wavy, honey-colored hair hung limply to her shoulders. Her complexion was too pale.
He couldn’t see much of the rest of her, just her shoulder and arm and one leg. She wore faded gray sweatpants and a T-shirt with the Red Dog Saloon logo on it.
She was allowed to look a little grubby, he told himself. But her lack of grooming bothered him.
“How are you doing?” he asked gently. “Everyone’s worried about you.”
“Why? I’m…I’m fine. I’m just very busy. Making wedding plans, you know. I have to pack—”
“Cindy, give it a rest. You’re not getting married. Dexter or Marvin or whoever he is isn’t coming back now that he’s got your money. You’ve been had by a very slick, very convincing con man. The best thing is for you to face what’s happened head-on.”
“Does everyone know?” she asked in a whisper.
“Everyone knows, and everyone wants to help any way they can.”
“Oh, my God.” She turned away from the door but left it open. Luke took the opportunity to follow her inside.
The sight that greeted him was alarming, to say the least. The living room was a wreck, littered with empty pizza boxes, dirty dishes, toys, blankets and stacks of videotapes. The sofa cushions were on the floor. It looked as if Cindy had been sleeping in front of the TV.
He would never have classified Cindy as compulsively neat, but normally she wasn’t slovenly, either.
“Looks like you’ve been in some kind of funk, girl.”
CINDY DID NOT WANT TO SEE Luke Rheems, of all people. He’d warned her about Dex. His lawman’s instincts had picked up on qualities Cindy had missed because of her stupid, blind adoration of a man who had pretended to be everything she was looking for. Seeing Luke made her feel even worse, if that was possible.
She wished he would just go away. If everyone would leave her alone, she would be fine.
“I’m merely taking this opportunity to spend some quiet time with my son,” she said, mustering as much dignity as she could.
Luke went around the living room and dining room opening the blinds.
“It’s like a cave in here. And it doesn’t smell too good, either.” He opened a couple of windows. “There.”
“What sort of rumors have those two women been spreading?”
“They haven’t talked to anyone but me, as far as I know. But, Cindy, it’s obvious to everyone what’s happened. Ed LaRue is not a quiet man. Apparently Marvin Carter made up all kinds of lies about you, the town and the café. LaRue is repeating them.”
“Is the café still open?” Cindy asked. She’d been afraid to call or drive by.
“No. Ed closed it up and fired all the employees. He has an extended family he plans to give full employment to.”
“Oh, no. Poor Kate and Iris and Tonya—and Manson! What will they do?”
“What will you do?”
“I’m fine. I was going to sell the restaurant anyway. I’ll be happy not to ever bake another biscuit as long as I live.”
“You’re not fine, Cindy. If Marvin Carter followed his usual MO, he wiped you out.” He took her by the arms and looked straight into her eyes. “C’mon, honey, snap out of it. You have to do something. You have to take action. It’s not just you anymore. You have a child to support.”
“Adam is being well taken care of, thank you very much.” She shook off Luke’s touch, though in truth it was tempting to just fall into those strong arms, to lean against Luke’s muscular shoulder and cry her little eyes out. “Okay, maybe Dexter’s…unexpected and inappropriate actions have knocked me a little off balance. But I’m taking good care of Adam.” She’d bathed him every day, even if she’d been less scrupulous about her own grooming, and he always got clean clothes and three healthy meals a day.
Instead of believing her, Luke walked into her kitchen, past more piles of dirty dishes and empty cereal boxes and milk bottles, and opened the fridge.
“It looks a little meager.”
“I need to go to the store. Big deal.”
“And how will you pay for the groceries?”
“I have money.” But not as much as she’d thought. The seven hundred-plus dollars in her checking account had dwindled down to under two hundred once her last mortgage check had cleared. She’d figured she could afford another week’s worth of groceries—another week she could pretend that Dex was coming back.
Luke looked at her, his disbelief evident in those deep, knowing eyes of his.
“I’ve got lots of equity in my house. I can get an equity loan to tide me over while I regroup.”
“I hope you’re right.”
The chug-chugging of a diesel engine reverberated outside, coming to a pause in front of Cindy’s house. Curious, she returned to the living room and looked out the window. A huge Ryder truck was in the process