Good Girls Don't Kiss and Tell Page 3

She broke their eye contact to rummage around in her purse for her phone. When the phone was free from the confines of her purse, he realized what the song was and made a face.

  “‘I Melt’? Really?”

  Gracie blushed. “It’s Darrin, and I happen to like this song.” Without giving him a chance to respond, she answered the call. “Hey sweetie.”

  Eric turned in his seat and started the car. It took all he had not to gun the engine; good old Darrin probably drove a Prius.

  “Yeah, Gemma had to go to the hospital. They think she might be developing preeclampsia, so they’re watching her overnight.” Gracie cleared her throat. “No, it’s fine. I understand it was a lot to ask. Yeah, I’ll see you later. Okay, bye.”

  Eric kept his hands on the wheel, determined not to say anything else. He just lost his head whenever he was around her. Gracie didn’t speak either, and the only sound was the windshield wipers as it removed the snowflakes falling faster and faster.

  When he pulled up behind her car thirty minutes later, she finally said, “Thank you for driving me to the hospital and everything. I forget sometimes that you can be nice.”

  The teasing fell flat, though, and he just nodded.

  “Bye, then.”

  She seemed to be waiting for something, but hell if he knew what she wanted. “Later.”

  When she huffed, he turned to look at her, only she was already slamming out of his car. “Whatever.”

  Whatever?

  He let her go, a dark cloud settling over him. He needed to get over this infatuation with Gracie McAllister. He just had no idea how to quit her.

  He pulled out of the driveway and headed home. His younger brother, Grant, and the rest of the staff had everything under control at Buck’s Shot Bar tonight, and his dad had grabbed his mom from Gemma’s when he’d taken off with Gracie. He’d have to call them and let them know Gemma was going to be okay.

  They had mentioned they’d be headed to Jackpot after the shower. His parents might be in their late sixties, early seventies, but they acted like a couple of kids together. Still in love after all this time. And best friends.

  If he ever settled down, that was what he wanted. A friend he couldn’t wait to see every day, who, even if he was pissed at her, was still his favorite person.

  He hadn’t found her yet, but he wasn’t in a hurry either. He was only thirty-six. His uncle didn’t get married and have kids until he was almost fifty.

  Eric pulled into his driveway a few minutes later and parked his car in the garage. It was detached, since he’d bought his land first, then his twenty-year-old modular once the land and the utilities were installed. He’d paid cash for his home, and then updated it room by room. Hardwood floors. New sheet rock and insulation in the walls. His place had been his project, and he was proud of it.

  The snow falling obscured the view of the Sawtooth Mountains and the Snake River Canyon. He’d financed the 5.7 acres when he was twenty-four, and he’d never regretted it. On top of having a fantastic view, it was secluded, away from the bustle of town. God knew he got enough of people at the bar; the last thing he wanted was close neighbors.

  He stomped his boots on the welcome mat and walked inside. The first thing he did was start to call out to Bones, his Rottweiler-pit bull mix, but then he remembered that Bones was gone. He’d had to put him down the week before; he’d come home to find Bones on the floor, unable to move. He’d called Rock Canyon Veterinary Hospital, and they’d thought he’d probably had a stroke. Eric had petted his head and bawled like a baby as he’d said good-bye to his best friend.

  Clearing his throat past the lump that had formed, Eric grabbed a beer from the fridge and settled in front of the TV, stopping on a Sons of Anarchy rerun. In a little while, he’d make dinner, maybe call some of his friends and see if they were up for a game of poker.

  Not much of a rockin’ Saturday night.

  Chapter Four

  “Nosy people are so irritating, don’t you think? Oh, wait…HA!” - Miss Know-It-All’s Gossip Column.

  Gracie usually alternated Thanksgiving and Christmas with her parents, and since this Thanksgiving she was on her own, she volunteered to deliver meals to families in need in their community. Afterwards, she usually went to Travis and Gemma’s, but after a week of listening to Gemma bitch about being on bed rest, she needed a break. She’d bought a precooked meal at Hall’s Market yesterday and had made a couple of pies for her own enjoyment. Maybe it was overkill, but at least she could make the desserts she wanted to eat, instead of the ones her mother always chose.

  She’d actually been a little relieved that Darrin hadn’t asked her to go to his parents’. He’d come over the night of Gemma’s baby shower, and they’d watched a movie on the couch. Well, she’d watched; he’d kept trying to stick his hands down her pants while he’d slobbered on her neck. She just hadn’t been feeling it and had finally said she was feeling sick to her stomach. He’d been out the door faster than she could say indigestion.

  It was obvious she just wasn’t that into him, but she needed him, at least until her parents left. It might have been wrong to use the guy, but if it was between stringing him along another month or having to experience the weight of disappointment in her mother’s eyes, she’d play him like a fiddle.

  She was down to her last meal delivery a little after two and walked up the steps to little duplex’s door. She knocked a couple of times, and nobody answered. She had just turned around to leave when the door creaked open behind her.

  She looked down into the dirty face of a little girl, just a toddler. She was wearing a short-sleeved night dress with Ariel on the front, and her hair was a tangled mess around her head. Her thumb was shoved into her mouth, and her big blue eyes stared up at Gracie apprehensively.

  “Hey, sweetie. Is your mom home?”

  The little girl shook her head slowly, and Gracie’s stomach knotted up. “Are you sure?”

  To her surprise, the child took Gracie’s empty hand, and Gracie hesitantly followed her inside. The first thing that hit her was the smell; her eyes immediately started watering, and as she looked around the living room and tiny kitchen, she saw dirty dishes piled up, soiled diapers thrown across the floor, and the trash was overflowing.

  Gracie set the food boxes on the counter and knelt down. She touched the little girl’s feet with her free hand and said in a high, singsongy voice, “My, your feet are cold! Do you have socks and boots you can wear?”

  She tugged Gracie’s hand again, and it occurred to her that she was too trusting of strangers. If she had answered the door for the wrong person…

  Gracie walked into the child’s room and her stomach sank. A dirty mattress sat on the barren, filthy floor with only a single blanket and pillow. There was a plastic tub filled with clothes in the corner and more diapers thrown about.

  Gracie pulled her phone out, smiling reassuringly into the thin face. She might be younger than Gracie originally thought, just skinny. “Can you find some socks and pants?”

  The little girl went to the basket and Gracie stared at her bony arms and legs. After dialing the Rock Canyon Police Department, she waited for someone to answer.

  “Rock Canyon Police Department, how may I assist you?”

  Gracie recognized Sam’s deep voice and spoke softly, “Sam, this is Gracie McAllister.”

  “Hey, Gracie, Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “You too.” When the little girl handed her a pair of sweats, worn boots and mismatched socks, she knelt down to help. “Hey, I’m at 4113 Thistle, and I found a toddler home alone. The place is a mess, and she’s filthy. Can you send someone?”

  “Yeah, I’ll call in backup and be there in two shakes.”

  “Thanks.”

  She set the phone down, and once the socks were in place, she smiled warmly. “I think you should put on the pants next, don’t you?”

  The little girl smiled around her thumb.

  Ten minutes later, the girl was bundled up as bes
t Gracie could get her. The jacket she had was a joke, and Gracie ended up zipping her into her own coat. Although the little sweetheart didn’t exactly smell like a rose, Gracie forgot all about the order as she felt the bones of the child’s shoulder’s poking out. Her eyes pricked as the girl snuggled into her chest, realizing that someone had been starving her.

  “Can you tell me your name?” Gracie whispered.

  She didn’t answer.

  “Don’t you have a name, pipsqueak?”

  Gracie stepped outside just as two patrol cars pulled up in front of the house, and Gracie walked down the steps carrying her. The little girl still didn’t answer, and as Sam approached, the tiny body started to tremble.

  “Hey, are you okay? That’s just Officer Sam. He’s really nice.”

  Sam stopped a few feet away and smiled that wide, good old boy grin. He had a black beanie pulled over his thinning hair and a heavy police coat on. His breath fogged in front of him as he said, “Hey, Pumpkin. You don’t gotta be scared of me. I’m just a big kitty cat. Meow.”

  Gracie felt the little girl bury her head into Gracie’s chest painfully, and she shrugged at Sam.

  Rubbing the think back under her jacket, she whispered, “Why don’t you and I go sit in my car, turn the heat up high, and I’ll find some cartoons for you on my phone.”

  Gracie passed by Officer Quinn Morgan, who she’d had one terrible date with, and smiled. He was a good guy though, so they’d decided they were better off friends.

  “Hey, Quinn,” she murmured, aware of the terror radiating from the toddler. It was so strange that she hadn’t showed any fear of Gracie at the door, but was now petrified.

  Quinn nodded. “Gracie. What were you doing here?”

  “Delivering Thanksgiving dinners for the church.”

  Quinn grinned at her, his eyes twinkling. “Aren’t you just Mother Teresa?”

  Gracie rolled her eyes, and when she opened the car door, she unzipped her coat, but the little girl didn’t want to let go.

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m just going to turn the car on.” Gracie put the keys in and thanked God the engine was still warm. Hot air blew out of the vents, and she slid into the driver’s seat, closing the door behind her. The toddler stayed glued to her lap, and Gracie moved the seat back to give them more room.

  She searched through Hulu and found some Disney show about a cat that was a sheriff. The child just sat there, her thumb in her mouth, staring at the screen quietly. Gracie wished she had a brush to get the hair out of her dirty face, but could imagine how detangling that mop would hurt. Softly, she stroked the little girl’s back and arms, waiting on Sam.

  A few minutes later, Sam and Quinn came out, and she rolled down her window. Tiny arms wrapped around her neck in a death grip and she mumbled low, soothing words.

  “We need to bring her down to the station. Wanna follow us?” Sam asked.

  “Sure, but I don’t know if she’ll let me go.”

  “Have you gotten her name yet?” Sam asked.

  “No, she hasn’t said a word.”

  “I got a kids’ seat in the car. Hang tight while I grab it.” Sam jogged back to his car, and Gracie pulled back enough to brush the little one’s hair back off her face.

  “Are you hungry, sweetie?”

  Gracie could tell by the hollow of her cheeks that she was, but she still didn’t want to let go.

  “I promise you, I’m going to take care of you and keep you safe.”

  * * *

  At the police station a half hour later, Gracie watched in horror as tiny hands shoved hunks of banana and donuts into the little girl’s mouth. Quinn had stopped off at Hall’s per her request, and picked up a couple things a child might like.

  When the cheeks were stuffed so full, she couldn’t even close her mouth, Gracie hooked a finger inside and pulled some of the chewed globs out. “Hey, baby, slow down or you’re going to choke. I promise, no one is going to take this away from you. Take small bites.”

  Sam came into the room, and Gracie could tell from the grim look on his face that whatever he’d found out wasn’t good.

  “The woman renting the duplex is Rita Faulkner, but she doesn’t have any kids. I’ve got a call into social services, but being a holiday, who knows when they’ll get out this way.”

  “So, what’s she supposed to do?”

  “I can keep her here until social services arrives…” Sam trailed off as if there were more options, but he couldn’t think of them.

  Gracie’s gaze met those big eyes, and her heart broke into a million pieces. “What if I keep her with me? Until social services can get out here? I can feed her and give her a bath. She’ll be more comfortable with me than here.”

  “Ah, Gracie, I know your heart’s in the right place, but I can’t—”

  “Why? You know me, Sam. Why not let me make a scared child just a little more comfortable?”

  Sam scratched the back of his neck hesitantly, then nodded. “All right, I’ll let social services know she’s got a safe haven for the night. I’m sure they’d appreciate the load off.”

  Sam left the room, and Gracie smiled, running her hand over the soft skin of the child’s cheek. “Looks like you and I are going to have a slumber party, pipsqueak.”

  * * *

  Eric pulled into Hall’s Market parking lot just before they closed, and two things stopped him in his tracks.

  Gracie was right across the aisle, chatting with Hope Weathers, who was putting a box in the back of Gracie’s car.

  And the second was that Gracie was balancing a dirty child on her hip.

  Curious, Eric crossed the way, watching out for the icy ground. “Hey, ladies.”

  Hope turned and gave him a wide smile, her blonde hair up in a messy bun. “Hey, Eric. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving.” When he turned his attention to Gracie and the kid, the little girl buried her face in Gracie’s neck. “Who’s this, Gracie Lou?”

  “My new friend,” was all she said before addressing Hope. “Thanks for bringing those down. I’ll wash them and give them right back to you.”

  “It’s no hurry. Emily is grown out of them, and we aren’t having anymore, so whenever.”

  Eric’s brow furrowed. What in the hell is going on?

  Eric noticed the grocery bags in the back of the car, and the box of diapers. “You baby-sitting or something?”

  Hope laughed. “I’ll let you get her in the car and deal with Curious George over here. Call me if you need anything.”

  “I will.”

  Hope walked to her car, and Gracie went to the passenger side door, calling over her shoulder, “Close that for me, will you?”

  Eric’s jaw about dropped, but he did it anyway.

  He heard the kid crying, and Gracie’s voice went up an octave. “Oh, don’t cry, love. I’m going to start the car, and we’ll be home in just a few minutes.”

  She closed the door and actually walked past him to the driver’s side and climbed in. He approached and knocked on her window, but she didn’t bother rolling it down until the car was running.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “Are you going to fill me in? Who’s the kid?”

  Gracie arched her brow at him. “I’m sorry, are you my father? Boyfriend? Husband?”

  “No, but I—”

  “Then I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  She slowly rolled up the window, and just before she put the car in reverse, she stuck her tongue out at him.

  Eric stood there dumbfounded.

  What in the ever-loving shit was that about?

  Chapter Five

  “Most women seem to think that a man who keeps coming back after being rejected is crazy, but I like to think of it as determined.” - Miss Know-It-All’s Gossip Column.

  After a long soak in the bathtub and being scrubbed from head to toe with baby shampoo, Pip, as Gracie was referring to the little girl, smelled and looked so much b
etter. When Gracie had first undressed her, she got a really good look at the ribs poking up under the skin, and as she washed away the dirt, she saw bruises in different shades of yellow, purple and blue on her arms and legs. She’d taken pictures of the injuries to show Pip’s social worker when they met and tried not to cry.

  The poor thing had screamed at first due to a pretty horrible diaper rash, but after she’d been dried off, Gracie had put AD ointment on it before securing a clean diaper. While she’d put lotion on the sniffling child, she’d sung “Soft Kitty” from The Big Bang Theory. Pip had liked the melody and calmed down.

  After that, Gracie had put her in a pair of the warm footed pajamas from the box of clothes Hope had brought her. It seemed like Gracie had used half a bottle of detangler, but she was able to brush through and braid Pip’s hair without tugging on the strands too much.

  “Well, don’t you look shiny as a new penny?” Gracie tapped Pip’s nose with her finger. “Should I make us dinner?”

  Pip reached her arms out to her, and Gracie picked her up, propping her on her hip. Hope had also loaned her a Pack ‘n Play and booster seat with a tray that she’d already strapped down on one of her dining room chairs. Gracie was pretty grateful for the small-town life and that all her friends had kids right now.

  Gracie buckled Pip into the chair, and when the toddler started to whimper, she held up a box of crackers. “Want a couple of these?”

  Pip nodded, and Gracie set several crackers and a sippy cup filled with half water and half apple juice on the tray. She slipped an apron on and flipped Pandora to Kids Disney Radio. It reminded her of when Charlie was little and she’d watch him for Gemma. She got a lot of Disney viewing in, that was for sure.

  As she reheated the Thanksgiving dinner she’d bought, she danced around the kitchen, singing along to “I Just Can’t Wait to be King” and “Under the Sea.” Pip smiled and even giggled softly around her crackers when Gracie danced close to her chair.

  The phone rang just as Gracie finished cutting up a slice of turkey for Pip, and she turned down the radio before answering. “Hello?”