The words had barely left her mouth when a determined glint replaced the tears. He leaned toward her. “We will marry tomorrow, yes?”
Relax. Deep breath in and out. You’ve got this. She’d distracted him easily enough the last time by pretending she didn’t hear him and continuing her self-defense class.
But she needed to put a stop to this before he hurt himself. Or scarred her for life, she thought, when he stuck out his tongue and wet his dry lips. Letting go of his arms, she stepped back and blurted, “I have a boyfriend.”
One by one the residents of the nursing home stopped searching the manicured grounds for the weapon. They turned their heads, craning their necks in her direction.
Mrs. Sharp looked up from digging in a bed of yellow tulips beneath the gurgling fountain. A cherub, or maybe it was supposed to be an elf, spurted water from his mouth. Whatever it was, it seemed a weird choice for a statue at a nursing home, but what did Jill know? And the elf had provided her with the perfect hiding spot for the knife. “Who is he, dear? Do we know him?”
Jill drew her gaze from the well-endowed statue. Mrs. Sharp was, well, sharp…and relentless. She had to give her something. Since the best way not to get caught in a lie was to stick close to the truth, Jill went with the man who was responsible for her practically nonexistent love life. “No, he, ah, lives in Denver.”
He had while he played for the Colorado Flurries. Sometimes she wished he would have stayed there instead of moving back home.
Mrs. Lynn drove her motorized scooter closer. “What does he look like? Is he handsome?”
“Yes, tell us,” several of the other women urged, awaiting her answer with breathless anticipation.
Anxious, Jill imagined, to relive their youth through her and her make-believe love affair with a man who saw her as his best friend’s kid sister.
It would be easier if she still saw him as the tall, skinny boy he’d once been and not the man he’d become. “He’s beautiful. But not pretty boy beautiful, more like Viking warrior or Norse god beautiful. Rugged. He broke his nose, and it’s a little crooked, but it suits him. Just like the dimple that shows up in his left cheek when he smiles. He has a great smile,” she told her attentive audience. She didn’t want to disappoint them. And sadly, for her and her heart, it was true.
“Dark hair or light? What about his eyes?” Mrs. Lynn and Mrs. Sharp uttered their questions in rapid-fire succession.
Jill stuffed her hands in the front pockets of her khaki shorts and rocked on the heels of her hiking boots. “Straight hair, dark blond. But in the summer, it lightens with these amazing wheat-blond streaks that women pay a fortune for. Not that he’d be caught dead in a salon. Half the time it looks like all he does is run his fingers through it. It’s always messy and comes to about here.” She pointed to the top of her shoulder. “His eyes are dark, same as his eyebrows and scruff.”
“I like scruff. Manly. He is manly, isn’t he, not metrosexual?” Mrs. Lynn asked.
“Metrosexual is passé, Edith,” Mrs. Sharp said to Mrs. Lynn. “It’s lumbersexual. I read it in Cosmo.”
Jill hoped she stopped there. She didn’t want to hear what else Mrs. Sharp had read in Cosmo. She’d interrupted a heated debate over vibrators the day before last.
“I’m manly, strong,” Mr. Gorski said, glaring in the direction of the women while flexing his arms. And that started a who’s-got-the-biggest-biceps competition among the men.
“Oh, stop it, you old coots. We want to hear more about Jill’s boyfriend. Go on, dear,” Mrs. Lynn said.
Mr. Gorski muttered something in Polish and headed for the glass doors.
“Be right back,” Jill told the older woman and sprinted ahead of Mr. Gorski. She held the door open. She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake, but she felt bad for the old guy. “You’ve got amazing muscles for a man your age, Mr. Gorski.”
“Ninety-five is not old.” He grinned, then reached around her for the door.
No, not the door, he was going to…“Ouch.” Dammit, he’d pinched her! She rubbed her butt. He had strong fingers, too.
“How tall is he? I hope he’s not short,” Mrs. Sharp said when Jill returned to her place on the patio. “Short men have a chip on their shoulder.” The older woman made a face. “My Barry was five four.”
“He’s tall. Six three,” Jill said, kind of getting into the fantasy now. “In great shape. His arms…” She trailed off when Mrs. Lynn looked past her. The other women seemed to have lost interest, too, fluffing their hair and fanning themselves. Must be the heat. It was warm today. She probably should have kept them indoors. All she’d need was for one of them to drop…
Mrs. Lynn smiled and said, “Sawyer.”
Jill stared at her. Mrs. Lynn had told her she saw dead people. Maybe the older woman was indeed psychic after all. It’s fine, Jill reassured herself, totally fine. Sawyer wasn’t an uncommon name. She’d just…
“How’s it going, Mrs. Lynn? Shortstop?” said a deep voice from behind her.
Jill froze, her heart stuttering to a stop in her chest. The muscle slowly came back to life, flooding her face with heat. And other parts; parts that should not be heating. It was that whiskey-smooth voice of his. But this wasn’t the time for lust; it was the time for panic. Panic that Sawyer overheard her and knew she was talking about him. Maybe if she ignored him he’d go away. He was used to her ignoring him, sniping at him. Her defense mechanism. The one that saved her from prostrating herself at his feet and declaring her undying love.
Thankfully, she didn’t appear to be the only member of the Sawyer fan club. And while she surreptitiously fanned herself with her sweatshirt, he greeted the rest of the home’s residents.
“Doing good, Mr. Applebee. You?” He laughed at something the older man said.
Consumed with trying to will the heat from her face and body, Jill didn’t make out much of the conversation. Sawyer’s close proximity wasn’t helping. She could feel him behind her, smell his clean, outdoor scent. And dammit, why did he have to have such a sexy laugh? All deep and rumbly. “You’re on. Flurries’ll take them four games straight.”
Right. Playoff hockey. He’d come to watch the game with his old hockey coach, Bill. Sawyer visited him at least twice weekly. And that was it, the thing that made Sawyer Anderson irresistible. Not only was he beautiful on the outside, he was beautiful on the inside, too.
Jill had just about got it together enough to face him when she noticed the speculative gleam in Mrs. Sharp’s eyes. Her gaze moving from Sawyer to Jill and back to Sawyer. Old sharp-eyes had figured it out. Jill had to distract her. She clapped her hands. “Okay, people, what is the problem? You’ve had an hour to find the murder weapon. If you worked for me, I’d fire your ass…butts. Come on, get it together and find the knife.”
She heard a choking sound behind her and turned. “What?”
The faint lines at the corners of Sawyer’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Looks like your sensitivity training’s going real well, Shortstop.”
“Bite me.” She wasn’t short. She was five eight. Why couldn’t he call her Legs? She had great legs. They were her favorite and best body part—long and lean with well-defined calf muscles. Or Hot Cop? Not that she was beautiful; the only way she stopped traffic was by turning on her siren. But since women pretty much thought all male cops were hot, surely men must think female cops were, too.
Sawyer smiled that slow easy smile of his. Even after last night, it still managed to make her toes curl like it always did. “So, how many more weeks do you have to put in before Gage lets you off for good behavior?”
“One.” There was a part of her that would miss coming to the nursing home every day, but she could use the extra sleep.
Sawyer glanced at the older men and women as they wandered off to hunt for the knife. He rubbed his hand over his chiseled jaw and manly stubble. “Why exactly do you have them looking for a knife?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Murder mystery game. I
t keeps them active. Makes them use their brains.” Relaxing now that Mrs. Sharp was focused on the hunt, Jill called out encouragement, “You’re getting warmer, Mrs. Sharp. Real warm.” Jill noticed Mr. Applebee looking up at the aspen trees that bordered a steep slope on the edge of the property. “Mr. Applebee, buddy, you’re not even close. Get back here.”
The older man turned and shouted at her, “Maybe if you weren’t talking about your boyfriend for the last ten minutes, we would have found the murder weapon by now.”
Danger, danger. Jill turned to Sawyer and faked a smile. “Better get going or you’ll miss the National Anthem. I know how much you like to sing along.”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest, the movement putting his biceps on sigh-inducing display. Show-off. He raised an eyebrow. “What boyfriend is he talking about?”
“Don’t listen to him. He’s losing it.” She gave him a light shove. “Nice seeing you. Say hi to coach for me.”
“Her lumbersexual. He sounds wonderful, doesn’t he, Alice?” Mrs. Lynn looked to Mrs. Sharp for confirmation, then turned to Sawyer and said loud enough for the entire town of Christmas to hear, “We’re so happy she has a beau. We thought she was a lesbian, you know.”
Jill blinked. Seriously? She stared straight ahead, refusing to look at Sawyer. No doubt the interrogation would begin once he stopped silently laughing his ass off.
Movement near the statue drew her attention to Mr. Applebee. The older man stuck his hand in the statue’s mouth and triumphantly pulled out the plastic knife. There is a God. Jill pumped her fist. “Way to go, Mr. Applebee! Time to celebrate the man of the hour, folks.”
Sawyer leaned into her, his warm, spearmint-scented breath caressing her cheek. “You’re not getting off the hook that easily, Shortstop,” he said, then gently tugged on her ponytail before walking away.
She glanced over her shoulder, following his loose-limbed stride. He pulled his cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans. “Hey, Jack, heard something interesting. Jill has a boyfriend. Yeah, I was thinking the same…”
Fan-flipping-tastic. Sawyer and her brother wouldn’t let up until they knew every last detail. Every last detail about her fake boyfriend.
She needed a real one. Fast.
* * *
Sawyer caught Jill’s reflection in the glass doors as he walked away and pulled out his cell phone. She was getting a little old for him to be ratting her out to her big brother. Maybe if he hadn’t seen the flicker of panic in her eyes when he asked about her boyfriend, he wouldn’t have made the call, but he had seen it. And all he could think was that she’d picked a real loser this time.
Jill was a good cop with good instincts, but when it came to the men she dated, it was like all her good sense flew out the window. To say she had crappy taste in men was an understatement. Something she’d proven in the past.
“Hey, Jack, heard something interesting. Jill has a boyfriend,” he said as soon as his best friend picked up.
“Really? She hasn’t said a word to me. Hang on. Grace, did Jill mention that she’s dating someone?” Jack called out to his wife. When she answered in the negative, he muttered, “Must be another loser if she hasn’t talked about him to Grace.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Sawyer said as the doors closed behind him and he walked across the polished tile floor. “I’ll ask around at the bar.”
“Good idea. I’ll talk to Gage and—”
In the background, he heard Grace telling her husband to mind his own business. Sawyer snorted a laugh. “We’ll talk later when your wife isn’t—”
There was a click, and Grace came on the other line. “I heard that, Sawyer Anderson. Honestly, the way you two act you’d think Jill was fifteen and not twenty-nine. Leave the poor girl alone.”
“We would if she didn’t pick guys like Peter. Remember the podiatrist, honey?” Jack asked his wife in a teasing tone of voice.
“Well, yes, he wasn’t the best—”
Sawyer chuckled at the memory of Peter, and another of Jill’s choices came to mind. “What about the accountant? I think his name was Stan.”
Jack laughed. “Forgot about him, but he wasn’t as bad as Adam the Ornithologist. Remember that guy? He thought he was God’s gift. And then there was—”
“All right, you two. You’ve made your point. If you think you can do a better job, why don’t you introduce Jill to someone nice?”
Yeah, like that was going to happen. In Jack’s mind, no one would ever be good enough for his little sister. Something he’d made more than clear last night. The redhead behind the reception desk gave Sawyer a flirty wave. “Hey.” He smiled. “How’s it going?”
“Who are you flirting with now?” Jack asked.
“I’m not flirting with anyone. Just being friendly,” he said and headed for the bank of elevators before the redhead waylaid him. He might not be interested, but she was. An older woman moved toward him in her wheelchair. “Hey there, Mabel,” he said, taking a quick step back to avoid being run over. “You’re looking beautiful today.”
“Seriously, buddy, you have a problem. How many women have you picked up this past month? Besides the blonde you were sucking face with last night,” Jack said.
“Jack,” Grace said, a warning in her voice.
Sawyer winced at the reminder. By the time he’d extricated himself from Tiffany, Jill had left. “Three.” More like none. But he didn’t plan on sharing that with Jack and Grace. It was better if they thought he was a player. Otherwise they’d constantly be trying to set him up or worrying that he’d end up alone. More importantly, he didn’t want his best friend thinking he was pining after the woman he couldn’t have. “Mabel’s ninety.”
“I forgot you’re at the nursing home. How’s my new-and-improved sister? Still treating the old-timers with kid gloves?”
Sawyer laughed and told them about Jill’s murder mystery game, repeating what she’d said to the seniors.
Jack groaned.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Grace said, sticking up for her best friend. “And don’t either of you dare tease her about this. If you ask me, Gage overreacted. Just because Jill had a run-in with Mrs. Burnett doesn’t mean she’s not kind to seniors. She’s actually very fond of the residents at the nursing home. She talks about them all the time.”
“Ah, princess, she cut Mrs. Burnett’s phone line,” Jack reminded her.
“I don’t blame her. Mrs. Burnett isn’t very nice, and Jill responded to six emergency calls from her in one night alone. I’d cut her phone line, too.”
Grace was being her usually polite self. Mrs. Burnett was a cold-hearted tyrant. She also happened to be a lot like Jill’s grandmother. So Sawyer had no doubt the older woman had pushed Jill’s buttons. Her relationship with her grandmother hadn’t been an easy one. Jill hadn’t been guided by a woman’s kind and gentle hand. She never knew a mother’s love. But, as Sawyer had learned early on, life wasn’t always easy…or fair. And if Jill eventually wanted to be sheriff, she had to suck it up and deal. Gage had done her a favor. The job was as much political as law enforcement.
The elevator doors slid open, pulling Sawyer from his thoughts and back to the Flahertys’ conversation.
“She cut the branches off Mrs. Burnett’s prized cherry tree,” Jack said with a hint of laughter in his voice.
“Of course she did. The branches were scratching the windowpane, not an intruder. Really, Jack, I think you’re making a big deal over—”
“Maybe you should talk to Fred. Ask him what Jill said when she pulled him over the—”
“Not that this conversation isn’t highly entertaining, but I’m going to miss the first period of the game. I’ll talk to you guys later.” Sawyer said good-bye as he stepped into the elevator and disconnected. A cane appeared between the closing doors. He reached out and held them open, smiling at Mrs. Sharp. “Celebration over so soon?”
She appeared to be too busy studying him to answer. And the way
the older woman was staring up at him as she entered the elevator made him uncomfortable. The words out of her mouth doubled his discomfort. “You have a dimple in your left cheek just like she said.” Mrs. Sharp nodded. “It’s you. You’re Jill’s beau. Wait until I tell Edith I figured it out.”
Sawyer jerked back, the heels of his tennis shoes hitting the wall. “Uh, no, we’re not involved. No, no way. Jill’s like a little sister to me.”
“The way she talked about you was far from sisterly, young man. And I know it was you.” She pointed a finger at his face. “You have a crooked nose and messy blond hair, manly stubble, too. You look like one of those Norse gods just like she said.”
Sawyer rubbed his jaw. “She said I looked like a Norse god?” Oh hell, what was he thinking? This was Jill they were talking about. He didn’t want her to think he looked like a god. He didn’t want her thinking about him in that way period. No, there’s no way Jill would say something like that.
“Yes, she said you were beautiful, but not pretty boy beautiful. She’s right, you know. You’re a very handsome young man. But don’t let it go to your head. Nothing’s more of a turnoff than a man who’s full of himself. Look at Jill, she has no idea how pretty she is and that just makes her more attractive. Now if we could get her to dress a little more…feminine, yes, that would be the ticket.”
She studied him. “You better be good to her. Mr. Gorski’s asked her to marry him two times this week, you know. She’s such a sweet girl. She tried not to embarrass him and let him down gently when she confessed she had a beau.”
He held back a laugh. Jill…sweet? Then he thought about the next words out of Mrs. Sharp’s mouth and his earlier panic vanished. Jill made up a boyfriend to ward off Mr. Gorski’s advances. That sounded like something she’d do. But choosing him as her fake boyfriend…Yeah, he wasn’t going to think about that. “You have a good night, Mrs. Sharp,” he said when the doors opened on the fourth floor.
