Secrets of Ugly Creek Read online

  “Go get dressed and I’ll wait for you.”

  Before I could try again to explain, there was a second knock. Oh boy!

  I swung open the door, and Gibson McFain smiled back at me. “Hello,” I said, smiling in spite of the discomfort I felt.

  “What are you doing here?” Greg asked.

  Mac ignored the other man, keeping his gaze on me. “Are you ready?”

  I nodded, then turned to Greg. “As I’ve been trying to tell you, I already have plans.”

  Greg’s face abruptly turned purple. “You’re going out with him?”

  “Excuse me, but it’s really none of your business who I go out with.”

  Greg’s eyes widened and he stared at me as if I’d turned chartreuse. “But…but we’re seeing each other.”

  I was once again questioning Greg’s ability to see past his own nose. “We’ve gone out a few times. I considered us friends, but that’s all.”

  All at once, Greg pushed past me, making a point of elbowing Mac on his way out the door. I stood there, dumbfounded, as he retreated into the night. What had I ever seen in that man?

  “Are you all right?”

  I looked into warm, caring eyes and wondered about my judgment of other people’s character. I’d been wrong about these two men, that was obvious. “I’m fine. Let’s go have dinner.”

  Mac smiled and held out his arm. “As you wish, my lady.”

  We ate at a little pizza place on the outskirts of Ugly Creek. The food was good, the atmosphere fun, and the company excellent. Afterward we walked slowly down the sidewalk toward Gibson’s car. His warm hand caressed my back as we walked.

  Once we reached his rental, he opened the door for me. Instead of getting in, I stood looking into the face of a man I was coming to like more by the minute. I fumbled in my brain for something clever to say, but no luck.

  Then it didn’t matter, because Mac was leaning toward me. When his lips touched mine, I wanted to melt into his arms. My arms reached around his neck to prevent sliding to the sidewalk—and because feeling his hard muscles was an incredible experience. I heard him groan softly as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. He deepened the kiss and I was lost in his touch.

  When he pulled back I wanted badly to hang on tight. He smiled. “I think I should get you home.”

  Wordlessly, I slipped into his car and he got behind the wheel. I was caught up in a trance state, unable to think. When the car pulled into Mom’s driveway, I actually let out a sad sigh. How pathetic am I anyway?

  Mac came around to open my door and help me out. We stood there for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. “I had a great time,” I finally managed.

  “Me too.” His lips gently caressed mine before he pulled away and took my hand in his. “I’d better get you in.”

  “Would you like to stay a while?” Pathetic much?

  He smiled. “I’d better get going. See you tomorrow?”

  I nodded and we walked toward the house. He gently kissed me one last time, then loped back to his car. I closed the door, sighed wistfully, and spun around.

  Mom was leaning against the banister, arms crossed, and a smug smile on her face. “So that was the great and terrible Gibson McFain?”

  I nodded. “Okay, I was wrong about him. And Greg.”

  Mom came over to me and put a hand on my arm. “Sometimes the heart sees things the mind can’t—or won’t.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I hugged her, then headed for the stairs. I was about halfway up when a bark had me retracing my steps. I scooped up Gizmo and headed for my room.

  “So did you really need me to carry you up the stairs, or are you just too lazy to climb them yourself?” I asked the mutt as I put him on my bed.

  “Hey, short legs here.” He brought up a back paw to scratch his ear.

  “I need a shower.” I pulled open a drawer.

  “I saw your boyfriend with Kate Stone.”

  “I’m not surprised, she’s his assistant.”

  “Not McFain, the other one.”

  I turned to look at my furry informant. “Greg?”

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend. And what in the world would those two have to talk about?”

  Gizmo scratched his other ear. “I don’t know. Before I could find out, that mean woman at the B&B ran me out. With a broom! Not an animal lover that one.”

  As I took my shower, and later as I lay in the dark waiting for sleep, I wondered what Greg and Kate had found to discuss. Strange, but then, I was raised in Ugly Creek—where strange was a way of life. Besides, what did I care what either of them did. I had more important things to think about.

  Thoughts of a tall, handsome, intriguing male filled my mind, and I slipped into sleep with a smile on my face.

  ****

  The next morning was sunny, but a chilly wind blew out of the north. The film crew was farther from town today, at a park honoring the fallen on both sides of a local battle of the Civil War. There was more space, and the security guards were in place watching over the crew and onlookers. The sight of armed guards was sadly reassuring.

  In spite of my warm Nine West pink sweater and khaki pants and my sweet light pink Banana Republic jacket, the cold seemed to seep into my skin. A smile from Mac warmed me, though, as I sat contentedly and watched him direct his crew.

  “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” the voice wasn’t loud, but that didn’t change the harsh tone.

  I looked up to see a very short, very angry looking man standing in front of me.

  “Mr. McDuffy, nice to see you.” Well, what else was I going to say?

  He glared. “What were you doing playing tongue hockey with an outsider?”

  I glared back. “And that’s your business how?”

  He leaned closer, putting his formidable glare inches from my face. “Because I care about our town, which is more than I can say for you.”

  Boy, was this discussion way past ironic and into the strange. “Gibson McFain is not a threat to this town.”

  Mr. McDuffy’s eyes narrowed and he leaned even closer. “And just what is it that makes you believe that?”

  “Because I believed he was until I saw his sincerity in action.”

  Surprise flitted across his face. “What did you see?”

  I smiled right into his glare. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

  “But—”

  At the sound of the first loud pop, crew and onlookers hit the ground. I saw at least one of the guards on one knee, his ugly, black gun pointed toward the woods behind us.

  The second and third pops provoked squeals, but nobody moved. Then Mac jumped to his feet and rushed into the woods. Shocked, I stared after him. The man was obviously unhinged. The sounds might be gunshots—and if they were, he was running into extreme danger.

  “It’s firecrackers,” one of the crewmembers said, as he held up a spent one.

  Warily, everybody got off the ground as the security guards separated to check out the spent firecrackers and the area around. None went after Mac, I noticed, as worry for his safety grew rapidly in my heart. Maybe I should have gone after him.

  When no more pops were heard, and more spent firecrackers were discovered, the rhythm of conversation renewed. My attention, however, was locked on the area where Mac had disappeared. I had no idea what he’d run toward and just wished he’d return quickly.

  When he came back into the clearing, he was gasping and didn’t look at all happy. I rushed toward him. “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah.” He took a moment to catch his breath, then looked around him. “Did anybody see anything?” he asked the crowd.

  “I was too busy hoping not to die,” one of the crew said. There was a general round of people nodding and agreeing with the sentiment.

  “It sounded like gunshots,” someone said.

  “I know.” Mac sighed. “If any of you saw something, or remember
something, please let me know, or tell the sheriff. For now, let’s take an early, long lunch. I’ll see you back here at two.”

  The crew started clearing up the equipment and locking it the van, while the onlookers began filtering out of the area. Mac looked at me. “I’m going to the sheriff’s department. Go with me and I’ll buy you lunch.”

  I started to agree, but then I caught a glimpse of the mayor and Kate Stone chatting off to one side. “There’s something I need to do, but I could meet you.”

  “Okay. Is the Taco King really as good as I heard it was?”

  I smiled. “Pretty tasty, if you ask me.”

  “Meet me there in an hour, and I’ll still buy your lunch.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  He gave me a smile then headed out. I slowly edged toward my goal. I couldn’t get close enough to hear anything, but I did see a furry little spy. Smiling, I backed away from the targets, I’d get the goods from Gizmo later.

  I edged toward Haven, who was standing nearby and looking toward Kate with a wistful expression. “I’m surprised to see you still here in Ugly Creek,” I said.

  She shrugged. “You’re still here.”

  Well, that was a weird thing to say. “This is my hometown,” I told her. “I’m taking some vacation time.”

  “I’m taking some time too.” Haven’s gaze had never left Kate.

  “See you around.” I walked away and wondered what was up with her. She was a strange one.

  I piddled around for a bit until I saw Gizmo come running toward me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kate and the mayor head off in different directions. I scooped up the dog and took him to my car.

  “Kate’s still trying to get Bigfoot info out of the mayor,” Gizmo said.

  “Figures.” I sighed as I pulled onto the road. “He hasn’t told her anything, has he?”

  “Not yet. Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you to Mom’s so I can meet Mac for lunch.”

  “That’s good. I like your mom.”

  “Because she babies you.”

  “And the problem with that is?”

  I laughed. “Nothing, I guess.”

  “I don’t trust that Kate person.”

  “Me either.” I considered for a minute. “Or Haven either, for that matter. There’s something about her that doesn’t quite add up.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  “Thanks.” I smiled toward the little furball that I’d reluctantly come to care a lot about.

  Rather like one frustrating human man.

  I dropped Gizmo off at Mom’s and took a quick drive by the park where the security guards were still watching the area where documentary filming was taking place. Nobody was there, so I headed toward Taco King by way of the crappy motel I’d seen the mayor and Kate at earlier. I didn’t see anything there, but I did see the mayor’s car at a nearby strip mall. Maybe he was shopping. Or maybe not. If he and Kate were having an affair—for whatever reason—Ugly Creek was too small a town for it to stay secret.

  I was still contemplating when I reached my destination. Mac was waiting for me beside his car near the front. I got out of my Aveo and headed toward him and was rewarded with a big, sexy smile. “Hello, gorgeous.”

  My heart stumbled and my face heated. “Hello, yourself. How did it go with the sheriff?”

  “About like I figured it would. I could probably identify the kid if I saw him, but I don’t know who he is.”

  “Kid?”

  Mac nodded as he put a hand against my lower back and we started toward the restaurant. “Yeah, older teenager. I saw the side of his face, but not straight on. Not to mention, the sheriff thinks it was a prank.”

  “He doesn’t think this guy is related to the other attacks?”

  “Nope.”

  We got our food and sat at a corner table. “I’m sorry, Mac. The sheriff should be taking this more seriously.”

  He shrugged, though his frown remained. “Maybe it isn’t related.”

  “You think it is.”

  “My gut says yes, but I’m not convinced this kid was the perpetrator of the other attacks.”

  He studied my face for a moment. “You know, I tend to forget you’re a journalist. I probably shouldn’t be telling you all this.”

  I took a bite of my taco and swallowed it before I replied. “Don’t worry, I’m off the clock.”

  “I know.”

  I stopped with my taco halfway to my mouth. “Haven, right?”

  He nodded. “Told Kate, who told me.”

  Sighing, I leaned back in my seat. “Dang, it’s a small town. Probably everybody knows by now that I’m on vacation.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.” He reached across the table and took my hand. “But, vacation or not, you’re still a journalist.”

  “So are you.”

  He grinned. “That’s why I know I shouldn’t be telling you everything.”

  I took a bite of taco. “I wouldn’t worry. You’ve already convinced me you’re nothing like what I thought you’d be.”

  “What did you think I’d be?”

  I raised my chin to meet his gaze. “A selfish bastard who stepped on people to get what he wanted.”

  He leaned back in his seat and eyed me curiously. “You certainly believe in being honest.”

  “I believe in admitting it when I’m wrong.” I shrugged.

  “So you were wrong about me.”

  “Yes.”

  He leaned toward me again, challenge in his expression. “What is it you think of me now?”

  He was close enough to smell the spicy cologne he was wearing mixed with the scent that was all Mac. It took me a moment to sort out my thoughts. “I think you’re a good man who got caught in an impossible situation and is still paying the price.”

  “Very astute.”

  I looked him in the eye then. “It could have happened to me. It still could. It’s the risk journalists run every day.”

  He focused on his taco for a moment before he looked at me again. “That’s why I choose to not be a journalist anymore.”

  I took my time absorbing this. “So you don’t consider yourself a journalist?”

  “No. My plan is to make travel and location documentaries. If I highlight a social problem, so be it. But I’m not planning to dig into people’s lives anymore.”

  I took a sip of Coke to moisten my throat and give myself a moment to think. “Don’t you think you’ll miss the challenge?”

  “No.”

  His answer was so quick it surprised me. He took a bite of taco, so I took a bite of mine. I think we both needed some room to think. It seemed hard to believe he could so easily give up a career he’d apparently enjoyed. Except when I considered the stress, the hours, the frustration when a story came hard—or didn’t come at all. I thought about how even with the attacks, watching his documentary being made was relaxing and fun. Not that he and the crew didn’t work hard, they did, but it was a different sort of hard work than trying to track down a transvestite senator’s aide. Very different.

  “Think less of me because I no longer consider myself a journalist?”

  That pulled a smile from my lips. “From what you said, you never intended to be one in the first place.”

  His lips pulled to one side as if in thought. “That’s true. Although I did think I was doing something worthwhile.”

  “I’m sorry you got burned.”

  He swallowed, the movement drawing my eye to his throat. How could a throat be that sexy?

  “All I want now is to make films about interesting places.”

  “Ugly Creek is definitely interesting.”

  “I’ve noticed.” He wasn’t laughing, he was looking right at me.

  When his hand took mine, I had to stifle a happy sigh. Warm and firm, it was wonderful. We stared at each other for a minute, then he pulled away.

  “Finished?”

  It took me a moment to register what he’d sai
d. “Sure.”

  Outside, he walked me to my car. There he put his arms around my back and pulled me against him.

  He kissed me gently, then looked pointedly around him at the passing people and the cars—the noise of even a small town. “Is there no place to be alone in this town?”

  “I have an idea,” I said.

  Ten minutes later, we were standing in a wooded area near town. Mac smiled. “I like your idea.”

  He pulled me into his arms and the next thing I knew I was being kissed like never before in my life. Deeply, passionately, and yet gently. His arms pulled me against his hard body, and I melted into the moment. Awesome. I couldn’t believe a man could kiss so well. That I could enjoy a kiss so much. That a kiss could all but push me over the edge.

  Maybe it was a flash of light, or a movement that caught my eye. Whatever it was, I saw her near a tree, a camera in her hand, and I shoved Mac and started marching toward the woman. “I don’t believe this,” I muttered, as I stomped up to Dani Phillips. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “My job.” the perfectly lipsticked smile irritated me soundly. “Unlike you,” she said, as if that were the icing on her cake.

  Before I realized what was happening, Mac snatched her camera away, pulled out the memory card, and handed the camera back to her.

  “You can’t take that, it’s mine.” Her perfect little face was getting more crimson by the minute.

  “You’ll get it back.” He stuck the card in his pocket, then turned to me. “Let’s get out of here.”

  We headed for his car, while she ranted about lawyers and lawsuits. Personally, I was thinking more in terms of a baseball bat, but then I was still upset over having the best sexual experience of my life interrupted.

  “At the risk of sounding crass, is it possible we could get a room in a hotel?” He glanced toward me. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. I’d just like to have some private time with you.”

  I leaned against the back of my seat. “I guess my idea didn’t work out so well.”

  He smiled. “It worked great for a while.”

  “Until Dani showed up.”

  “Rather unlike a New York Times reporter, I would think.”

  My angered brain began to think more clearly. “Yes, it is.” Actually, it was more like something a reporter from Capitol Spy Weekly would do. The thought had me cringing. “She probably did it more to irritate me than to actually get a story.”