Chapter Sixteen
Josh called Monday evening, and Tuesday, too, and she found it easy to lie on her bed and have a teasing conversation with him. When she asked him how the necklaces were going, he said he’d been working hard, but it was time for recreation. He invited her to his rec-league softball game Wednesday evening at the Silver Creek Park.
“This is our big date?”
“No, it most certainly is not. Just be ready.”
He called when he pulled up.
“I feel so special that you invited me and all your Facebook girlfriends,” she teased.
The phone was silent for a moment, then he briskly said, “I’ll be right up.”
When he knocked on her door, she called for him to come in, then posed provocatively in front of her closet, wearing some of her best lingerie, white and lacy, sheer and—short.
When he saw her, he froze, then slowly shut the door behind him and leaned against it.
“I just can’t decide what to wear,” she said in a helpless voice.
He walked deliberately to her side, and she held her breath, waiting for his touch. Instead, he looked in her closet.
“You’ve got to have something that costs less than a thousand dollars in here. This is just a softball game.”
Whitney didn’t answer, only batted her eyelashes at him and shrugged one strap off her shoulder.
She was on her back on the bed before she could take another breath, giddy with delight, and this time, she rose up on top, straddling his hips as she looked him over.
“I don’t know about your clothes,” she said, shaking her head, looking critically at his white team shirt with the Tony’s Tavern logo and blue baseball pants. “You should take them off right now. You have a few minutes, don’t you?”
“Someone has to sit out the first inning,” he said hoarsely.
She helped him undress, then showed him how truly powerless he could be as she used every secret to bring him to the point of ecstasy before riding him to their mutual pleasure. He collapsed in exhaustion, head lolling off the bed.
“Oh, my, we really will be late,” she said, slowly removing her bustier.
He flung an arm over his eyes and groaned. “But it was worth it.”
At the baseball game, the stands were full, and Josh, carrying her lawn chair, pulled up short, tipping back his ball cap as if he needed to see better.
“I told you someone had posted it on Facebook,” she said.
“And then you made sure to distract me so I forgot all about it,” he said. “Oh, well, I’m sure both teams will enjoy having an audience for a change.”
As they walked toward his team, Will Sweet, stretching out his hamstrings, straightened and glanced over his shoulder at the crowd. “Impressive, huh?”
“Sorry about this,” Josh said.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Will answered, then grinned. “I posted the game time and place on your Facebook page. You’re no longer available, but the boys and I can console your disappointed fans.”
“Thanks for the sacrifice,” Josh said dryly.
Whitney sat in her chair near the dugout, away from the piercing screams of girls in the stands. Brooke was on the team, along with several men Whitney knew: the rest of the Sweet brothers; Matthew, a Sweet cousin; Monica’s brother Dom; Nate; Adam; Tony; and others she hadn’t met yet.
All these men just took it for granted that she and Josh were an item. She hadn’t been in this kind of relationship since college. There hadn’t been a single man she trusted enough to be that special in her life—but she’d gone right along with it where Josh was concerned. What made him so different?
She watched him jog onto the baseball diamond and play shortstop, an athlete who knew how to use his body. And she’d already been the lucky recipient.
He was kind and funny, loyal to his family and friends, deeply creative in a way that went beyond what she understood. She saw patterns and fabric and knew how to combine them in a way that would look good on a woman. He saw images in leather that weren’t even there and could create them so realistically. He worked so hard at both his jobs and never complained, even putting up with an occasionally intrusive grandma. Now he’d come under the kind of stress he would never have been able to imagine, and he put up with it—the fame, the lack of privacy, the obsessive behavior. A lot of other people would blow a fuse, but not him.
He was focused, and right now, that focus was all on her. She knew it would fade; it always did. No one could stand up to such intensive scrutiny. And she’d be leaving, too, so surely, in the back of his mind, he wouldn’t let himself get attached.
She wouldn’t, and had lots of practice keeping men at arm’s length, emotionally anyway. She was all about the physical and was glad he’d finally come along for the ride. They could date for a few weeks, anyway.
If his fans let him, of course. She had to smile when he made a play getting an opponent out on second base, and the crowd went as wild as if he’d hit a home run.
“What did we miss?” cried Mrs. Thalberg as she approached, carrying two lawn chairs.
She was followed by Mrs. Ludlow, leaning over her walker, and Mrs. Palmer, wearing a tiny baseball cap perched on her blond wig and a Tony’s Tavern baseball shirt, ready to cheer on her grandson, Adam. No sooner had she set down her chair, than she pulled a pair of pompoms from her oversized purse and started waving them.
Mrs. Ludlow sank slowly into her chair, a white sweater draped over her shoulders, and gave Mrs. Palmer a long-suffering glance. “Renee, you hit me with one of those at the last game. Please do be careful this time.”
“Don’t be a killjoy, Connie.” Grinning, Mrs. Palmer shook both pompoms and yelled, “Go Tony’s Tavern!”
As Josh’s team filed back into the dugout, Mrs. Thalberg put her own chair right beside Whitney, then gave a pointed glance at the full bleachers. “Guess we’re not the only ones who follow Josh’s Facebook page.”
Whitney widened her eyes. “You’re on Facebook?”
“Of course I am! How else would I see any pictures from my grandkids? I kept telling them to attach pictures to me—I do have e-mail, you know!—but they kept grumbling that they’d just loaded them or uploaded them, whatever, to Facebook. So I joined. It wasn’t very difficult after all. So when I was Googling Josh’s name to see all these articles, his Facebook page came up. Now, I was shocked, because he’s my one grandchild who’s just not with the times where all this computer stuff is concerned.”
Whitney bit her lip to keep from laughing. She’d seen Josh’s extensive computerized business records, but she didn’t mention it.
“He doesn’t even have a website!” the old woman continued, shaking her head. “Think how he could display his work.”
“I think he doesn’t want that, Mrs. Thalberg. And you know he didn’t set up that Facebook page.”
“Well, I sorta guessed that.”
“He’s already got more work than he needs. I’ve felt very honored he agreed to do those necklaces for me when it’s surely difficult to find the time.”
“Well, that’s easy—he’s sweet on you.”
Whitney actually found herself blushing at the old-fashioned term.
“And you can’t deny you’re sweet on him.”
“No, no denying,” she said, nodding ruefully.
Mrs. Thalberg narrowed her eyes and studied her. “You don’t sound all that happy about it.”
“I—it’s not that. Josh is wonderful. But… to be honest, I’ve never been in this kind of relationship before.”
“A grown woman like you? You’ve gotta be near thirty.”
“You have a good eye. I just turned thirty.”
“Ah, he’s a younger man of twenty-seven.”
“And in some ways, at least where relationships go, he’s far more mature than I am.”
“You’ve just been scared off by all that stuff in your past.”
Whitney sighed but couldn’t be surprised that a computer-savvy grandma would know those things about her. She’d probably thought she was protecting her grandson by discovering all she could about Whitney.
“Just take your time and enjoy his courtin’. He’s enjoying it, too.”
Well, there was no doubt about that…
“Thanks, Mrs. Thalberg, I’ll remember that.”
“Be quiet, you two,” Mrs. Palmer shouted. “Josh is up at bat!”
Mrs. Thalberg winced and wiggled her finger in the ear nearest Mrs. Palmer, but the other woman didn’t get the hint, only kept on cheering.
Whitney smiled, then rose to her feet to shout as Josh hit a line drive between first and second base. The screams from the stands were deafening, and the setting sun reflected off dozens of cameras and phones aimed at Josh. When he pulled up on first base, he just tipped his baseball cap.
Whitney glanced back to the dugout, where she could see the backs of Brooke’s and Adam’s heads as they leaned toward each other. They were doing exactly what Mrs. Thalberg said, taking time and enjoying the courting. When she thought of all the things Adam had to overcome since his discharge from the Marines, she reminded herself that although her past could hardly compare, she could learn from his example. He was moving forward with his life, back in Valentine Valley with a steady girlfriend, a steady job, and a way to help other veterans find homes. But if it was taking him a while to propose, who could blame him? Marriage was a serious commitment, and when things from the past could rise up and hurt your relationship, a person needed to take time. Just like Mrs. Thalberg said.
But Whitney wouldn’t tell that to Brooke.
In the fourth inning, when Josh was sitting on the bench in the dugout waiting for his turn at bat, he found himself glancing often at Whitney. Emily and Monica had shown up, and the three of them sat with the widows, casually chatting while watching the game.
The sun had faded behind the mountains, but there was no need yet for field lights. It was simply a lazy, late-summer evening at one of America’s favorite pastimes.
Tony’s son Ethan was playing catch with another teammate’s son, and Josh found himself thinking about Tony. He’d married a driven woman whose job eventually became the focus of her life. Tony had thought he could change her, especially after Ethan had been born, but you can’t change anyone who doesn’t want to be changed.
Josh knew he couldn’t really equate Whitney with Tony’s ex, except for the career part. And most women had those nowadays. As for kids, he didn’t even know if Whitney wanted any after the crazy way she’d grown up. But all these things were running through his head, bringing up his own past, and Jill, who he’d almost been married to.
And then he let it all go, watching Whitney laugh, her dark hair swinging against her shoulders and neck. He’d always been a positive sort of guy—he wasn’t going to stop that now. Things would work out for the best.
Will sat beside him, looking at his phone. Glancing up, he said, “So where shall I post we’ll be tonight?”
Josh tossed his glove at him.
Early the next afternoon, Whitney was cleaning the front windows and preparing space for the autumn window displays that Ryan was overnighting. Now that her sign was up, she was drawing a tourist or two from Main Street, and they should have something tempting to look at, so they’d want to return. She glanced out at the rainy street and saw Emily, Monica, and Brooke all huddled together under one big umbrella, laughing as they ran up her front steps.
She was surprised by the warm feeling of joy that rose within her. She had friends, of course, ones she had dinner or went shopping with, but they all seemed to serve that kind of (shallow?) purpose in each other’s lives. They didn’t discuss their deepest problems, didn’t share anything more intimate than… Whitney’s lingerie. And it wasn’t as if she and her sister-in-law Courtney were close, living on opposite coasts.
But these women of Valentine shared a closeness that went beyond friendship to sisterhood, and for some unfathomable reason, they’d included Whitney.
She went to the door and opened it. “Come on in!”
Emily peered in cautiously. “We’re all wet. Will we ruin your wood floor?”
“They haven’t even started refinishing it yet, so no worries there.”
After leaving the umbrella on the front porch, they all trooped in, wearing a rainbow of raincoats and carrying several brown bags. A waft of cinnamon made her stomach growl loudly.
Monica laughed. “We brought lunch.”
“And dessert from me,” Emily put in, grinning.
“Care to join us?” Brooke asked.
“Great idea, thanks. There’s a table in the kitchen the workers have been using.”
As they filed through the rooms, they oohed and aahed at the newly open space since the workers had torn down the walls between the large living room, the dining room, and the pantry. French doors led from the dining room to the back porch and a large, fenced-in yard.
“It’s good that you’re keeping the character of the house,” Brooke said, nodding her approval.
“That’s what’s taking so long, of course,” Whitney replied. “The wood trim is exquisite. You can’t get that kind anymore, so they have to work slowly and with care, especially since much of it had been painted over. It’s a lot of work removing layers of paint. The carved banister heading up to the second floor might as well be a work of art. And the backyard?” She paused at the French doors. “I’m going to have it landscaped, of course, and I’ll make it look like a peaceful retreat.”
“From our hectic city life?” Emily said, chuckling.
Whitney smiled and led them through an arched doorway into a plainer hall, then the kitchen. “I’m told that back in the old days, guests in the dining room should never have to see into the kitchen; hence this little hall.”
In the kitchen, a long row of plain cabinets indicated storage and not much decoration. “Only the servants were in this room, so they didn’t decorate like our modern kitchens. I’m going to use this as an office slash employee break room. Someday, I’d like to replace the cupboards. I considered moving them upstairs but changed my mind. Not pretty enough.”
“Upstairs?” Monica echoed, placing her bags on the table.
“After Emily’s uncles are finished down here in the next few weeks, they’re going to remodel upstairs for storage and a small apartment I can use whenever I’m in town.”
“Thinking ahead,” Brooke said, nodding. She pulled a folded newspaper out of one of the bags even as Emily began to lay out plastic containers on the kitchen table near the big bay window. “Did you see the recent Gazette?”
“Ah, I wanted to see if they had my ad in the Classifieds for a manager and sales associates. I know it’s on their website, too.”
“I didn’t check the Classifieds, but I did see another article on my brother. There are more photos, of course.”
“Of course,” Whitney said. “The man is very photogenic.”
Brooke frowned. “You sure he shouldn’t be hiding from these guys?”
“That’ll just lead to chases and even more obsessive interest. And he doesn’t want that.”
Monica opened up a large container of salad and brought out a couple different bottled dressings. Next came sandwiches, and a little cooler with an assortment of sodas.
“My mom made the sandwiches,” Brooke said. “She says hi.”
And then Emily opened up her box, revealing an apple pie, and they all groaned.
“Wait, wait, don’t distract me,” Brooke said. “You should read the article, Whitney. It focuses on his connection to Leather and Lace.”
She took the newspaper and scanned it while the women set out paper plates, napkins, and plasticware. She felt the tension leave her spine when there was no mention of her Whitney Wild past. She didn’t want Josh tarnished by the scandals she’d gotten herself involved in. None of it had hurt her stores in San Francisco and Las Vegas, but then again, she was selling daring lingerie.
“Well, this isn’t too bad. I’m not sure they’re saying anything all that new since Josh isn’t giving interviews. But someone is pushing to keep this in the papers, even feeding them information. Do you guys have any ideas? Does Josh have enemies?”
“Josh?” Brooke said, blinking in surprise. “Even when he brands cows, they don’t seem to hate him for it.”
“Gross,” Monica said, making a face.
“You might work with dirt,” Brooke said glibly, “but I get to castrate bull nuts.”
Unconcerned, Emily heaped salad on her plate. “Once, this would have disgusted me, but now I’m married to a cowboy.”
“You know, I couldn’t help my curiosity,” Brooke said, sitting down at the table and reaching for a sandwich. “I went to the newspaper myself and asked questions about the article.”
Whitney sat down and leaned toward her. “Really? What did you find out?”
“They wouldn’t say anything about their ‘source’ ”—she gave sarcastic air quotes—“but a secretary accidentally revealed that it was a woman. And that’s all I got.”
“A woman?” Whitney sank back in her chair in confusion. “That could be… anyone. Josh’s groupies come in all shapes and sizes and ages.” She wished she could discuss the photo and the fan club, but since she hadn’t spelled everything out to Josh yet, she wasn’t about to tell anyone else. “Guess it’ll have to remain a mystery.”
“I’m sure it’ll all die down eventually,” Monica said, “but until then, I’m enjoying Josh’s success as if it were my own.”
“It kind of is your own,” Brooke pointed out.
“I am profiting handsomely.” Monica wiggled her eyebrows. “So, Whitney, tell us what’s next for the store.”
They spent a lively hour talking about her coming search for employees and ideas for Christmas displays across all three stores. But always in the back of her mind, Whitney wondered about this strange woman, if she was the one behind Josh’s fan club.
Monday morning, after spending an hour setting up appointments with the people with the best résumés, Whitney was kneeling in the window arranging displays on the uneven shelves, when she saw Sylvester Galimi march up the stairs. She looked over her shoulder at the four men working on the trim, and a saw whined.
Sighing, she went out the front door before Sylvester could even knock.
He glanced past her at the tasteful lingerie she’d begun to drape over the partial torsos of mannequins, and she waited for a response.
His wince was minor as he lifted his chin and spoke coolly. “Sheriff Buchanan talked to me a few days ago. It’s taken me until now to decide what to say to you.”
She gave her own wince. “I didn’t tell him you’d thrown the rock. I don’t think you did.”
He flung his arms wide. “Then why give him my name at all?”
“Come sit down, Sylvester,” she said, motioning to the new wicker furniture she’d recently purchased for the porch.
“I don’t want to sit. I just want some answers.”
Whitney sighed. “I had to tell the sheriff the name of the person who led the opposition against Leather and Lace.”
“But rock-throwing?” he said with exasperation. “I went the legal route with the town council and lost.”
“But you’re still not happy.”
“Of course not, but I can urge people not to patronize your store and its indecent clothing. There are other legal ways to fight back.” He rubbed a hand through his curly hair and sank down on a cushioned chair in bewilderment. “This was Saturday night—I even have an alibi, and believe me, my sister wouldn’t lie for me. But this was so embarrassing. I’ve known Sheriff Buchanan for so many years…”
He looked… hurt and confused at the thought of any criminal conduct. Whitney felt a stab of sympathy for him. For the first time, instead of the enemy, she saw him as a person who was obviously uneasy with overt displays of sexuality. Or maybe he was just a deeply religious man, trying to do what he thought was right and moral. Small towns had all kinds of people, after all.
Of course, he was projecting his own morals on others…
“Sylvester, I’m sorry Sheriff Buchanan had to question you. I’m glad it led nowhere. I hope we can put this behind us.”
He stood up and glanced again at her window displays, then at her new sign advertising the business.
“I don’t know, Miss Winslow. I’m never going to agree with what you’re doing.”
“I know.”
He nodded and walked back down the stairs, and this time he didn’t march so heavily. She watched him turn back toward Main Street and his diner. Still her enemy, but not a vindictive one. She could live with that.
That night, as she talked on the phone with Josh, she told him about Sylvester’s visit.
“You sound… pensive,” he said in a quiet voice.
She lay back on her bed beneath the open window, and listened to the sound of the evening birds chirping a good night. “I don’t know. It was kind of sad. He was kind of sad.”
“It’s not your fault, Whitney. Maybe I can come over there and cheer you up.”
She smiled. “Only if you want to traipse through Debbie’s book club. I was invited to attend, but not having read the book…”
“Oh. Guess I’ll skip it then.”
She laughed.
“What about tomorrow afternoon?” he continued. “I’m having lunch with your real-estate agent and his family. They take turns inviting us pathetic bachelors over. You could help me defer their pointed interest.”
“This better not be our big date since it sounds like you want to use me.”
“Well… I think we could both come up with better ways to use each other.”
His voice had dropped into that low, rumbling range that gave her goose bumps.
It wasn’t until they’d said their good-nights that she realized she still hadn’t told him about the woman who’d been the source for the latest article on him. She’d wait until she had something more concrete than that. Surely Ryan would soon receive the fan-club photo of Josh. She prayed that there was some sort of clue…