His Private Pleasure(12)
“Okay, enough of this torture.” She yanked open the tiny trunk and unzipped her leather duffel. She’d purposely taken her little sports car so she’d be forced to travel light, figuring that focusing on where she was going would be much easier if she wasn’t lugging most of her past around with her.
Of course, that hadn’t stopped her from buying and shipping home any little thing that caught her eye. She swallowed a wicked little snicker, wondering if she could mail Dylan Jackson home. He’d definitely caught her eye, all right, along with just about every other body part.
If only it were so easy.
By the time she got back to the deck, a thick white sweater buttoned at her throat keeping off most of the chill, he had plates and silverware set on place mats on the little table. Again, nothing fancy, but she was discovering the basic and simple held more appeal than she would have previously thought. “Can I help with something?”
“Just your appetite.”
Oh, I definitely have that. “Famished.” Noticing he was sipping his wine, she asked, “What do you think? Of the wine, I mean?”
“It’s worthy of a repeat invitation.”
She smiled. “For the wine, or for me?”
“I haven’t made up my mind about you yet.” He took another sip. “But the wine definitely passes.”
“I’ll take my brownie points and quit complaining then.”
“Smart woman.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“I bet you have.”
With both of them smiling, he turned back to the steak and she found her gaze drifting to the house. She wondered what his bedroom looked like. Basic, simple, down to earth, certainly. Big bed, small bed? Bathroom built for one…or two? “So you designed the house?”
“In my head, yes, but I paid a professional to put it on paper for me. I did a lot of the work myself, but hired out what I couldn’t handle or didn’t know how to do.”
Practical. Secure. No need to brag, but there was quiet pride in his tone and, when he glanced at the house, in his expression.
“I can’t imagine tackling something like this,” she said truthfully. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
He laid his fork and tongs down and wandered over to the railing near where she sat. “What exactly was it you did in California?”
“Publicist. Celebrities mostly. I ran my own firm.”
“Then I’d say you have some experience in tackling big projects. It’s probably not much different. When you know what you want, I’m willing to bet you find a way to make it happen no matter how overwhelming the task might seem.”
She stared at him, surprised by the insight. “I suppose you’re right. The problem comes when you no longer know what you want, I guess. It’s hard to make your dreams come true when you’ve achieved the only ones you ever had.”
He crossed his legs at the ankle and took another sip of wine. “Is that what you’re doing? On this sabbatical of yours. Trying to find new dreams?”
“That’s a good way of putting it.”
“Some people just enjoy the dreams they’ve realized, consider themselves lucky for the opportunity. Why did you give up what you were doing?”
“Why did you give up being a vice cop?”
He didn’t blink at the question, but handled it as directly as he handled her. She was really attracted to that quality in him.
“I had this idea that being a cop in a big city was more important than being a sheriff in a small one. I found out I was wrong. Crime is crime and no victim is more or less important than another. Keeping the peace anywhere, or trying to, is a rewarding experience.”
“Some anywheres are more challenging than others, I would imagine. You strike me as someone who enjoys a challenge.” She motioned to the house he’d blasted part of a mountain away to build.
“True, but one isn’t less important than others. Las Vegas was definitely a challenge and I thought that was what I needed, would thrive on.”
“How long did you work there?”
“Nine years. The last three in vice.”
“That’s a fair amount of time in a tough city.”
“Felt like an eternity, if you want to know the truth. No matter what I did, how many people I busted, it seemed it never really made a dent.” He took a sip of his wine, his gaze drifting to the winking lights of the town sprawled below them. “I realized I needed to make a dent. Challenge is one thing, but after a while I needed the satisfaction of knowing what I did mattered.”
He said it matter-of-factly, but Liza had the feeling the decision hadn’t been so easily made. “You don’t think what you did in Vegas mattered?”
“Maybe. I can’t explain it. I suppose on some level, removing scum from the streets matters. But for every one I locked up, there was always another piece of slime ready and willing to slide in to take his or her place. In more cases than I can count, it was slime I’d already locked up before, out on the streets again. After a while, it starts to feel like you’re shoveling sand against the tide. I guess I needed more tangible evidence that I was making a difference.”
“So you came home again. And now you rescue cockatoos from trees.” She didn’t know why she poked at him, and she’d said it gently, with a smile, but she guessed she just enjoyed seeing him respond. It was never in a way she’d expect.
He smiled in return. “Yeah. But it’s not always so exciting as all that. You just caught me in action.”
She laughed. “So you’re telling me it’s all ho-hum and pushing paper? This is as rewarding as busting some drug lord or pimp?”
“You push paper no matter where you work. And no, I don’t miss dealing with scum. I appreciate the sameness of life here, the fact that bodies don’t end up in alleys and pushers don’t deal crack on the playground. I actually enjoy dealing with the town council and the mayor on whether or not a new traffic light will slow down the occasional speeder, whether we need parking meters on the town square and what type of security measures we need to take to keep the kids safe at school. And just to make things exciting, I still get to throw the occasional drunk in jail and lock up the occasional crook. I also fingerprint kids at the school fairs and investigate who stole someone’s bike from in front of the drugstore.”
“Do you think you’ll ever get tired of that sameness?” She realized she was asking as much for herself. She was looking for a new path in life and was interested to hear from someone who had done it and succeeded.
There was a brief flicker, as if she’d said something that reminded him of something he’d rather not recall. But then he looked at her and she was surprised by the avid and clear purpose in his eyes. “No. It’s my town. My people. I’m responsible for them, and while it’s occasionally frustrating, I like being the one who keeps their peace. Frankly, more than I ever believed I would.” As if realizing an edge of fervor had crept into his tone, he banked it with a short laugh. “It’s your typical town ruffian–turned–sheriff story.”
“That’s right. The original Canyon Springs bad boy.” She leaned forward. “So, tell the truth, were you really all that bad?”
“Let’s just say when I left this place I had no intentions of ever coming back, and the town was probably hoping that wish remained fulfilled.”
“And yet they elected you sheriff. Go figure, huh?”
He grinned and she spied a little of that bad boy behind the man who now wore a badge. He shrugged. “Life hands you some unexpected lessons. It’s all in what you do with what you learn, I guess. I consider myself lucky.”
“I imagine the town feels the same way,” she said, and meant it, envying him his clear sense of purpose. She wondered if she’d ever feel that confidence in herself again.
He laughed. “Depends on who you ask, on what day.”
She smiled and nodded, but her attention continued to drift inward as she swirled the remains of her wine in the bottom of her glass.
“Life handed you some unexpected lessons, did it?”
He’d poked gently, too. She only wished she could answer as directly and honestly as he had. “A class load of them.”
“Seems like you’ve done pretty well by them, from the looks of things.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, I’m guessing you didn’t walk away from your business because you had to, but because you wanted to. Or needed to. Two different things.”
She tilted her head. “Since when did small-town sheriffs turn into psychologists?”
He didn’t duck the question, but then he probably never ducked anything. “Actually, any Psych 101 abilities I have were learned pumping witnesses for information in Vegas. I discovered I got a lot more by paying attention to who I was asking, and acting accordingly, than by lumping them together into a faceless entity to bully information from.”
She smiled a little. “I bet that comes in handy with the town council and the mayor.”
“Don’t forget the ladies auxiliary.”
“No,” she said in all seriousness, “I don’t think we can ever forget them.”