At a little before ten the next morning, Shelly knocked on Hope’s front door. Hope had just gotten dressed and her hair was still wet from her shower.
“Dylan just phoned me,” Shelly said as she followed Hope into the kitchen. “He wanted me to come over and see if you were okay. He said he tried to call you last night, but you weren’t home.”
“I wasn’t answering the phone.” Hope reached for the coffeepot and poured two cups. “I was busy working.”
“He said he called this morning, too.”
Hope raised her mug and blew into it to keep from smiling. She hadn’t heard the phone, but maybe she’d been in the shower when he’d called.
“Is something going on between the two of you?”
“Not a thing. Do you want milk and sugar?”
“No.” Shelly raised her own coffee and blew into it. Both women stared at each other through the steam. “Did you know that an informant inside the sheriff’s department gave the FBI information about Hiram Donnelly?”
“I’d figured that out.”
“But have you figured out who is it?”
“Hazel?”
“No.”
“Dylan?”
“Wrong again.”
“Do you know?”
“Yes,” Shelly answered through a smile. “But I’m not going to tell you. And do you know why?” She didn’t wait for Hope to answer. “Because I can keep a confidence. No one knows but me and the FBI. If someone tells me to keep something a secret, I can. I’m a good friend.” She looked pointedly at Hope as if to say Hope was not.
“Okay.” Hope relented and it all came out in a rush. “Okay, I spent the Fourth of July night at Dylan’s house.”
“I knew it! When Paul told me that Dylan was giving you a ride home, I knew he was going to try his old cheap moves on you.”
Hope was too embarrassed to admit that he hadn’t tried very hard. “You can’t talk about this to anyone. I don’t know how I feel about what happened, and Dylan doesn’t want this to turn into town gossip.”
“Oh, that Dylan,” Shelly scoffed and waved her bad hand. “He thinks his business is sacred or something. Somehow more off-limits than everyone else’s. He thinks everyone is just dying to know what’s up with him.” She shrugged. “Which, of course, we are, but I swear I won’t breathe a word.”
Hope blew into her own coffee and took a drink. When she looked up, Shelly was staring a hole into her. “What? Do you want details?”
“Not if you don’t want to give them.”
“I’ll just say that I stayed with him all night, and I had a really good time.” She took another sip and added, “Really good.”
Over their coffee mugs, they smiled at each other. Two completely opposite women who recognized a true friend in the other.
“How’s your hand?” Hope asked.
“Good.” Shelly looked at it and remarked, “This polish makes Paul frisky, but it’s starting to chip now.”
“Come on, let’s do our nails.” Hope motioned for Shelly to follow. She gathered her supplies and set them on the coffee table in the living room. She chose Rebellious Red polish, while Shelly settled on Mountain Huckleberry.
“Are you going to see him again?”
Hope shook her head. “No. I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Why?”
Hope reached for a bottle of remover and a bag of cotton balls. “Well, it can’t go anywhere because I’m leaving in five months.” The thought of leaving sent an unexpected qualm of dread through her. She felt so alive here and had found so much, but this wasn’t her home. She just couldn’t see herself living here forever, but then she’d never tried to envision it, either. She removed the lid and soaked a cotton ball. “Dylan doesn’t want a girlfriend, and I would end up hurt.”
Shelly thought for a moment, then said, “Probably. Too bad you can’t just have fun. You know, use and abuse him while you’re here.”
Hope thought it was too bad, too.
After Shelly left, Hope fixed her hair in an inverted ponytail and put on a blue summer dress. The top of the dress looked like two bandannas sewn together and tied behind her neck and back, while the skirt hit her about mid-thigh. When her makeup was perfect, her lips a glossy red, she drove into town. She stopped first at the M & S to pick up some fresh produce and a Hershey’s big block.
She looked over a small selection of CDs displayed near the postcards and gum. She’d never been a fan of country-and-western music, but since she was living in a town where if it wasn’t country it wasn’t cool, she grabbed a Dwight Yoakam CD and placed it in her basket. She’d never listened to his music, but she’d seen him in Sling Blade. She figured that anyone who could act so good at being so bad had to be talented in other areas also.
Stanley stood behind the counter as always, a copy of The Weekly News of the Universe spread out in front of him.
“Are you reading about aliens again?” she asked him as she set her basket next to the cash register.
“Yep, only this time there is a pack of ‘em living in the Northwest. Says right here they’re masquerading as humans, running around playing tricks on people.”
“Really? Hmm.”
“Says they’re responsible for lost backpackers and a few injuries.”
She made her eyes go wide. “Wow.”
“Says they place bets.”
“That’s horrible.”
“It ain’t right betting on others’ misery.” Stanley spun the paper around and pointed to the center spread. “Call me crazy, but that looks like Gospel Lake.”
Hope took a closer look at the photograph she’d taken the day she’d met Shelly and the boys on the beach. She hadn’t thought anyone would recognize the picture. “I think it looks like Eugene, Oregon,” she said, to throw him off the track.
“Could be. An alien could blend in real good with all those militant tree huggers they got over there in Eugene.” He shook his head and reached for her basket. “Sure could be Gospel, though.”
Hope was a fairly good actress when she put her mind to it, and she tried to appear as if she were giving his idea some serious thought. “Do you really think so?”
“Nah, but it’s fun to wonder who in this town might be an alien.”
She glanced up from the paper and smiled. “Maybe the woman who runs the Sandman Motel.”
“Ada Dover?” He laughed and rang up her oranges. “Could be you’re right. She is an odd one at that.”
“Yeah, kind of spooky.”
“Don’t you worry.” He patted her hand, then rang up her items. “I’ll protect you from aliens.”
“Thank you, Stanley,” she said and was still smiling when she left the M & S. She dropped off some film she’d shot of the mountains taken from her backyard, and drove into the self-serve Chevron. The pumps had yet to enter the new century, and after filling her car with gas, she had to go inside to pay with her debit card.
When she walked back outside, Dylan stood on the other side of the pumps, leaning against his dark blue truck, filling it with gas. His black T-shirt was tucked inside his black jeans, and his black Stetson was pulled low on his forehead. He looked like he’d stepped off the silver screen-an irresistible baddie-on a mission to wreak havoc and break the hearts of good women.
Her steps slowed and her heart ground to a halt. She couldn’t see his eyes for the shadow of his hat, but she could feel his gaze on her. Like always, it reached across the distance and touched her all over. As she approached her car, he straightened and a slow smile curved his mouth.
“Looks like someone wrapped you up in his hankie,” he said, his smooth voice pulling her to him like an invisible tractor beam, tempting her with the memory of his hands and mouth touching her.
She looked down at her dress and couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say. “Oh” was the only sound she was capable of uttering. She looked back up into his shadowy eyes and seductive smile, and like the coward she was, she ducked her head and dove into her car. She fired up the Porsche and sped off, leaving temptation in her dust.