A Place To Call Home. Sharon Sala

      “Don’t thank me yet,” Judd said.

      Wade shrugged off the warning, but before he could comment, someone honked outside.

      Wade refilled his coffee cup and then motioned with his chin. “That will be Tooter Beel.”

      “Tooter?”

      Wade grinned. “Don’t ask.” Then he added, “He’ll tow your car to the garage in town, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to talk to the mechanic.”

      Judd frowned. This meant another day’s delay added on to the rest. Then he sighed. Why wasn’t he surprised?

      “Why tomorrow?” he asked.

      “Because today is Monday and Harold doesn’t open the shop on Mondays.”

      Judd knew he shouldn’t ask, but the question came out, anyway.

      “And why doesn’t he open on Mondays?”

      Wade’s grin widened. “Because he’s usually sleeping off a weekend drunk. Even if he came in and unlocked the shop, you wouldn’t want him working on anything. He’s real mean until the liquor wears off.”

      “So, all that’s going to happen today is my Jeep gets parked in town?”

      “That’s about the size of it.”

      “Fine. Then I’ll stay here and help Charlie.”

      Wade looked nervous. This wasn’t what he had in mind.

      “Uh, I don’t think…”

      “Is there anyone…maybe a neighbor, or a friend, who can come stay with her?” Judd asked.

      Wade frowned. “No.”

      “Maybe you were planning to stay here and help her?” Judd asked.

      “Not with Shuler missing. In fact, I should already be at the office,” Wade said.

      “So, what’s-his-name can tow my car and I’ll stay here and help. Maybe by tomorrow the swelling in her foot will be down.”

      The horn sounded again. Wade was out of excuses. He set his coffee cup down and headed for the door.

      “Fine,” he said shortly. “I’ll tell Tooter to hook ’er up and pull it into town. You can talk to Harold tomorrow about repairs.”

      “Sounds like a plan to me,” Judd said, and wondered why he’d been so bent on baby-sitting a woman and a kid. It wasn’t like him. In fact, it wasn’t like him at all.

      Chapter 3

      Judd couldn’t remember ever wanting to touch a woman as much as he wanted to touch Charlotte. Her skin, an even golden tan, was glistening with a faint sheen of perspiration as she crawled around on her knees, weeding the flower garden in front of the house. She wore her hair in a thick rope of braid, and the warm chestnut color glowed from the heat of the sun. The braid hung over her shoulder as she worked, and each time she straightened to rest her back, it would bounce against the thrust of one breast. Her shorts were old and frayed at the hems, the denim fabric faded by countless washings, and the logo on her T-shirt was completely illegible. He kept staring at the slender curve of her neck and the high, delicate instep of her small bare feet, and telling himself to focus on something else. He didn’t listen.

      Beyond the sandstone walk, the baby played, carrying a small bucket of dirt from one pile to another, then scooping it up and doing it all over again. Overhead, a lone turkey buzzard circled high in the sky, looking for something to eat. Judd glanced up, past the buzzard to the jet trail far above, and thought of the faceless people in that plane. They didn’t know it, but at this very moment, they were flying over heaven.

      “Judd, would you hand me that small rake, please?”

      He grabbed at the rake with a guilty conscience. Could she tell he’d been thinking about her? Would it show on his face?

      “Thanks,” she said, and began pulling it through the dirt, loosening the soil around the roots of some bushes.

      “I would have been happy to do that for you,” Judd said.

      Charlie paused, giving him more than a casual glance. His shoulders were straining at the shirt he was wearing, and from where she was sitting, the muscles in his legs weren’t too shabby, either. She wondered if he was a fitness freak, and then discarded the thought. It shouldn’t matter to her what he was.

      “Do you know the difference between marigolds and weeds?” she asked.

      He hesitated and then grinned. “No.”

      “Then if you don’t mind, I’ll do it myself.”

      Judd laughed. “You don’t trust men much, do you?”

      She never looked up. “I haven’t had much reason.”

      Judd’s smile faded. He glanced at Rachel, watching the way her baby curls bounced as she toddled from place to place, and he thought of the fool who’d denied her.

      “No, I guess you haven’t at that,” he said softly, watching as Rachel came toward them, still carrying her shovel but leaving her little bucket behind.

      “Mommy, I sirsty.”

      “Just a minute, sweetie,” Charlie said. “Let Mommy get up and I’ll get you a drink.”

      Judd put his hand on her shoulder. “I would be happy to take her for you.”

      Charlie hesitated, then smiled. “Thanks, but I’d better do it. She probably needs to go to the bathroom, too.”

      Judd started to argue, then thought better of it. He couldn’t blame her. If it was his daughter, he wouldn’t want a strange man taking her to the bathroom, either.

      He nodded, then slid his hands beneath her armpits and pulled Charlie to her feet. For a second, they were face-to-face, gazes locked.

      Then something happened.

      Charlie would think later that it was a recognition of souls, while Judd would not remember the thought in his mind, only the yearning to kiss her.

      He moved.

      She lifted her face and held her breath.

      “Mommy…”

      Rachel’s plea yanked them back to reality, a vivid reminder that they were not alone. Desperate to put something between them, Judd picked the child up, then slid his free arm around Charlie’s waist and helped her into the house. Oddly enough, she leaned on his strength without fuss, taking his help as it was meant to be given. When they were inside, he set Rachel down in the hall outside the bathroom door. Charlie moved past him without comment. Judd watched the door closing between them while thinking he should have gone into town with Wade, after all. Staying alone in this house with Charlotte Franklin hadn’t been a good idea. He already admired her. He didn’t want to like her—at least, not so much that it would matter when it was time to leave.

      Raymond Shuler came to in the dark and thought at first he’d gone blind. Then he felt the blindfold on his eyes and fought an urge to throw up. A whimper of protest came up his throat, but never got past the gag in his mouth. The ropes around his wrists and ankles were rough and binding, but those were the least of his worries. He’d been kidnapped. He was going to die.

      Time passed. His mind was clearing as he recognized a current of air moving across his skin. A few seconds later it hit him. My God, he was naked!

      Fear sliced through him, leaving him sick to his stomach as he struggled to pull free. The smell of dust was thick in the air and his throat felt dry, his lips cracked and burning.

      Something rattled—then rattled again. At the sound of footsteps, he stilled. Was this it? Was this the moment he was going to die? He thought of his wife, of his family, of the debts