FLOWERS and CAGES Read online

  "It's always deep fried. I want my sole grilled, not covered in crispy grease."

  Dalton could relate. There was a place for fast food. Sometimes it was a necessity. But there was no substitute for beautifully prepared food made with the freshest ingredients. It was one of the many joys of having the money to travel where he wanted and do it first class all the way.

  "There is a place on the coast of Italy that serves a Fillet of Sole Ponte Vecchio. It is one of the five best things I have ever eaten."

  "You keep track?"

  "I do when it's that good."

  "I want to travel," Colleen said with a wistful sigh.

  "To Italy?"

  "Italy. France. Seattle. New York."

  Smiling, Dalton thanked the waitress as she set their drinks on the table. He took a sip of his beer before he could do something stupid like give into a sudden desire to invite Colleen on the trip he planned before leaving Los Angeles. Two weeks in Greece. Not the touristy places. He had marveled at the Acropolis years ago. This time, Dalton had rented a boat. Not too big, but one that had a full crew so he could sit back and enjoy as they sailed around the different islands. Ashe planned on joining him for a few days.

  The two men would undoubtedly find the time to romance some local beauties. But the idea of seeing Colleen in a tiny bikini, her red hair gleaming in the Mediterranean sunlight, held a great deal of appeal. It wasn't practical. It wasn't going to happen. But it was a nice image.

  Dalton's favorite meals were ones that were drawn out by good conversation. To his delight, Colleen turned out to be a lively, opinionated companion.

  "I don't want a handout." Colleen waved her fork for emphasis. "I want fair pay for work well done. Dole thought he could get away with agreeing to one salary and giving me another. He quickly learned otherwise."

  There was something about a strong, confident woman that got Dalton's blood pumping. Sweet and docile was fine for a change of pace. But give him a woman like Colleen any day.

  "I would have loved to witness that confrontation."

  "It was short but not very sweet. Dole can do the basics. Change the oil. Fix a flat. But those things don't keep the lights on. Or provide his wife, Selma, with enough cash to buy fripperies in Phoenix."

  "Fripperies?"

  "Dole's word, not mine," Colleen said. "I have no idea what they are, but she seems to need a lot of them."

  "Are they like thing-a-ma-jigs?"

  "No. Probably more in the neighborhood of do-dads."

  As though the difference was of deep importance, Dalton nodded, barely managing to keep a straight face. When his twinkling eyes met hers, they both burst out laughing.

  "Dole must have come to his senses, or you wouldn't still be working there."

  "I get a fair wage," Colleen shrugged, taking a bite of her chicken fried steak.

  "Stop me if I'm overstepping your boundaries—"

  "Boundaries?" she interrupted with a quiet snort. "Did we set those?"

  "Not verbally. But everyone has a line that shouldn't be crossed." Dalton certainly did.

  "You see before you an open book." Colleen took a drink of the margarita she had nursed through the meal, pushed her empty plate to the side, and then rested her elbows on the table. "Shoot. What do you want to know?"

  "What are you doing in Midas, Arizona?"

  "I like how you make it sound like the filthiest curse word ever."

  "Well…" Dalton shrugged.

  "Which begs the question, what are you doing here?" Colleen put up a hand before he could think of a suitable answer. "Never mind. Besides, you asked first. Do you want the long version, or should I Reader's Digest you?"

  "I don't have any place to be. How about you?"

  "This is Midas, Arizona," Colleen grinned, copying Dalton's tone. "You are the only game in town. No offense."

  Dalton wasn't the least bit offended. He was intrigued, entertained, and not surprisingly, aroused.

  "Then I vote for the long version," he said, settling back.

  "I wasn't born here. The whys and wherefores are more my mother's story than mine. My father had left before I was old enough to care. After years of barely getting by working as a beautician, Mom remarried. Evan Crawford."

  "How old were you?"

  "Thirteen. Before I could blink, we were on our way from our home in Kansas to a shiny new life in Arizona." Colleen sighed. "Little did my mother know she was trading one dead-end town for another. But at least she had a husband."

  "What happened?"

  "Surprise, surprise, step-daddy wasn't the man he made himself out to be." Dalton heard the trace of bitterness in Colleen's voice. "He couldn't work—bad back. Mom got a job at the local beauty salon. And three months later, her husband, along with the little money she had saved, skipped town."

  "Bastard."

  "The crazy part is, he made Mom happy. She was a different woman than the one I grew up with. She smiled and laughed. Working wasn't a problem—she liked her job. When her marriage collapsed, so did she." Colleen gave a philosophical shrug. "Nothing good lasts long in Midas."

  ''You have."

  Obviously pleased by his comment, Colleen's lovely green eyes widened. "That may be the best line ever."

  "It wasn't a line," Dalton assured her.

  "That's what makes it so good."

  Dalton slid his hand across the table until the tips of his fingers brushed Colleen's. A bit of comfort and encouragement.

  "I wanted to leave, but Mom wouldn't hear of it. For better or worse—you have to love the irony of that—this was now our home. After a few weeks, she started to come out of her funk. She dragged herself to work. Eventually, she bought the salon. She got married last fall. So far, so good."

  "That covers your mother. What about you?"

  "I guess that was the point, wasn't it?"

  "Not that I was bored." Dalton's index finger lightly tapped hers. "But yes, that was the point."

  "There isn't much to tell. I like engines, and they like me. I've always had the knack. Back in Kansas, a repair man told Mom our refrigerator couldn't be fixed."

  "You fixed it?"

  "I am proud to say that refrigerator brought us fifty dollars. A neighbor bought it before we left town."

  Beautiful, funny, and talented beyond Dalton's comprehension. He knew what a spark plug looked like, but that was where it ended. They could have used Colleen in the early days. Calling their first tour bus unreliable put it mildly. More often than not, the money they earned from a gig was put right back into their transportation. Colleen would have saved them a fortune in repairs.

  Over the next hour, Colleen explained how close she had come to leaving Midas. Her mother's illness. And starting over again.

  "I've seen my last Midas summer," she said with a firm nod. "If I lose it all tomorrow, nothing is keeping me here."

  "Where will you go?"

  When Colleen hesitated, Dalton wondered if she had reached the edge of her boundaries. Then she continued—cautiously.

  "I've never told anyone."

  "I won't be offended if you want to keep it to yourself." This time, when his hand moved, it was to take hold of hers.

  "I'm afraid." A burst of air rushed from Colleen's lungs. "That's something I never admit—not even to myself."

  "Change is scary."

  "I want a change," Colleen said, her eyes burning with emotion. "I want different. But…"

  Dalton's grip tightened. "Tell me."

  "What if I'm not supposed to get out of here, Dalton? What if this is it for me? Day after day of working for Dole. My mother says I should get married. Have a few babies. That will make me happy."

  "What did you say?"

  "If I weren't afraid of hurting her feelings? How did that work out for you, Mom? Instead, I smiled, nodded, and mentally crossed off another day."

  "You'll get out, Colleen."

  Colleen st
ared at some invisible point over Dalton's shoulder. When her gaze returned to his, the emotion was there, but it had dimmed considerably.

  "I should have left when I was eighteen. But Mom begged me to stay one more year while she got the salon on firmer ground. Then I decided to take some classes in Phoenix. I'm glad I did. I learned a lot. That was when I started refurbishing the Thunderbird. I found it dirt cheap. I promised myself as soon as I finished, I was out of here."

  "Your mother became ill, Colleen."

  "And now she isn't." Earnestly, Colleen sat forward, both hands gripping his. "It has to happen this time."

  "Breathe," Dalton urged. "That's right. In and out. In and out."

  Gradually, Colleen's shoulders relaxed and the death grip on his hand loosened.

  "That wasn't the least bit embarrassing," Colleen cringed. She tried to pull away, but Dalton held on. "Was that a panic attack? Great. Mental instability. Just what I need."

  "You aren't unbalanced," Dalton said with calm certainty. He knew what that looked like, and Colleen didn't come close to qualifying. "You needed to vent, which you did quite nicely."

  "Thank you for listening." Taking another deep breath, she smiled—genuinely smiled.

  "Better?"

  "Much."

  "Good." Lifting her hand, Dalton kissed the back. "Ready to finish?"

  "First. Do that again." When he lightly brushed his lips across her fingers, Colleen sighed. "That's nice."

  "Second?" Dalton let her take back her hand.

  Colleen frowned, then her smile brightened her entire face. "Right. Second. Am I ready to finish what?"

  "You were going to tell me your dream? What will you do when you leave Midas, Colleen?"

  Dalton thought he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear the words from her.

  Colleen's smile turned into a grin. "I am going to be the best damn classic car restorer in the country. Eventually, the world."

  It made perfect sense. Dalton knew first hand that Colleen had the skill to make her dream come true.

  "I would say it's a sure bet."

  "You think so?"

  "My money is on you."

  "WHAT IS HE doing in Midas?"

  "Having dinner." The second the words were out of Drum Anders' mouth, he wished them back.

  There was a long pause. "Was that an attempt at humor?"

  More like sarcasm, but Drum wisely kept that to himself.

  "No, sir. It's a fact. Shaw spent the afternoon visiting his sister. Then he checked into The Midas Manor. After picking up Colleen McNamara, they drove to The Sidewinder. Dinner, drinks, and conversation, sir. That's all there is to report."

  "After seven years, Dalton Shaw chooses now to show his face in this town again?"

  "It could be a coincidence. Like I said, the first thing Shaw did was visit his sister."

  "You don't get to my position in life believing in coincidence. Keep an eye on him. Perhaps you're right, and I have nothing to worry about."

  "I'll call if he does anything out of the ordinary."

  "You'll call if all he does is scratch his ass. I will decide what's important and what isn't. I want everything documented. Understood?"

  "Yes, sir."

  With a resigned sigh, Drum took another picture. Same angle. Nothing new. For everyone's sake, he hoped this ended soon. The last time Dalton Shaw came to Midas, he was a two-bit drummer in a struggling band. Now, he was a world-famous rock star. He could go anywhere in the world. Why here? Unless his boss was right. Was Shaw going to cause trouble?

  Raising his phone, Drum caught Shaw kissing Colleen McNamara's hand. She was a good-looking woman but hardly worth coming to this shithole town. There had to be more to it than sex.

  Because he messed with the wrong family, Dalton Shaw had been railroaded. He was sent to prison for doing something that in any other part of the country would have gotten him a medal. Or at the very least a suspended sentence. Was his return a coincidence? Or was he back for revenge?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT HAD TO be the oddest date Colleen had ever been on. It was also the best. They began the evening relative strangers with little more than an instant attraction between them. Now? The connection had grown to something bigger, better—and a bit frightening. Sharing her inner-most thoughts and dreams went beyond the casual. To what, she couldn't say.

  However, Colleen knew one thing. She liked the feeling—whatever it was. She liked Dalton Shaw. And there weren't many people she could honestly say that about.

  "I'm surprised we made it through dinner without someone recognizing you."

  Dalton helped Colleen from her seat. It was a little gesture but not one she saw every day. Or, thinking back, ever. The man turned out to be a big, sexy anachronism—in the best sense of the word.

  "You mean because I'm a celebrity?

  Colleen took Dalton's proffered arm as they walked toward the exit.

  "You're a rock star. Celebrity is something else. Like a Kardashian or one of those Bachelor people."

  "I appreciate the distinction." Dalton paused outside the restaurant, scanning the parking lot before moving to the car.

  Feeling she missed something, Colleen frowned. "Is there a problem?"

  "I hope not."

  With what seemed to her to be undue haste, Dalton hustled Colleen into the car. Before he could start the engine, she stayed his hand.

  "Do you want to explain?" Deciding that was too easily shot down, Colleen amended her question to a statement. "Tell me what's going on, Dalton. You were relaxed and easy during dinner. Now you're as tense as a dog anticipating a thunderstorm. No clouds. No lightning. So what changed?"

  Dalton gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles showing white.

  "How hard would it be for you to trust me?"

  "Do you want money? Or a vital organ?"

  Colleen wasn't certain, but she thought the sound Dalton made was close to a laugh.

  "No on both."

  "Do I have to lie, cheat, or steal? Because I'm fine with two of those—for the most part. The third is tricky but on occasion? Sure."

  "When are you okay with stealing?"

  "Ocean's Eleven. I didn't like the casino owner. Of course, they lost all their money, but not until the sequel."

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  Colleen had no idea. But it made Dalton smile.

  "I trust you. Up to a point."

  Dalton nodded. "Smart woman." He started the car, cautiously pulling out of the parking lot. "I want you to take the T-Bird back to your place."

  "Are you leaving town sooner than expected?" Colleen thought that would be a damn shame. "I tinkered with your car, but even if I get it running, I wouldn't suggest trying to drive it back to Los Angeles."

  "I'm not leaving town. Not yet. And I'm holding you to the rental agreement. I don't want to leave the car in an unprotected parking lot."

  "Because…?"

  "This is where that trust part comes in. Can you cut me some slack?"

  "Slack equals patience. That has never been my strong suit." However, if Dalton thought her car was in danger, she wouldn't push. At least, not tonight. "I can put a few pieces together. Does this concern what happened to you seven years ago?"

  "Yes."

  "Will you tell me the whole story?"

  "Probably."

  "Is probably the best I'm going to get?"

  "Yes."

  Suddenly Mr. Chatty morphed into the monosyllabic man. It should have been funny, but Colleen didn't feel like laughing.

  "Stay at my place."

  "No."

  "Damn it, Dalton. My apartment comes with a locked garage. I have double bolts on my front door. My car and you will be safe."

  "I'll stay if I can share your bed."

  "Okay."

  "We won't get much sleep, Colleen."

  "I know."

  This time, when Dalton
laughed, Colleen heard it loud and clear.

  "Jesus. Really, Colleen? You would have sex with me? Why?"

  "I'm worried about you. If you're in my bed, I know you'll be safe."

  "I appreciate the thought, but no. I'll be fine in my motel room."

  Colleen wondered about men. Ninety-nine percent of the time they seemed to think with their dicks. Until a woman wanted him to. Then he decided to exercise that one percent of his brain that mostly lay dormant.

  "It isn't as though it would be a hardship. I planned on us having sex by the weekend. What's wrong with speeding up the timetable?"

  The streetlights illuminated the interior of the car enough to allow her to see Dalton's face and his bemused expression. Deciphering his thoughts wasn't as easy. He pulled the car to a stop outside the motel. Within a minute, he was out of the driver's seat and Colleen replaced him. When she rolled down the window, he leaned down.

  "Drive straight home, lock your doors, then give me a call."

  "One of the few good things about living in Midas is the lack of crime."

  Giving her another enigmatic look, Dalton stood back.

  "Lock your front door, Colleen. Then call me."

  "Fine. But you first." Colleen motioned toward the door to Dalton's room. "You're making me nervous. I'm not leaving until you are safely inside."

  Dalton looked as if he might argue. His blue eyes narrowed. But to her surprise, he nodded.

  "The car doors are locked. Roll up your windows. And Colleen?" he said as she began to comply.

  "Yes?"

  "Thank you for trusting me."

  "You're welcome. Dalton?" Colleen called out as he entered the motel.

  "Yes?"

  "Don't make me regret it."

  DALTON WAITED FOR Colleen to call. She didn't play games. Fifteen minutes after she pulled out of the parking lot, she checked in.

  "We should exchange passwords. Or a secret knock," Colleen said the second he answered.

  "That won't be necessary." Dalton knew he overreacted, but he'd had a strange feeling since leaving the restaurant. He would risk looking foolish if it meant keeping Colleen safe. "Are you free for lunch tomorrow?"

  "I usually work straight through. Why don't I pick you up around eight o'clock? I'll drive us to the garage, and you can have the car for the rest of the day."