Read Online Prairie Gothic by J.M. Hayes - Free Book Online Page B

sheriff’s cruiser spun its back wheels, then the tires chirped and grabbed and the car jumped forward like a dragster coming off the line.
    â€œIt would be good if you stayed on the street,” One observed from the back seat. Wynn wasn’t saying anything because he was too busy cringing as they climbed the curb. The front bumper avoided an oak by inches. Heather Lane got them back in the street as the engine approached red line on the tach. She took her foot off the accelerator half a moment before she put her other foot back on the clutch. Everyone jerked forward until she shifted gears and popped the clutch again. This was executed even less smoothly than her initial effort, but there were so many cubic inches of ancient Detroit iron under the hood that it was almost impossible to stall, even when you managed to miss a couple of gears and go directly into fourth.
    â€œHow was that?” Two wondered, proud of the success she’d managed on her very first try.
    â€œI think she’s getting the hang of it, don’t you, Deputy?” One said.
    Wynn couldn’t find his voice to answer. They accelerated out of town, headed south along Adams Street, racing the wind and beginning to win.
    â€œYou are such a sweetheart, agreeing to teach us how to drive a manual transmission,” Two told him, taking her eyes off the road just long enough to bring the tires on Wynn’s side to the edge of an especially deep ditch.
    â€œUlp!” Wynn responded graciously. He couldn’t get enough breath for a terrified scream.
    ***
    Judy English studied the names on her list and remembered their faces, figures, and characters. The sophomore had to be too skinny. No way she could have hidden a pregnancy in that scrawny body of hers, and yet…Judy remembered noticing a bit of a tummy on her last week. She’d thought it might be evidence of malnutrition. The other two, the seniors, seemed more likely. One of them was Marilyn Monroe voluptuous. Lots of room in those ample curves to hide an extra bulge. The other was a strikingly beautiful girl with a weight problem. She had trouble saying no to food—or sex. Self-esteem issues, Judy decided.
    She probably ought to tell Englishman, Judy thought, but she was still pissed at him for that bizarre call about the car. She reached out and picked up a picture from her desk. Englishman stood in the front yard, a Heather at either shoulder and an explosion of morning glories erupting behind them. He could make her so angry…or so horny.
    He still looked good at forty-seven. His face was more weathered; the crinkles around his amazingly blue eyes were deeper than she remembered all those years ago when she was a teen and he was a wounded war hero. She’d looked across the gym at a Bison’s basketball game and decided he was the one. His hairline was a little higher, just a hint of gray dusted his temples, but he still had that calm, noble look that had turned her on. The Cheyenne heritage Englishman and Mad Dog’s mother had claimed, and Judy’s genealogical research appeared to confirm, was evident in his high cheekbones, his Roman nose, and his dark complexion. She, and plenty of other girls, had thought he looked exotic and dreamy. Hot!
    Judy smiled. They’d been right. He was hot. He certainly lit her romantic fires. There’d never been any shortage of passion in their relationship, either when they loved or when they fought. He’d told her, once, that was what first intrigued him about her. She was feisty. If she didn’t agree with him, and she usually didn’t, she let him know. And fighting with him was fun because it was so much more fun making up afterwards. Though, for a while there, it hadn’t looked like there would be an afterwards. They’d gotten divorced. Even then, they’d gone right on fighting…and loving.
    But damn Englishman. What was that call about the car really about? It