“Ah,” he said, smiling and perfectly at ease. “Bigamy is also a crime, ma chérie. Do you really wish to meet me in a court of law?”
What Julie really wanted was to strangle him, but unfortunately, that was a crime, too. Though she was willing to bet that a jury of women would exonerate her. She could just kick herself for ever setting up this meeting. She’d so hoped she could somehow end this lingering nightmare. Now all she wanted was to get as far away from this man as she possibly could. She stalked across the lot to her car and when she opened the driver’s side door, she stopped and looked back at him. “Don’t push me, Jean Claude. Take what you have and disappear. Leave us alone.”
“I will see you soon,” he called back and gave her a wave.
When she left, spinning her wheels on the asphalt, Julie looked into her rearview mirror and saw Jean Claude on his cell phone.
Probably not a good sign.
Two hours later, Travis jumped down from the driver’s side of his truck and slammed the door behind him. The sun was hot, but the breeze was cool. Not cool enough to take the edge off the fury currently burning his insides like a brushfire out of control, though.
Seemed he’d been angry ever since he’d come up with the insane idea of getting married. And there was no end in sight. Now he was getting phone calls from a Realtor about his “wife” looking for property she hadn’t bothered to talk to him about.
He didn’t see her car, but Main Street was crowded. She could be parked just about anywhere. Birkfield was small, but bustling. Local residents usually did their shopping here, rather than take the freeway into one of the bigger cities more than an hour away. Plus, the town got a good share of tourist business as well, with people driving up the coast and stopping for a little break at the many wineries nearby.
Main Street was filled with antique stores, specialty shops, restaurants and the kinds of stores small communities all required. Hardware, groceries, post office—all crowded together on both sides of the two-lane street. Birkfield was small, true, but Travis had always loved that about the place.
At least, until recently. Now there were way too many people who felt as though they had a proprietary interest in his life. And thanks to the newspapers, tabloids and weekly trashy magazines, there was plenty of fodder to feed the local gossips.
Just what he needed.
“Afternoon, Travis,” a familiar voice called from the sidewalk in front of the local hardware store.
He muffled a groan, turned and forced a smile. Speak of the gossip. “Mrs. James. How are you?”
“Fine, fine. Been real exciting around here lately, thanks to you and Julie.”
“Yeah.” Too exciting. Just standing here, he felt as though he were under a microscope. His friends and neighbors, people he’d grown up around, people he’d known his whole life, were now watching him with avid interest.
Funny, all the times he’d gotten his picture in the paper by dating some model or actress had never gotten him the kind of attention marrying a hometown girl/bigamist had.
The older woman shook her head and gave a cluck of her tongue. “But then, you knew Julie was a caution even before you married her, now didn’t you?”
He didn’t get a chance to answer because the woman who had once been his fifth grade teacher just rolled right on.
“Of course, as I recall, you two used to be thick as thieves when you were children.” She tipped her head back and studied the sky. “I told that nice young reporter about the time I had to chase you two out of the janitor’s closet. Of course, you were both just kids then, but Julie was so sweet on you—though it was inappropriate, of course.”
He’d been nodding along, just to hurry the woman up until that last sentence caught his attention. “Inappropriate?”
“Well, you know. With her mother being your family’s cook and all.”
Travis just stared at her. He couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t come out rude, so he decided it was best to just keep nodding and move along. Still, it amazed him the things people came up with.
Inappropriate? “Good seeing you, Mrs. James.”
He hadn’t taken more than a step when she called out, “Are you looking for Julie?”
Closing his eyes, Travis took a deep breath and said pleasantly, “Yes, I am. Do you know where she is?”
“I should say so. Didn’t I see her only five minutes ago, down at the old tavern?” She clucked her tongue again in displeasure. “They ought to tear that eyesore down is what they ought to do, but does the town council listen to me?”
He sympathized with the town council.
“Thanks.” He shoved one hand through his hair, nodded to Mrs. James and turned for the far side of the street.
He did a lazy run across the two lanes of traffic, lifting one hand to the cars who stopped to let him pass. At the far end of the street, he spotted a news van and hoped they hadn’t spotted him. He would have thought there would be something more interesting than his life happening somewhere. But no, reporters and photographers were still dotting the streets of Birkfield, waiting for the latest installment in the King drama.
Travis kept his gaze focused straight ahead of him as he darted in and out of strolling pedestrians on his walk up the sidewalk. The scent of something delicious wafted out of the diner and his stomach grumbled in response. He’d been out working the vines all morning with his crew, just to get away from the damned phones, and his hunger marched in time with his anger.
The long-vacated bar stood between a candle shop and an art gallery featuring the work of local artists. The wide front window was covered in grime, but the door was unlocked. Travis threw a glance over his shoulder, opened the door and stepped into the dimness.
Almost no sunlight at all made it through that front window and the overhead light boasted one low-wattage bulb. Shadows clung to the walls and hid behind stacked boxes left behind by the last tenant. There was no sign of life here, but Travis could sense Julie’s presence. He didn’t even want to think about why that was.
“Julie?”
“Back here!” Her voice sounded muffled and he cursed under his breath as he walked toward it. What the hell was she up to, anyway?
He stepped through another open door into what must have passed for the kitchen, only to spot Julie, on her knees, sticking her head into an oven that looked older than him. “What’re you doing here?”
She backed out, turned her face up to his and grinned, oblivious to the streak of dirt across her nose. “A better question, how’d you know where to find me?”