Я не я и свадьба не моя. Лора Вайс

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      She snapped her attention to the back of the officer’s head. So he’d decided to speak to her in a tone far more mellow than his official one. Okay. Perhaps conversation would make the man feel more lenient toward her.

      “I’d like to put the window down if that’s all right,” she said.

      His alert eyes, so mesmerizingly green that she could see the color in the rearview mirror, stared at her. “Sorry. Those windows must be kept locked at all times. Safety regulations.”

      “For whom? If you’re concerned for my safety, then roll them down. As you pointed out, I’m giving off a rather noxious odor, and I’m about to asphyxiate.”

      He considered his answer for a moment. “Okay, I guess I can roll one of them down, the one opposite from where you’re sitting. By the way, those chickens were escaping at top speed, so how did you manage to get so covered by feathers and...other things?”

      “Chickens molt when they’re scared, and these were terrified. They didn’t know I was letting them loose. They just reacted to a human.”

      Blessed fresh air rushed in the open window, and Susannah took a deep breath. “That’s better. Thanks. And, by the way, in case I didn’t say it, thank you for not handcuffing my wrists together. I feel a bit anxious in situations of confinement.”

      “No problem. You’ve been handcuffed before?” he asked.

      Well, there was that one time back in college during the sit-in, but she didn’t need to tell him that. “I just know I wouldn’t like it.”

      He smiled. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

      “A girl’s got to have her secrets,” she said. “And I appreciate you letting me get my purse from the Suburban and locking the vehicle. I have lots of supplies in the back and it would be a shame if they were stolen.”

      He nodded. “Yeah, it’s not good to steal someone else’s property.”

      Another jab at the chicken incident. She began plucking feathers off her clothes, careful not to get crusty bits of chicken poop under her fingernails. When she tried blowing the feathers out the window, they only sailed back at her face. So she began making a pile of down next to her on the seat. “Are you going to put me in a cell?” she asked after a moment.

      “We have paperwork to do first. And I’ll give you a chance to clean up in the ladies’ room. After that, it’s a real possibility. You might want to contact an attorney. I know Sam Jonas, and I’m betting he will file criminal charges.”

      “Great. You should know I’m not a habitual lawbreaker.”

      “I didn’t think you were. And if you don’t have a criminal record, you should be able to post bail pretty quickly, I imagine.”

      “I just have a hard time not reacting when I see unethical treatment of animals.”

      His eyes cut to her again. “You one of those animal activists?”

      “I believe in the fair treatment of all animals, yes. But I don’t consider it my life’s mission. I’m a nonviolent person. I don’t throw paint on fur coats or anything.”

      He didn’t comment, so she tried a different subject. “I used to live here, you know.”

      “Yes, I remember you. We were in high school at the same time.”

      She leaned forward and slipped her fingertips through the metal mesh separating the front seat from the back. “Really? I only went to Mount Union High my sophomore year. I went away to school after that.”

      She studied what she could see of his face in the mirror; she hadn’t gotten a really good look at his features at the accident site. Maybe they’d been friends. She hoped his memories of her weren’t negative.

      He’d removed his ball cap, giving her a view of medium-length, slightly mussed, light brown hair. His eyebrows, darker than his hair, were thick and even. And those eyes, so serious, so intense. He’d smiled at her a couple of times, once back by the truck, when she’d sneezed, releasing feathers into the air. She’d found his smile so charming, she thought she might make an ally of him. So far, other than a couple of minor kindnesses, there was no sign that this guy was anything but by-the-book. But he did look familiar. She wished he would turn toward her so she could see his entire face. Even so, she was certain they’d had brief contact at one time.

      “Did we know each other?” she asked after her scrutiny had become obvious.

      “Not well. I was a senior when you were a sophomore.”

      “Can I ask your name?”

      “Sure. It’s Boone Braddock.” His gaze stayed on her face for a couple of seconds, as if he expected a reaction.

      She steeled herself not to give him one. Boone Braddock! He was the good-looking senior she’d coaxed into the gym equipment room. She’d had such a futile crush on him. After she’d kissed him, he’d just stood there as if it were the worst moment of his life. She couldn’t get out of the gym fast enough.

      But if this man was a Braddock, maybe fate might be on her side after all. She’d try talking to him without bringing up the gym incident. Judging from how he behaved at the time, he probably didn’t remember the kiss anyway. He may not have even known her name that day.

      “Boone, of course! Your family lives out on Glenville Road, and your grandfather has that nice level piece of property there.”

      He glanced back at her. “You remember my grandfather’s land?”

      Be careful not to give too much away, Susannah. She didn’t know how much Cyrus Braddock had told his grandson. “I just remember driving past and thinking it was a lovely piece of property.”

      “Well, that’s us.”

      Of all the people she could have run into her first day in town, she meets up with one of the Braddocks, a family member of the very man she’d come to do business with. It was time to convince this hometown boy that she was not a criminal, but instead a modern woman who cared about the environment and the future of current and coming generations.

      She asked a couple of leading questions and learned that Boone’s older brother, Jared, lived in Atlanta, and his parents were traveling the country in a motor home. She refrained from asking about Cyrus Braddock, Boone’s grandfather. She didn’t want to appear too curious about the man she’d come to see, at least not until she’d straightened out any misconceptions this cop had about her. She’d made positive strides with Cyrus in their correspondence, but the trust they’d established could be broken if his grandson influenced him.

      Right now she should concentrate on getting herself out of an uncomfortable situation. The cop was going to book her. Her father was going to want to kill her. And her friends were in Oregon.

      When they were near the town limits, she reopened conversation with the intent of raising Boone’s opinion of her. Maybe he didn’t know about her deal with Cyrus. Maybe he didn’t remember the kiss. “You Braddocks weren’t into chicken farming, were you?”

      “No. My grandfather has a few chickens on СКАЧАТЬ