Batteries Not Required Read Free Page B

down.
    I didn’t want to flash downtown Parable, but my choices were limited. As soon as I was on the ground, I closed the gap in my slacks. Tristan grinned as I backed toward the motel office, my face the same raspberry shade as my lace underpants.
    The woman behind the registration desk was a stranger, but from the way she looked me over, she one, knew who I was, and two, had heard an unflattering version of my hasty departure on the four o’clock bus.
    I bit my lower lip.
    â€œYou must be Gayle,” she said. She was tall and thin, with short dark hair. I pegged her for one of those people who live on granola and will risk their lives to protect owls and old-growth timber.
    I nodded. I had no purse, and no luggage. I’d just ridden into town on a horse, and I was trying to hold my clothing together. I didn’t feel talkative.
    Suddenly, she smiled and put out a hand in greeting. “Natalie Beeks,” she said. “Welcome to the Lakeside.” She ruffled through some papers and slapped a form down on the counter, along with one of those giveaway pens that run out of ink when you write the third item on a grocery list. “You’re in Room 7. It overlooks the lake.”
    After glancing back over my shoulder to make sure no one was about to step into the office and get a good look at Victoria’s Secret, I took a risk and signed the form. “My stuff will be arriving shortly,” I said, in an offhand attempt to sound normal.
    â€œSure,” Nancy said. Then she frowned. “What happened to your pants?”
    She’d probably seen me on the front of Tristan’s horse, and I didn’t want her jumping to any conclusions. “I—sat in something,” I said.
    She nodded sagely, as though people in her immediate circle of friends sat in things all the time. Maybe they did. Country life can be messy. “I could lend you something,” she offered.
    I flushed with relief, claiming the key to Room 7 with my free hand. “I would really appreciate that,” I said. There was no telling how long it would be before my car was delivered, along with the suitcase.
    â€œHold on a second.” Nancy left the desk, and disappeared into a back room. I heard her feet pounding on a set of stairs, and she returned, handing me a pair of black polyester shorts, just as a minivan pulled into the gravel parking lot out front.
    I practically snatched them out of her hand. “Thanks.”
    A husband, a wife, and four little kids in swimming suits got out of the van, stampeding for the front door. I eased to one side, careful to keep my butt toward the wall. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Nancy grin.
    â€œHeck of a mess out on the highway,” the husband announced, as he stepped over the threshold. He was balding, clad in plaid Bermuda shorts and a muscle shirt. The effect of the outfit was brave but unfortunate. “Cattle all over the place. We had to wait at least twenty minutes before the road was clear.”
    â€œWhere’s the pool?” one of the kids yelled. All four of them looked ready to thumb their noses and jump in.
    Their mother, a harried-looking woman in a saggy sundress, brushed mouse-brown bangs back from her forehead. “There isn’t a pool,” she told the children, eyeing me curiously as I sidestepped it toward the door, still keeping my back to the wall. “You can swim in the lake.”
    â€œExcuse me,” I said, and edged past her to make a break for it, the borrowed shorts clutched in one hand.
    Room 7 was around back, with the promised view of the lake, but I didn’t bother to admire the scenery until I’d slammed the door behind me, peeled off my ruined slacks, and wriggled into the shorts.
    Only then did I take a look around. Tile floors, plain double bed, lamps with wooden bases carved to resemble the chain-saw bears I’d seen in the gas station parking lot. There was a battered