Part 16 (1/2)
”Find out for yourself.”
She wasn't going to pa.s.s up a mystery outing so she could hang around here pulling weeds. Still, she took her time meandering toward the truck. As she climbed inside, she noticed a missing dashboard, some odd-looking controls, and a couple of circuit boards mounted in what had once been a glove compartment.
”Don't touch those wires,” he said as he slid behind the wheel, ”unless you want to get electrocuted.”
Naturally, she touched them, which made him surly. ”I might have been telling the truth,” he said. ”You didn't know for sure.”
”I like living on the edge. It's a California thing. Besides, I've noticed that 'truth' is a flexible word around here.” As he slammed the door, she poked a grimy fingernail toward a series of dials near the steering wheel. ”What are those?”
”Controls for a solar-powered air-conditioning system that doesn't work like I want it to.”
”Great,” she grumbled. ”That's just great.” As he pulled away from the church, she inspected a small screen set between the seats. ”What's this?”
”The prototype for a new kind of navigation system. It's not working right, either, so keep your mitts off it, too.”
”Is there anything in this truck that does work?”
”I'm pretty happy with my latest hydrogen fuel cell.”
”Solar-powered air-conditioning, navigation systems, hydrogen fuel cells ... You really have earned your geek blue ribbon.”
”You sure are jealous of productive people.”
”Only because I'm mortal and therefore subject to normal human emotions. Never mind. You wouldn't understand what that means.”
He smiled and turned out onto the highway.
He was right. The solar air-conditioning system didn't work very well, but it worked well enough to keep the truck's cab cooler than the blistering outside temperature. They drove along the river for a few miles without talking. A vineyard gave way to a field of lavender. She tried not to think about the way she'd let him turn her into a gooey mess of moaning need.
He took a sharp left onto a narrow road paved in crumbling asphalt. They b.u.mped past some rocky scrub and rounded a limestone bluff before the landscape opened into an expansive, treeless mesa that rose unnaturally about ten stories higher than the surrounding area. He turned off the ignition and climbed out of the truck. She followed him. ”What is this? It looks weird.”
He hooked his thumbs in his back pockets. ”You should have seen it five years ago before they capped it.”
”What do you mean 'capped it'?”
He nodded toward a rusted sign she hadn't noticed. It hung crookedly between a set of weathered metal posts not far from some abandoned tires. indian gra.s.s solid waste landfill. She gazed out over the weeds and scrub. ”This was the town dump?”
”Also known as that unspoiled natural area you're so worried about protecting from development. And it's not a dump. It's a landfill.”
”Same thing.”
”Not at all.” He launched into a brief but impressive lecture about compacted clay liners, geotextile mats, leachate collection systems, and all the other features that distinguished old-fas.h.i.+oned dumps from modern landfills. It shouldn't have been interesting, and it probably wouldn't have been to most people, but this was the kind of thing she'd been studying when she'd dropped out of college her senior year. Or maybe she just wanted to watch the play of expressions on his face and the way his brown hair curled around the edge of his baseball cap.
He gestured toward the open s.p.a.ce. ”For decades, the county leased this land from the city. Then two years ago the landfill hit capacity and had to be closed permanently. That left us with lost revenue and a hundred and fifty acres of degraded land, plus another hundred acres of buffer. Degraded land, in case you haven't already figured it out, is land that's not good for much of anything.”
”Except a golf course?”
”Or a ski resort, which isn't too practical in central Texas. If a golf course is done right it can offer a lot of natural advantages as a wildlife sanctuary. It'll also support native plants and improve air quality. It can even moderate temperature. Golf courses can be about more than idiots chasing b.a.l.l.s.”
She should have known someone as smart as Ted would have thought about all this, and she felt a little stupid for having been so self-righteous.
He pointed toward some pipes coming out of the ground. ”Landfills give off methane, so that has to be monitored. But methane can be captured and used to generate electricity, which we plan to do.”
She gazed up at him from beneath the bill of her baseball cap. ”It all sounds a little too good.”
”This is the golf course of the future. We can't afford to build any more Augusta Nationals, that's for d.a.m.n sure. Courses like that are dinosaurs, with their overtreated fairways you can eat off of and manicured roughs sucking up water.”
”Has Spence bought into any of this?”
”Let's just say that once I started outlining the publicity value of building a truly environmentally sensitive golf course-how important it would make him, and not just in the golfing world-he got very interested.”
She had to admit it was a brilliant strategy. Being heralded as an environmental trailblazer would be fertilizer to Spence's huge ego. ”But I've never heard Spence mention any of this.”
”He was too busy looking at your b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Which are, by the way, definitely worth looking at.”
”Yeah?” She leaned against the truck's fender, hips thrust slightly forward, shorts riding low on her hip bones, more than happy to buy a little time to think through what she'd just learned about Ted Beaudine.
”Yeah.” He gave her his best crooked smile, which almost looked genuine.
”I'm all sweaty,” she said.
”I don't care.”
”Perfect.” She wanted to shatter that cool confidence, rattle him like he rattled her, so she pulled off her cap, grabbed the ragged hem of her too-tight cropped T-s.h.i.+rt, and whipped it over her head. ”I'm the answer to your hound-dog dreams, big boy. s.e.x without all the messy emotional c.r.a.p you hate.”
He took in the navy demi-bra that clung damply to her skin. ”What man doesn't?”
”But you really really hate it.” She let her s.h.i.+rt drop to the ground. ”You're an emotional-sidelines kind of guy. Not that I'm complaining about last night. Absolutely not.” hate it.” She let her s.h.i.+rt drop to the ground. ”You're an emotional-sidelines kind of guy. Not that I'm complaining about last night. Absolutely not.” Shut up, Shut up, she told herself. she told herself. Just shut up. Just shut up.
One eyebrow arched ever so slightly. ”Then why does it sound that way?”
”Does it? Sorry. You are who you are. Take off your pants.”
”No.”
She'd sidetracked him with her big mouth. And, really, what did she have to complain about? ”I've never known a guy so anxious to keep his clothes on. What's with you, anyway?”
The man who was never defensive lashed out. ”Do you have a problem with last night that I'm not aware of? You weren't satisfied satisfied?”
”How could I not have been satisfied? You should market what you know about the female body. I swear you took me on that rocket ride to the stars at least three times.”
”Six.”
He'd been counting. She wasn't surprised. But she was was crazy. Why else would she insult the only lover she'd ever known who cared more about her pleasure than his own? She needed to see a therapist. crazy. Why else would she insult the only lover she'd ever known who cared more about her pleasure than his own? She needed to see a therapist.
”Six?” She quickly reached behind her back and unfastened her bra. Holding her hands over the cups, she let the straps slip down her shoulders. ”Then you'd better take it easy on me today.”
l.u.s.t trumped his indignation. ”Or maybe I just need to take a little more time with you.”