Down By The Water (4 page)

“Why wouldn't I?”

“Because you're the guest.”

He walked into the kitchen and I followed behind him, dishes in hand. “An unexpected guest. The least I can do is grab my dishes.”

The kitchen was a disaster. Bowls and utensils cluttered the butcher block island in the center of the room. A cutting board filled with unused chopped onions and tomatoes sat next to the stainless steel sink and shredded cheese littered the terra cotta tile floor.

“Mom's a bit of a wreck in the kitchen,” Ty said. He opened the dishwasher and slid his plate into the lower rack. He held out his hand and I handed him mine. “She tries, but...”

“Dinner was good.” I wasn't lying. It had been.

“Yeah, that's something she actually makes well.” He deposited the glasses on the top rack. “But meatloaf? Dear God. Don't ever eat that.”

I smiled. If someone had walked into the kitchen and seen us interacting, they would never have guessed we'd met only a few hours ago. Ty was easy-going and friendly and made me feel like I'd known him forever. Or at least for longer than a day.

“I'll keep that in mind.”

He wiped his hands on the gingham towel hanging from the stove. “I can show you to the guest room. Since you're gonna hang out here.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Or you could just hang out with my parents, if you want.”

As nice as they had been to me, it was the last thing I wanted to do, especially with his dad looking me over, trying to place where he might remember me from. I didn't need him to fit pieces from the past with the present.

“Room, please,” I said and he laughed.

We wove back through the dining room and into the hallway and Ty motioned to the stairs. “All the bedrooms are up here. Except for my parents. Their bedroom is off the kitchen.”

I'd noticed a closed door when we were putting dishes away and had just assumed it was a pantry or closet. “Off the kitchen?”

He started up the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Yeah. An addition. Mom wanted a master suite and, as you'll see, there isn't exactly room for something like that up here. So they just decided to add on.”

We stood at the landing and Ty pointed. “My room is there,” he said, motioning to the back left corner. The door was closed and I felt a flicker of disappointment. I wanted to be able to peek inside,  see what his room looked like. “Mary's is across from me. This is the upstairs bath,” he said, nodding his head to an open door on the right. He opened the last door. “And this is the guest room.”

I poked my head inside. My purse and bag were already on the bed, a pretty white daybed covered with a rose-colored lace coverlet. The room was soft and feminine, the walls painted a pale pink, the furniture painted white. It was shabby chic to the extreme.

“Where is your sister?” I asked.

“Gymnastics camp.” He rolled his eyes. “She's gone every year since fourth grade.”

“How old is she now?” I asked.

“Fifteen,” he said. “And a huge pain in the ass.”

I tried to smile but I couldn't. Fifteen. I knew a girl who was fifteen. Who would have been fifteen, I amended.

“I went ahead and brought your stuff in while you were changing,” Ty said. “Hope that was okay.”

“Yeah, of course.” I took a step closer to the bed. “Thank you.”

There was something next to my stuff. Something tiny. Black. A charger. I glanced behind me at Ty. He stood in the door, leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Figured you might want to borrow that,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “Your phone fell out of your purse. I shoved it back inside but I noticed your battery was low. Didn't know if you had a charger with you. And, well, we have the same kind of phone so I just thought...”

“Thank you.”

I did have my phone charger. Not my car charger, but I did have the wall charger tucked away in my bag. Still, I felt a twinge in my stomach. Gratitude? I didn't know. All I knew was that Ty Reilly was going above and beyond for someone he'd just met.

And I didn't deserve one tiny bit of it.

SIX

I didn't expect to sleep well that night. I hadn't expected to sleep at all. But the events of the day must have destroyed me because, after trying to call Jenna, I'd collapsed on to the bed, exhausted. The next thing I knew, the sun was streaming in through the lace curtains mounted above the bedroom window. I fumbled for my phone and hit the power button. Seven-thirty.

I shifted on the bed and groped around, searching for the coverlet. I'd slept on top of it and the air-conditioned chill had me covered in goosebumps. I pulled it up over me and closed my eyes, hoping sleep would find me again.

But a voice in the hallway startled me. It was low, almost a whisper. Ty. I strained to hear who he was talking to but I didn't hear another person. Maybe he was on the phone, I thought. I stayed still, my head cocked as I tried to pick up pieces of the conversation.

“No,” I heard him say. “Not tonight.”

There was a pause and the sound of water running. He was in the bathroom.

“I just can't, okay?” His voice was a little louder, a little more agitated. Then, “I'm not doing this. Good bye.” He let out a long, loud sigh.

I wondered what had him so rattled that early in the morning. A job? Was he being asked to go somewhere he didn't want to be?

I heard his footsteps as he returned to his room and then, a moment later, he was back in the hallway. He slowed as he got to my door and a pause, as if he was standing out in front of it. Then a knock, whisper-soft.

I sat up. “Yeah?”

He cracked the door open and poked his head inside. His hair was wet, slicked back a little, his face freshly shaved. My hand instantly flew to my hair and I ran my fingers through the tangled strands, hoping I didn't look like as big of a mess as I felt.

“Did I wake you?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. I was awake.”

He nodded. “Okay. I'm heading out for a bit—didn't want to leave without letting you know.”

“Where are you going?” I had no right to ask but I was curious, especially because it meant that I was going to be spending my morning alone.

“I need to run into town.” He raised his eyebrows. “You wanna come?” I knew what he was thinking. I hadn't wanted to go anywhere with him last night so how was this morning any different?

I practically leaped out of the bed. “Yes.” I'd take whatever opportunity I could to leave the resort and the memories that I was trying to keep at bay.

He laughed. “Well, alright then. Guess I'll wait a little bit.”

“Five minutes,” I told him. “Let me just brush my teeth and change.”

“No problem.” He motioned to the wood rocking chair in the corner. “Want me to wait here or downstairs?”

I was already up, rummaging through my bag. “Here is fine.” I grabbed my cosmetic bag and a change of clothes and hurried into the bathroom.

I slipped out of the borrowed clothes I'd slept in and changed into a pair of denim shorts and a blue  tank top. I pulled my brush through my hair, wincing as the bristles caught in the tangles, and pulled the mess of it into a pony tail. I brushed my teeth and rinsed, and then stole a quick look at my reflection. I didn't want to keep Ty waiting but I took a few extra seconds and added a coat of lip gloss and dusted my eyelids with shadow.

I hurried back into the guest bedroom. Ty was waiting where I'd left him, sitting on the rocker, his feet flat on the floor.

“That was fast,” he said. His eyes drifted from my legs upward, lingering on the cleavage the cami tank top exposed, but his expression was unreadable.

“Told you I needed five minutes.”

He stood up and stretched. “I know. That's what Mary says all the time. But five minutes in girl-ese usually means thirty.”

I smiled. “Not this girl.” I folded up the borrowed clothes and set them on the edge of the bed. I adjusted the coverlet so it lay flat and smooth on the mattress before grabbing my purse and fully-charged phone. I'd plugged it in and set it on the nightstand as soon as Ty had left the room last night.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

The house was quiet as we crept down the stairs. I wondered if his parents were still asleep.

As if he knew I'd ask, Ty turned to me and said, “Mom's at church. She always goes to early Mass.”

“Alone?”

He grabbed the keys to the truck and opened the front door of the house. “Yeah. She can't make me or Mary go anymore and my dad has never gone. Always says we need to have someone here at the resort. You know, in case of emergency.”

I did know.

The morning air was cool and moist and dew beaded the lush green lawn as we made our way toward his truck. Birds chirped in the trees, a symphony of sounds, and a squirrel scampered across the driveway.

Ty opened the truck's passenger door and I stood there awkwardly. No guy had ever opened a car door and waited for me to get inside. I lifted my purse off my shoulder and tossed it on the bench seat before climbing in. He closed the door behind me and circled the front of the truck to the driver's side.

“So, where are we going?”

He jammed the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. “Promise not to laugh?” he asked as he shifted the truck into drive.

“No.”

He laughed. “Then maybe I should blindfold you so you don't see. Although I'm pretty sure the sound will give it away.”

I raised my eyebrows and frowned. “Sound?”

He pulled on to the highway, back in the direction of Pelican Lake. “Yep. Totally unmistakable.”

I thought for a minute. What the hell was he talking about? “I have no idea,” I finally said. “Tell me.”

“I'm still waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

He turned to look at me. “Your promise.”

“Oh, please,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Why the hell would you care what I think?”

Ty started to say something, then stopped. “You're right,” he said, his voice light. “But I have a reputation to protect.”

We came to a four-way stop and he turned left, down a street lined with quaint, two-story homes. They were older, probably built in the 50s, with dormer roofs and tiny stoops for front porches. The lawns were perfectly manicured, resin-painted deer and ceramic bird baths and other gaudy décor parked in nearly every single one. It reminded me of home and I felt an ache in my chest for what I'd left behind in North Dakota. And for what we'd all lost ten years earlier. Our home had never felt the same.

He pulled up to the curb in front of a white two-story house and killed the engine. He looked at me. “You coming with?”

“Inside?”

He nodded.

I wondered again what he was there to do. I could just stay in the truck. Text my sister while I waited for him. But my curiosity got the better of me. I grabbed my purse and hooked it over my shoulder and he smiled.

We stepped to the curb and on to the sidewalk but Ty didn't go to the front door. Instead, he followed the cement walk to the fenced-in backyard. He reached for the inside latch and unhooked it.

“Do you know the people who live here?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“No? You don't?”

He shook his head very slowly, back and forth. “See?” he said. “This movement means no.” He started bobbing his head up and down. “This means yes.”

I swatted at his arm. “Shut up.” He held open the gate and motioned me into the back yard.

I hesitated. It wasn't like me to just follow along blindly. “Are we supposed to be here?”

He rolled his eyes. “No. We're breaking in. I like to hit all the local houses while people are at church.”

I gaped at him and he rolled his eyes again. “Jesus,” he muttered. Then louder, “Of course we're supposed to be here. You'll see in a minute.”

He waited for me to step into the backyard. I took my time, almost tip-toeing as I crossed the threshold. The backyard was as neatly manicured as the front, with trimmed green grass and pink and white annuals that bordered the edge of the house. He closed the gate behind me and strode across the lawn, heading toward a massive lilac bush along the back fence line.

I watched him as he walked, his stride purposeful, confident. I thought about the guys I knew back home, the guys I'd dated. None of them moved the way Ty did. I stole another glance at him. His black T-shirt clung to his chest and his biceps were taut as his arms swayed back and forth. I swallowed. None of them looked like Ty, either.

He crouched to the ground and parted the shrub, branches scratching his forearms. His shirt rode up just a little and I stared at his tanned back, surprised to see defined muscles there. I closed my eyes quickly before opening them and bringing my gaze to rest on something else. I didn't need to be noticing those things.

“Are you looking for something specific?” I asked, inching closer, my eyes zeroing in on the bush. What the hell was he doing? Looking for buried treasure?

“Yeah,” he answered.

I couldn't help it. I wanted to know. I hurried toward the bush and leaned down so I could see. Purple flowers tickled my arms and their heady scent filled my nostrils.

And a soft mewing assaulted my ears.

“There they are,” he whispered.

I craned my neck to see. At the base of the lilac shrub, on a bed of dry leaves, was a litter of kittens. A blur of black and grays, a twisted, tumbled mess of heads and tails, fore paws and back paws.

“Those are kittens,” I said stupidly.

He looked at me and grinned. “Excellent observation, Sherlock.”

“Are they yours?”

“No.”

“Then...” I hesitated. “Then what exactly are you doing here?”

He slid away from the bush and straightened back into a standing position. “I volunteer for the local animal rescue.”

“Volunteer?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He narrowed his eyes. “No laughing. And no spouting off about it. My friends already give me enough shit over it.”

The last thing I felt like doing was making fun of him. I thought it was sweet and kind and awesome that he volunteered with animals. And it fit completely with what I already knew about him. I mean, if he was so willing to help me, a total stranger, it stood to reason that he'd extend that kindness to everyone. And everything.

“Keep an eye on them for a sec,” he said. “I need to go grab something.”

He sprinted across the yard and returned a minute later, carrying a large plastic tub. Before I could ask another question, he'd lowered himself back to the ground and had started hauling out the tiny, squealing kittens.

“Can you spread the blanket out?” he asked, jerking his head toward the bin.

I reached inside and fluffed the fleece blanket lining the bottom, smoothing out the creases. “Like that?”

He nodded and deposited the first kitten. I'd never had a cat but I wouldn't have pegged the little guy as being older than a couple weeks. A black coat with white paws, his eyes a milky blue. I died a little looking at him.

“He's so cute!” I winced a littler after I said this, realizing I probably sounded like a giddy school girl.

Ty didn't seem to mind. Instead, he focused on hauling out kitten after kitten—another black and white one, two solid black kitties and a gray and white striped guy. All of them were mewling messes, huddling against one another in the bin.

“Where's their mama?” I asked.

He was still half-buried under the bush. “Dead.”

“Dead?”

He shimmied out and got to his knees, brushing dirt from his shorts. “Yeah. Mrs. Cleary called in last night. Dead cat in the road yesterday morning. She was pretty sure it was mama cat. She waited it out, checking on the kittens every few hours, but mama didn't come.”

My heart broke a little for the litter of motherless kittens scrambling around the bin. “Well, that sucks.”

Ty nodded. “Yeah. But they're old enough to survive without her. With help, of course. Karen will get them into shape and get them adopted.”

I assumed Karen was someone from the rescue center.

“There's a little one still under the bush who didn't make it,” he commented.

“A kitten?”

He nodded. “By the looks of it, she's been dead a while. Mama pushed her to the other side of the bush. She was in a puddle of water. Probably from yesterday's rain.”

My breath caught in my throat and I felt my heart trip. I turned away, blinking back tears. Silently, I berated myself, trying to get my emotions under control. The kitten hadn't drowned. Ty had said it had been dead for a while.

But, still. All I could think about was a dead body, floating in a pool of water.

Lifeless.

Just like my sister.