Incidental Contact (Those Devilish De Marco Men) (22 page)

Amy nodded. “I talked to her today, between games. Something about finding old records on migrant workers? Call me a pessimist, but even if a list of names miraculously turns up, finding migrants who worked here for six months almost thirty years ago would be like finding one certain snowflake in a blizzard.”

Eric snorted. “I said it was a snipe hunt, didn’t I? This is Lila and Cynda’s plan. The girls mean well. We can’t just let Carpenter get off with three years without trying to find a witness.”

“I’d swear my daddy told me that’s why our taxes go to pay cops.” She stretched to discard her plate. “I’ve been dreaming about that hot pool for hours. Every bone in my body aches. I’ll do the dishes later.”

He wanted to go with her, to spend half an hour kissing and playing in the warm water. Wanted to bring her indoors afterward, give her a rubdown and slide inside her when she was warm and relaxed. Ached to rock into her soft and slow, watch her come, empty into her, and then pull her onto his chest to drift off to sleep. The weather report called for more snow after midnight. In the few seconds he stood there staring, his mind sketched the entire, intimate evening.

But her remark to Jonah hung between them like smoke. Eric turned and grabbed his coat.

Some of the warmth from the blowers he’d had running all day still lingered in the peach shed. Eric refilled the machines with kerosene and pressed the ignition buttons. Leaning against an old packing crate, he studied the frame he’d spent the day building. All he had left was to figure out how he wanted to hang the net.

And decide whether or not he was committing an intentional foul on Amy.

Do I love her?

He saw the looks on his brother’s faces when they looked at their women. Watching them was like going to a movie when he knew the actor’s lines by heart, but what he was seeing was the foreign-language version, without subtitles.

He knew what should be said, he just didn’t speak the language. And it made zero sense that his heart was whispering something his damn cock had little interest in.

Not to mention, there were all kinds of ways to commit an intentional foul.

His cheeks stung from shame, recalling his second week in kindergarten. His mother had been missing for eight days when Eric had a vivid, horrible dream that a drooling, tobacco-spitting monster grabbed Cammie while she walked through the orchards. Eric woke in a cold puddle of his own urine. Rafe had turned to Livia for help when it happened again the following night. His grandmother let that tidbit slip in front of Phil.

Drew Pearsall had been in the bathroom when Phil taunted Eric.
Gonna piss your bed again tonight, you big cry baby?
When the principal dragged them apart, Eric was still kicking Drew, even though he was down. Phil hadn’t stopped swinging, despite the blood gushing from his nose.

He wasn’t sure if his attraction to Amy was fueled by the urge to even an old score with Drew and Phil, or if this was about helping her, pure and simple.

Maybe his cock was giving him time to figure that out, before he did commit an intentional foul.

Yeah, right. Because me and my cock are known for smart thinking.

N
ot again.
Eric recognized Colton’s two-three knock. Opening his eyes, he stared at the ceiling, wondering why his brothers were impersonating an infestation of woodpeckers. With a growl, he flung the covers back and grabbed his sweat pants. He shoved his feet into the legs while hopping down the hall.

Throwing open his front door, he scowled. “Someone had better be dying.” Behind his brother, snowflakes drifted past the porch.

His brother waved a bag printed with a fast-food logo. “You got any salt?”

“You got any idea what time it is?” Eric snapped. “What the fuck’s wrong with your salt shaker?”

Colton brushed past without answering. Slamming the bag on the bar, he raised plaintive eyes. “I’ll get to that, but dude, we gotta talk.”

Eric sighed, praying this had nothing to do with Amy. “Hang on, let me stick some wood in the stove.” Colton didn’t speak while he stoked the fire and started a pot of coffee.

“Okay, what’s the problem?” Eric pressed his palms to the bar, standing opposite Colton. His baby brother hadn’t touched his food, a cue that whatever was on his mind was serious.

Colton’s expression was tense. “Lila wants to have sex.”

Eric clenched his hands into fists to keep from throwing a punch. “Why is that a problem?” He’d had only a few hours of sleep.

“Can’t keep my dick hard.”

Eric’s eyes were open now. “Huh?”
Is there some hideous virus going around?

“Every time we try, I keep picturing my baby. Babies have a soft spot, you know. What if I give little Fred brain damage? I start thinking about that and my dick goes limp.”

Eric snorted. “That’s all in your head, brother. Even your dick won’t reach that baby. Don’t you think Mother Nature planned for that? By the way, you’ve lost it if you think Lila’s letting you name that kid Fred.”

“We can’t agree on a name. Fred’s a joke.” Colton pushed away from the bar and scanned the kitchen counters. “Cynda took our salt. Replaced it with some imitation crap that tastes like...like... pool chemicals. I asked for some at the drive-thru, but the idiot didn’t put any in the bag.”

Eric shoved the shaker that sat right under Colton’s nose into his brother’s hand. He couldn’t blame Colton for changing the subject. “Shhh, lower your voice. Don’t wake Amy.” He pointed toward the loft. “You need to practice talking quieter, anyway.”

Colton’s brows went up. “You’re not sleeping with her?”

For fuck’s sake, if that’s Colton’s idea of speaking softer
—Glaring, Eric shook his head, but his pulse jumped at the almost-lie. Technically, he wasn’t
sleeping
with Amy.

“Good.” Colton let out a long sigh and upended the bag. “Right now, I’m not sure I could keep Lila from killing you if you treated Amy like you treat all the rest. And you need some damn bar stools.” Three containers of golden, deep-fried potato patties slid onto the counter. Colton broke Eric’s gaze to peer into the bag. “You got any ketchup?”

Dan swore Eric changed women like he changed oil filters. Religiously, every three months, whether a change was needed or not. “Why would Cynda take your salt?” Eric hissed, spinning toward the refrigerator to grab the ketchup bottle.

“Lila’s doctor said she needed to cut back on salt. I think maybe Cynda’s taking this nanny gig way too seriously. But if I say anything, I’ll be the bad guy.”

“Oh, yeah,” Eric muttered, parking the bottle in front of Colton. “I can see how it’d be easier to pay Cynda to steal your salt, then come and use mine.”

Colton slapped the bag to flatten it and then dumped a blob of ketchup in the center. Surrounding the ketchup with the potatoes, he pelted them with so much salt, it was like watching snow fall indoors. “So, how’d Amy happen to move in?”

Eric shrugged. “She needed a place. I had a spare bed.” He wasn’t having this conversation where Amy might overhear. He steered the topic back to one Colton found irresistible. “Is Lila okay? Yesterday she seemed a little... ragged.”

“She’s miserable.” His brother’s jaw worked. Eric stared, aghast, watching his brother’s Adam’s apple bob and his eyes fill with tears. “I didn’t realize how hard this pregnancy would be on her. Maybe we shouldn’t have gone through with this.” Colton’s expression turned bleak. “If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself. She was so sick at first, if I touched her, it seemed like she had to puke. Now, she wants to and I can’t—” He sighed. “Dan’s getting married, did you know?”

He had no clue what to say, because “Bail!” wasn’t an option. “Yeah, Cynda came by to show off her ring yesterday.”

Colton couldn’t seem to stay on topic. Lila was rubbing off on him, Eric feared. Following her conversations took some effort.

“Every time we try and I can’t, she cries for an hour. She thinks it’s because she’s so big. I swear to God, that’s not it. I think she’s gorgeous.”

Colton stuffed potato rounds into his mouth. Moving to the counter by the sink, Eric grabbed two coffee cups and filled them to the rim.

Plunking Colton’s mug on the bar, he sipped his own coffee because he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. Besides repeating what he’d said earlier. “I’m telling you, it’s all in your head.”

“My mom had me after forty. Lila will be okay.”

Eric froze, exchanging horrified looks with his brother.

“Oh, how nice.” Amy came down the last few steps and stopped at Eric’s elbow, rubbing one eye with the heel of her hand. “You brought some for everyone.”

He almost laughed at the way his brother’s eyes went wide when Amy grabbed one of Colton’s hash rounds. Colton always ate three packs of those things, but Eric suddenly had his own problems. She had that early-morning, girly smell of fresh sheets, soap, sweat, and the scent that was all Amy. The image of dragging her back to bed and kissing that delightful perfume off her skin was making his dick hard enough to punch a hole in the bar.

Yes! Thank you, God. Go home, Colton.

No! I can’t, not till I’m sure how I feel about her.

“Why are you up?” he snapped. “You sleep like the dead. How’d that little bit of banging wake you?”

She lifted her shoulders and held out her palms. Her impish smile made his heart skip. “The scent of fresh-fried potatoes jacks my eyes open every time. Or bacon. Bacon works, too.” Her hair stuck out like it’d been styled with a weed whacker. Her pajamas were rumpled. There were sheet tracks on one flushed cheek. She looked adorable, dragging a little hash brown patty—and the too-long sleeve to her pajama top—through Colton’s puddle of ketchup.

“We just have to keep her distracted for a few more weeks. Everything’s gonna be fine, Colton.” Amy patted his brother’s hand and then grabbed more fried potatoes. “Maybe we can play cards after the snipe hunt. I don’t have to work the tournament today.”

Dan thought if you took a woman to bed, you owed her dinner before and breakfast after. Colton would offer to cook breakfast for a woman twice before he ever thought about taking her to bed. Eric didn’t do breakfast. He sure didn’t do “every morning”. He knew how to do “occasionally.”

In the sideways fashion his brain had of showing him stuff, Eric had a flash of understanding. Maybe his dick didn’t have bad timing. Or brains. Maybe... maybe his subconscious had been protecting Amy, like Colton’s was protecting his baby. Because, while he still had no idea whether he loved her, he cared enough to not want to hurt her.

She’d never done “occasionally”.

And he wanted to be man enough not to teach her that game.

Watching Amy and Colton fight for the last few hash rounds like six-year-olds, Eric felt like the wings of a thousand honey bees were beating inside his chest.

Weird
. But he laughed and grabbed Colton’s wrist, squeezing hard. “Manners, dude.”

* * * *

A
my hadn’t expected the farmhouse to be so large. A pot simmered on each of the huge stove’s six burners. Dan, Colton, Cynda, Grams, and Lila were seated at the large table on the far end of the cheerful room. She halted, her heart pounding fearfully when a huge, spotted dog dashed through a doorway and headed straight for her.

“Not-Jacques!” Dan barked, making Amy jump. “Sit!”

The dog skidded to a stop and plopped his butt onto the floor at her feet. He had brown eyes and a long tongue. His tail thundered against the cabinets. A second dog came out of the same doorway, moving much slower. Same silky-looking white coat, same black spots, but the second one’s eyes were glazed with white film.

“They’re harmless, Amy. Unless you’re a quail.” Eric squeezed her shoulder. “That’s Daisy and her pup, Jacques.”

“Not-Jacques,” Dan growled. Eric laughed.

“I don’t do big dogs or little kids,” Amy explained. “Same kind of scary. You never know if they’re gonna pee on you, or drool... or bite.” Edging past the dogs, she headed for the table where the women were seated.

“Jonah was all fired up about the wheelchair tournament.” Lila smiled. “He couldn’t stop talking about it. Thanks for taking him, Eric. I’d have gone, if they had recliners instead of hard benches for the spectators.”

Eric paused by the stove, lifting pot lids. “If you haven’t seen wheelchair basketball, you’ve missed out.”

Amy took a seat beside Lila, nodding to Cynda and Grams. “Where’s Jonah?”

Lila fluttered her fingers. “Flew the coop. Colton dropped him off this morning. Some friend of his invited five of his best buddies over for the blizzard. School’s already cancelled tomorrow.”

Grams patted her bosom. “All I can say is, that kid’s mom must have more groceries than good sense. Bless her heart.”

Amy had to agree. “That many cell phones going off would make me foam at the mouth.”

“Amen. Jonah’s phone has me pretty close.” Lila lifted her mug. “Hot chocolate. Want some?”

“Your doctor’s appointment will be cancelled.” Cynda scowled. “Again.”

“Yes, but luckily, I’ve done this before.” Lila rolled her eyes. “Basically, you just sit around and get fat, watching people eat all the stuff you can’t. Takes me longer to get my panties off than that doctor spends in the room with me, anyway. The whole trip’s a waste of time.”

Amy noticed only the women were laughing.

Colton bent to kiss Lila. She pulled back with a glare. “Cheater. Is that salt on your lips?”

“He came by my place and made straight-up love to my shaker not an hour ago.” Eric ratted his brother out with a wide grin.

“I’m moving in with you.” Lila batted her lashes.”You buy me doughnuts.”

“No room in the inn, baby mama.”

“You bought her doughnuts?” Cynda gave Eric a murderous glare.

“Okay, time to get started looking for those records.” Dan announced. Amy had the sense the man was good at heading off family squabbles. “It’s reasonable to think they’re here in the house, but they could be a few other places, too. Let’s divide and conquer. We need to check the basement, the attic, and the spare room upstairs that has all the boxes stored in it. Who wants to check the schoolhouse, the lower packing shed, and the boss’s cabin at the camp?”