Taking on Twins (9 page)

Snake Eyes hated pity. Made his trigger finger twitch. “I'm plenty comfortable. I've had a long day, so, I just figure since I'm down here already, I'll rest up. That okay with you?”

“Sure.” The preppy guy shrugged and led the curly-haired broad back to their table. Snake Eyes knew that they, along with everyone else in the restaurant, were staring. And talking about him. Damn.

If he could just get his boots off, he could turn the chair over and get up.

What the hell was keeping that stupid waitress?

Although, he thought, allowing his eyes to slide shut, lying down like this wasn't so bad. Beat standing all to hell. He stubbed his cigarette out on the beautiful hardwood floor and, reaching into his jacket pocket, shook a new one from his pack. He lit it and lay there for a moment, smoking and trying to remain as unobtrusive as possible.

The waitress finally emerged from the back room and, upon spotting him, rushed to his side.

“Oh, no! Oh, my! Uh, hi there.” Flustered, she knelt beside him. “Are you all right?”

“Just ducky.”

“Can I help you?”

“Yeah. Bring me a shot of whiskey and a beer chase.”

“No, I meant—”

“I know what you meant. Just bring me a drink.”

“I…uh, okay.” She pulled a pad and pencil from the back pocket of her tight little jeans skirt and scribbled some notes. “Anything else?”

Yeah, Snake Eyes wanted to say, since I'm already here on the floor, how about you and me and a quick tussle? But he didn't. Snake Eyes was nothing if not professional when on a job. Speaking of which… He reached into his wallet and took out a photo of Emily.

“There is one thing. You ever seen this girl?”

Knees popping, the waitress hunkered down and peered at the photo. Snake Eyes peered down her blouse.

She nodded. “Um-hum.”

Snake Eyes's blood pressure spiked, and suddenly he wasn't so tired. He flailed his way out of his boots, kicked the chair away and sat up. “Where?”

She squinted at him, debating. “Who wants to know?”

Luckily, Snake Eyes was a thinking man and had already come up with a story. He stroked his whiskered chin, hoping he affected an educated demeanor. “I'm on the high school class reunion committee.”

“You?” She wasn't buying.

That ticked him off. Did he have
illustrated
tattooed on his forehead or something? He could read. “Yes. Me. Gonna be a big shindig and we want everybody there.”

“You look too old to be in her class.”

“I was a teacher.” He returned her cool stare. “She was one of my best students.”

Mulling, the waitress tapped her order tablet with her pencil.

“She was so smart. I bet she's rakin' in the big bucks by now,” he tossed out, to get her spilling what she knew.

“Nah. She's just a waitress like me. Tips are okay, but I wouldn't call 'em big bucks.” She dropped from her knees to her hip to more easily converse and leaned back against the fallen table top. “I used to work with Emma over in Keyhole before I got fired.”

“Who'd fire you?” Snake Eyes allowed his gaze to rove her legs as she crossed them and settled in for a visit.

She guffawed. “Some loser named Roy. Runs the Mi-Ti-Fine Café.”

Snake Eyes winked. This dumb bimbo had just given him everything he needed to supply little Emily with her halo. And, when he was done with Emily, he'd come back for— “What's your name, sweetheart?” He pushed himself to his feet and offered her a hand. As she stood, she fell against him and giggled.

“Roz.” She cocked her head and shot him a sassy smile. “You got a card? I could give it to Emma for you.”

“No, but if you give me your phone number, I'll stay in touch.”

O
ver her shoulder, Annie could see her mother furtively peeking through the blinds as she and Wyatt sat parked at the curb in his rental car. The untrained eye might not have noticed the subtle movement, but Annie was an expert when it came to MaryPat's curiosity.

They'd been chatting there for nearly an hour now, neither wanting the evening to end. But, as all good things do, this evening was reaching its natural conclusion. And not a moment too soon, if the fog that poured from MaryPat's nostrils was any indication.

Still, Annie was reluctant to leave. Comfortable and warm, she basked in Wyatt's undivided attention and hungrily devoured his tales of life in Washington D.C. For years she'd wondered what he was doing, whom he was with, how he was faring. And now she was beginning to know. And with this knowledge came pain. He'd made a good life for himself. Without her.

She steeled herself against the pangs in her heart.

It was a wonder that some sweet young thing hadn't snapped him up. Lord knew she'd agonized over that question, even after her own wedding to Carl.

“And so,” she was embarrassed to find herself wondering aloud, “you never married.”

Wyatt didn't seem to find her curiosity unusual. “No. Came close one time, but we were wrong for each other. She wasn't—” He lifted and dropped a shoulder. “She just wasn't right for me.”

“Oh.” Strangely jealous, Annie tried to arrange her face into a picture of mature serenity. Wyatt's private life was none of her business. “Well, it's good you found out sooner than later.”

“Amen.” He blew out a long sigh. “At least one of us made a good match, right?”

Much to Annie's relief, MaryPat snapped on the porch light, and dragged the miniblinds open, distracting Wyatt from further questioning.

“Uh-oh,” Annie murmured.

“Suddenly I'm nineteen again.” Wyatt's chuckle was soft. Sexy. Filled with the intimacy of old.

“She has to get home. It's way past her bedtime.”

Seeming to realize that time was suddenly short, Wyatt leaned forward and took her hand. His words, though quiet, held an underlying urgency. “I want to see you again.”

“Wyatt, I don't know if that's such a good—”

“I'm only going to be here for a few days. Indulge me.”

“A few days?” Could her heart take even a few more minutes of being so near to Wyatt? It was torture, this being so close to something she shouldn't and, more importantly, couldn't have. She had to get her mind back under control, before it carried her straight into her painful past. Even as she inhaled the manly, spicy, warm scent that was etched
into her memory bank, she knew that before he left, there would be pain. How much pain would depend upon how many of the next few days she allowed him to upend in her perfectly insulated world.

“You know, you still haven't told me your real reason for being here. I can't believe that you'd come all this way simply to apologize to me.”

“I should have long before now.” His smile was rueful. “But I didn't and I'm sorry.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Sorry.”

They laughed.

Wyatt coiled a strand of her hair around his little finger. “The truth of the matter is, I do have another reason for being here. One of my foster sisters has moved to Keyhole. The family wanted me to come check on her, and so, here I am. Thought while I was here, I'd do some apologizing.”

Annie huffed noisily. “I told you, you don't owe me an apology.”

“I do. Let's have dinner tomorrow. There is so much more I want to say. It'll help me sleep better in the future.”

With his free hand, Wyatt cupped her jaw in his palm. There was a vulnerability in his expression that Annie had never seen in him before. Her mind swam. This was not smart. It had taken her a good two years to get over this man. Even so, she could feel her stoic resolve melting beneath his touch. Gently, he stroked her cheek with his thumb and she leaned into his hand. Memories overrode common sense and she felt herself nod in acquiescence.

“All right,” she whispered, against her better judgment. Against all of the rational reasons she'd used to purge him from her heart years ago. “Dinner tomorrow night.” Before she could second-guess herself, she changed the subject. “So. You have a foster sister here in Keyhole?”

He nodded. “Em—uh, Emma. She works at the Mi-Ti-Fine Café.”

“
That
Emma? Emma Logan? Oh, my gosh. I've known her all these months and had no idea that you two were related. I mean that is such a strange coincidence.”

Wyatt nodded. “A sign, I'd call it.”

Annie's mouth went dry as his blue-black gaze penetrated her own. “A sign, huh? Of what?”

He didn't answer.

In this light, his eyes were the color of midnight, reflecting the lone porch bulb and the moon's soft glow. Hadn't it been only yesterday that she'd fallen under this very spell? And, as if not a moment had passed, Wyatt drew her to him and brought their noses together.

“I've missed you.” Softly, he spoke these words, and she could feel his lips brush against hers.

She couldn't respond. Admitting that she'd missed him, too, would pull the plug on the emotional dam and the ensuing flood would mean another two years in therapy. Very slowly, he lowered his mouth and pressed his lips to hers in a kiss so gossamer she was tempted to wonder if she'd imagined it.

He pulled back and shifted his gaze over her shoulder. “Your mother is watching us.”

Annie could see his grin bloom in the shadows. Her own lips curved. “She doesn't trust you.”

“Do you?”

Annie sighed. “I don't know. I don't know if I trust my own judgment.”

“I want you to trust me.”

“What difference does it make? We live in different worlds.”

“It matters because we share a history. Like it or not.”

“Mama thinks I need to watch out for you.”

“Speaking of the devil—”

“What?”

“She's coming down the walk.”

“You're kidding.”

“Nope.”

There was a tap at the passenger side window. “Annie?” MaryPat's throbbing falsetto rent the romantic mood.

Wyatt's whisper was hot in her ear as he reached across her and unlocked the door. “I'll meet you at the store. Tomorrow. Right after you close.”

MaryPat pulled Annie's door open and leaned inside. “Kids, it's getting late, and, Wyatt, I was hoping that you could give me a ride home.”

“It would be my honor,” Wyatt told her and squeezed Annie's hand one last time before she slipped out of the car and switched places with her mother.

 

Though MaryPat lived only a little over a block down the street, the drive seemed interminable to Wyatt. The silence was strained and he could only guess what was going through her salt-and-pepper-colored head. He pulled up into the driveway of her familiar residence and cut the engine. As he unfastened his safety belt and prepared to get out and assist MaryPat to her door, she placed a hand on his arm.

“Wyatt, dear, don't bother seeing me to the door.”

“I don't mind.”

“I know, but the porch light is on and I'm not that old. Nor—” she turned and eyed him in the dim glow of the panel lights “—am I too feeble to kick your butt if you do anything to hurt my daughter again.”

Wyatt took in the pursed lips and squinty-eyed gaze and knew it would be best to remain silent and let MaryPat say her piece.

MaryPat took a deep breath, causing the voluminous purse that rested on her stomach to rise up. “Getting over you was a long time coming, but she did it, praise God, and she got on with her life. Married a local boy, had two great kids. She's been through a lot.”

MaryPat shifted in her seat and, holding up her hand, she grabbed her index finger and began to tick off her list. “First, she lost you. Then, she lost her Daddy. Then, she lost Carl. Are you beginning to see a theme here?”

Mind churning, Wyatt slowly nodded.

“This girl can't stand any more loss. So, if I may impart a bit of wisdom, since—heaven only knows why—I have a soft spot in my heart for you, get the hell out of here and leave her alone.”

If this was MaryPat's soft spot, he'd hate to run into her when she was in a bad mood.

Then she poked him in the chest and her fierce expression softened just a bit. “Unless, of course, you mean business.”

Wyatt met her unwavering gaze with his own. Long moments passed as they stared each other down. Finally, the smile that Wyatt had been fighting stole into the corners of his mouth. “MaryPat, has anyone ever told you that you are a really classy dame?”

“Well…yes.” Taken back, MaryPat giggled. “Annie's daddy used to say that. So.” She slapped her purse. “Will I be seeing you around or is this it?”

Wyatt leaned forward and kissed her peachy soft cheek. “MaryPat, I do mean business. I have a lot to apologize about to your daughter. Right now all I can hope for is that she'll listen and forgive me. Hopefully I can make her see that I've done a lot of growing up. Someday,” he hesitated, fearing that if he spoke the words out loud he could some
how jinx his chances, “maybe we'll have a future together. I just don't know.”

MaryPat harrumphed. “I wouldn't count on it. She's pretty much sworn off men.” She shoved open her door and flung her purse to the ground like an anchor off a dinghy. “But I'll put in a good word for you. That girl of mine could use a little happiness.”

 

As he pulled out of MaryPat's driveway, Wyatt retrieved his cell phone from the glove box and with his thumb, pushed Emily's number into the illuminated panel. She picked up on the second ring.

“Emily?”

“Wyatt?”

“Yep. Just called to see how you're doing.”

“I'm ducky now, big brother.” Emily laughed. “I just can't believe you're here in town. I just hate being away from my family. Having you here is just so…cool!”

Wyatt grinned. Sometimes Em was still such a kid. “I hate being away from family, too. I think that's only just now beginning to sink in with me.”

“Good! Then I'll count on seeing you much more often in the future. You can start by coming to the diner tomorrow. Show up around lunchtime. Burger baskets are on special all week.”

“Mmm. Sounds great. I'll be there. Hey. You want me to come do a perimeter check at your place tonight? Make sure everything's buttoned up?”

“Oh, thank you, but no. Toby's gonna swing by on his rounds tonight.”

“Toby your boyfriend?” Wyatt had always loved to tease her and was rewarded with a satisfactory squeal.

“No!” she cried. “He's just a friend, for heaven's sake.”

“Oooo. Methinks she doth protest too much.”

“He's the sheriff, so shut up.”

“Okay. I'll leave your safety to the man in blue. Lock your doors,” he commanded.

“Roger.”

“And windows.”

“Gotcha.”

“Leave your porch lights on.”

“Okay, already,” she huffed, exasperated.

“Good night, Em.”

“Night, Wyatt.”

On autopilot, Wyatt tossed his phone back into the glove box and wove through MaryPat's older, yet well-maintained, neighborhood toward the downtown area. When he reached Main Street and Summer's Autumn Antiques, he tapped the brakes and perused the building's welcoming facade for a moment. Tiny white twinkly lights rimmed the windows and outlined the building. The window display was a page out of yesteryear: warm and colorful antiques mixed with whimsical arts and crafts made by the locals. On the boardwalk, twin benches flanked the front door and a sign over one read Husbands' Waiting Area.

Annie really had done well for herself. Built a good life. Far better than his, on an emotional level.

As he continued slowly down the street in search of a parking spot somewhere near The Faded Rose Inn, thoughts of Annie filled his mind, his senses. Impossibly, their light good-night kiss had left him wanting her far more than he already had. He groaned deep in his throat. Ah, man, he was so screwed up.

What the hell had he been thinking, promising MaryPat that he wouldn't bother Annie unless he was serious? How could he be serious about her? He was a big-city boy. She
was a small-town girl. And now her world included two redheaded moppets and the ghost of that nice local boy she'd married.

But still, he loved Annie. That much he knew. And until things were set straight between them, he would never find contentment. Damn. Between Annie and Emily, he wasn't going to sleep a wink tonight. Frustrated and tired, Wyatt found a spot, parked his car, locked it and walked down the empty street toward the hotel.

So deep in thought was he that, as he mounted the lobby steps, he didn't see the flicker of a lighter flaring in a phone booth just outside the hotel. Neither did he notice the pungent aroma of cigarette smoke as it caught the evening breeze, nor did he hear the muttered curses as Snake Eyes Pike fumbled his way through a call to Prosperino, California.

 

Removing a solid gold earring as she went, Patsy locked the door to her bedroom suite and rushed to answer the incessant ring of her cell phone. Luckily for her, there was yet another pre-wedding party in full swing out in the courtyard. There were so many blasted relatives and shirttail foster people out there, nobody would even notice that she'd opted not to attend.

Patsy snatched up the phone and tucked it between her shoulder and ear.

“Yes?” she barked. She'd given this number only to Snake Eyes so she knew who it was.

Patsy wrinkled her delicate nose. She could fairly smell his fetid breath through the line. Sinking to the edge of her bed, she braced herself for more bad news. Trust her rotten luck to pick the only thug in L.A. known as Mr. Screw-up among his dubious peers. “You'd better not be calling me with some limp excu—”