Colorado 03 Lady Luck (21 page)

I would, no doubt, never see that. I was
pissed at Ty but I still hoped that he did whatever he had to do
and then went back to building his life and filling it with “nice
shit”.

The middle floor of the house had two
bedrooms either side of the stairs, both with their own much
smaller baths. Both had small balconies jutting out, made of
decking. Neither had anything in them. Nothing. Except for some
stuff stored in the closet of one, they were totally empty. At the
back of the middle floor sandwiched between the bedrooms was a
smaller room that Ty used for an office. It was the only room in
the house that was carpeted. He’d furnished it. Big, fantastic
desk, big backed, black leather swivel chair but the computer had
obviously been purchased prior to his being sent to prison, it was
at least five years old, maybe older. Still, it was there and I’d
discovered it had internet I just didn’t know the passwords to
access it.

Mental note to ask Ty.

The bottom floor was all kitchen and living
room with a narrow boxed cutout on one side that housed a powder
room with a door close to the living room and a big walk-in pantry
with a door close to the kitchen. There were floor to ceiling
windows at the long, wide deck that jutted out well further than
the balconies above them which, with the floor to ceiling windows
and the room being open plan, made the deck feel like it was a
continuation of the first floor. Since beyond that was
uninterrupted nature until the view hit town, this gave that floor
the feel that it went on forever.

Completing this open vibe and sharing of
nature and adding tons of light when the sun was up, there were a
generous amount of windows all around including a huge picture
window over the sink at the back wall that had a great view too, a
view into the woods. It wasn’t as phenomenal as the view in the
front but it was good enough to make me look forward to doing
dishes.

The open-backed stairs to the upper level
cut into the middle of the space, the railing made of beautiful
wood that was full of character, the steps carpeted in short-pile
cream wool with sparse brown and gray speckles. The stairs were so
awesome they were a feature on their own. The view was fabulous but
if I got a look at those stairs cutting through the room, I would
have said yes to this house. There was another flight of stairs
that led down to the utility room that was at the side wall of the
garage. These were at the side of that level, leading from the
kitchen and surrounded by another railing of the same wood.

He had a deep-seated, very large, cushiony,
black L-shaped sectional, a flat screen TV and a shelving unit that
held a top-of-the-line stereo with speakers built into the house
giving surround sound even on the upper levels and out on the
decks. There was also a stone hearth fireplace. Further, there were
four unusual but awesome stools at the lip end of the counter of
the massive, square island. Like the rest of the house, there were
no rugs and tons of room to add more furniture. The fireplace would
look great with some cool candleholders around it. The cream
cabinets and black granite countertops in the kitchen would look
fabulous with cream KitchenAid standing appliances (Ty only had a
blender which was cream so that was why I knew cream would look
good and then, of course, there was the coffeemaker, both, seeing
as he liked “nice shit” and his friends undoubtedly knew that, were
KitchenAid).

There was a lot you could do with his house.
A new wife, a real one, would be in throes of ecstasy if she was
carried over the threshold to this place.

On that not so happy thought, I washed my
face, brushed my teeth and headed down to the kitchen.

No coffee in the coffeemaker. No note on the
island. Ty just gone.

I made coffee and I used his strawberries,
bananas and yogurt, cutting up the fruit and covering it with
yogurt in the bowl. I poured myself a cup of joe and wandered out
to the front deck that also had no furniture.

I set my coffee down on the railing after
taking a sip then shoveled fruit and yogurt in my mouth while
staring at the sun shining bright on Carnal, the green pine-covered
hills beyond, the purple mountains beyond that.

I let the warm, morning sun shine down on me
and I decided how to start my life.

Ty’s furniture was way better than mine,
mine was cheap and I’d had it for nine years so it wasn’t in the
best of shape. But my bed was newer, decent and would fit in one of
the rooms on the middle floor. I’d need a bed when this was done.
And he had plenty of room, my shit could be stored in his other
room. And I’d bought my new computer only three months before. We’d
get rid of his and he could get a new one when this was done and I
went away.

I’d call Ella, tell her what to get rid of
and what to send. I’d buy new of what I needed when my real life
started. She said she was gently nudging Honey to move into my
place and take over the lease and Honey was surprisingly
considering this. Then again, Ella was not immune to motherly
emotional manipulation, so not immune, she’d become a master at it
and therefore she was coaxing Honey to cut the apron strings she’d
latched onto by using helping me out as incentive. And Honey was
sweet; she’d want to help me out. This meant Honey could use my
furniture if she wanted to until she got set up.

I also needed a job. Ty might be able to
cover me but I wasn’t going to let him. He lived his life, did his
business, I’d do mine.

So I needed a paper.

People would expect his new wife would make
his house a home. And I was his new wife. And I thought his decks
needed flowers and furniture. So I’d see to that. If I had to live
here for however long, I was going to enjoy the view and not do it
standing at the railing.

I also had a town to discover. Maggie’s
groceries were running out. I needed to do an inventory, toilet
paper, cleaning supplies, laundry stuff (the washer and dryer being
in a kickass utility room in the garage). He had friends and they’d
probably wonder where I was. I couldn’t stay up here forever. That
wouldn’t be doing my job.

I needed to break the seal, go into Carnal,
see and be seen.

And thinking on laundry, I needed to do
some. For me. For Ty.

Another thing to add to the list.

My plans set, I finished my bowl of
breakfast, set it on the railing and stood there, sipping my
coffee, staring at the view, having eaten and still feeling
hollow.

I finished my coffee and still wasn’t full
up.

And I knew I could eat a bathtub full of
fruit and yogurt and not feel full.

This was because I was not the kind of girl
who ever got to feel full. I knew that. I just had to learn to stop
forgetting it.

I grabbed my bowl and went into the house to
find my phone and call Ella.

I had things to do.

I had a life to fake starting.

* * * * *

Ty

Ty Walker hit the button on the garage door
opener, the door slid open and he saw the Charger parked there.
He’d taken an opener with him that day knowing Max would be
bringing him the Viper. He’d put one in Lexie’s car and obviously
she’d found it.

The Viper growled into the garage, the sound
of the vehicle reverberating in the closed space. He shut her down,
opened his door and folded out.

It wasn’t late. He’d planned to see to some
business after work but he often still had a tail. They were
sticking close. They hadn’t approached, made their intentions
clear, they weren’t watching all the time but they were watching.
It was too soon to try and shake them when they were. They’d know
he was doing it. They’d be more alert.

He didn’t need that.

Still, when they weren’t, he’d made his
connection, he’d handed over a fuckload of cash and he hoped like
fuck Dewey would be hard at work. Not because of the cash, in
normal circumstances Dewey would bolt with the cash, disappear for
half a year doing whatever the fuck and whatever the fuck would
undoubtedly include sitting a game or five dozen of them and he’d
come back broke.

No, he hoped Dew would be hard at work
because he knew Walker would find him if he bolted and when he did,
Walker wouldn’t be happy. Dewey knew to avoid that.

But more, Dewey was a friend, had been since
junior high and Walker hoped to God Dewey would fight the urge and
do right by Walker.

So it was just after six. After work, he’d
gone to the gym to work out.

And now he was home.

And so was Lexie.

He started to the door that led to the
utility room and the interior stairs. By the door the garbage bins
were standing side by side, the top of one having slid partially
off. On his way to the door, automatically, he grabbed the handle
to secure it but he caught a glance at something familiar inside
the bin through the small opening left by the lid. It was familiar
enough to capture his attention. He pulled the lid entirely off to
see what it was and stopped dead.

Big bags filled with party trash on bottom.
Lexie’s wedding bouquet on top.

It was looking tired, petals falling off,
blooms drooping but she’d carefully carried that thing to the
Charger when they left Vegas and made sure the stems were in water
the minute she could when they were in Moab. When they got to
Carnal, he’d lost track of it. She could have brought it in the
house but he didn’t remember seeing it.

All that care, now it was in the trash. Not
precious. Nothing but garbage.

He slowly lowered the lid to the bin and
pressed until it clicked closed. Then he leaned into his hand on
the bin and closed his eyes.

Then he opened his eyes and moved through
the door to the utility room.

The minute he hit the open doorway to the
stairs, he smelled it.

Garlic.

She was cooking.

He climbed the stairs, rounded the railing
and saw her in the kitchen.

She didn’t know he was there. She had her
iPod earphones in and was standing at the back counter doing
something.

She was wearing a tight yellow tank and her
army green short-shorts.

She was not swaying, kitchen dancing or
singing.

And that was when he knew that Lexie, who
could throw bright even when she was asleep, had shut out the
light.

Fuck.

Fuck!

She turned, moving to the stove at the side
wall, she caught sight of him in her peripheral vision, her body
did a small jerk then her head turned and her hand came up to pop
out an earphone.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” he returned, walking in and dumping
his workout bag on the opposite side of the island from where she
was.

She watched him do this then she turned her
back on him, picked up a wooden spoon and started to stir something
in a skillet.

“I did some laundry today,” she told the
skillet. “If you’ve got anything you want cleaned, just dump it in
the utility room on your way to work tomorrow.”

He didn’t respond. Instead he leaned a hand
on the counter of the island and watched her.

“I’m making spaghetti if you don’t want one
of your shakes.”

“I’ll do both,” he told her.

“All right,” she replied, put the spoon down
and reached to a box of spaghetti that was sitting beside the stove
on the counter.

“You go grocery shoppin’?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she answered, dumping spaghetti into
a big pot. “You need anything, write it down and leave it for me.
I’ll go into town and get it.”

Walker again didn’t respond.

He didn’t respond because he’d fucked up and
he didn’t know how to fix it.

Days before, seconds after she told him she
wanted to have breakfast with her husband and he liked hearing her
say that, he liked it too fucking much, he fucked up. Then he kept
fucking up. Then he kept fucking doing it. He knew it and he
couldn’t stop.

Then, the instant she pressed her mouth to
his, her soft body in his lap, overwhelmed with emotion and sharing
that with him, he lost control and he knew he couldn’t do that. And
the only way he could manage to keep control was to stay the fuck
away from her, her sweet smiles, her soft voice, her brightness,
that fantastic fucking body. He couldn’t hold up. So he stayed the
fuck away from her and spent a lot of time thinking about how to
encourage her to stay the fuck away from him.

Then, putting that plan into action last
night, he’d
really
fucked
up.

“Lexie –” he started but she moved quickly,
not looking at him and heading toward the stairs while talking.

“Do me a favor and don’t let that boil over.
I gotta go check the dryer.”

Then she was rounding the stairs and she
didn’t even give him her face when she went down but kept her eyes
on her feet.

When he lost sight of her thick, shining
hair, he dropped his head and stared at his hand in the counter.
Then he moved, mixing some protein powder with water, he drank it
keeping an eye to the stove making sure the pot didn’t boil over.
She came back up the stairs with her arms full of folded clothes,
went to the stove, checked on things then walked to the stairs and
up them.

She didn’t look at him. She didn’t speak to
him.

Walker downed the rest of his drink then
stared at the cup while expending a goodly amount of effort in
stopping himself from hurling it across the room.

Then he put it in the sink, went to the
stove, turned everything to low and walked up the stairs.

She was closing a drawer when he got to
their room.

“Le –” he started but she didn’t even let
him get her name out.

Without looking at him she headed toward
him, eyes on the stairs, interrupting him by asking, “You gonna
have a shower first? I can keep your meal warm.”