Incidental Contact (Those Devilish De Marco Men) (17 page)

When she came out of the bathroom, she heard Eric stoking the fire, but the chilly air made her hasten to put on her warmest pajamas. The scent of pizza lured her downstairs. Kevin’s wheelchair sat beside the front door. “You fixed it? Already?”

He opened the oven door and wrapped a dishtowel around his hand so he could pull out the rack. “Thank God, the axle and connector were okay. Only the handle broke, so I made new ones for both sides. Just a matter of shaping the metal and adding a pin. Lucky for me, that tent spike of yours was titanium. I’ll buy you a replacement next week.”

“Don’t worry about that. It came from Drew’s tent.” He’d spent their only camping trip bitching. She doubted he’d ever use the thing again.

Eric chuckled, dividing the pizza onto paper plates. “I’m not gonna lose any sleep over a replacement, then. How many slices can you eat?”

All of them.
“Uh, two?” Her tummy gave an angry growl.

Scowling, he put four slices on her plate. “Don’t be ridiculous. You must’ve run ten miles tonight.”

On her way to the couch, she bent to inspect his work. The spike wasn’t the thin, round kind, but a strip of metal almost eight inches long and about three-eighths of an inch wide. Half was enough to make a nice handle. One end now curled stylishly back over the length. The repair didn’t look makeshift at all. Fearing the edges would be sharp, she ran a finger over the thin strip, but what she felt made her lean in for a better look. He’d added tiny dots of metal or solder to the edge. The balls would protect Kevin’s fingers. The repair looked better than the original. It was obvious he took pride in his work. She’d never been around a man who was worth a damn at fixing stuff, so while he might shrug this off, she was impressed.

They didn’t talk while they devoured the thick pizza, topped with every kind of meat.

Suddenly, he leaned over, dragging the tip of his tongue across her chin. He explained, straight-faced. “Paid for double cheese. Can’t let that go to waste.”

“Mmm.” She should be embarrassed to be caught eating like a piglet, but she was too hungry to care. Besides, wasn’t she just another broken handle to him?

After polishing off the final slice, she felt too full to make the three steps it would take to throw her paper plate into the stove, much less walk to the kitchen to throw it away. Grateful for the metal table tops, she tossed the grease-stained circle onto the coffee table. She stretched. Wiggling her toes inside the footed pj’s made him laugh.

He lifted a foot onto his thigh. “Winner wants her foot rub, huh?” He dug his fingers into her arch while biting into his last slice.

Amy moaned. “I should let you off the hook after the day you’ve had.”

“You know what? I was havin’ a bad day. Carpenter’s gonna get away with a slap on the wrist. I lost a gun battle to a girl.” His expression seemed playful but her heart twisted at the pain in his eyes. “But then, watching those guys play tonight, I realized something.”

The pressure on her arch became harder as he dug a thumb into her aching tendons.

“What did you realize?”

He finished the pizza before responding. “I realized it doesn’t matter if you’re seven feet tall, or shootin’ from a chair. Sometimes, you have hot hands. Other times, that basket seems to have an invisible lid. Either keep tossin’ up shots, or quit.” He shrugged and his grin was lopsided. “It sounded deeper when it was just a thought in my head. Doesn’t matter what your basket is, life’s not gonna lower it for you.” He sighed. “I dunno. It’s like I spent the day figuring out my dad.” Cocking a brow, he added,” And totally making a bad impression on yours.”

Though pleasure clouded her mind, she managed to talk. “My sister’s twelve years older. When my mom got pregnant with me, she informed my dad that she’d raised
her
kid. If he wanted her to keep the baby, then I was his to raise. He took her up on that deal, so I grew up following him around. Since he was always on a field somewhere, coaching a team, I learned how to take up for myself. He thought what you did for Kevin was awesome.”

He blew off the praise. “I guess I embarrassed you by overreacting. My dad again. He had some real strict ideas on how to treat a girl.”

Amy knew Jonah’s mother, Sarah, had been a mere six weeks old when Cammie disappeared. Her sister swore Amy had gotten away with murder, by virtue of being the youngest. In many ways, that was true. “I bet that made for a little tyrant.”

Eric nodded. The tears sparkling in his eyes made her heart ache, but he smiled. “You better believe it. Once, when she was just learning to crawl, I sorta bowled her over.”

The word “sorta” made her snort.

His eyes rounded. “Uh huh. I thought that was the funniest thing ever, ‘cause she got right back up, so I kept pushing her down. Didn’t realize Dad was standing behind me.” Eric lifted a hand and spread his fingers wide. “I swear, Amy, the man had hands bigger than mine. He grabbed me by the arm, and his other hand landed on my ass. Lifted my feet right off the ground so many times, I felt like I was on a ride at the fair.”

Through her laughter, she managed to say, “Ouch.”

“I did the same thing to Colton and he never turned a hair.” All the amusement drained from his face. “But I got off light compared to John Carpenter.”

Her urge to laugh abruptly disappeared. Her heart thumped. “John hurt Sarah?”

Eric began kneading her arch fiercely, using both thumbs. “I dunno if you’ve ever been down to the farmhouse where Dan and Cynda live, but the yard behind the house backs up to one of the orchards. One Sunday, after lunch, we were outside. The lower orchards were just about to bloom. John was dropping off the bee hives and Sarah wandered over. She wasn’t quite three. He had on that veil and gloves, long sleeves, the whole outfit. Bees were crawling all over him and they covered his hand. He reached out to Sarah. She didn’t know any better, so she goes closer. Until you’ve seen bees do that, you don’t realize what you’re looking at until you get close.”

A hand covered in crawling bees would be scary to Amy, even now. She imagined a child would be terrified. Or fascinated, but unaware of the risk. Either way, the scene he described was sickening. “What happened?” She rubbed her arms, trying to rid herself of the sudden prickling sensation.

“Dad was standing at the back door. I was waiting for him to call Sarah back. Instead, he stepped out, put a rifle to his shoulder, and jacked a round into a tree. Bark exploded about ten feet from John. Now, everyone knew Dad was a damn good shot, but he didn’t want to alarm the bees, right? His voice was real calm when he said, ‘Scare my daughter again and I’ll put the next one into you’. He just did not fuck around about Sarah. What kind of grown man does that to a little girl?”

A bad man. An evil man.
This was the time to tell him what the woman in the mall office said, but he discarded his plate alongside hers and held out his arms. “Come here.”

Unnerved by the story, as well as by what she might know, Amy crawled to his end of the wide couch. He turned onto his side, making room for her. She needed his warmth. She felt as though the fire had gone out, even though it burned brightly. His lips felt like velvet, brushing her cheek. He stroked her back, then slid his fingers under the elastic of her pants.

“Flannel armor tonight, huh?” He made no move to delve deeper inside the waistband, apparently content with trailing his fingers across her skin. The only sound was the occasional pop from the fire. Shifting slightly, she pressed her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat and inhaling his scent.

Perhaps five minutes passed before he broke the silence. “I really enjoyed the game. Can’t believe the way I fucked up, but I’d watch them play again.”

She tilted her head so she could see his eyes. Daring to raise her hand to his face, she cupped his jaw. “Stop being so hard on yourself, Eric. What you did was amazing. Not just the skill it showed, either. You cared enough to try. That means something to me. Too many people won’t go out on a limb. You did. I think that’s special. Giving a damn is rare.”

Watching the muscles in his jaw work, and the shadowed look in his eye, told her someone important hadn’t believed in him
.
She’d seen that look in others’ eyes. Whether tutoring someone in math, or looking around in class when an exam was handed out, or staring in the mirror while wearing a dress, the face of self-doubt was a familiar one.

“I think I could build those chairs for a hell of a lot less than two grand. Do you know the only titanium on Kevin’s chair is that damn tent spike?”

“Yeah, the titanium chair was astronomical. He wanted one, but settled for aluminum.”

He turned to press a kiss to her palm. Burying his face between her neck and shoulder, he worked his way to her jaw. The feathery kisses sent shivers skittering down her spine and made her nipples harden. He nudged her legs apart, sliding his thigh in between hers, until the muscle rested against her sex. He pulled her closer to his chest. “You comfortable?” he mumbled

“Mmm hmm.” She could stay right here, in Eric’s arms, forever. Amy knew better than to entertain that thought, but it felt true in the most visceral way. Every fiber of her being hummed with an odd sense of completion.
Must be because I can barely keep my eyes open.
He rested his chin on top of her head. His breathing deepened.

She watched the flickering light dance over the arm he wrapped around her. For the first time, she realized the colorful tattooed sleeve featured Madonnas, holding their babes. She thought the images were copies of old paintings. This close, she saw some of the inked designs were faded, but the women and infants looked fresh. The choice was eloquent on the arm of a motherless boy. Tears stung her eyes.

She had to go back to the mall to see if that girl had been filling out an application. But why would Malibu Barbie tell Amy anything, even if her hunch was right?
Bet she’d tell Eric.
She was sure of that, but it still felt wrong to add to his worries.

Should she tell the police and let them ask? What if the girl had no proof to back up her harsh accusation? Opening a “he said, she said” drama wouldn’t be helpful. The problem seemed too complex for her to solve, but thinking about Sarah and those bees, she was grateful John Carpenter was in jail.

Slowly, she let her eyes drift closed, enjoying the way Eric’s arm tightened around her in sleep.

* * * *

E
ric came awake slowly. The fire was a mere glow in the base of the stove, so it took him a minute to realize the soft thing he was wrapped around wasn’t his quilt or a pillow, but Amy.

He inhaled. Her shampoo smelled like oranges. Her skin smelled of Ivory soap. He still bought that brand, because his mother had bought that brand, so his father had bought that brand. The clean fragrance combined well with the scent that was pure Amy.

He’d left the porch lights on. The light leaked around the side of the house. Through the window beside the fireplace, movement caught his eye. A young deer cautiously nosed snow off a rhododendron. Munching her foraged treat, the youngster appeared to stare curiously at Eric, but the lack of light indoors would make the UV film on the window reflective from outside. He was sure the deer was female, since he saw no budding antlers on the animal’s narrow forehead.

He had to smile, watching the young doe tilt her head and bat long lashes.

Amy had pretty eyes to go with those stunning lips, but she didn’t do anything to play up either feature. He cast around in his mind for an example of her kind of beauty, and thought of the table that had once graced Grandmother Chapman’s kitchen. Nance’s grandfather had made it from the center of an old pecan tree felled by lightning. The legs were thick tapers, cut from the same tree.

The table was plain and sturdy. The slab of wood had to be a yard wide. The maker hadn’t shaped the edges, leaving the bark, but that’d been picked clean by the time his grandmother parked him there to work on his spelling. He saw the table clearly in his mind, the surface mellowed by years of beeswax applications.

The table was sitting in Phillip’s house, no doubt. Phil had outbid Eric at the auction his grandmother’s will specified was to be held after her death.

So, had the records they needed been sold that day?

No, those records belonged to the farm. The farm hadn’t been part of Livia Chapman’s estate, much to the ire of some—like Phillip’s father. They should be around somewhere. Nance Chapman kept records on everything.

He didn’t want to think that De Marco Farms had paid their farmhands less than a living wage. He didn’t want to deal with the anger that burned in his gut every time he thought about John Carpenter. He’d completely forgotten the incident with Sarah until he’d told Amy about it. How many other times had John shown his true colors while the De Marcos had overlooked the murderer in their midst, excusing him as just being “crotchety” after his wife died?

He didn’t want to think about John. He kissed Amy’s ear. She began to stir.

He eased her to her back and shifted to lean over her. Rotating his shoulder to relieve the prickle of discomfort, he resettled between her thighs, just enjoying looking at her. The plaid flannel seemed so very Amy—practical and warm. Propped on his elbows, he nuzzled her ear again. She had the most delightful ears. He loved the new cut, since it exposed those delicate shells.

With all the sensations she evoked, and though he was pressed against her warm mound, his cock didn’t react.
Goddammit. Just focus on her.
She felt so soft and smelled so good, that was easy.

She seemed to be waking, so he found her hands and threaded his fingers between hers. Pinning their locked hands on the wide arm of the couch above her head, he brushed his lips over the freckles on her nose and cheeks.

Her belly felt soft and giving under his abdomen, but he made sure to keep his flaccid cock away from her. Plenty of time to move if that player decided to get in the game. Tracing the edge of her ear with his tongue, he felt her nipples harden against his chest. Her short lashes fluttered open.