Maybe Baby (12 page)

Oh wow!

When the last of the dessert had been enjoyed, Carmelita cleared our plates. She paused at the table and gave my cheek a pinch.

“Prendersi cura del cuore dolce di Signor Trey, assicurarsi che vi riporta presto!”

Take care of Mr. Trey’s heart sweet one; have him bring you back soon!

“She said to take care and that she hopes you come back soon,” he interpreted for me.

As if I needed it. Eventually I might share my grasp of Italian with Trey - but not today.

"Thank you,” I responded, smiling. I gave Carmelita a quick hug.

She beamed and turned to Trey.

“Ah questa è molto meglio di femmina Charlotte, amico mio!”

This one is so much better than Charlotte, my friend!

Trey quickly gave
Carmelita a hug and a peck on her cheek and we were out the door.

“Thank you for lunch, Trey, that was really delicious,” I said, smiling over at him as we got settled in the car.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. Carmelita's quite the character, and very fond of you I can tell.”

“I'm impressed by your command of Italian. I had no idea you spoke so fluently.”

“I studied abroad during high school and college.”

“I see, So what does ‘Charlotte’ translate to in English?” I asked, batting my eyelashes at him.

“Oh, you caught that, huh?”

“Well…yes.”

For all of his denial of having any type of relationship with Charlotte, it appeared that they had made their rounds as a couple. “Carmelita reads too much into things,” he said impatiently. “I took Charlotte to Morelli’s one time, weeks back, for dinner. Carmelita thought she was a royal bitch, which she can be. Charlotte insulted the Carpineta Fontalpino wine we were served. She told Carmelita it tasted like Tuscan vinegar spiked with battery acid. You can imagine how that went over with Carmelita.”

“How'd it go over with you?” I asked.

He slowed for a traffic light and looked over at me, taking my left hand into his right one, raising it to his lips. “I’ve told you before, Tylar, there's no relationship whatsoever between Charlotte and me. As far as that particular incident, it was embarrassing for me.”

We were back at the estate in no time. As we pulled into the winding drive leading up to the mansion, Ray’s truck was parked near the pool. No one was swimming, but Ray looked to be checking the chemical levels, probably waiting for Trey to get back.

“Hey Ray,” I said smiling.

“Hey, Ty. You doing all right?”

I nodded.

Trey walked over to Ray. “Did you take care of what I asked you to?”

“Sure thing,” Ray answered. “Here you go,” he said, handing something to Trey. “I’ll keep my key on my personal key ring. No one else will have access to it—as you requested.”

“Thanks Ray.”

Ray turned back to me. “Mrs. Johnson is expecting you tomorrow morning at nine, Ty, at the main office. I think she has a special assignment for you. Hopefully, you won’t be too bored.”

“Got it,” I said. “I’ll be there, don’t worry, Ray.”

We exchanged smiles and Ray took off to his truck.

“You’ll like Rebecca,” Trey commented. “She and Ray are probably my two most trusted employees. I know my parents feel the same way.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Rebecca—Mrs. Johnson,” Trey clarified. “If I know her, you won’t be calling her ‘Mrs. Johnson’ for long. She doesn’t go in for a lot of formality and pretense. That’s why I know you'll like her.” He gave me another one of his award-winning grins, and placed his right arm around my shoulders.

“C’mon you,” he said, softly. “Let me walk you to your cottage. I want to make sure everything is secure and that you get settled in for the night.”

“It’s not even dark yet,” I protested. “I’m not ready to call the day over.”

“I don’t want to either,” he said gently, “but I’ve got work to do this evening, reviewing the case before the trial starts on Tuesday. Then I have to pack, shower, and all that good stuff. Plus,” he continued, squeezing me closer as we made our way up the path to the cottages, “I want a few minutes alone with you before I go. I want to make sure I give you a proper goodbye.”

My stomach butterflies were swarming. My cheeks were warm and flushed. We arrived at the cottage and Trey fished in his pocket pulling out the two keys that Ray had given him. He handed one of the keys to me. “Put this on your key chain,” he instructed, “and pitch the old one.”

I nodded. “What about the extra key?” I asked, nodding toward the one in his hand.

He grinned at me. “I thought you might feel safer if I held onto it, just in case.”

“In case what?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“In case you lose yours or something,” he frowned at me, feigning insult that I could think anything other than honorable thoughts about him. He was a complicated man, I thought. It didn't bother me a bit, him having a key. He owned the place. As far as I was concerned, Trey had a right to anything here, with the exception of any other
woman
apart from me. I looped my arms around his neck and stood on my tiptoes, kissing his mouth.

“Oh no—you can and will do better than that, Ms. Preston,” he laughed, chasing me up the couple of steps onto the porch. I struggled from his grasp, playfully, and then saw that a small shopping bag had been hung on my doorknob.

“Hmm, looks like someone left me a gift,” I teased. “Is that why you wanted to escort me to my cottage Mr. Sinclair?” I asked coquettishly. “You do spoil me, don’t you?”

Trey’s facial expression had lost the amusement of just a moment ago.

“That’s not from me,” he said, his tone serious.

I tried to lighten the mood; I wasn't into getting creeped out again after having spent such a wonderful, calm day with him. I opened the screen door, and lifted the shopping bag off of the doorknob. I held the bag open and saw a small pile of plum silk material. I unfolded the articles of clothing, holding them up. Suddenly I recognized them. The realization hit me hard. Oh my God. I remembered them from my dream. It was the silk pajama shorts that were ripped off of my 13-year-old body; the matching camisole was in the bag too. It had been cut in half. That part wasn't in my dream. There was a typed note on a piece of paper pinned to the camisole. It read:

I believe these belong to you, Sissy.

“Oh God!” I screamed, flinging the bag down. Trey’s arms were around me in an instant.

Suddenly, Clint was there n the porch, his face a mask of anger and concern. Did Clint think that I needed help? Trey’s voice was in my ear.

“Stop fighting me Tylar. For Christ’s sake, it’s
me.
It’s Trey.” He handed Clint my key. “Open the door so I can get her inside,” Trey instructed.

Clint made no move to do it. He was sizing up the situation.

“Clint for Christ’s sake, it’s
not me
she’s afraid of. Open the door before we have the whole compound down on us.”

Clint cautiously complied. In seconds, Trey carried me inside and placed me gently on my couch. Clint brought the stuff I'd dropped on the porch inside. Trey snatched the silk pajamas and shoved them back into the bag so that they were out of my sight. Some calmness was starting to seep in. Trey sat down next to me, looking at me, clutching my free hand as if he expected me to shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

“Can Clint go ahead and leave?” he asked me gently. I was confused. “Clint thinks you were screaming because of
me
,” Trey explained. “He wants to make sure that you aren’t afraid of me, and that it wasn’t me that made you start screaming just now.”

I understood now. Clint was going to protect me against Trey, if necessary. He was a friend to me. I saw that now.

“Oh yes,” I said. “I’m sorry, Clint. I’m sorry for that out there.” They were both staring at me now. “It's okay, Clint. I received a shock, but Trey's not responsible.”

“Are you sure?” Clint asked quietly, moving in front of Trey, blocking his view of me for the moment while I answered him. He apparently wanted to make absolutely sure that I wasn't being forced to say this to him. I knew that this was really pissing Trey off. I heard Trey’s heavy sigh, as he mumbled, “Oh for Christ’s sake,” from behind Clint.

“No Clint, really. I’m fine. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Sure thing,” he said. “I’m right next door. You just holler if you need me,” he assured me as he moved away.

As soon as Clint left, Trey closed the door abruptly behind him, mumbling something inaudible. He returned to the couch, pulling me into his lap and cradling me against his strong chest. I rested my head against his chest; the sound of his heartbeat made me feel safe and secure.

I closed my eyes and felt his warm, sensual lips on my mouth. They moved slowly, caressingly over my lips; his hands now framed my face on each side.

I opened my eyes, enjoying the calming effect of our second kiss. His eyes were a deeper blue than before. He was watching me; what was he looking for?

“Hmmm,” he breathed against me, “do you know how much I've wanted to do that again ever since this afternoon? Hell, ever since I first laid eyes on you, if you want to know the truth."

I was dumbfounded. I shook my head. He lifted an errant lock away from my face, and then brushed his thumb lightly against my lips, still moist from our luxurious kiss.

He pulled me in, and kissed my brow. My head rested against his chest again, as I listened to his steady heartbeat. His hand traveled up to my ponytail, twirling it around his fingers absently.

“Are we going to talk about it?” he asked softly.

“I don’t want to,” I replied quietly. “But I will.”

Chapter 14

“Go ahead,” Trey urged gently, “please tell me what these clothes mean to you.”

“When I was growing up, Saturday was special to my mom because that was the only night out of the whole week that she had a date. By that, I mean a date with her boyfriend.”

“And what was his name?” Trey asked.

“Well,” I answered, “I’m not really sure.”

Trey looked confused.

“It seems like maybe there were a few of them.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. “So anyway, my best friend was Laurie and her mom was Mona, my mom’s friend. On Friday nights, Laurie would spend the night with me, and then on Saturday nights, I'd spend the night at Laurie’s.”

He nodded for me to continue.

Little by little, with Trey continually prodding me on, I relayed everything to him about the dream I'd had the other night about Laurie, the video parlor and going home unexpectedly on one of Mom's date nights. I was pretty sketchy after that part, not wanting to go into the last part of it, which I found totally sickening. I simply mentioned Mom was pissed, and she told her boyfriend I was her younger sister.

“Tylar,” Trey said in a very serious tone, “that can’t be it. That doesn’t explain the ripped pajamas. That doesn’t explain the note about Sissy.” He rubbed my back, comfortingly, consolingly.

“In the dream I had, it got into more detail. But I’m not sure that part really happened.”

“What part?” he asked. “You need to tell me everything, sweetie. We'll sort it out together, remember?”

I swallowed nervously, afraid that I might be sick. I snuggled closer to him, as if that would help my memory be less despicable.

“After I went to my room that night and finally fell asleep, Momn's boyfriend came in and well, in the dream, he messed with me," I finished quickly.

“Tell me what he did to you.” The tone of his voice frightened me.

“Don’t you see? I’m not sure.”

“Tell me what he did to you in
your
dream.”

“In my dream, he put his fingers in and around my private parts. I tried to fight him off. I finally did."

I could feel Trey’s body turn to stone underneath me.

I disgust him.

"Didn't your mother help you?" he asked tersely.

“She did when she finally heard me screaming and came into my room. All she told him was that I wasn't part of the deal and he owed her another hundred for touching me. Those are the pajamas I was wearing," I finished, nodding towards them. "Those are the proof that my nightmare wasn't just a . . . dream."

"That's it," he said, lifting me from him and heading to my room.

I followed and watched as he collected clothing from my dresser drawers and closet, putting them in a pile on my bed, searching for a suitcase. He found the one under my bed and packed what he'd gathered inside. He went into the bathroom, gathering up my toothbrush, razor, and the rest of my toiletries. He found my phone charger and purse, shoving it all into my suitcase.

“What are you doing?” I asked, finally shaking myself out of my clueless daze.

“You're not staying here,” he stated. “And it's not up for debate.” He did not have to worry about me arguing that point. There was no way I'd stay in this cottage one more minute. “You're staying at the house tonight with me.”

I noticed the pile of mail still on the counter. He grabbed it, shoving it into the zippered flap on the outside of my suitcase.

“I think we’re ready,” he said, guiding me to the front door.

It was dark now, which provided a cloak of privacy. Trey held my hand, leading me up the path that led to his home. The mansion stood in peaceful and safe serenity. There were a few lights on inside. He led me around to the front door, reaching into his pocket for his key. The door was opened before he needed his key. A tall, slender man who looked to be in his sixties greeted us. He wore a uniform.

“Good evening Thatcher,” Trey greeted him, pulling me behind him into a large entry hall. “This is Ms. Preston. She is my houseguest this week. Please see to her every comfort.”

Trey set my suitcase down in the entry hall.

“Of course, sir,” Thatcher responded. “Where would you have me take Ms. Preston’s things?”

“To my suite,” Trey directed without hesitation.

Thatcher didn’t bat an eye, as he lifted my suitcase and ascended the wide staircase just off of the entrance hall to deposit my things in
Trey’s suite.

“Trey,” I said, “I’m not sure about this.”