Night Mares in the Hamptons (29 page)

So did the dream Ty. He undressed, climbed into my bed, and did the disappearing act with my nightshirt.

A person had no control over her dreams, right? So I didn't have to tell him to leave. Good.

He was running his strong hands over my bare skin. Better.

Then he parted my thighs, his hand reaching lower. He parted my folds. I felt that glow in my belly, the word that I, writer that I was, could not give a name. Just a feeling, a heat, a happy place inside ready to get happier. Sometimes it never got better than this, but Ty wasn't going to disappoint, not in my dream.

Then I was lost to the rhythm of his fingers, his chant, his heartbeat. This was the best dream I ever—

This was no dream. I felt the scratch of his new stubble on skin that was barely healed from yesterday.

“What the . . . ?”

“It's almost dawn. I came to kiss you good night and tell you I was leaving. You smiled at me.”

“I was dreaming!”

“Are you complaining?”

With his hand still tangled in my curls, still moving over the most sensitive spot? “Uh, where is Little Red?”

“On the floor, with a marrow bone from Miss Lily.”

That was okay, then. Until Ty leaned over to kiss me.

I turned my head. “Don't. Morning breath.”

“Then I guess I should kiss you here.” His lips were on my neck, then my breast, bringing the peaks to attention, one and then the other.

“Or here.” Now he licked a path down my ribs to my belly, tucking his tongue into my navel.

“Or here.” His mouth replaced his fingers.

What came after best? I did, three times.

 

Ty left early, before Susan was up, thank goodness. I didn't need her snarky comments or her tattling to Grandma. I was a grown woman, but I hated people knowing my business. They'd snicker when he left, or pity me. That was worse.

I stayed in bed as long as I could before the dogs started whining. Little Red's stomach was gurgling, never a good sign.

Then the phone started ringing, both the land line and my cell, which I had to locate before I could answer.

The chief, Aunt Jasmine, and Kelvin all wanted me to know that they'd pulled Joe the Plumber's van out of the bay this morning. Joe was pulling through, too. He'd be home in a few days. But the real news was that the divers who swam down to hook the van to Kelvin's wrecker found another car in the water: Snake's pickup. Joe's skid marks had hidden the pickup's, so it might have stayed submerged for ages.

The divers kept searching, with reinforcements from the DEA, but they found no drugs, no passenger, no white horse. The labs were checking the truck for fingerprints, residue, anything that could identify the driver, who might or might not be Snake's killer. They hadn't had any luck so far, nor at the ranch. Speculation was he—or they—needed the truck to transport the drugs from Snake's well, then they ditched it before anyone noticed someone other than its owner at the wheel. That old rust bucket was too easily recognized in the area, or on a highway if the police started searching.

The dope was likely already giving yuppies something to do with their free time. Which reminded me of the group rental at Tern Street, the house with all the surfboards and beer bottles. Those guys looked as if they'd know who sold recreational drugs around town. Maybe the chief could trade information for ignorance about their own illegal possession. Or maybe he could beat it out of them, not that Uncle Henry was a violent type, but he'd been without sleep for days, too. At this point, I didn't care what happened to the surfer dudes or Snake's murderer.

If the man had hurt H'tah, had chucked him in the water along with the truck, then he deserved to spend the rest of his hopefully short life in jail. If he'd taken the colt out of range of the mares or my dreams, I hoped his life was long and miserable and his dick fell off.

With that thought in mind, I called the chief. Then I called Ty to give him the news about the truck—and to hear his voice—and to confirm our appointment with Dante and Louisa.

Before meeting with them, he wanted to get a copy of the ranch's land survey so that he knew what he was dealing with.

We had time to drive to the town hall in East Hampton. As an incorporated village within the township, Paumanok Harbor had its own government, police force, and taxes, but it was still part of the larger territory that included the whole East End, from Wainscott to Montauk. The wider township had a town board, planning department, zoning code—and another tax collector.

We stopped in Amagansett for muffins that weren't as good as Susan's. Cousin Lily had already fed Ty bacon and eggs, so he only ate two. I couldn't imagine how he stayed so slim, but I checked the rear view when we got to the municipal building on Montauk Highway. Yup, those jeans fit perfectly, and yup, not an ounce of fat or jiggle. I almost tripped over a crack in the pavement on our way in, watching. I wasn't alone. Two middle-aged women bumped into each other, and a teenager holding a traffic ticket swallowed her chewing gum. It wasn't every day a real cowboy in high boots and a Stetson hat—this one made of straw—ambled down the street. Not even in East Hampton.

I admired that amble again, then had to speed up when Ty opened the door to the offices and stood there, waiting.

Ty got the map, for a fee. I got a lecture about calling ahead. Without taking her eyes off Ty, the clerk, a woman older than my mother, asked me about the Harbor.

“You're Willow Tate, aren't you? Eve Garland's granddaughter? Is it true someone put something in your air that has everyone hallucinating and shooting each other? Or maybe a virus? I won't let my kid go bowling there this week.”

“That's good 'cause the bowling alley is shut down. But everything is under control now. Mr. Farraday is helping.”

“I bet he is. I bet he is.”

Ty winked at her, said “Thank you, ma'am,” and took my arm before I tossed a stack of clamming permits at her.

To get my mind off what I acknowledged as nothing more than jealousy, possessiveness, with a bit of hometown pride mixed in, I tried to explain to Ty about the scattering of unfinished antique farm cottages and barns out in front of the modern, institutional, utilitarian town building.

I had a hard time with that, since it made no sense to me or anyone who had to pay taxes to the town. I knew the historic buildings were donated to preserve them, but on the town hall lawn?

While we were in East Hampton Village, we stopped to get Ty an overpriced burger. I had a salad.

The women on the street all looked at Ty, but he looked in the shop windows, deluxe this and diamond that. “Toto, this sure ain't Kansas anymore.”

Which about summed up the Hamptons.

Ty dropped me off home, so I could get my car to do errands. When I drove through town, Paumanok Harbor's shopping area looked good, especially with the shiny new glass windows in all the storefronts. We met up with Louisa and Dante at her office in the arts building. Her kids were next door at play group at the community center.

After an initial bit of gauging each other's worth, Ty and Dante settled into an easy relationship. They were both such alpha males, so sure of themselves and their place in the world that they didn't have to kick dirt behind them or try to piss higher on a hydrant to prove who was top dog.

Dante was thrilled Ty was interested in the ranch. He'd been working to finance a deal with the owners to let the village keep it as open space, but money was tight these days. Ty's idea was far better, especially if it was going to hire local builders, local stable workers, and even give local kids a chance to earn some money for college while learning the value of hard work. He'd already investigated Ty's nonprofit horse rescue foundation, right down to the price of hay, if I knew Dante. Knowing his expertise at the computer, and his geek friends across the Ethernet, I wouldn't be surprised if he knew Ty's personal value, too.

He loved the goat cheese idea. More jobs, maybe making the ranch self-sustainable. Dante was prepared to help in any way he could.

“In fact,” he told Ty, “I think I can work out a deal where you can have the land in a long-term lease, say a hundred years, without having to buy it or take out a killer mortgage, if you take care of the structures you'll need to build and agree to keep it agricultural in nature.”

“For how much a year?” Ty wanted to know. The property was worth millions. I had no idea how much he was worth.

Dante smiled, showing dimples. “How's a hundred dollars a year? And any income is tax-free.”

Ty sat back. “You can swing that kind of deal?”

“I know Mr. Scowcroft, the former owner. He'd lower the price considerably just to have horses on the hill again. And he likes me.”

“Don't tell me you used to date his daughter, too,” Louisa said.

“He likes me because I
didn't
date his daughter.”

Louisa and I laughed, then had to explain to Ty about Dante's bad-boy reputation. Before his marriage, of course.

Ty got serious again. “So no property taxes because the land is in public hands. No income tax because it's nonprofit.”

“There'd be school tax on the housing, and taxes for the fire department and the library, but our rates are still manageable. And I can get you good numbers on a loan for the buildings.”

“What about a trailer to start with?”

“It's not what the town fathers like, but I'll see what I can do if it's temporary and could help get the operation going sooner. Oh, and if you could manage to fit in a pony camp, my little girl would be grateful. And that would help pay the bills, too.”

“How come you can pull the strings? I thought the village had a mayor and a town board?”

Louisa laughed again. “They do, but Dante has the money and the contacts and the expertise. They'll listen. Besides, what have they got to lose? They've wanted to buy the land for years. Now maybe they can afford to if Mr. Scowcroft likes the idea. They'll see the ranch as a benefit for the whole community, not just a few hikers or bird watchers on the hill.”

“I'll have to think about it and look over the property again as soon as the police let me. I just got a map this morning, but I haven't had time to look it over, see what's there, what's not.”

“There's a nice little pond where we kids used to go skinny-dipping. You get Willy to tell you about her last visit to the pond. On second thought, chances are you'll hear it twenty times before the week's out.” He grinned at me. If he wasn't Louisa's husband, I'd kick him where it hurts. “It's part of the village history. The best entertainment anyone had in years.”

Ty looked at me and smiled, real slow. “I bet I've had better.”

G
OOD FRIEND THAT SHE WAS, Louisa changed the topic of conversation while I prayed they would all think I had a sudden sunburn instead of terminal embarrassment. Jeez, was I never going to live that night down?

By the look on Dante's face, I'd guess not.

Louisa cleared her throat. “I have an idea that might help raise funds. That is, if you are staying on in the Harbor for awhile, Ty.”

“I was going to stay for a few more days at least, but putting this deal together will take longer than that. That's if I decide the deal is even possible.”

“It's possible,” Dante insisted. “You know it is, or you wouldn't have considered buying the property in the first place. Now you'll only have to finance the buildings. Not you, personally, of course, but your foundation. I know it's well endowed.”

“Yeah, but mostly by me, and I don't like touching the capital. I need to figure if the ranch's expenses are going to be manageable in the long run. You can't count on charitable donations to feed horses or pay vet bills, not in these times. I'd have to think about making it a riding school or a boarding facility for show horses or another equine training center, besides a rescue ranch. Some way where Bayview can earn more money than goat cheese can supply. I've already got two ranches to support.”

So he'd have to be on the road more and more, performing at rodeos, horse shows, and arenas between football halves, like on his website. I didn't think his heart was in that. Mine sure as hell wasn't. How did you build a relationship with a guy who was never nearby?

Louisa's voice took on a hint of impatience, as if she were telling her children not to interrupt the adults. “That's all the more reason to listen to my idea.”

“What's the expression about getting a bit between her teeth?” Dante gave his wife a fond look, but told Ty he better listen or they'd never hear the end of it. Or else she'd go ahead without his input.