Stay With Me (37 page)

His laugh went deeper and he had to struggle to swallow the rest. “Are you saying you’re done with me?”

“Not even. I’m saying I need about an hour, and then I’m yours again,” I said.

“Actually, I’m with you on that,” he said. “And I was talking about making you some dinner.”

“Oh, well, just so you know, Mr. Spoon, my gutter mind doesn’t have an off switch.”

“Just another plus.”

“So, where’d you come up with that, by the way?” I asked. “Your name. I can’t imagine just pulling something like that from the phone book.”

He shook his head. “A teacher I had in high school,” he said. “He’s dead now, but he was probably the reason I learned to give a shit about anything. He was like a mentor. Would talk to me after school while he graded papers, listen to me complain about my family.” Duncan’s eyes got a faraway look. “He was always there. Always telling me not to sell myself short. That I wasn’t limited to what I was born to. I could go anywhere, be anything.”

I smiled. “Sounds like a good guy.”

“He was more a father to me than mine ever was,” Duncan said, a small twitch pulling at his lip. “I was off at college when he died, and I didn’t even know about it till I came home on break. Just about killed me.” I put a hand on his arm and his eyes cleared. “So, when it came time to reinvent myself a couple of years ago, I told myself he wouldn’t mind me taking his name. He never had any kids, so I like to think he thought of me as one.”

“Sure sounds like he did,” I said. “That’s nice. So, what did your family think of all this?”

“Oh.” Duncan’s mouth turned into a sneer. “I got called every derogatory name in the book. Traitor, hypocrite, loser, weakling.” He widened his eyes. “The list is long.”

“For cutting ties?”

“For walking away,” he said. “From everyone. I was told that if I didn’t need the name, then I didn’t need the family either.”

God, that sucked. “What about your brother? Your mom?”

“My mom died when I was nine,” he said. “My brother—he didn’t agree with what I did, but he’s never here anyway, so I guess it was easier for him to write me off.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “That takes a lot to walk away from everything you know.”

Duncan looked down. “Honestly, once I took that first step, it wasn’t that hard.” He swallowed and raked a hand through his hair. “That told me volumes.” Clearing his throat, his expression changed completely. “Do I want to know whose sweatpants these are?”

“Dodging the dodger,” I said.

He smiled. “I’m a pro.”

“Jim’s,” I said on a laugh. “I confiscated them at their house a couple of years ago when I had an unfortunate incident with a bowl of chili, and I sort of never brought them back.”

“So you’re one of those women,” he said.

“Those?” I said, turning back from where I stood with the refrigerator door open.

“Clothes stealers.” He walked up and pulled a spaghetti strap over on my tank top and placed a sexy kiss on my shoulder, sending goose bumps down that arm. And leg. “I went out with a woman for about a month and when I broke it off she had an entire box of my shirts. Unwashed.”

The grimace on his face made me laugh. “And I totally get that.”

“Please be joking,” he said, looking horrified.

“It’s memory souvenirs,” I said. “You smell the guy’s cologne, remember the date, the moment.”

Duncan lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve done this?”

My mind flashed to the dress and boots still sitting in a wad on the chair in my bedroom.

“Not recently,” I said, looking back in the fridge. “And no, the sweatpants weren’t about that. They’re just really comfortable all rolled up on a cold day.”

He moved in closer behind me and wound his arms around my waist, pulling me against him. “So do I need to start checking my closet?”

“Maybe,” I said. “You smell good enough to eat.”

“Speaking of, what do you have in here?” he said.

I scoffed. “Nothing very exciting, I can tell you that.”

He gestured toward a box in the back. “Got some milk? I’ll make us some pancakes.”

Suddenly my skin went cold and my stomach felt sour. Pancakes.

“No,” I said, pulling free. “I don’t really like pancakes.” I went to the pantry and peered at the shelves, trying to knock that feeling off my shoulders. “What about just some scrambled eggs or something?” I asked, going back to the fridge again. “Or even just tuna fish? Or deli turkey? We can make sandwiches.”

If I kept dumbing it down, we were going to end up with Pop-Tarts.

“Okay, you want a sandwich?” he asked.

I turned to see him looking at me curiously. It was a little unnerving that he could already read me well enough to know something had me rattled. And what was it exactly doing the rattling? Fucking pancakes.

“Not really,” I said. “Let’s order pizza.”

Duncan chuckled and held up his hands. “Whatever you’d like.”

“Definitely pizza,” I said, reaching for my phone. “What kind do you like?”

“Anything with meat,” he said.

I smiled, scrolling for the number. “Such a guy.”

“What do you like?” he said.

“Meat,” I said. “With pineapple and extra cheese.”

“Hmm,” he said, appearing to ponder that.

“Half and half?”

“Let’s go with that.”

Okay, awkward. I wasn’t wanting him to cook for me, and he was splitting up our pizza. What was gooey and warm and sexy a few minutes ago with a strawberry cupcake now had the heat level of somewhere around a fist bump.

I ordered a large non-sharing pizza to be delivered and opened the fridge again.

“Coke? Water?” I leaned down. “I have a Snapple peach tea as well. Nothing stronger at the moment, sorry.”

“Water’s good,” he said, leaning against my counter. “So what’s up?”

I turned to face him. “What’s up with what?”

“What turned on the ice blasters?” he said. “Something I said?”

Sabotage. Sabotage did it. Every fucking time. “No, no,” I said. “I . . . it’s . . . please just ignore me and come here,” I said, walking into his arms. I let him wrap me up and I closed my eyes and absorbed his warmth and the smell of his skin.

“You are impossible to ignore,” he said into my hair.

“Well, hit mute or something when I go stupid,” I said. “It’s never worth listening to.”

“So is this, like, coffee date crazy or one I haven’t seen yet?” he said.

More like making out by the donkeys in the woods, actually, but seriously? He was too observant. He already had things figured out and categorized my crazies? Did he think he was staying the night, too? Cooking for me and staying the night and making me love him so he could bail? Because—I took a deep breath and pushed away the irrational over-thinking, and chuckled.

“Probably something new,” I said. “Come on, let’s go see what’s on TV while we wait for the pizza.”

Because nothing says hot post–sexual glow like
CSI
reruns and two bottles of water.

• • •

I woke up twitchy.

I knew why. The night before with Duncan had been, well, actually the
day
before with Duncan had been phenomenal. After the whole Ian/freak-out/freezer/nearly dying thing, that is. And even the rest of the evening after he wore me down feeding me pepperonis off his pizza and making me laugh was pretty good. Just not as good as the pre-pancake moments. Back when I was just enjoying the moments as they came and not obsessing over how serious it might get and how likely it was he might leave like the last one did.

And I just realized as I lay there that it was twice now that Duncan pulled me out of a funk by feeding me something. That should probably be disturbing.

More disturbing was that my other pillow smelled like him. My whole bed smelled like him. Like he was there. But he wasn’t, of course. He hadn’t asked to stay, thank God, but the hint was there. The “it’s getting late, time for me to go” remark that was intended for me to argue.

I didn’t argue.

And now I missed him.

It must be so much less complicated to be a man.

I got ready, gave Gracie some extra love, and had coffee at home, because sad boring coffee or not, I didn’t think I could look Ian in the face. Not because I’d done anything wrong, but just because.

Thermos in hand, I left for work early. I wanted some time in there to myself, before Dad got there, before I had to talk to anyone or be social. I unlocked the big barn door and fastened it back as I always did, inhaling deeply. I loved the smell of old. I hit the big breaker that turned on the overhead lights and wound my way around the horse stall to my office. When I turned on my light, I yelped like I’d stepped in a bear trap.

Big Bobby Greene sat at my desk.

I backed up, whirled around in case he had friends, and then back around again to face him, looking for anything to use as a weapon.

“That door is wide open,” I said, my heart thundering in my ears.

“And you’re welcome to run out of it at any time,” he said. “You aren’t kidnapped.”

Bobby sat like a big water buffalo, his stomach protruding out of his suit, straining the buttons of a blue designer shirt. He leaned his head back to look at me like he was using bifocals, but he wore no glasses.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded. “At my desk. When the place is closed and locked up? How the hell did you get in?”

“I could ask you that same question, now couldn’t I?” he said.

“I didn’t do anything,” I said. It wasn’t a lie. I hung out with the Dumpster.

“Well,” he said, flattening his palms on my desk. “I think we both know that we can get pretty much anyplace we want to get, right?” When I didn’t answer, he continued. “My wife’s nephew is a putz,” he said. “He tried, and he was book smart, and hey, he’s got the looks, all right, but he’s weak. He bailed on his family to take the moral high ground.”

“That doesn’t make him weak,” I said. “That took more guts than you’ll ever have.”

Bobby laughed. “Quite the mouth for such a pretty lady,” he said. “You come by that stubborn streak honestly, though. Theo’s pretty hardheaded as well.”

“Why are you here?” I said, crossing my arms so he wouldn’t see them shaking. “To make a point? Show me I’m vulnerable?”

“No, actually I came here to meet a worthy adversary,” he said. “Ian speaks pretty highly of you. Enough to put his ass on the line.”

My heart was beating in my ears. “I’m not an adversary,” I said. “I just want our businesses to be left alone. If you take your business elsewhere, we don’t have to be adversaries at all.”

“Can I see this so-called proof of yours?” he said.

“Didn’t Ian show you?”

Bobby shook his head. “He had nothing on him, just a lot to say.”

I hesitated. “Sure,” I said. “It’s behind you. Under the bench seat.”

He turned around and fiddled with the seat, pulling the envelope out. “Good hiding place.”

“Well, it was.”

He smirked. “Touché.”

Bobby opened the envelope and pulled out the contents, then turned them, page by page. Scowling more and more. He was quite freaky when he scowled. Suddenly I was really wishing my dad would come in early after all.

“What a stupid little fuck,” he muttered. “And I suppose this is all on here as well?” he asked, holding up the flash drive.

“Yes.”

“But you can’t bring it to the police,” he said.

“No,” I said, nodding concession. “But we can keep making copies and send them once a month or so till they get curious,” I added, remembering what Ian had said to Emery.

Bobby sat back in my chair, making it creak. “And so your plan is what?”

“I don’t have a plan,” I said. “Honestly, it’s simple. Take it all out of Copper Falls. No sneak plans, no infiltrating, no stalking, no fraud, no showing up in my office like this. Pretend we aren’t even on your map, and all of this stays in envelopes and flash drives forever.”

“That’s it,” he said.

“That’s it.”

Bobby smiled, one of the creepiest things I’d ever witnessed. “And what insurance do I have on this?”

“You don’t,” said a voice from behind me, making me suck in a breath as I jumped.

“Duncan,” I breathed, realizing I hadn’t exhaled since I saw Bobby sitting there.

“Duncan,” Bobby sneered. “God, what a pussy name. You do know that’s not his real name, right?” he said, looking back at me. “His name is Michael.”

“As far as I’m concerned it’s Duncan,” I said.

“Hello, Uncle B.,” Duncan said. “A pleasure as usual.”

Bobby shook his head and rubbed his big forehead. “So you were saying?”

Fuck, I suddenly realized that the two points hadn’t connected. Duncan didn’t know the evidence came from his emails.

“I was saying that you have no insurance,” Duncan said. “From what I understand, Ian McMasters has multiple copies of this in different places.” He shrugged. “So essentially, it’s about consequences. Be stupid and you go down.”