The Big Bad Wolf Tells All

by Donna Kauffman

  He smiled at her. “That, too.”

  He turned off the ignition, but didn’t get out right away.

  “Does your father live out here with you?”

  Riley laughed. “Not hardly. He hates it out here. Doesn’t understand why I don’t sell the place and buy us a condo on some golf course somewhere.”

  “You play golf?”

  Riley shook his head. “My father’s addiction. I still play some pickup basketball with the guys after practice. That’s hell enough on the knee.” He tapped the steering wheel with his palms, then took a breath and slid out of the truck. “Come on, I’ll give you the nickel tour.”

  Tanzy smiled as she slid out of her side of the truck. She realized he was nervous about her reaction to his place. She could have told him she didn’t care if he lived in the potting shed, but she merely smiled and looped her arm through his, wanting to see his home through his eyes.

  “There’s not much to see,” he warned.

  “You know what strikes me about this place, right off?” she said, ignoring the fact that he thought she needed big and fancy to be impressed. He didn’t know everything. “It’s peaceful. Quiet. You sort of feel the city noise and buzz just seep right out of your bones.” She laughed a little.

  “Actually, you pegged it pretty well. Magnify the city sounds by thousands of people cheering in the stands and you can see why I liked coming out here during the off-season.”

  She slid her hand down to his as they climbed onto the long, narrow deck that started at the side door and disappeared around the back corner of the house. Part of it was screened in and she spied a huge, wide hammock dominating almost the whole front corner. “And now that the cheering crowds are gone for good?”

  He shrugged and propped the screen door open with his hip. “I still need the peace and quiet.” He didn’t need a key, he just opened the front door. “I’ll warn you, it’s decorated in Early Bachelor. And the maid hasn’t been here in, oh, about six years.”

  Tanzy laughed and stepped in behind him. Her immediate impression was warmth. The room was long, narrow, with a high beamed ceiling, part of which had been replaced with a skylight. It was a cocoon of soft, overstuffed furniture, warm golden walls, polished wooden floors, and throw rugs everywhere. “All it needs is a big dog with a sloppy tongue lolling out of his mouth.” She smiled up at him. “It’s wonderful.”

  Riley surprised her by pulling her tight up against him and taking her in a kiss quite unlike any they’d shared before. There was something distinctly possessive about it. And Tanzy discovered that was quite all right with her.

  When he let her toes reach the floor again, he half laughed as he lifted his head. “Sorry.”

  “What for? That was the best welcome a girl could ever want. Besides the drooling dog, I mean,” she teased.

  “I’ve always wanted one,” he admitted. “But I was traveling too much when I first moved here, and now, with some jobs being unpredictable, I never know when I’ll be back, so . . .” He shrugged.

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. I thought about getting a cat once.” She laughed. “But I’m not a cat person, so that never happened. I don’t know why I didn’t get a dog. I guess after growing up without a pet, the responsibility just seemed too huge.”

  Riley led her into the small kitchen at the rear of the house. “Like I said, we’re a pair.”

  “Yeah. Oh, how beautiful,” she said, looking out the back of the house, which was almost entirely glass. The treetops dropped away to provide a stunning view of valley and ocean. “How much of it is yours?”

  “Not much. Just down the hill. But the land below me is undeveloped, as is the rest on the other sides. So I get to pretend I’m king of the mountain, even if I’m not.”

  She laughed. “It’s good to be the king.” Turning back to him, she said, “It’s really stunning. I can see why you hung on to it.”

  There was a flash then of . . . something in his eyes. “What?” She walked closer, put her hands on his arms. It was so natural, touching him, going to him. It amazed her when she let herself think about it. “Come on, tell me.”

  “It’s nothing really. I just—” He laughed, shook his head, but there was no amusement in his eyes when he looked past her to the trees beyond the window. It was more like . . . resignation.

  She wished she knew what to say, surprised by how much even his mild discontent bothered her. She supposed this was part of it, too. This falling in love stuff. Even though she was perfectly aware that he was a grown man who was responsible for making his own happiness. And, if asked, she wouldn’t have had it any other way. She knew, because she felt exactly the same about her own happiness. And yet she found she wanted to do something, anything, to make him smile, make him happy. It was shocking, really.

  “What is it?”

  He sighed. “Nothing, really. I’ve been wrestling lately with that whole condo on the golf course thing. With the idea of selling this place.”

  Surprised, she asked, “Would he really be happier, knowing you had to give this up?”

  “He doesn’t get all that sentimental about stuff. If I sold this place, he could retire, spend his days chasing a white ball around perfectly manicured turf. He gave up a lot for me, so I could go to college, chase my dreams of chasing a football around a different kind of turf. My promise to him, if I made it, was to make that dream of his come true. We’ve been trying, through the business, or I have anyway, but—” He stopped, shrugged. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I guess it’s the whole holiday thing.”

  She rubbed his arm. “Certainly he understands that more than his dreams were crushed when your knee was mangled.”

  He looked down at her then, a half smile curving his lips. She knew, in that moment, that she was no longer falling. She was there.

  “It sounds so rational when you say it,” he said with a wry smile. “But I could have made it happen. I guess that’s the hard part to swallow, even now. I’d invested wisely. I didn’t need much anyway, just for me. But Finn, well, he’s got an eye for the ladies, but not much of one for business. The managing of it, anyway. He’s good enough at what he does, very good actually, but—” He shrugged. “It took most of what I had to bail him out. But we still had the business, so what else was I supposed to do? I figured if I could get it up and solid, maybe we’d both eventually have something to retire on.”

  “But your dad isn’t interested in the long-term payoff, I take it.”

  Riley nodded. “I guess he thought waiting all through school, college, then me finally making it through the draft into the pros was long-term enough.”

  “What about what you wanted to do? You said something about being a coach, at the college level.”

  “I figured there would be time for that later, after he retired. If I still wanted it. Only it looks like I’m going to have to think a bit long-term myself.”

  She slid her arms around his waist and hugged him. “What you did for your dad was—is—wonderful, but surely, sentimental or not, he wouldn’t want you to give up this place, too. Doesn’t it already bother him that you’re working the business with him, instead of what you’d really rather be doing? Isn’t that sacrifice enough?”

  Riley shook his head. “It’s more complicated than that. We’re all we have. And I guess I wanted to share something with him, for all that he did for me, with sports. He was never into it himself. I thought this was a way for us to, I don’t know, bond or something.”

  She looked up at him, waited for him to shift his gaze to hers. “Is it working?”

  Riley laughed, this time the amusement reaching his eyes. “I’m not sure. We’re making a run at it. And the business is steady enough. Accepting the job working for your aunt was a definite move in the right direction.”

  “Hoping for recommendations, are you?”

  “That’s how the business works. But Finn’s still more interested in play than work. He gets the job done, for the most part, but there’
s no fire in his belly to really make something of it. He’s past that, I guess. I think he’s hoping I’ll do it, the next generation and all that. He’s trained me well enough. I’m good at the job. Though you wouldn’t know it by how I’ve handled things with you, I guess.”

  She grinned, sliding her hands down to his quite fine derriere. “Oh, you’ve handled things well enough, let me assure you.”

  “Have I, now?” He dipped his head, nipped at her lower lip, teased her with a few kisses, until she sighed and leaned into him, cupping him to her hips and moaning in appreciation at what she discovered when she did.

  “Does the nickel tour include the bedroom?” she murmured, more than willing to let the subject change. This was his refuge and she felt bad that she’d dredged up old feelings probably better left undredged. “Actually, a tour of that couch would be perfectly fine.” She shot him a fast grin. “As long as there’s no console in the middle of it.”

  He kissed her in response, and she forgot all about aborted careers and parental expectations. Thoughts of stalkers and danger seemed far away.

  “I think we can find our way to bed,” he murmured against her mouth.

  He did sweep her up in his arms this time, muffling her protest with another kiss. A short hallway later, the wide bed met his back with a soft thump. She bounced against his chest, and was quickly rolled beneath him. She reached for his shirt, but he pinned her wandering hands to the bed.

  “Uh-uh. We’ve got hours. I’m taking this slow.” To prove his intent, he began a lazy trail with his tongue. He unbuttoned the shirt she’d put on to hunt for trees when they’d left with Millicent, what seemed like a century ago now. He nudged aside her bra, and spent an inordinate amount of time making her moan as he toyed with her nipples.

  His mouth moved tantalizingly lower. She arched her back. Hours of this? She should be so lucky. She almost giggled. Oh yeah. She was that lucky.

  Then it would be his turn. Oh yes. She’d make him forget all about the pain in his knee. And, if she was really good, the one in his heart as well.

  She hadn’t forgotten about the note that hadn’t been opened, the lists that needed comparing. The figurine. But at the moment, she simply couldn’t think of anything more important than spending the afternoon making love with Riley.

  Take that, SoulM8.

  Holidays.

  I always thought they were for kids. I guess that was my way, being single and all, of avoiding assigning them too much importance. No use borrowing sorrow, I always say.

  As it happens, I’ve come to the conclusion that I was right. Holidays are for kids. The trick, I’ve discovered—or should I say someone helped me discover—is to find the kid inside of you. Even if you never knew you had one. It’s trickier, but I’m here to tell you it can be done. Then celebrate. With that same sense of deliberate joy.

  Before you know it, you’ll even believe Santa really does exist. (And, as it happens, he has nothing to do with nooners at the Four Seasons.)

  Chapter 21

  They didn’t get the tree put up until the next day. Tanzy watched him struggle with several boxes of ornaments before she’d remanded him to the couch and taken over the entire decorating operation.

  His knee still had to be screaming from the furniture they’d moved out of Millicent’s parlor the night before. Not to mention the things they’d done when they’d gotten back last night in the wee hours.

  And then she’d woken up at five A.M. to an empty bed. It was Riley’s bed, though, so she hadn’t felt all that alone. She’d scuffed around and found him tucked in a small office up a short staircase at the other end of the house, comparing lists and scanning fingerprints he’d lifted from the second note. To her great disappointment, Wile E. Coyote had provided no usable prints. She hadn’t realized how far Riley had compromised her absolute belief in Martin’s innocence until she’d felt that teensy shred of relief that the surface of the figurine had been too deeply grooved to offer up even a partial. Not that she didn’t want this to end. Martin or no Martin. But everything was going to change if it was him. And she hated that she’d begun to doubt her own mind where he was concerned.

  She’d left Riley at the computer and had gone back to the kitchen and made a fresh pot of coffee. Even better, he’d had cold soda in the fridge. Yep, they were going to cohabitate just fine. She’d nudged some coffee at his elbow, then curled up in the recliner with her soda and the remainder of the lists.

  The note inside the envelope had been short and to the point.

  I am yours. You will be mine. Eternally.

  Tanzy shuddered every time she thought about it. Eternally. Not “for the rest of my life.” Eternally. As in, even after she was no longer part of this world. Again, the note could be interpreted as merely obsessed . . . or potentially homicidal. The only thing that kept her from losing it altogether was the anger she experienced every time she thought about the cowardly sicko creeping around on her front porch.

  She’d already apologized to Riley for not taking his security suggestions more seriously. The prints on both notes matched. And Riley had made her promise to set up a face-to-face meeting with Martin so they could obtain a print. And a handwriting sample if she could swing it. She’d agreed it was the best course of action. All the while hating that it had come to this.

  And then, after such a disappointing morning, they were rewarded by the discovery of a matching name right around noon. One Margaret Swingler. She’d been part of the wait staff at the Crystal Ball, a temp hired to handle the extra demands such a large shindig put on the catering service the foundation usually hired to oversee their functions. She had also been employed by FishNet since their inception, two years before.

  Riley had rousted Ernie via phone and the two of them had started digging, but as yet, no connection to the notes or the fingerprints had been made. If Margaret was a relative or a friend of SoulM8’s, they were going to have a hard time proving it without her help. Which was exactly why Riley planned to be at FishNet headquarters this afternoon when Margaret got off work. If they couldn’t talk to her there, he planned to do whatever it took to get Lori Sack to free up more personal information about her. Like the home phone and address they’d thought would be easy to obtain, but Ernie was, so far, having no luck digging up. She’d done the impossible, according to him. She’d managed to keep her personal info off the Internet.

  But the confrontation with Ms. Swingler wasn’t happening for another five hours or so. Plenty of time to get a tree decorated, right? Tanzy looked at the stack of bedraggled boxes piled in front of their slightly listing tree. Her euphoria over having a suspect other than Martin was waning in the face of her current project. “I’m feeling a bit like Charlie Brown here.”

  Riley shifted the ice pack on his knee so he could lean over and reach the top box. He hauled it into his lap before she could stop him. “I’ll unwrap and pass, you make all placement decisions.”

  “Shouldn’t we put lights on it or something?”

  “There’s probably a bunch in one of these boxes, but the chances of any of them working are about nil. Christmas lights seem to have a limited life span, in my memory.”

  “I wouldn’t have a clue how to put them on anyway. It’s going to be amateurish enough.” She laughed. “Thank God the chances of Millicent seeing our creation are about as great as those lights working.”

  Riley smiled and flipped off the lid of the first box. His smile faltered, then turned a bit wistful as he pulled out a half-wrapped ornament, letting the crumple of tissue paper fall away to the floor, instantly forgotten as he turned the crudely made football over in his hands. “Bulldogs,” he murmured, then rolled it over. “R.P. ’85.”

  Tanzy watched him in silence, wishing like hell she had a clue what to say, what to do. “You sure you’re up for this?” she asked quietly.

  He nodded, then handed her the heavy lump of fired clay. “Yeah. I made this for my mom in art class. I think this was the last year we
put up a tree. Before she got too sick to help.” He laughed. “I’m sure she loved getting a football. Not very sentimental, I guess. Except when it came to sports.”

  “I’m guessing she loved it.” Tanzy turned so he wouldn’t see the sheen in her eyes. He was more sentimental than he thought he was. She very carefully hung it from one of the bigger branches.

  Riley continued to uncover treasures from his past. Some ornaments had stories, some didn’t. He made her laugh, and more than a few times he brought tears to her eyes.

  “And you call me sentimental,” he said as she sniffed suspiciously while hanging a baby ornament of his.

  “If I am, it’s all your fault.” She stepped back. “I think we’ve crammed as much of your past on here as we possibly can.” She wandered around the tree, trying to look at it objectively. From a purely aesthetic standpoint, it was god-awful. But from a heart and soul standpoint, she’d never seen anything more beautiful.

  Riley came to stand behind her. She hadn’t heard him get off the couch. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her neck. “Thank you,” he whispered. And there was more emotion in those two words than she’d heard in her entire life.

  She turned in his arms, a teasing smile on her face. “As therapy goes, this has got to be cheaper, not to mention more fun. Maybe I should ring my mom up, see if she’s got any ornaments stashed about from her childhood.”

  Riley’s eyes were swimming with emotions. Too many for her to name. He cupped her face, kissed her so gently, so sweetly, it made her eyes water all over again. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “What on earth for? Because I’ve suddenly got faucets for eyes?”

  “Did you ever have a tree?”

  “Sure. Dozens. Every year, in fact, at Millicent’s.”

  “I meant one of your own.” He nodded at the stuff hanging somewhat drunkenly from every branch. “With all the goofy detritus the public school system foists off on our poor, unsuspecting parents.”