B. G. McCarthy - A Thief At Heart

by A Thief At Heart (lit)

  Everything would be fine. Just like she’d assured Mary.

  Eleven

  It was getting dark already and she hadn’t had any dinner yet. It seemed to get darker more quickly in the country. She hurried out to the well-stocked woodpile at the side of the cabin, wary of lurking rodents, hoping she could remember how to build a fire from what she learned in seventh-grade outdoor school.

  She had just loaded her arms with wood and was turning the corner to the house when she heard it, the roar of a motorcycle heading up the drive. She knew she couldn’t get into house fast enough to lock the doors and call for help because she could see the interloper getting off his bike already, a tall, lean specter dressed in black leathers, a mirrored helmet over his head. He headed up to the front stoop.

  She dropped all the wood but one heavy log. That one she held in front of herself like a baseball bat. “Stop right there, you,” she cried, as her heart hammered at her ribs. “Don’t come any further. This is private property.”

  The man slipped off his helmet, running a gloved hand through mussed dark hair. “I’m glad I found it. I was afraid I took a wrong turn.”

  The sound of that deep, resonant voice was both a balm and a curse. Oh, God, what was he doing here? Had Mary called him?

  “Are you going to brain me with that, Riley Jane?” Robert Murphy asked.

  Riley took a shaky breath. “I don’t know. I’m considering it. Did Mary send you here to baby-sit me?”

  “She was worried, Riley. I happened to call her right after you did. I’d just gotten back to town this morning.” He walked over to her, bending to retrieve a few pieces of fallen wood. He stacked it in the crook of one arm. From where she was standing she could smell him: body-warmed leather, the smoky scent of the pine laden air, bike fuel and his own clean essence. It was a heady combination and it made her already weak knees go a little weaker.

  “You ride a motorcycle?” she said. Even if he wasn’t an experienced rider, he sure suited the clothes. She’d rarely seen a man fill out a pair of leather riding pants so well.

  “Yep. I do ride.”

  “You’re just full of surprises, Robert.”

  “Am I? You like surprises?”

  “Sometimes.”

  He grinned. “But now isn’t one of those times, I take it?”

  She gave him an exasperated look. “How long have you been back?”

  “I just got into town yesterday.”

  “Where did that huge bike come from?”

  “I was kind of sick of the rental car so I got myself a bike. I’ve wanted one of these babies for a while so I indulged one of my fantasies.”

  “Nice that you can do that.”

  His dark eyes gleamed under a boyish hank of hair mussed by the helmet. “I have to indulge some of my fantasies, Riley. The best ones seem to be on hold.”

  She didn’t comment. She was too busy trying to breathe properly.

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s a Harley, isn’t it? Very flashy. Why exactly are you here?” she asked in a resigned tone.

  “I wanted to make sure you were safe. I also had something to give to you. And something important to talk to you about. Would you mind if I came in?”

  ~ * ~

  For a moment Rob thought she was going to tell him to take a hike. But she nodded, gracefully bent and picked up a few more pieces of wood that had fallen to the ground and led him into the cabin. It was beautifully constructed, the windows of the A-frame looking out at the gleaming, blue-white peak of Mount Baker. The mountain was painted with light by the setting sun, but dark clouds lurked in the distance.

  “It’s beautiful here,” he said inanely.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “I would have expected it to be decorated up. You know those chi-chi country places that are so popular with the wealthy.”

  “You would know, I suppose. Do your parents rough it in style?”

  Rob just smiled. If only she knew.

  “I was teasing. I know what you mean. This is all pretty authentic. Mary likes it like this, though it’s hardly roughing it. All this furniture is antique. Maybe you could come back someday and see the view in the morning. It’s so clear and serene you’d think you were looking into one of those toy Viewmasters.”

  He didn’t say that he wished nothing more than to stay until the following morning and see it then. He imagined standing behind her, gazing out that window, his arms wrapped around her slender waist, his nose nuzzling her sweetly scented hair. “I’m sorry I scared you back there,” he said, setting down by the fireplace the logs he had carried.

  “It’s okay. Maybe it is better you came. I noticed that I’m short of wood and I might have tried chopping it myself. I don’t think I’d be too good at it. Might come home minus a digit or two.”

  “God forbid that. I’ll do it before I go.”

  “No, Robert, I was joking about the wood. It’s not a problem. There’s plenty, I’m sure. I get a little anal about that stuff.” She tucked all of the wood neatly in a box by the fireplace. She was a little fussy. In a good way. “What was it that you came out here to give me? Something from Mary?”

  “No,” he returned. “Nothing from Mary.” He reached into his leather jacket and took out an envelope. She took it, her fingers barely grazing his. “From me,” he told her. “Some names and leads on your sister.”

  Riley looked down at the white envelope. He noted the suddenly trembling hands. When she stared back up at him her face was pale and her green eyes glittered like wet glass. “How?” she breathed. “How did you do this so fast?”

  “I called Craig and he told me a few of the things you’ve told him about your family. I hope that’s okay. I got this feeling that you would never take me up on my offer.”

  Her jaw tightened as she tried to suppress her emotions. She didn’t seem able to speak.

  “You tend to be a little independent, Riley.”

  “Stubborn is more like it.”

  “I wish there was more to go on there. Maybe we could have a look through that and you could tell me what we can use and we’ll start from there.”

  She glanced down at the paper, her beautiful face suddenly animated--as if all her hopes and dreams had suddenly come true and the joy was beaming outward. He was glad he’d helped put that look on her face. “It’s more than I’ve had in years. Thank you, Robbie.”

  His heart squeezed like a tight fist when she called him that. “I just hope that it helps. Don’t thank me for anything unless it pans out.”

  “This is really good of you.”

  He looked around the room. “From the way Mary described the mess, you must have been working all day to clean up this place.”

  “Mary tends to exaggerate a little,” Riley said.

  “I doubt it. She called the sheriff and he told her it was mess.”

  “Oh... I didn’t know she did that. Well, I’ve made a good start at getting it straightened up. All I have to do tonight is change the bed...” Her voice trailed off and she flushed a pretty pink. How interesting, he thought. She got flustered when she mentioned the word bed in his company.

  Hopefully they were of like mind now.

  “So, the sheriff just thought there was a party going on? Nothing worse?” he asked.

  “He seemed unconcerned. He asked me about Todd, though. I’m sure Todd has had a few drinking sessions up here.”

  “Could be.”

  “Have you eaten?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Not since breakfast. I should probably get going. It’s a long way back.”

  “I haven’t eaten yet. I was going to make some pancakes... if that doesn’t sound too awful for supper--”

  “You don’t have to feed me.”

  “I like cooking. And it’s not that much of a meal, so--”

  “I’m not that fussy. Okay, it sounds good.”

  “Aggie always made pancakes on Friday nights because she was Catholic. I thought th
at was so cool. Any excuse for butter and syrup, even if religion was involved.”

  He grinned at her, wishing he could share that he’d once thought the religious custom was pretty cool, too. Aggie had always made him bacon and sausages as well because she’d thought he was too small, something he’d despaired about for half his teens. “Eat this extra plate, Robin,” she’d say. “One day you’ll grow to be over six feet. I promise.”

  Riley frowned. “You’re kind of a big man--”

  He smiled. “Just make a few extra.”

  “Okay. I never got into town to shop for fresh food.” She moved into the kitchen with her characteristic grace, reaching into a cupboard for a bag of pancake mix. Every part of Rob appreciated the athletic way she moved her lithe body.

  He’d decided on his way here to tell her. As soon as he’d found the information on her sister he’d had this all-consuming urge to come clean to her about who he was. The only trouble with that was explaining what he was doing here. He didn’t give a damn if it destroyed his cover, but Otis would kill him.

  He kept seesawing on that. One minute he didn’t give a damn what Otis thought, the next he thought about how many years they’d been tracking Vasco and how close they were to getting what they wanted. The payoff at the end of this dirty job was huge in so many ways. If he had his cut he’d be that much closer to doing what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

  The thing was, his dream may have changed. One fresh look at Riley, one taste of her mouth had changed everything.

  She made dinner quickly, refusing his help. He insisted on setting the table after he finished building what he considered to be one hell of a nice fire. Rob occupied himself trying to figure out where the forks and knives went because he didn’t have to say anything.

  He looked out through the huge triangular window. Nasty black clouds seethed in the distance, blocking out the setting sun and turning the pink hues that had lit the mountain to an angry purple. He didn’t relish the thought of riding home with cold rain leaking down the back of his pants.

  “Do you drink Tang?” she asked, frowning at an envelope in her hand.

  “The astronaut stuff? Can’t say I have in a while.”

  Riley grinned. “It’s an acquired taste. Apparently you can use this stuff to clean toilets. It’s very versatile.”

  “Wow. Sounds great.”

  She laughed. “I’d have bought real orange juice if I knew I was having a guest. I have no pretensions to being Martha Stewart.”

  “I have some pretensions to being Rod Stewart,” Rob said. He sang a little bit of Do You think I’m Sexy. That made her laugh again. He’d always loved her laugh. Loud and very goofy.

  “Sit down. It’s all ready. I have only honey and strawberry jam right now. No syrup. What do you like?”

  “I’m easy.” Truer words were never spoken at that particular moment in time.

  They sat down and he stuffed his face with pancakes. He wondered if he could tell her now. Maybe when his stomach was full he’d blurt it out.

  I’m Robin Butler and I had to lie to you.

  Just like always.

  “Have you been here before?” Rob asked her.

  She cut into an impressive stack of pancakes. Where the hell did she put the calories? “We came up once near Christmas, but it was really sad. Mary thought she could handle the strain of getting up the stairs to the loft, but she couldn’t. It was terrible to think she has to abandon something she loves so much. I’m sure Todd will want to keep the place in the family. Maybe it could be made wheelchair accessible.”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry for showing up out of the blue like this.”

  “It’s okay. I have to admit you scared me a little. I was thinking all day about what I’d do if some crazed biker showed up. You looked so big and scary all dressed in black.”

  “I’m not that scary.”

  She studied him. “Certainly not with strawberry jam on the corner of your lip.”

  He flicked at the corner of his mouth with his tongue. He saw her lips part in reaction and a flash of heat arced through him. “So, Riley Jane, are you counting the minutes until I leave?”

  She swallowed a gulp of Tang. “I wasn’t really thinking about that.”

  “Are you scared to be alone here after you found that nasties had partied here?”

  “Honestly?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I was at first, but I’ll work through it. I’ve been staying alone at night since I was five.”

  “Your mother did that to you? Left you alone?”

  “Yes. It was scary sometimes. She’d put me in bed, then she’d go off to the bar. I learned at a really young age to like my own company and to rely on myself.” She said it matter-of-fact, like she was describing anyone’s childhood. His childhood he didn’t even care to think about in any terms. What was past was past.

  Maybe he’d have to sit down and look back at it with clear eyes one day.

  “Do you like your own company, Robert?”

  “Not all the time. I guess there’s a big difference between being alone and lonely.”

  “I’m not lonely,” she said softly, defiantly.

  “You just don’t think you need anyone.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. Rob was rarely alone because of his job. But he knew what it was to be lonely. Maybe it was because his world wasn’t real. At one time he’d thought he liked it that way, perhaps he was born to be alone...

  “You seem like the kind of man who can entertain himself.”

  “Yeah, just give me a bit of string and some used chewing gum.”

  She laughed again. “You know what I mean. I couldn’t believe how industrious you were at Aggie’s. I’d have sworn someone like you wouldn’t know a hammer from a hole in the ground.”

  “I’ve never been called industrious before, especially by a pretty girl who’s feeding me.”

  “There are a lot worse things to be called. Do you want more pancakes?”

  He shook his head. “No. I think ten is plenty. Do you like industrious guys?”

  “Yes, I guess I do.”

  “Good. I guess that means you like me.”

  “Have we had this conversation before?” Riley smiled and reached for his plate, stacking it on her own.

  “Maybe this is all just a ploy to get me to do the dishes,” he said. “It’s nice to know you don’t think of me as a mere rich dude anymore.”

  “I don’t think anything about you is mere.” Frozen rain started to ping at the windows. It was completely dark now, like someone in heaven had reached over and suddenly flicked off the lights. “Did you say you wanted to talk to me about something important?”

  “I did say that, didn’t I?” He supposed it was now or never.

  Suddenly the room flashed with blinding light, followed immediately by a loud crash of thunder. Was that a sign from God? Rob wondered. Maybe he ought to just keep his mouth shut.

  It happened again with more violence. The lights flickered for a second and came back on. Riley sighed with relief, but too soon. One more lightning crack and the lights went out completely, plunging them into semi-darkness. The only light came from the fireplace.

  “Damn,” she swore. “I don’t believe this.”

  “I’m glad I’m here. Is there a flashlight?”

  She spent the next ten minutes searching for emergency supplies in the dark kitchen, swearing under her breath for not thinking to bring a flashlight. Luckily there were some candles and a couple of lanterns. “I’m sure the lights will be back on soon,” she said.

  ~ * ~

  From her seat on the sofa, Riley looked up at Rob as he poked at the fire. He looked even more delicious in candlelight. She was so glad he was here. She would have been terrified otherwise. She wasn’t too proud to admit that.

  “It might be hard to dispatch hydro crews up here. We’ll give it some time. If the lights don’t come back on in an hour, I’m staying. I ass
ume there’s a guest room? The couch in here will kill me.”

  Riley nodded, swallowing hard. There was an extra room in the loft. It adjoined the master suite by a bathroom.

  Oh, God.

  The lights didn’t come back on and Rob insisted on staying. She wouldn’t have made him leave anyway to make a dangerous drive home in the rain. She wasn’t heartless, even though he probably assumed she was.

  They spent the evening keeping the fire going and searching for the kerosene lamps. They finally found them in a wooden crate in the overstuffed shed that abutted the house.

  Riley counted the minutes until she could say she was tired and needed to sleep. She filled his arms with blankets and pillows because the bed in the guestroom was unmade.

  After saying an awkward goodnight and leaving him to tend the fire again, Riley had her shower first and got into bed quickly, leaving her lantern lit, taking out a novel she’d had in her duffle bag, a Stephanie Plum she’d been saving.

  She could hear Rob in the bathroom, expecting to hear the torrent of the shower at any minute. Instead she heard the steady rush of the taps. She read the same page over three times, squinting in the dim lantern light.

  Was he bathing?

  Oh, God. Why?

  Why couldn’t he just have a shower? Sheesh. She was pretty sure she’d left enough of the dwindling supply of hot water for him after her own shower. She’d just jumped in and out, wanting to conserve!

  She heard wet, bare male flesh slide noisily against the deep slant of the old-fashioned claw-footed tub. She heard a soft moan of satisfaction as hot water met skin and taut muscle. She imagined him sliding his long body down, inch by incredible inch, sinking into scented bubbles.

  What was he thinking about as the hot, silky water enveloped his body?

  She imagined him gliding the washcloth over his smooth, tanned skin, gilded by the faint glow of the flickering kerosene lamp. She imagined that wide chest she’d had a glimpse of at Aggie’s, firm flat pectorals, tiny hard nipples. She imagined his arm lifting as he washed his torso, his biceps bunching, his muscles sculpted strong by hard labor and sports.