She nodded her consent and less than five minutes later they were on their way to Dothan. He still felt something was off, but was glad to be pushing forward. If time hadn’t been such an issue, he would have liked to poke around in Yeager’s past a little more, see what would motivate the man to try to bully the book out of someone. Something besides the bankruptcy. He’d alert Payne to their new plan and, with any luck, they’d be back in Marietta by nightfall.
His gaze slid to Bess and his heart gave a little lurch at the thought of leaving her, but he beat the sensation back and told himself it was for the best.
And if he kept saying it, maybe he’d actually believe it.
BESS LISTENED AS LEX called Brian and filled him in. The excitement in his voice was practically palpable and his energy literally filled up the car. She didn’t know if he was genuinely that thrilled to have a break in the case or if he was just happy to have something else to focus on besides the sudden awkwardness that had sprung up. She wasn’t sure what had brought it about since things between them had been so unbelievably effortless and natural—frighteningly so, actually—but couldn’t fault him for it when she felt it herself.
It didn’t make sense. They’d shared their thoughts, shared their bodies and shared a bed, and yet now…
She wished she understood what had brought the wall up—she’d had no conscious thought of erecting one herself, but knew she had—and didn’t know exactly how to take it down. She wanted things to go back to the way they were, when she and Lex had simply been having fun and were hot for one another. The heat was still there—she could feel it burning—but something was getting in the way of the fun.
She couldn’t speak for him, of course, but knew where her own anxiety was coming from. She didn’t want to think about where this was going, didn’t really want it to go any further than where it was right now. If she were completely honest with herself, she’d never felt this sort of breathless anticipation over a relationship before, had never looked at a guy and thought, I can see myself with him.
She did look at Lex and think that, and that’s what was bugging her. The unmistakable knowledge that he was different, that she could inadvertently let him have a piece of her that she didn’t want to part with. That she’d just wake up one morning, spooned again, and he’d own her heart.
And, much as she knew that was the fairy-tale ending, she didn’t want it. She couldn’t take such a risk. She couldn’t let herself become so dependent on him for her happiness that she’d be devastated when he left her, or God forbid, something happened to him. It wasn’t worth it to her. Sad? Maybe. But she couldn’t help it.
She had her shop and her things and her cat, and really, getting the cat had been difficult for her. She inwardly smiled. But she hadn’t so much as gotten Severus as he’d gotten her. She’d pulled into a little place in Mississippi, loaded up her van with the things she’d purchased and headed toward the next town. She’d made it onto the interstate before the cat had climbed into the passenger seat, cool as you please, as though he’d been riding shotgun with her for years. The best she could figure, he’d Houdini’ed himself right into her car while the doors were open. Impressed with his ingenuity, she’d been unable to try to find a home for him and instead had made one for him herself.
“We’re what?” Lex asked. “About two and half hours from Dothan?”
“That sounds about right,” Bess told him.
He pulled into a fast-food restaurant and they ordered a quick breakfast, then got immediately back on the road. “I know we’re rushing here,” he said. “But I think the timing is going to be crucial.”
She agreed. “Did you find out what sort of car he drives?” she asked, savoring a bite of her sausage biscuit. The coffee wasn’t the best—it could strip paint it was so strong—but the sandwich certainly hit the spot. Bess wasn’t one of those women who ever “forgot” to eat. If she was late getting a meal, her stomach quickly announced its displeasure.
“Yeah. A black Trans Am. An ’80s model with the big golden firebird on the hood.”
Her eyes widened significantly. “That should be easy to spot.”
He grinned at her, some of the tension easing between them and lessening the strangeness she’d felt inside the car. “Hardly conspicuous, right?”
“What was your first car?” she asked, shooting him a speculative look. “No, wait. Let me guess. A Gremlin.”
He choked on a laugh and his eyes widened. “I have not ever driven a Gremlin,” he said. “Though I can guarantee you I would have caught action in it if I had.”
It was her turn to laugh. “I’m sure you would have caught action if you’d driven a tricycle. You just look like that kind of guy.”
She watched him smile again and that grin lightened her heart more than it should have. More than was good for her. Oh, hell. “What kind of guy?”
She rolled her eyes. “The kind who was playing train in kindergarten,” she deadpanned. “The kind of guy that sneaked kisses behind the school and kept nudie magazines hidden beneath his bed.”
He feigned outrage, then gave his head a baffled shake. “Have you been talking to my mother?”
“No,” she said, chuckling. “Though I imagine she has many stories to tell.”
“I’m sure she does,” Lex said, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “My brother and I gave her hell. Or as much hell as my dad would permit, anyway,” he added fondly. “My sister was always good, though. Mindful and obedient. Good grades.”
They sounded like a lovely family, Bess thought. Norman Rockwell normal, with pretty family Christmas cards and lots of home movies. She almost ached at the thought of it and a miserable yearning burned in her breast. She wished she’d known something similar. Her grandfather had made things as normal for her as possible, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t missed some of the gentler touches. Someone to braid her hair, teach her about makeup, the birds and bees. She smiled.
Her poor grandfather had taken her to the pediatrician for “the talk” about her cycle and had left it for the nurse to explain. Armed with a box of feminine napkins and a little pamphlet on knowing her body, she’d blushed a million shades of red when she’d walked out of that room and seen him standing there.
He’d turned even redder.
Bless his heart, he’d tried, and he’d given her a good life. Had it been different? Yes, definitely. But it had been good all the same.
“What about you?” he asked. “Any brothers or sisters?”
“No,” she told him, knowing that this was moving into territory she didn’t want to enter. “Where are you from originally?” she asked.
He frowned, obviously not missing the evasive action on her part. “Blue Creek, Alabama,” he said. “It’s in the northern part of the state, about thirty minutes from the Tennessee line.”
“And your family is still there?”
“My mother, father and sister are,” he told her. “My brother is a medic in the army. He’s in Afghanistan.”
So his brother was still in the service. That must be hard for him, Bess thought. His military career had ended, his brother’s was ongoing. Did he envy him? she wondered. She peeked at Lex from the corner of her eye and caught the slight flexing of his jaw, the firmer pressure around those beautifully carnal lips. No, she thought, studying him thoughtfully, envy wasn’t the right word. But she wasn’t sure what was. Interesting, Bess thought. She wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to share all her secrets.
“I bet your family worries about him,” she said. “Is he older or younger than you?”
“Younger,” he told her. “By two years.”
Even worse then. Lex had set the example and then he’d been injured and come out. Her heart gave a squeeze at the thought of his injured shoulder. The shiny scars, the marred skin. She couldn’t even imagine the sort of pain he’d been in, the horror of what had happened to him. The awfulness of what he’d seen, which somehow made his sacrifice all the more nob
le.
Though he went to great pains to disguise when he was hurting, she had noticed a few little tells, aside from when he forgot himself and actually rubbed the wound. He would flex his fingers in that hand, give the shoulder a delicate roll and, more interestingly, she’d been aware of this because Honey had alerted her to it. As if sensing his discomfort—his pain— Honey invariably moved closer to him. She’d put her head against his leg, or bump his hand and force a pat. To distract him? Bess wondered. Or to comfort? Probably both.
Her gaze slid to the dog, who was currently resting her chin upon the console, her face next to Lex’s arm. Honestly, the relationship between the man and the dog was simply extraordinary. They were utterly devoted to one another.
Bess reached over and petted the dog, rubbed her velvety ears. “You’re a sweet girl, Honey,” she crooned.
Lex looked over at her and smiled. “She is,” he said. “She saved me.”
Saved him? Bess thought, seizing on the extremely revealing comment. Saved him how?
Looking as though he’d like nothing better than to cut his own tongue out with a rusty blade, Lex stared straight ahead. Every muscle in his body had tensed and he looked…braced, for lack of a better description. Braced and miserable. And anything that made him look that unhappy was not something she wanted to ask him about. She couldn’t because she knew he’d hate it, because she knew whatever it was would hurt him.
And she wasn’t going to satisfy her own curiosity at the expense of his anguish.
She released a deep breath. “You never answered my question,” she said.
He slid her a guarded look. “What question?”
“What was your first car?” she reminded him, feigning exasperation. “Honestly, as much as you’ve been avoiding the question, it must have been something truly horrid.” She gasped dramatically. “Ooo, it was a Pinto, wasn’t it?”
He studied her for a minute, his mysterious blue eyes boring into hers as though she were a unique and unknown quantity and he was desperately trying to figure her out. She saw relief and gratitude reflected in his gaze and then he blinked and the old Lex was back, confident as ever. “A Pinto? Are you serious? For your information, my first car wasn’t a car—it was a truck. A little Chevy S-10, navy blue with a chrome toolbox on the back.”
“No doubt it was filled with condoms,” she said, rolling her eyes.
His grin turned wicked. “I kept my condoms in the glove box,” he said. “Easier access.”
Bess cocked her head and looked at him speculatively, then turned and popped open the glove compartment, revealing a large box of ribbed extra-large. She hadn’t noticed the ribs, but could vouch for the extra-large. She smirked, shook her head and sighed. “I guess old habits die hard.”
He winked at her. “But never unprotected.”
10
LEX HAD GOTTEN MANY GIFTS over the years, mostly from his parents and grandparents. He remembered a train set for Christmas one year, birthday tickets to a concert he’d desperately wanted to go to.
But he didn’t think he’d ever received anything that he’d appreciated more than Bess’s free pass a moment ago. When he’d slipped up and made the “she saved me” comment, he’d immediately regretted it, had known that her keen mind would recognize its significance and her interest would spark.
It had, too. He’d seen it flare in her eyes, watched those pretty green orbs widen with the realization that he’d inadvertently handed her a small nugget of his soul. Any other woman would have immediately asked him what it meant, how the dog had saved him. And would have been perfectly within her rights to do so, because he was the one who’d slipped up and opened the door to the line of questioning in the first place.
But the same mind that had picked up the significance of what he’d said had also recognized that he hadn’t meant to say it. No doubt the remark had made her even more curious and yet, rather than ask him about it or insist he explain, she’d changed the subject and let it go.
He’d known from the get-go that she was different, that she wasn’t like other women. He’d sensed her unique appeal and that had never been more confirmed than just a few minutes ago, when she’d respected his privacy.
One would think that, in light of her own generosity, he’d repay it in kind…but he wasn’t going to. He couldn’t help but notice that anytime he asked her a personal question, she immediately turned the conversation away from herself. In fact, she did it with such skill he hadn’t even noticed it originally. Which meant that she’d been doing it for a long time, that she had had a lot of practice.
Why? he wondered again, presented with more questions than answers.
Should he press her? No, definitely not. He shouldn’t. He should leave well enough alone. In light of the fact that their mission was probably going to be over in just a few hours, that he was going to walk out of her life with no intention of returning, he really didn’t have any right to pepper her with questions, to make her fill in the blanks he had about her life.
But, because he was an idiot, because he was a moron, because he simply had to learn everything about her that he could while he had the chance…he was going to.
“Any word from Elsie?” he asked.
“She sent me a text message and told me that ‘things weren’t as they seemed,’” she said, waving her hands as if the last was supposed to be spooky and mystical. She grunted. “Who knows what that little nugget of vague insight is supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “But it’s funny because I’ve been feeling the same way. Something seems off about this, but I don’t know what it is.”
She turned to look at him. “Off? How so?”
He shook his head, almost regretting that he’d given voice to his weird concern. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s just a feeling. I can’t shake the sensation that I’m missing something, that there’s more here than meets the eye.”
She was thoughtful for a moment and bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know what it would be. You’ve looked at everything. I even handed over a copy of the police report.”
“I know,” he told her. “It’s probably nothing.”
“It’s probably not,” she said. “I’m a firm believer in gut instincts. In heeding intuition.”
He was, too, though he definitely didn’t think he was psychic.
And while he was heeding gut instincts…
“So you said you inherited your store and your love of ‘picking’ from your grandfather.”
She nodded. “That’s right.”
“What about your parents?” he asked. “Were they pickers, too?”
She didn’t so much as flinch, but he felt her recoil all the same. “No,” she said. “My dad was an electrician and my mother was a secretary.”
Was? Oh, hell. He was a bastard, Lex decided. A horrible, miserable, wretched bastard.
“I’m sorry, Bess. I—”
She swallowed. “They died when I was little,” she said. “Eight. My grandfather raised me.”
They’d both died? Had they been in some sort of accident?
“He was a widower, was all alone, too, so we ended up being very good for each other.”
Still, it couldn’t have been easy. Losing both parents at such a young age. And how had her grandfather coped? According to her, he’d been a picker all his life. That meant he’d spent a lot of time on the road. How had adding a little girl to that mix worked? What about school? How had he managed to be gone from home as much as he’d needed and still taken care of an eight-year-old Bess? Had he hired someone?
“So you lived in Marietta the entire time? Went to school there and everything?”
She was quiet for so long he was afraid she wasn’t going to answer. “I’ve lived in the house I’m in now since I was eight,” she said. “My grandfather homeschooled me after my parents died, so I didn’t get the traditional education, but like to think I got a better one. When I was eighteen I went to college, got my BS
in Business, with a minor in English Literature, and lived at home.” She sent him a droll look. “I wasn’t your average kid. My grandfather knew a whole lot about a lot of different things and he shared those things with me. He had a love for dead languages, so he’d make me conjugate Latin verbs while we were on the road. He was a history buff and turned every battlefield into a classroom. Everything he picked had a lesson in it. Where it came from, who made it, why it was important, how it changed the world. That sort of thing.”
Even though his mother had been a schoolteacher, Lex was familiar with the homeschooling idea and knew that, for a lot of people, it worked. It obviously had with Bess—she was brilliant—but he couldn’t help but wonder about the things she’d missed. Spend-the-night parties, playing sports, playing spin the bottle and going to ball games, time on the playground, commiserating with other classmates about an unfair teacher…those sorts of things.
She waited for him to respond and then chuckled softly. “I’ve shocked you.”
“Not at all,” he said, lying with more skill than he knew he possessed. “Your grandfather sounds like an amazing man.”
She sighed softly and the ache behind that breath made him want to reach out and touch her. “He was,” she said. “There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t miss him.”
“How long since he passed?”
“Three years.”
“And you have no other family?”
She shook her head. “None that I’m close to. My parents were both only children, so there weren’t any immediate aunts and uncles, no cousins or anything.”
Geez, Lord, it just got worse. He couldn’t imagine a world without his brother and sister, much less his cousins. Both of his parents had had many siblings and they’d all done their part to go forth and populate the earth. He had at least a dozen first cousins and could vividly remember playing hide-and-go-seek, swinging statue, Red Rover, Simon Says and Truth or Dare with them. He remembered picnics at the park and grilling hamburgers and making homemade ice cream. He remembered the adults getting together and playing cards and Trivial Pursuit into all hours of the night, sending the kids outside to roast marshmallows over a fire. Good times, he thought. Really good times.
The Survivor Page 10