Because of the List

by Amy Knupp

  “The trip wore me out is all.”

  She didn’t respond, didn’t turn to face him. Just kept straightening the stuff on the counter.

  Alex again made a point of not looking too closely at Quinn’s sister. Instead he checked out the kitchen as if he hadn’t been here a million times before. Noticed details he hadn’t in the past. The place needed some work.

  “Why don’t you let me do a little repair and upkeep for you. I see some of the trim around the floor is missing. Splintering outward over there.” He pointed.

  “That’s not your responsibility. I’ll hire someone one of these days.”

  He got up and walked to the spot. Without bending his leg too much, he inspected the damaged trim. “I know how to replace it. Why pay someone when I have loads of spare time?” He straightened and met her gaze.

  She shook her head. “I know you’re offering because you feel obligated. You’re not.”

  “I’m not obligated, I’m bored, Scarlet. Come on, I’m sure there’s other stuff besides the deck and the trim. Right?”

  “It’s a long list.”

  “I don’t have a job. Only thing I have to do for months is physical therapy a few times a week.”

  She bit her lip and examined the trim herself. “I’ve been thinking about selling the house. Maybe moving on to something of my very own. The family home has so many ghosts…”

  “No-brainer for me to spruce it up, then. You can pay me if it makes you feel better.”

  Taylor went back to the counter, picked up a cookie and took a bite. She clicked her fingernails on the Formica as she chewed.

  “If you’ll take payment, the help would be appreciated,” she finally said.

  “Do you actually have a list of everything that needs to be done?” He headed back to the table and sat, thinking maybe one of the pain pills he’d been avoiding wouldn’t be a bad idea tonight. Only tonight.

  She shook her head. “But I’ll make one. I’ve been in denial. Ignoring as much as possible. It’s such a hassle.”

  “Not if you know what you’re doing.”

  “Thank you. I know Quinn would appreciate it, too.”

  She’d hit precisely on the reason he’d volunteered. That and the desperate need to do something, anything useful while he was stuck here in town. He planned to do PT as much as he could but that would only pass a few hours at a time.

  So what if his reasons were selfish. It was win-win. “Have the list ready by this weekend. I can come over and figure out supplies and get started next week.”

  “I’ll do that. Lists are kind of my thing.” She bowed her head as if embarrassed.

  “Trust me, I remember.”

  Absently, Alex tapped out a rhythm on the table to break the awkward silence that fell over them. As he took a swig of beer, he noticed for the first time the screen on her phone sitting next to him. He pulled it closer, intrigued by what appeared to be a checklist on a virtual yellow legal pad. It was numbered one through ten.

  REQUIREMENTS

  Driven

  Intelligent

  Successful

  Considerate

  Well-respected

  Conservative

  Neat

  Optimistic

  Polite

  Health-conscious

  “Requirements for what?” he asked. “Bill Gates clone? You forgot philanthropic.”

  Taylor rushed over to him and tried to grab the phone away, but he held it on the opposite side, his arm outstretched fully.

  “How did you get that?”

  “It was just lying here, begging for my attention,” he teased. “Relax. I already read it. What is it anyway?”

  She crossed her arms and straightened. “It’s a list.”

  “Yes. We army guys may seem dense, but I figured out all by myself it’s a list. What’s it for?”

  She stared at him for a good twenty seconds, her cheeks light pink. “It’s a joke. Traits of the ideal male, which, it occurs to me, is a fictitious being.”

  “Is this for you? Are you seeing someone?”

  “You don’t have to say it like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like it would be the most astounding thing if I went on a date.” Taylor morphed from shy to quietly outraged.

  “I’ve never known you to go out much.”

  It was the way she was, the way she’d always been. Quinn had once said her disinterest in dating suited him fine because it gave him fewer asses to kick.

  She dropped her arms and walked to the counter and the plate of cookies. Her shoulders slumped. “I’m twenty-six. I live alone. I have no social life and no family. I need to get out of this house more often.”

  He studied her back, and the fleeting thought about the body she hid snuck its way in again. Her long auburn hair hung past her shoulders in her usual low ponytail and he stopped to think when he’d last seen her with her hair loose. He couldn’t recall glimpsing it out of its usual style for years, at least not since she’d been an adult. She wasn’t ugly—not at all. She was just…unadorned. More concerned about bits and bytes or whatever the hell a programming wizard dealt with. From what he’d seen, she was obsessed with her work, and as far as he knew, that had always been enough for her. Of course, that was before the accident that had claimed her only family.

  “So what are you going to do with a list?” he asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious? That’s what I’m looking for.” She waved a hand toward the phone. “I did a lot of thinking about what I want in a companion and that’s it.”

  “It’s so…scientific.”

  “I’m a scientific girl.”

  “What if you meet someone who…” He glanced at the list. “Gets your heart rate ramped up but he’s an up-and-coming artist? Not yet successful?”

  “Then I have no interest in going out with him.”

  He nodded his head in spite of his complete disagreement. “Black and white.”

  “Precisely.”

  “How are you going to meet all these men? There must be a lot of single guys at—where is it you work until all hours of the night, anyway?”

  “Halverson Systems. I’m leading an artificial intelligence project right now for the…” She paused and pushed her glasses up, more out of nervousness than necessity if he had to guess. “You don’t want to hear details. No, I won’t look for dates at work. I’ll start online.”

  He didn’t say a word, though he hated to think what a full-time job it would be to sort through the idiots and creeps.

  “What? It’s a viable method of finding love.”

  “Quinn would go into cardiac arrest.”

  “He’s not here, as we already discussed.”

  That fact threw Alex into one heck of a dilemma. Quinn wasn’t here—some could easily point out because of Alex—and therefore no one was looking out for Taylor. No one was here to ensure that she wasn’t taken advantage of or hurt. He had a younger sister himself. He was plenty well-versed in the art of playing watchdog, but…

  Damn.

  As Quinn’s best friend, he’d just gotten a promotion to head ass-kicker.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ONE PROBLEM WITH staying at the Worth family home, even temporarily, was the lack of peace. Living with two women—especially when those two women were Alex’s always-on-the-go mother and his overachieving sister—required a strong constitution.

  Alex sat at the kitchen table late Saturday morning finishing the last of the bacon and eggs he’d fried as he tried to make headway on his search for a vehicle. He hadn’t owned one for years, hadn’t needed to, and didn’t care for the idea of purchasing one now. But it was that or be at his sister’s mercy.

  He’d buy three cars to avoid relying on her whims and insane schedule.

  At that moment, Vienna, who was also the baby of the family, stormed into the room, her typical hurricane self, and went straight for the refrigerator. She emerged with a twenty-four-ounce can of Red Bull.

&
nbsp; “You’re up early,” he said dryly, glancing at his watch. It was nearly eleven. Normally his sister was awake in time to coax the sun to rise.

  “Huge marketing strategies project due Monday. I was working on it till six this morning.” She opened the can and chugged several gulps. “Caved for a short nap and ended up sleeping through my alarm.”

  Beyond bedhead, there were no external signs of sleep deprivation. Alex half chuckled. “Sure you need caffeine, Vee?”

  “I need an IV of it. Doubt I’ll be sleeping for the rest of the weekend.”

  “You’ll do fine,” he told her, meaning it.

  Alex had long ago figured that, at five feet tall when she stretched, his sister had to bluster around as she did to make people notice her. And notice her they did. Though she was half-pint in size and wore her dark-brown hair short and pixie-style, she had enough drive for all three Worth siblings—and you could tell that just by looking at her. Of course, Alex was the only one of them who had ever been short on drive.

  That was pre-army. Things had changed since he’d last lived here. He’d changed. It had never been so evident to him as when he hung out in the small hub of the family home with the country-French decor. His long frame dwarfed the round-backed wooden chair he now sat in, making it creak whenever he moved.

  Vienna set her drink on the counter and opened the pantry next to the refrigerator. Without hesitation—he wasn’t sure she ever hesitated about anything—she pulled a family-size box of chocolate-and-marshmallow cereal down from the shelf. Instead of bothering with a bowl, she cupped her hand, poured in a pile of sugar-coated crap and shoved it into her mouth. One would think having a dental hygienist in the family would dictate a less sugary grocery list, but their mom had always joked that people like her children kept her employed.

  “Get a bowl, Vienna.” Cheryl Worth marched in and beelined for the fridge next.

  “No time, Mom.” Vienna refilled her hand and poured more cereal down her throat. “What are your hours today?”

  “Noon to nine. I’m going to the post office and the bank on the way.”

  Their mother had worked weekends at a department store in addition to her Monday-through-Friday dental gig for as long as Alex could remember. Though there’d been a time after their dad had taken off when it had probably been necessary, she maintained that she did it now because she wouldn’t know what to do without it. Wouldn’t know what to do without the employee discount was more like it.

  Cheryl laid an assortment of veggies out on the counter and sliced a fat carrot into a plastic container. The women continued to discuss sales, shoes, schedules and God knew what else as Alex pushed his now-empty plate aside and drew the next freebie newspaper closer. They’d both disappear soon from the sound of it.

  The side door to the garage slammed shut as someone else entered the house. Alex couldn’t see the hallway from where he sat.

  “What happened to you?” Vienna asked whoever had just come inside.

  “Bite me.” Marshall, the oldest Worth sibling, sauntered into the room, making it seem crowded.

  Alex gaped at his disheveled brother. “Your shower broken? Somebody die?”

  “Good to see you, too, soldier.”

  The moniker never failed to grate on Alex’s nerves. “That’s officer to you, big guy.” Who could blame him for replying with the nickname he’d come up with years ago as a subtle reminder he had about three inches and twenty pounds of muscle on his brother? “You look like hell.”

  Marshall grunted in response and took his turn at the fridge.

  “Help yourself,” Alex said dryly, feeling territorial over the groceries he’d picked up this morning in a bout of sympathy for their mom. She was only used to having one Vienna to feed and, though she meant well, her foraging attempt for Alex’s return hadn’t been sufficient.

  “Welcome home,” Marshall said as he closed the fridge door, a shiny, dark red apple in his hand. Without rinsing it off, he sank his teeth noisily into it and leaned against the counter, chewing. His eyes were hollow, perpetual-stress style. His hair, normally short and neat, could use a trim by Marshall’s pretty-boy standards. His pale blue, button-down shirt, his version of casual, looked as if he’d slept in it and hung untucked over his dark blue jeans.

  “Apparently I’ve missed a lot,” Alex said.

  “Going to war will do that.” Marshall took the chair next to Alex, falling wearily into it.

  “Among other things.” Alex registered the ache in his left leg that was always there, so constant he almost managed to forget it at moments like this when it wasn’t flaring up.

  “I’m going back in,” Vienna said after returning the cereal box to the pantry. “If I don’t resurface by tomorrow night, send in nourishment.” She sped down the hallway and up the stairs to the big bedroom above the garage that she’d taken over when the rest of them had left the nest.

  “I’ll be glad when she finishes her MBA,” Cheryl said, shooting a concerned glance over her shoulder at her only daughter. “I don’t know how she exists on so little sleep.”

  “Like mother, like daughter,” Alex said.

  Their mom returned the vegetable bags to the refrigerator and covered her lunch container with a plastic lid, then stuffed it and a can of pop into her pink, insulated lunch bag. She flitted around the house, collecting everything she’d need for an eight-hour shift. “There are chicken patties in the freezer. Buns in the bread bin,” she coached from the hall as if they were teenagers staying without parents for the first time. “Maybe you boys can catch up today.”

  “Later, Mom.”

  Alex and Marshall weren’t best buddies but Alex could handle his brother most days. Marshall was calmer, quieter than the women.

  “Forgot how much noise the two of them can make,” Alex said, standing slowly, taking time to stretch his leg now that his mom wasn’t around to witness it. He went to the counter and prepped the coffeemaker. “Want some coffee?”

  Marshall ran his hand over his face and nodded. “Extra-strength.”

  Alex eyed his brother as he scooped grounds from the large can. Something was definitely up. Either Marshall had uncharacteristically tied one on last night or something was eating away at him. Alex wasn’t one to pry, though.

  “What’s with all the bird-cage liners?” Marshall indicated the stack of fliers and newspapers.

  “I need some wheels.”

  “You sticking around, then?”

  Alex started the pot brewing and turned, leaned against the counter. “Are you kidding? What would I do here?”

  “What choice do you have? Thought the alternative was paper-pushing stateside.”

  “Would be if I accepted the army doc’s opinion.”

  Marshall studied him, head tilted slightly. Old habits died hard and Alex became antsy under the scrutiny. Amazing how nine-plus years in the service, building an admirable career prior to the crash, could go out the window when you were stared down by your older brother.

  “So what’s the plan? Some kind of surgery you haven’t had? Wonder drugs?” Marshall didn’t sound judgmental, to Alex’s surprise.

  “No big miracle. Just hard work with the PT. It’s been three months since the army evaluated my leg and I’ve been working out the whole time.”

  “How long do you think it’s going to take to get back up to speed?” Marshall actually seemed interested and fully alert for the first time since he’d stumbled in.

  “Couple of months if I’m lucky. It so happens one of the best therapists in the country is a woman in Chicago.”

  “You plan to call her?”

  “I plan to meet her next week,” Alex said, taking a pair of mugs from the ancient mug tree. “Which is why I need wheels.”

  “If you don’t find anything, I’ll take you.”

  Alex poured coffee and raised his brows at his brother as he set the mugs on the table. Marshall wasn’t known for going out of his way for Alex. Chicago was two hours each way
on a good day.

  “No need to take time off work,” Alex said. “I’ll find a car.” He crossed the room again to grab the sugar bowl. He couldn’t stand unsweetened coffee. Back at the table, he spooned in two heaping piles of the white stuff and started to stir.

  “I had to shut down Worth Publishing.”

  Alex froze. “What did you say?” His brain wasn’t processing right.

  “Add it to the long, sad list of belly-up businesses.”

  Alex turned to scrutinize his brother’s face but it only took half a second to ascertain that he was dead serious.

  Worth Publishing was Marshall’s life. He didn’t have a wife because he was married to his job, cliché or not. From the time he was nine years old, he’d inundated the family with “magazines” he’d created himself, or so the story went. He’d planned on a journalism degree from ninth grade on and followed his plan to start up his own publication. A year and a half after he graduated from college, the first volume of Lake Life, a full-blown hoity-toity bimonthly magazine focused on Wisconsin living, was released. The last Alex knew, the company had something like nine or ten full-time employees and had moved to publishing every month.

  “What the living hell?”

  Marshall pushed his chair back as he stood abruptly, and it slammed into the wall beneath the windowsill. He took off down the hall and out the door to the garage. Alex swore out loud, hesitated, then followed him. He found him on the driveway, shooting hoops with an old basketball that had lost its bumpy texture.

  Alex rebounded his brother’s shot and took one of his own. They continued without speaking for several minutes, politely taking turns. That gradually led to a one-on-one battle, during which Alex schooled Marshall.

  “I’m out of practice and out of shape,” Marshall said as they huffed for breath.

  “I have a bum leg, man. I’d beat you blindfolded.” Alex wiped sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his T-shirt and steeled himself against the pain in his leg. “So what are you going to do?”

  “Do? About my career?” Marshall dribbled the ball hard, punishing it. “Hell if I know. I hear fast food is a lucrative field.”