“It is, but I felt the need to beat something into submission, so I’m making cobblers.”
Cobblers were good. Very good. Nobody made
cobblers like Annie.
Gwen slipped onto the bench at the kitchen table and unwrapped her burrito. “Is there anything I can help you with?” The offer was for more than kitchen aid, and they both knew it.
Annie sent Gwen a lopsided smile over her shoulder.
“Thank you, dear, but no. My granddaughter’s getting a divorce.”
Though that was a bummer, Gwen didn’t understand why the news would stir Annie’s anger. “I’m sorry.”
After another minute of pounding, Annie sighed, lay the dough in a bowl and covered it with a towel. “She tried, you know? My Katie that is. They were so young when they got married, and Josh joining the army and going off to war before he was old enough to drink.” Sadly, she shook her head, measured out ingredients for more dough. “It changed him. Her husband. From the dreamy, bright-eyed boy to a dark, moody man, given to fits of depression and anger. I don’t know what happened between them. Don’t know if he ever touched her in that anger, but I have my suspicions. Now she’s out on her own, and has been almost since the birth of their daughter, and she’s done trying to work things out. Done because Josh won’t get counseling, won’t take any meds, won’t stop drinking and she won’t take little Madison near her daddy when he’s like that. It’s just awful. Sad and awful and upsetting.”
War sucked. Gwen appreciated and thanked God for those who served in the military, sacrificing so much for their country; their energy, their family and too often their lives. But sometimes those life sacrifices weren’t horribly instant. Sometimes it was a slow, lingering death as their sanity was shredded bit by tiny bit.
Annie was right. It was sad, awful and upsetting, and while Gwen knew there was help for those who needed it, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
“But,” Annie continued on a happier note, “I think I’ve convinced Katie to move to Florida when her lease is up. It will be a real joy to finally hold my great-grandaughter.
Anyway, enough about me and mine. How are you feeling this morning?”
Gwen stayed for awhile, talking with and helping Annie by cutting peaches and filching blueberries until Annie laughingly kicked her out of the kitchen.
Back in her room, Gwen dressed in a one-piece swimsuit, leaving Rome’s overdone bandaging on her leg in place until after she used the pool to work her sore muscles. She didn’t bother to open the sliding glass door that separated the indoor part of the pool from the outdoor section. There was no reason as she could easily swim under the partition. She did, however, flick on the ceiling fans to allow air circulation.
After ten slow laps, she folded her arms along the slipproof edge at the far, outside end and peered out over the Orchards. She could see Andreas amongst the naval orange trees, checking for any problems that might hinder the November crop. Out along the hamlin orange trees, Gwen could see several workers harvesting the fruit by hand. Andreas refused to use the canopy-shaking mechanical harvesters that many other orchards utilized, comparing it to shaking a baby whenever it was brought up.
Though he did allow the boughs of the olive trees to be shaken at harvest time. That, he claimed, was more like shaking a baby’s finger or toe, which caused his family no little amount of exasperation.
Andreas turned from his inspection of the leaves and, seeing Gwen’s head peeping from the pool, raised his arm for a wave, which she returned. A butterfly flitted over the budding flowers of the garden and from beneath the lowest branches, Gwen saw a twitching tail from one of the outdoor cats.
It made her think of Rome. If he was what she thought he was, did he go out and stalk game? Not that there was much in the way of game out here for a large feline, but it made her wonder if that was the real reason the family retained the reserve, keeping it separated from guests by fences and guided tours only. So they could run and hunt.
Except Gwen hadn’t notice any decline in the animal life in the reserve since she’d been there.
And because that thought made her stomach queasy, she dropped back into the warm water and finished off another round of slow laps.
It was as she rose to her feet in the shallow end that she heard the wolf whistle. An appreciative sound that echoed in the large room, catching her off guard because she hadn’t heard a soul enter.
She wiped the water from her eyes, turning to see Rome slap Scott upside the back of his head, telling him to knock it off at the same time, while Porter laughed at Rome’s other side.
All three stood near the edge of the pool, looking hot.
As in sweaty, hard, outdoor work hot. All wore jeans and tshirts covered in dirt and sweat from the heat and humidity, making the material cling to their chests. But it was the sight of Rome that caused her nipples to poke against the wet material of her swimsuit.
“Nice.” Scott said, earning a shove from Rome this time.
“Do not make me tell you a third time.” Rome growled out.
“What? I was talking about the pool. I’m hot, it looks inviting.”
Gwen didn’t like being the center of attention, and as three big, muscled, attractive men stared at her, she felt totally self-conscience. She could either inch her way to the pool steps and her towel, or dunk below the water to chin level. And because she wanted to dunk, she made her legs move towards the stairs.
“Working out the kinks?” Porter asked, the only male in the vicinity acting like an adult.
“Yes.” She kept her focus on the fluffy green towel, taking the steps carefully so as not to run. “It’s nice having a pool for just that sort of thing.”
“You should probably spend a few minutes in the jacuzzi.”
Which was outside and kept covered when not in use.
No way was she going to be able to saunter past three pairs of ogling eyes to slip into the jacuzzi. Especially not after seeing the dark gleam of desire burning in Rome’s steady gaze when she dared to take a peek.
“Oh, yeah. Hey. And I should join you.” Scott said on a wicked grin. “Wouldn’t want you to drown or anything. Of course then I would be handy for mouth-to-mou-”
Scott’s words ended on a garble as Rome shoved him into the pool. “I’ll kill you.”
Gwen could only gape, which turned into outrage when Porter shoved Rome in the pool a second later. “And I think you need to cool off.”
Porter’s laughter was cut short when Gwen strode up behind him and planted her foot on his ass. When his head cleared the water, he looked up at her in stunned shock.
“What I do?”
“Didn’t anybody ever teach you not to laugh at another’s expense?”
Rome pointed a finger at her. “You got my back.”
Yeah. Yeah, she guess she did.
Porter tried to dunk Rome, who fought back, and then Scott, not one to be left out, threw himself into the mix. The water around them churned and turned an ugly brown color as the dirt from their clothes seeped into the pool.
Oopsie.
“What is going on in here?”
Engrossed in watching the men play fight, though that elbow Rome knocked into Scott’s lip might have had a little more punch behind it then play, Gwen never heard Melinda enter the pool room. At the clear dismay in the tone, Gwen went scurrying for her towel.
“What have you done to my pool?” At the sharp reprimand, all three men stood at attention.
“Well?” Hands on hips, Melinda glared down at her two sons. “Explain this.”
The men all kept their mouths shut, making Gwen think of three naughty boys caught stealing from the cookie jar. It was obvious from their lack of expression that Porter and Rome had been in this position and were unwilling to give anything away. And poor Scott didn’t so much as move as muscle least he bring the wrath burning in Melinda’s eyes down on him.
It made her want to laugh at the sight of three large and in ch
arge dominant males being chastised by a slip of a woman. Except she knew her own head would hang should Melinda swing her gaze Gwen’s way.
“So nobody as anything to say?” After several moments of continued silence, Melinda turned to Gwen.
Who clamped her lips together. But all Melinda said was, “Lance called the house, looking for you. He’d like you to call him back as soon as you can.”
Gwen frowned, tucking the towels ends together over her chest. “He did? How strange.”
“Who’s Lance?” Rome wanted to know.
Melinda turned her steely gaze on her son. “Oh. So know you’ll speak. Well you can just wait, pal, as I’m not through with you. All of you will be cleaning this pool until it sparkles. Got me?”
“Did he say what it was about?” Gwen asked when Melinda looked back at her.
“He wanted to know if we had two rooms available next Tuesday, which of course, we do.”
“Hey.” Rome pushed his way to the edge of the pool.
“Who. Is. Lance?”
Both women ignored him.
Gwen grinned with pleasure. Though they talked regularly, she hadn’t seen him in nearly eight months as he was now in New Mexico and she in Florida. “Really? Lance is coming here?”
Melinda smiled at the excitement on Gwen’s face. The sparkle of something dark and sneaky should have given Gwen some warning, but didn’t. “Sounds like. We spoke for a bit. What an interesting young man, your Lance. I can’t wait to meet him.”
Just as Gwen’s brow furrowed at Melinda’s suggestive tone, Rome roared, “Who the fuck is Lance?’
Gwen jumped a foot high, but Melinda only glowered down at her obviously furious son. “Ramon Antonio Felix.
What the hell do you mean by cussing in front of a lady, and your mother no less. Do I need to wash your mouth out with soap?”
Gwen made a beeline for the exit as Melinda continued scolding her son, amused at the irony as the woman peppered her rant with a few mild oaths of her own.
“If you’d stop demanding, you jealous lout, I might have told you Lance is Gwen’s brother. And you’d better wipe that smirk off your face, Porter Nicoli Felix, or you’re next in line.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you have anything to add Scott Franklin Boeing?”
At the door, Gwen risked a look over her shoulder, to see Scott standing as far as he could from Melinda, hands raised at his sides. Porter’s head was down, his smirk still in place. And Rome. He was staring back at Gwen, clearly torn between his respect for his mother and the desire to chase Gwen down. From the heat that singed her all the way across the room he wanted to throttle her. Or kiss her.
Possibly both.
Either way she was making her escape. She blew him a saucy kiss, making his eyes narrow into slits, and slipped from the room.
Chapter Eighteen
Gwen frowned at the thick, dark clouds moving in from the bay, promising another evening of rain. “I thought Florida was called the Sunshine State,” Gwen muttered up at the sky.
At the disgruntled comment, Melinda briefly took her eyes from the road to glance at her passenger. “It is. But it’s also hurricane season. Afternoon showers are common, and welcome. Without them we wouldn’t have the Orchards.”
Gwen conceded that. “Or a really large water bill.”
“Hmmm.”
Melinda braked at a stop sign and then turned right, barreling down the last seven-mile stretch towards the Orchards. It was Wednesday afternoon and the two women were returning home from Panama City, having made the half-hour trek that morning to run errands. As the B&B
would be full this weekend for a small family reunion, Melinda had wanted to hit Sam’s Club rather than the nearby grocery store for supplies. Three large coolers in the back of the SUV were loaded with perishables and every imaginable remaining square inch was stuffed with everything else.
At Gwen’s feet was a bag containing all the accoutrements of a new phone; two chargers, screen protectors and even earplugs. A slight disagreement had ensued in the mall when Melinda insisted on replacing the phone Gwen had lost while on the job, which Gwen refused.
After an extremely short battle of wills, Melinda had shrugged her shoulders and left, telling Gwen she’d meet her at the food court in forty-five minutes.
Gwen should have known better, because also at her feet was a bag with two new pairs of jeans and a third, smaller one with two matching bra and panty sets.
Sneaky, speedy Melinda had popped into Victoria’s Secret and Sears while Gwen had finished at the cell phone store, not telling Gwen a damn thing until they were leaving Sam’s Club several hours later.
How many employers did that kind of thing? Yet thinking about it know, Gwen had to admit she rarely felt like an employee. Yes, she had to run some decisions past Andreas or Melinda and keep them updated with information, but she also lived with them – at least in the same house – and ate with them, even when there were no guests to entertain.
Like last night for example. The whole family had been in attendance, including Scott, Annie and Bob, sharing a meal, conversation and laughter together. When the subject of Lance’s visit came up, Gwen relayed their conversation, giving the group some background on his slightly irregular job, keeping to the treasure-hunter side of things of course.
He’d asked for permission to not only have pictures of the tunnel and steps – why those interested him Gwen hadn’t a clue – sent to him, but if the family would allow him and a coworker to come out and take a look around. In the meantime he was going to try and get his hands on the original blueprints of the house.
Andreas had scoffed at that, remarking that when they’d done the remodel work he’d tried to obtain the original blueprints from the county and was laughed at. The house was too old, he’d been informed, for them to have any hope of finding the drawings. Though he’d added that while there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of Lance obtaining those prints, he’d be mighty impressed if he did.
Gwen had to bite back a smug smile. Somehow, someway, she knew her brother would find them. He had numerous contacts all over the country who shared the same interest in musty old documents and bringing history, especially secret history, to light. And if curiosity or friendship didn’t get the ball rolling, Lance wasn’t above cajoling and bribery to get his way.
They’d talked for hours, until Gwen started nodding off at the table, undone by the restlessness of the last couple nights. It was Rome who’d noticed first, seemingly alert to her every mood.
It had been a bit suspicion when she’d come down to the table and noticed the only empty chair was the one between Rome and Melinda, who sat at the foot of the table. All throughout dinner Rome found reasons to touch her, and when he didn’t, the hard press of his muscled thigh against her own was a constant reminder of their chemistry.
Arousal, now not just a constant companion but a nagging need, had blossomed from the second she sat down, causing her to be distracted more than once during the meal.
What had been the most confusing part of last night was when Rome walked her to her room, his hand enfolded around hers. Though sleepy, desire continued to kindle with every step they took up the stairs and down the hall to her suite. Where Rome had only given her a chaste kiss, telling her that if he kissed her the way he wanted, he wouldn’t be able to leave her alone, and he needed her to know that what was between them was far more than just sex.
Now, sitting in the SUV with an elbow on the door panel, fingers playing on her lips at the memory of his mouth against hers, Gwen stared at the passing scenery and wondered for the ten thousandth time what Rome was up to.Did he want to date her? Or was he hinting at the mate stuff she’d read about on the internet? She just didn’t know.
For someone who was far too candid about their sexual chemistry, he was extremely hedgy about other things.
Somehow he’d wormed himself under her skin, occupying too much of her thoughts. Sex hadn’t d
iminished that and in fact only made her crave more.
Gwen slanted her eyes toward Melinda. Yes, Gwen and Rome were both single, healthy, consenting adults, but she still couldn’t help feeling a touch guilty at her very unprofessional conduct with this woman’s son. Part of her wanted to blurt out the truth, but another part reminded her that her private life was her business. After all, neither Andreas or Melinda had told Gwen about their alter egos.
For some perverse reason, that made Gwen smile, which immediately faded when she spied a light green sedan up ahead, parked off the side of the road, its hood up, indicating a problems.
“I also think you need to remain at the house, or barring that, never be alone.”
Rome’s words from Monday morning came in a rush, followed by the realization that both Dennis and James each had an incident barring them from returning to work.
Tomorrow she would return to work.
“Hmm. I’m not expecting anyone tonight.”
As this road only led to the Orchards, the driver of the stalled car was either lost or an unexpected guest.
Or someone up to no good.
Gwen’s gut twisted as they drew closer and Melinda eased off the gas pedal. “I’m not real sure about this, Melinda.”
“Hmmm.” Melinda only repeated, pushing a button on the dash at the same time. “Andreas, please,” she said when OnStar picked up.
“Well, hello, sweetheart,” Andreas’ husky greeting was intimate enough to make Gwen’s cheeks heat.
“Stop that, darling, I have Gwen with me and your tone is making her blush. But you can use that tone on me all you want later. Olive Oil.”
Gwen might have blushed further at Melinda’s suggestive response, if it wasn’t for her injection of the odd term.
“Olive Oil?”
Melinda angled the SUV into the oncoming lane and came to a stop just ahead of the car where they could see a man hunched over the engine. He lifted his head and smiled at them, appearing relieved and without a speck of menace about him. Brown hair, brown eyes, nothing remarkable. Just a man who was in mechanical distress.
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