“Yes, we did,” Lori said.
“Evenin’,” Trey drawled at the same moment.
“…and we agree, Mason was robbed,” Lori finished.
“He certainly was.” Kari glared at the field, where the opposing team was at bat. “That umpire’s been favoring the other team all night.”
The game continued, with Lori and Kari filling Trey in on the strengths, weaknesses, and history of the players. The score was tied at the end of the ninth and the game went into extra innings, the crowd on the edge of its seat when Mason came up to bat once more.
“Come on, Mason!” Kari yelled.
He swung and missed twice. Lori groaned and held her breath. The third swing slugged the ball and the fans rose to their feet with a roar.
“Home run! It’s a home run!” Kari shrieked, grabbing Lori’s arm and jumping up and down. All around them, people were screaming, the noise and excitement deafening as they yelled and grabbed their neighbors in bear hugs. Without giving it a thought, Lori threw her arms around Trey and kissed him.
The kiss was more an exuberant release of emotion than sexual, and for a split second he stood totally still. Then he enfolded her in his arms and kissed her back and, just as quickly, it became something else entirely.
The celebrating crowd around them faded, she couldn’t hear the noise. Pressed against him from chest to thigh, she was swamped by the feel of his hard, powerful male body, the strength of his embrace and the heated pressure of his mouth on hers.
Then it was over. He released her and stepped back. She swayed, disoriented, and he caught her forearm, steadying her. She looked into his eyes and thought she saw the same shocked awareness that filled her, but then the shutters came down and she couldn’t read any emotion there at all.
Kari pulled her around and hugged her. Lori staggered, still feeling dizzy, but Kari didn’t appear to notice.
“We won! And Mason got the winning hit! How cool is that?” Kari crowed. “Come on. Let’s go congratulate him.”
People were pouring out of the bleachers and onto the field. Kari tugged Lori after her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Trey join the throng heading for the celebration below them. Reassured he wasn’t being excluded and left behind, she concentrated on descending the bleachers without tripping amid the jostling crowd.
Unfortunately, when they reached the playing field and she could look about her, he was nowhere in sight.
What did that kiss mean? She’d been carried away by celebrating and started it, but then he’d taken over. And he’d been the one to end it. She’d been so lost in the feeling, she’d forgotten they were standing in plain sight of most of Granger.
I shouldn’t have kissed her. Trey lay in bed, hands stacked beneath his head, staring at the ceiling. Midnight had come and gone. It was more than three hours since he’d left Lori at the ball field and he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
She’d caught him off guard, he thought. And he was sure the exuberant hug and kiss were only a reaction to the moment. She’d been swept up in the excitement of winning the game.
But there was nothing innocent about her response when she’d kissed him back. She’d been a willing participant.
If she’d been any more willing, they would have set the bleacher on fire. He shifted restlessly. Just remembering how she felt, curves pressed against him, the hot silk of her mouth beneath his.
Damn.
He couldn’t get involved with her. When she found out he’d lied to her about being Troy Jones, she was going to be mad as hell. And she’d find out. The real Troy Jones could walk into the Granger Bar any day. The longer he stayed here and pretended to be Jones, the more likely it was he’d be caught.
If he let the attraction go any further, she’d hate his guts when she learned the truth.
I have to stay away from her. And just how was he going to do that while she was his boss? he wondered. He had no idea.
Avoiding Lori turned out to be easier than he’d expected. Her normal working hours, he learned, were from 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. She’d only worked alongside Kari on his first night because he was new.
So the rest of the week he pretended to sleep late each morning, then got a bagged lunch and spent his afternoons on the Internet at the library. He didn’t return to the bar until after 5:00 p.m. to work his evening shift.
He kept his eyes and ears open and netted a lot of information about the town of Granger and its residents, but no clues as to his own identity. Not a single person seemed to recognize him, and no one acted the slightest bit skeptical or taken aback when he told them his name was Troy Jones.
Which, by the way, was beginning to grate on his nerves. Since Troy Jones wasn’t his real name, each time someone called him Troy, the sense of it being almost, but not quite, right was driving him crazy.
His daily headaches had stopped but he suffered occasional severe, stabbing pains in his temple. Usually this followed his efforts to recall something after an unexpected, vivid flash of memory. The resulting frustration had him gritting his teeth when the brief glimpse didn’t unleash a flood of memories.
In fact, frustration had become his daily companion, and he was starting to question whether he should talk to the local sheriff after all. But his instinctive caution always won out.
The weekend came and went, and on Monday just before noon, he let himself into his apartment after paying a visit to the clinic. Dr. Reese had removed the stitches and pronounced him healed, but when told about the ongoing memory loss, hadn’t been able to offer anything helpful. Beyond saying it was encouraging that he was having flashbacks, his only advice was to give it time.
Time, Trey thought with disgust. How much time was it going to take before he remembered everything? Hell, he’d settle for only one or two pieces of real information, like his name or address.
Someone knocked on the door, interrupting his brooding.
“Hey, Troy, you in there? You’ve got a phone call.”
He yanked open the door. Startled, the busboy outside hastily retreated several steps.
“Lori wants to talk to you on the kitchen phone.”
He followed the kid downstairs and picked up the receiver of the wall phone just inside the kitchen door. “Hello,” he said cautiously.
“I’m sorry to bother you on your day off, Troy, but I have an emergency. I asked Ralph if he could rescue me, but he said the restaurant is too busy for him to leave right now, and he suggested I talk to you. Do you know anything about plumbing? Please say you do. I have water all over my kitchen floor, the plumber is out of town, and I’m desperate.”
She really did sound flustered, he thought. Surely he could keep his distance and his hands off her for an hour or two.
“Where do you live?”
Chapter Four
“I’m so grateful you could come and help me this afternoon,” Lori said as she led him through the living room and into the kitchen.
“No problem.” He stopped, surveying the room. The tile floor gleamed wetly, and a pile of saturated towels was dumped in one side of the double sink. The doors to the cabinet below were open wide, the contents crammed into a nearby bucket, a jumble of bottles of cleaning products, sponges and brushes. “What happened?”
“I have no idea. I switched on the dishwasher and left the room for a few minutes. When I came back, water was pouring out from under it and the sink. I managed to get the water valve turned off but I’m afraid that’s the extent of my plumbing expertise.” She eyed him anxiously. “Ralph said it sounded like a hose to the dishwasher might have broken. What do you think?”
“I think he might be right.” He sat on his heels and examined the pipes beneath the sink. “Have you got tools?”
“Dad’s are in the garage.”
An hour later, Trey twisted the pipe wrench for the final time. He lay on his back on the floor with his head and shoulders in the cupboard, an array of plumbing gizmos whose use Lori could only guess at on the floor
next to his hips and legs.
“There, that should do it.” He slid out from beneath the sink, tested the water faucet, then started the dishwasher.
When several moments passed and nothing more exciting happened than the steady hum of the machine, Lori grinned with delight. “It works!”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He picked up the bucket filled with cleaning items. “Do you want these stored under the sink?”
“Yes, please.” While he sat on his heels and tidied them away, Lori plucked the wet towels from the sink and disappeared into the utility room. Within seconds she was back.
“I don’t have champagne to celebrate surviving my flooded kitchen but I do have some of Ralph’s carrot cake in the fridge.”
“I’m always ready for cake,” he replied easily, smiling at her. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and a faint pink stained her cheekbones. As surely as if he could read her mind, he knew she was remembering that kiss. He nearly reached for her.
“Excellent,” she said brightly, turning away to take a plastic container from the fridge and slice cake onto plates before collecting forks from a drawer. “All I have to drink is bottled water and ginger ale, but I can make coffee.”
“Water works for me.”
“Good. Would you snag two bottles out of the fridge for us?”
She led the way onto the screened-in lanai and set the cake plates atop a round wicker table. Trey handed her one of the bottles and dropped into a chair beside her.
“I really appreciate your help. I’m sure this isn’t the way you’d planned to spend your day off,” she said, unscrewing the bottle cap.
“No, but the library will still be there tomorrow.”
“The library?” She sipped water and eyed him with interest. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a man who spends his free time in the library.”
“Hey, I read,” he protested, earning a smile from her. “Actually, I’ve been using their computer to browse the Internet for anything that might jog my memory.”
“Oh, I see.” She took a bite of cake and chewed thoughtfully. “I know it’s none of my business, and I don’t mean to pry, but just how bad is your amnesia?”
“I don’t have total recall,” he said, purposely vague. “But the doc tells me my memory will come back, eventually.”
“That must be reassuring,” she said. “I can’t imagine how difficult it would be not to remember everything. I think waiting for it to return would drive me crazy. Does it bother you?”
“I think you could say it bothers me,” he said dryly.
“Poor you.” Sympathy colored her tone and warmed her expressive features. “Did the doctor say if you can expect to have your memory return suddenly? Or will you recall bits and pieces over time until you know everything about your past?”
“I think he believes I’ll slowly recover all my memories, not in a flood, but more like a trickle.”
“It’s too bad Bill and Rhonda aren’t home. I’m sure they could give you details that would help fill in gaps in your history. Unfortunately, their cruise lasts at least a month. But —” her face brightened “— what about the other people you worked with in Four Buttes? Surely your friends could give you information?”
He shrugged, stalling for time so he could come up with a plausible reason not to agree with her suggestion. “They could, if they were home. But everybody working for Bill scattered the morning after he closed the bar for remodeling. We all wanted to take advantage of the long break and nobody planned to return until just before we had to go back to work.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “That’s too bad. It does seem every possible avenue is closed, at least temporarily, doesn’t it? If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
“Are you serious?” he asked, studying her features and seeing only genuine concern.
“Absolutely,” she said. “In fact…” She sat up straighter. “I know the library’s Internet service is slow as a slug — my brother complains loud and long when he’s home and has to use it. But I have access in my office and it’s fast, really fast, compared to the library’s.”
“That’s nice of you, Lori, but I don’t want to invade your space while you’re working.”
“No, I insist. You won’t be in my way. I use the computer on my desk and have a laptop connected to the Internet on a second desk. You can use it anytime during office hours, which usually means between nine in the morning and five or six at night, depending on what’s happening in the restaurant.”
She was clearly determined. He gave in, though he doubted he’d actually take her up on the offer. The more he was around her, the better he liked the person inside the outer package of curves, silky hair and lush lips. Though he thought it was unlikely, he had no clue if he had a girlfriend, a fiancée or even a wife somewhere. He needed to keep his distance from Lori until he knew for sure. “As long as it won’t inconvenience you, then, thanks.”
“Good, that’s settled. I’ll trade you use of my laptop for your help today.”
“I would have done it for free.” He lifted a forkful of cake with cream cheese frosting. “Being paid with Internet access and cake is better than union wages.”
She laughed. “Have you worked as a plumber, too?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Oh. I thought…” She shrugged. “When you mentioned union wages, I thought perhaps you had experience with a plumbers’ union.”
“No, that’s just something my dad used to say. And he wasn’t a plumber either.”
“What did he do, your dad?”
“He owned a bar and restaurant,” Trey responded absentmindedly, mesmerized by the sweep of her tongue as she licked a bit of white frosting from her bottom lip.
Clearly surprised, she stopped eating to stare at him. “So that’s why you’re so good with our customers.”
“Yeah. Probably.” Where the hell did that come from? Distracted by the information, Trey probed the memory, trying to unravel more details.
“Was your dad’s place here in Montana? I wonder if he knew my father? Maybe they belonged to the Restaurant Guild at the same time.” Lori leaned forward, clearly intrigued, the plate in front of her forgotten.
“I don’t know. The only thing I remember is a dinner table with the family sitting around it and all of us laughing at a story he’d told us about what happened at work that day.”
“Did he say what he did at work?” She waved her hand. “I mean, did he talk about cooking as if he were a chef?”
“No. I didn’t actually hear him speak.” He searched for the words to explain. “It was more that I just…knew.”
“Who were the other people at the table?”
Unaware that he was doing so, Trey massaged the back of his neck, where tense pain was building. “Mom, Dad, myself and two other kids. That’s all.”
A faint frown drew a vee between her brows. “You’re getting a headache, aren’t you?”
Surprised, he instantly stopped rubbing his nape and picked up his fork. “A small one, nothing to worry about. How long have you lived in Granger?” He changed the subject abruptly. He didn’t want to tell her any more lies, nor did he want her to know how little he recalled of his past.
She hesitated, as if she wanted to say more, but then settled back in her chair in a gesture of acquiescence. “All my life. I grew up in this house.” Her gaze moved over the sunny backyard. “I never thought I’d still be living here. It’s funny how life turns out. I didn’t plan to come back to Granger after college but I do enjoy running the businesses. There’s always a challenge of some sort.”
“Like bartenders not showing up on time?” he asked.
She laughed. “Yes, that does happen on occasion and it’s definitely challenging.”
“And the house?” He gestured at the backyard. “All the gardening and maintenance that goes with a house — pressure washing the roof, cleaning gutters, painting walls — you like doing all that?”
&nb
sp; “I don’t actually do all the work by myself,” she said mildly. “But yes, I enjoy taking care of my home.”
“Your home?” he said, curious. “I assumed it belonged to your mother since you said you live here with her.”
“Mom and I are sharing, but Dad’s will left it to all four of us — me, Mom and my younger sister and brother, Jane and Randy. I suppose I refer to it as ‘my’ home because I’m the one taking care of it at the moment.”
“What happens if one of you gets married? Does the new husband move in or does the couple sell their share and buy a house somewhere else?”
She frowned, puzzled. “Hmm. You know, I haven’t thought of that. I have no idea. Not that I expect to need an answer anytime soon. Jane and Randy still have several years of college to finish and my mother…well, she dates occasionally but I can’t see her getting married.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think marriage is on her agenda. She’s still trying to adjust to being a widow.” Her mouth had a sad curve.
Trey was silent. Lori seemed to be struggling with her dad’s death, too.
“I don’t know if Mom will ever get over Dad leaving us. In some ways I think she’s angry at him. Before he died, he worked long hours, as most business owners do, and they often argued about him being away from home so much.” She looked away.
Trey’s gaze followed hers, out across the lawn to the fence marking the boundary line. A climbing rose tumbled over the pickets in a blanket of pink blooms and glossy green leaves. “Everybody grieves in their own way,” he said. “I expect she’ll move past the anger sooner or later.” He knew with sudden conviction that he, too, was well acquainted with grief.
“Yes, that’s what all the counselors have told us.”
She glanced at him, her eyes dark. Then she blinked and he wondered if he’d imagined the sadness and vulnerability in the moss-green depths. She pushed back her chair and stood.
“Ralph told me you asked him about the history connected to the carved wood frames round the mirrors behind the bar. If you’d like to come into the office, I’ll show you Dad’s collection of Granger memorabilia, especially the pieces from the family business. A local artist built our bar with mahogany logged in Belize by descendants of Caribbean pirates — four of them arrived with the shipment of wood and stayed to help with the construction. My great-grandfather took photos of the work when it was underway in the early l900s.”
Trey's Secret Page 5