by Kristy Tate
“Tickles? Baxter’s Schnauzer?”
Declan nodded.
“There are Giant Schnauzers. That must have been what you saw.”
“It was really giant.”
“They’re big...” Lizbet reached into her pocket, pulled out some bullets, and reloaded the gun.
“Wait, teach me what you’re doing,” Declan said.
Lizbet emptied the cartridge and reloaded again, going much slower so he could watch.
“Where did you learn this?”
“From my mom on the island. I’m sure she learned it from Elizabeth.”
“But why? You’re vegetarian. It’s not like you were hunting for food.”
Lizbet cocked the gun. “No. It was more about protection. I didn’t aim at the foxes, but I would use the gun to scare them away from the henhouse.”
“You could have used a rock,” Declan pointed out.
She grinned and handed him the gun. “I could have, but I didn’t. Do you want to learn or not?”
He took it from her.
“Careful...” She showed him how to hold it. “Always keep the muzzle pointed in a safe direction. It’s the first and most important rule in shooting.”
She lifted the butt so it was braced into the pocket of his shoulder. “The gun is going to kick back, so you can’t have it on your collarbone. It needs to be right here.” She lowered the butt of the gun a smidgen. “Otherwise, you’ll get hurt.” She placed his hands where they needed to be. “This is your trigger hand, but keep your finger off the trigger even when the safety is on. Use your left hand to balance the stock. Now find your steady position.”
Declan closed one eye. “Steady position?”
She nodded, placed her hands on his hips and shifted him. “Your hip of the non-trigger hand wants to be pointed like this at your target.”
He nodded as if he couldn’t feel the energy zipping between them. Lizbet stepped away from him. “I’m going to put the cans back on the fence, so don’t shoot me.” She took her time locating the tin cans. They were scattered throughout the pasture’s tall grass. She felt his gaze on her, but she didn’t hurry. Standing so close to him had sent her blood racing. She needed a moment. He was like a drug, and she the junkie. She had to be okay around him. If things worked out between their parents, as she hoped they would, she had to be able to be a sane person around him.
She waded through the tall grass. The early morning dew soaked the hems of her pajama bottoms. She slid a quick glance at Declan in his jeans and white T-shirt. His hair was mussed, but at least he was dressed—which was more than she could say. It occurred to her that she probably looked ridiculous in her pink hoodie, floral PJ bottoms, and boots. She hadn’t even run a comb through her curls or brushed her teeth. Feeling fuddled, she picked up one dented can after another, hoping that by the time she finished, her sanity would return. She lined the tin cans up on the rail.
“You said you saw the wolves,” Declan said.
“Wolf,” she corrected him. “I saw one wolf.”
“And it didn’t look like a Giant Schnauzer.”
“No, it was definitely a wolf.” She reached his side. “Are you ready to try?”
He nodded.
“Contrary to what you’ve heard, you’re not going to pull the trigger. You press it. Ready?”
Declan bit his lip, took aim, and rested his finger on the trigger for a half-second before pressing down.
BOOM.
Some distant branch in the woods cracked.
He lowered the gun, his expression sheepish. “I guess I missed.”
“It feels really good to be better at something than you,” Lizbet told him.
He shouldered the gun. “Don’t get used to it,” he said with a grin and took aim at the cans. He fired and another distant branch snapped. “I’m hurting innocent trees.”
“Yes...” A thought occurred to her. “The night that Tickles disappeared, it was what? Three of four weeks ago?”
“About that. Why?”
“And there was a full moon.”
An emotion Lizbet couldn’t read flickered across Declan’s face. She thought it might be disappointment. He already thought she was strange. If he knew what she was thinking, he would probably be more than disappointed. He’d also be disgusted. She brushed her hands on her PJs and watched Declan take aim and shoot.
Boom! Ting! A can flew off the fence.
“You hit one!”
He beamed at her, triumphant.
“Hey, I gotta go,” she told him.
“Why?”
“There’s someone I gotta see.”
“Oh, of course.” He tried to hide his disappointment.
“You can just bring the gun inside when you’re done practicing,” she told him over her shoulder before she turned to run to the house.
In her room, Lizbet threw on some clothes while her mind raced. She needed advice, but she wasn’t sure who to turn to.
BACK HOME, DECLAN FOUND his mom holding a tea party with Leo Cabriolet in the dining room. He had only ever seen the attorney in business clothes, so he was surprised to find him in tennis whites. It was like the time he’d come across a picture of LeBron James playing a violin. It jarred him, but didn’t totally surprise him.
A platter of cookies and a pot of tea sat on the table between them. A quick glance at his mom’s clean, crumb-free plate told him she hadn’t tried to feed herself in front of Cabriolet. This also didn’t surprise him.
He slammed the door to alert them of his presence. They both started, as if guilty.
Cabriolet jumped to his feet. “Declan, I’m glad you’re here.” He tossed his napkin onto the table.
Declan raised an eyebrow. He hated his stepfather, but he also hated that his mom seemed to be already on the prowl just weeks after Godwin’s disappearance. Especially since he felt that all her attention should be focused on healing and learning how to be left-handed. Declan didn’t think there was any room on her to-do list for schmoozing the lawyer.
“There’s been an incident at the winery,” Cabriolet said.
“What sort of incident?” If the attorney had told him the winery had been overrun by Giant Schnauzers, Declan wouldn’t have been surprised.
“The manager, Mr. Eldridge, had a heart attack,” Gloria replied.
“That’s terrible,” Declan said, stepping into the room.
“If we had sold the winery as I suggested weeks ago—” his mom began.
“I’m sure he would have still had a heart attack,” Declan said. “It’s not like the winery caused his heart disease.”
“Of course not,” Cabriolet murmured.
“But his condition wouldn’t be our problem,” Gloria said.
“Should we send flowers? Is he home?” Declan asked.
“He died,” Cabriolet told him.
“Oh.” Declan took a seat at the table, trying to process everything that this news could mean for him and the winery. “Well, of course we’ll send flowers and a card. He has a family?”
Frustration flashed across Gloria’s face. “His family isn’t our concern—”
“No? How do you figure?” Declan asked.
“The problem is,” Cabriolet said, “Mr. Eldridge was the only one who knew the recipe.”
“What?” Declan rocked back in his chair. “That’s insane!”
Cabriolet nodded. “You’re right. It is.”
Declan’s mind flashed to something Lizbet had told him. “Wait, I know someone with a recipe... They claimed it was much better than Igasho.” He snagged a cookie off the table and bounced to his feet.
“Where are you going?” Gloria asked.
“I have an idea,” he said.
The doorbell rang.
Declan hurried across the room and threw open the door. Holbrook St. James stood on the porch, backlit by the early afternoon sun. “Hey! You’re probably not the person to ask, but could you arrange for a bouquet and card to be sent to Mr. Eldridge’s fam
ily?”
If the accountant was surprised, he didn’t show it. He simply nodded as Declan pushed past him toward the garage and the Mercedes. It wasn’t until Declan was driving away that he paused to wonder what St. James was doing at his mom’s house dressed in jeans and a pullover sweater.
AS HE THOUGHT OF SEEING Lizbet again, Declan’s blood raced. Spending the morning with her, standing so close to her, the gentle touch of her hands on his, the memories made him dizzy. Even as she’d bolted, his mind had jumped from one excuse to see her again to another. He told himself he had to get a grip, but he also wondered why. Yeah, he’d been mad that she wouldn’t tell him how she knew there would be an accident, that she claimed to have some voodoo powers that gave her glimpses of the future that were spookily accurate. Of course he didn’t believe in any of that. But he believed in her. He absolutely believed she had the power to send his pulse into hyper-drive. Was that enough?
He paused beside the car. The still-warm engine radiated heat through the garage. Forty minutes ago he’d been at Lizbet’s grandmother’s ranch and now, not even an hour later, he’d come up with another excuse to see her again. He rubbed his chin, feeling pathetic and like a stalker.
His memory tripped back to the conversation. She’d had the wine at Matias’s grandmother’s house. Wouldn’t it make more sense to go to the Hernandez’s’? He made up his mind and climbed into the car. Gripping the steering wheel, he told himself that his main concern was the wine. Not Lizbet. He turned the ignition. Of course, the Hernandez farm was right next door to Elizabeth’s ranch. If he was lucky, he’d bump into Lizbet.
He drove the miles in tight-lipped silence. It wasn’t easy to drive past Elizabeth’s ranch without turning down the driveway, but he did it. To his surprise, he found Baxter’s Jeep parked in front of the Hernandez’s’ farmhouse. Of course, he knew that Baxter and Maria had gone out a few times, but he wasn’t sure if having Baxter around made his mission easier or more difficult. He climbed from the car and called out to Baxter and Maria who were seated at the patio table engaged in a watermelon seed spitting contest.
The news that Lizbet and Matias were together hit him like a punch to the face. His shock must have registered, because Maria added, “I can take you there, if you wish.”
“What about pickle ball?” Baxter asked, looking put out.
Maria laughed and placed her hand on his chest. “My grandmother’s wine is way better than a pickle ball game.”
“How do you know?” Baxter asked. “You’ve never played pickle ball.”
She tapped his chest with one finger. “And you have obviously never had my grandmother’s wine. If you had, you would agree with me.”
“We can fix that,” Declan said in a sullen voice. Why would Lizbet go with Matias to his grandmother’s house? And this wasn’t the first time, a jealous voice in his head whispered. A more reasonable voice reminded him that their breakup had been his idea. He shut down the voices in his head.
“Doesn’t your mom have the recipe?” Declan asked.
“She does, but she’d never give it to you,” Maria told him. “She’s scared of Mawmaw. Everyone is.”
“Why?” Baxter asked.
“Because that’s the proper response. You should be scared of her.” Maria held up her finger. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.” She put down her half-eaten watermelon slice, wiped her hands on a napkin, and headed for the kitchen.
Declan and Baxter looked at each other, both with questions in their eyes that Declan didn’t want to ask or answer. Instead, he pulled the dog collar out of his jeans pocket. “I found this last night.”
Baxter turned the collar over in his hands. “So weird.”
“Why? We know he got lost a few weeks ago.”
“And last night,” Baxter added.
“Really?”
“Yeah. We couldn’t find him and ended up leaving the back door open and going to bed. This morning, we found him. Just like last time, he had blood all over him, but after a bath, it would appear that none of it was his. No wounds.”
“That happened last time? You didn’t tell me that.”
“I thought I did.”
Maria claimed all of Baxter’s attention by just walking out the door. She jingled her keys at them. “Guys. I can’t wait for you to try my grandmother’s wine.”
“Why?”
“It has...well, you’ll see.” She headed for a beat-up pickup as if she knew they’d follow without question. That was what they did.
Because Declan was expecting a giant, scary old woman, the tiny, wizened woman sitting on the porch surprised him. Lizbet was sitting beside her, looking entranced. Matias lounged at her feet. Their conversation came to a stop as soon as Maria pulled the truck down the driveway.
Jealousy began its rant in Declan’s mind. He tried to hush it, to tamp it down, but it wouldn’t be still. Why was she with Matias? Had she kissed him? How could she go from her morning with Declan to an afternoon with Matias? And she’d practically run away from Declan. Why?
Insecurity reared its ugly head. Did she prefer Matias’s company? Could he make her laugh? Had she been thinking about Matias when she was with Declan?
Baxter nudged him, making Declan realize he needed to open the door of the truck.
IRRITATION ZIPPED THROUGH Lizbet as soon as she saw Maria’s pickup pull down the driveway. She still had questions and they weren’t the sort of questions just anyone would understand, let alone answer. Her frustration gave way to shock when she spotted Declan and Baxter squished into the pickup's tiny cab. Baxter alone could fill a pickup’s cab. Declan was one basketball player too many.
She definitely couldn’t ask Mawmaw questions in front of Declan. She didn’t stop to wonder why she felt comfortable talking about werewolves in front of Matias but not Declan. She already knew why.
But then as an idea struck her, she realized that Baxter and Declan’s appearance at Matias’s grandmother’s was a blessing and not the curse she’d originally thought. She elbowed Matias. “We need to go,” she said.
He glanced over his shoulder at the approaching truck. Surprise and a certain amount of smugness flashed across his expression. He probably thought she wanted to leave because of Declan—and she did—but it was more than that. It was more about Baxter than Declan, because if Baxter was here, that meant he wasn’t at his house and Tickles would be alone.
“But our talk has just begun,”Mawmaw said.
“I’m sorry, Mawmaw,” Lizbet said. “But this isn’t a conversation I wish to have in front of Maria’s friends.”
Mawmaw cocked her head, considering Lizbet. “Is this because of who they are, or rather, who you are?”
Lizbet pushed to her feet. “Probably a combination of both.”
Mawmaw smiled. “Wise answer.” Grabbing the arms of her rocking chair, she slowly pushed herself to a standing position. “Let me get the things you’ll need.”
A FEW WEEKS AGO, DECLAN had thought he could read Lizbet, but now he realized how wrong he’d been. And if he’d been wrong then, was it possible he was wrong now? And had been all along?
He had been so into her. Still was, if he was honest with himself. He had assumed she’d felt the same. So why was she so anxious to leave? Moments ago, before she’d noticed him, she’d seemed engrossed in whatever Matias’s grandmother was saying, but as soon as she saw him, she was like a deer twitching in headlights—ready to bolt.
With Matias Hernandez.
Part of Declan blamed himself. He was the one who had first pulled away from their relationship. What had he thought would happen? That Lizbet would just stay at the ranch, waiting for him?
“It’s really great snuggling up with you in this truck cab made for two,” Baxter said, “but if you don’t open the door soon and set me free, I’m going to have to assume that you want to make out and then I’ll have to punch you.”
Declan wrenched open the door and climbed out. Once Baxter was out, Declan shoved him f
rom behind. “Don’t be such a homophobe.”
“I’m going to let that go,” Baxter said.
“Guys!” Maria hushed them. “You have to be super respectful of my grandparents.”
“And your brother?”
Maria nodded. “He’s smaller than you, but he can be mean.”
Little dog complex, Declan thought. But to be fair, Matias had the build of an athlete and no one would ever call him a dog.
Declan felt sick when Lizbet and Matias walked past.
“Are we chasing you away?” Maria asked.
“Not at all.” Matias spoke to his sister, but his gaze never left Declan’s face. “Lizbet needs to go.”
“How come?” Baxter asked.
Matias shifted his glare from Declan to Baxter. “She doesn’t need to clear her schedule with you.”
Baxter held up his hands. “Yeah, man, I’m just making idle conversation.”
“Maria! Darling!” Mawmaw clapped her hands. “What brings you here?”
Declan shot Lizbet a quick look, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. He straightened his spine, walked past Lizbet without another glance and followed Maria up the steps of her grandmother’s front porch.
“Hello, Mawmaw.” Maria kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “I want you to meet my friends, Declan and Baxter.”
While Maria explained why they’d come, Declan’s attention wandered back to Matias and Lizbet as they walked across the yard, put helmets on their heads, and climbed onto a motorcycle. He wanted to tell her that motorcycles weren’t safe and she should ride home with him in Maria’s pickup. Sure, it would be tight, but she could sit on his lap.
When Baxter nudged him, he realized he’d missed part of the conversation.
“Tell her about the winery,” Baxter said under his breath.
The winery, right.
While Maria took a seat in a rocker beside her grandmother and Baxter leaned back against the porch railing, Declan remained standing, only half aware of what he was saying because ninety-eight percent of his attention was following Matias and Lizbet. Only after they’d roared away on the back of Matias’s motorcycle, Lizbet holding onto Matias with both hands, could Declan be fully in the conversation.