I swallowed hard, gathering my courage. “I’ll get it.”
“Don’t move.” Mom threw down her cleaning cloth and drew herself erect, tossing back her hair and pushing her sparkly bobby pins more firmly in place. “You stay right there, Carlotta. I’m going to answer the door, and if it’s that detestable duck delinquent, I’ll tell him to get plucked!”
She stomped down the hallway and tore open the door, Xul at her heels. From the kitchen I couldn’t see who might be standing outside. But I could hear Mom clearly.
“You!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
I frowned. It didn’t sound like what she might say to the man who’d thrown paint at me. Xul let out a small bark, but it was one of his happy barks, not threatening.
“Begone foul demon,” boomed my mother. “Scuttle back to the darkness from whence you came.”
Chapter Nine
Mason
In my six years as a bodyguard for the cartel, I’d been stabbed three times and shot twice. I’d earned the trust of the scumbags I’d worked for by taking hits that had been meant for them. I’d never flinched from danger.
But when the waist-tall, pink-clad, bunny-slipper-wearing English teacher in front of me started shouting like Gandalf facing down the Balrog, the strength of her rage made me take a step back.
Which was a mistake, because the porch’s rotten boards let out a loud groan and sagged under my weight. Things would go from bad to worse if I crashed right through them.
“Good morning, Mrs. Watson,” I said, trying to position myself across some of the less rotten boards. “I’m here to see Carlotta.”
Trixie had something hard in her mouth, and it made an angry sound against her teeth when she pushed it into her cheek.
“No member of the Lennox family is welcome on my property,” she snapped. “Leave now, or I’ll set my dog on you.”
Xul stepped onto the porch next to me, adding extra weight the boards didn’t need. When I looked down at him, he wagged his tail and stretched up to lick my hand.
Carlotta appeared behind her mother, and I raised my eyebrows, taking her in. Her hair was wet and tangled, some of it plastered to her scalp and some sticking up. Her clothes were soaked too, stained with red liquid. And was that a splatter of red on the wall behind her?
“Hey,” I said. “You’re wet again. Is that your thing?”
She didn’t laugh, and her mother’s mouth pursed like a cat’s butthole.
“I came to make sure you were okay after last night’s accident,” I added, trying not to let my gaze drop to her body where her wet clothes were plastered against her. “Could we talk in private?”
“Accident? What accident?” Her mother narrowed her eyes, blocking the door. “Carlotta, this house has only two rules. The first rule is No Lennoxes.”
“Mom, may I speak to Mason privately please?” Carlotta tried to get past her mother, but instead of allowing her through, Trixie Watson started to shut the door.
“What’s the second rule?” I put up a hand to stop the door from closing.
“The second rule is No Lennoxes!”
“Mom, don’t be rude.” Carlotta ducked under her mother’s arm. “Please give us a minute.”
“I would have called but I didn’t have your number,” I said. “So I thought I’d drop by.”
“Carlotta doesn’t want to see you,” Trixie declared from behind her daughter.
“Mom, would you please go inside and let me talk to Mason in private?”
“But Carlotta, the Lennox family are pure evil. His father—”
“Mom!” She swung on her mother. “Please, just give us a minute.”
Trixie’s eyes widened and she sucked in an outraged breath, drawing up ramrod straight. She was vibrating with indignation, her bunny ears trembling. Her gaze dropped to Xul, who was now leaning the weight of his body against my leg as though he was determined to get the creaking boards to break.
“Well,” Trixie huffed. “If you’re going to consort with demons, don’t blame me if you start growing horns.” She spun on her heel and strode off down the hallway.
Carlotta stepped onto the porch and closed the front door. Xul and I moved back to make room for her, and a different set of porch boards groaned under my feet like they were in terrible pain.
“If you came to collect your clothes, they’re in the washing machine,” Carlotta said. “I can drop them by later.”
“Actually, I came to ask you out for coffee.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. She couldn’t have looked more stunned if I’d stripped naked while singing show tunes.
“Coffee?” she repeated.
“Do you drink coffee?”
“When? Now?”
“Does now work for you?”
Carlotta glanced down at her wet, red clothes. “Because you took one look at me and thought I was dressed to go out?”
“You look great.” I wasn’t exaggerating. Even red and wet, she was beautiful. “But go ahead and change if you like. I’ll wait.” I folded my arms and leaned against the porch railing as though I wasn’t afraid it would disintegrate under my weight.
Her brow furrowed. “Why would I go for coffee with you?” There was no anger in her eyes, only confusion.
Standing in the sunshine, Carlotta looked so much like the teenager I’d fallen in love with, I felt a sharp twinge of nostalgia. She belonged to the years before I’d learned how ugly the world could be.
“We used to like spending time together,” I said.
“Before you decided to ignore me.”
“I’ve apologized.”
“But you haven’t explained.”
I motioned to her red shirt. “Tell me, who did you kill?”
She folded her arms. “A man who refused to explain.”
I offered her a smile. Maybe I couldn’t be honest with her, but at least there was something I could do for her. “How about a deal. If you agree to have coffee with me, I’ll arrange to have your porch fixed.”
She blinked, her gaze going down to the battered old boards sagging under me. “Fixed?”
“Before the wood gives way under your feet. Or my feet, which is a lot more likely.” The boards groaned again as I spoke, and to my ears it sounded like a final warning before catastrophic failure.
“But why would you fix Mom’s porch?” She pushed wet hair back from her face and I watched the tendrils drag across the smooth curve of her cheek.
“Do we have a deal?” I asked.
“First I need answers. Why do you want to take me for coffee? Why would you fix Mom’s porch? And—”
“Would you prefer hot chocolate?”
“And,” she repeated firmly. “Do you really think Mom would let a Lennox do anything for her?”
“Your mother doesn’t have to know. Asher has lots of builders working for him, and I’m sure he’d loan me a couple of guys for an hour or two. They could replace the rotten boards while your Mom’s at school teaching. It wouldn’t take long.”
She folded her arms, tilting her chin up. “And what happens when Mom comes home?”
“She won’t fall through the porch and break her neck.”
The boards under my feet gave an ominous crack and Xul let out a small whine.
“You’re serious about this?” she asked.
“I’m risking my life just standing here.”
“All I have to do is go for coffee with you?”
“Decide quickly. Any moment could be my last.”
She studied me wordlessly for several seconds, and I held my breath, hoping I’d convinced her.
“Tomorrow morning,” she said finally. “Ten o’clock. But we meet at Nat’s café, so I don’t have to deal with Mom.”
“Deal.” That was perfect. I’d get to talk to both Natalie and Carlotta, and it would be easy to bring up Santino’s party.
“See you then.”
“Wait.” I put out my hand to stop her t
urning away, and her skin felt damp and cold. Like when I’d picked her up and carried her into Asher’s house, I had an overwhelming urge to put my arms around her and warm her up. To keep her safe. But she glanced down at my hand with a small frown, as though my touch was unwelcome.
I dropped my hand. “Will you tell me why you’re wet and stained red?”
“Because a stranger threw paint over me.”
“What?”
She huffed out a breath. “I’ve been making my living on social media, only I upset someone by pointing a bread gun at some ducks, and they hacked my account to make the entire world hate me as much as they did. Then some guy must have found out where I was, and decided I needed red paint to really learn the error of my ways.”
My pulse kicked up. If she was still wet, I must have just missed running into her attacker. “Have you reported it to the police?”
“Not yet.”
“Come to safer ground and tell me exactly what happened. From the beginning.”
She sighed, but followed me down the steps to the sidewalk. “A man knocked on the door and asked to talk to me. He had good aim. That’s it. That’s all I know.”
“Did he arrive in a car?”
She frowned as though she was trying to remember, and I was struck by how clear her almond-colored eyes were. Most people would be hysterical after being attacked in their own home. But though Carlotta seemed a little shaken, she was obviously resilient.
“I don’t remember,” she said slowly.
“Picture it happening, like you’re replaying a movie. The man’s standing at the door. What’s behind him? Is a car parked at the curb?”
“It happened too fast. He said he was doing it for the ducks, then he threw the paint. After that, I had my eyes closed.”
“What did the man look like?”
She tilted her head, frowning. “Why do you sound like a cop?”
I was careful not to let my expression tighten. “I watched a documentary. The best way to remember the details is to relive the event in your head as soon as possible after it’s happened.”
“The man was wearing an overcoat, and I thought he was going to flash his junk at me.” She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe that’s just the way my mind works.”
“What color was his hair?”
She closed her eyes. “He had long, light brown hair, and a tattoo of a bird on his neck. His nose was thin. His eyes were too close together and they bulged. His mouth was small and pinched, so he looked super serious, and a little self-righteous. Like the type of guy who if he were granted one wish would choose the punishment of evildoers instead of world peace.”
Her eyes flicked open and I gave her an impressed nod. “Great description. I bet not many people could describe a stranger so well.”
“Want to hear me describe you?”
“Not really.”
“Smart choice.”
“So you’ll go to the police right away and tell them everything?”
“Now you sound less like a cop and more like somebody’s mother. Not my mother, because she was insisting on a SWAT team and helicopters. But somebody’s mother.”
“Go to the station now. You can tell me how it went when I see you tomorrow morning at ten.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” Her lips twitched. “Like after eating something bad, when your stomach is cramping and you just want the diarrhea already, to get it over and done with.”
I couldn’t hold in a laugh. “I’d better go before you run out of insults and have none left for tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll save you some.”
Chapter Ten
Carlotta
“You’re meeting Mason here?” Nat was reaching into the café’s food cabinet to get a muffin, but she froze, her head twisted to look at me. Her eyebrows lifted in twin arches of surprise.
“He asked me out for coffee.”
“And you agreed?” She grasped the muffin in her tongs and pulled it out.
“It’s weird. But he was persuasive.”
“There he is.” She nodded toward the door.
I turned. Mason’s large frame was taking up the entire doorway. With the size of his shoulders, he almost had to ease in sideways.
“Hi,” he said with a playful smile that set off his square jaw to perfection.
I frowned back at him. Mason was way too gorgeous for comfort. His were the type of good looks I needed time—and plenty of coffee in my system—to brace for.
“Coffee’s ready,” said Nat. “Grab a table and I’ll warm your muffins.”
“I ordered for you,” I told Mason.
He quirked an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”
“We’re all out of hemlock, Lottie.” Nat slid our coffees across the counter. “Will arsenic do instead? Two hundred milligrams will kill him, or I could use a fraction of that if you just want him to have a very bad day.”
“How do you even know that?” Mason asked.
Nat leaned on the counter. “I’m writing a novel about a café owner who kills the customers she doesn’t like.”
“It’s how Nat makes it through each day.” I gave my friend a sympathetic look, because she’d inherited a café she didn’t want to run.
“Here.” Nat picked up one of the coffees and handed it to Mason with an innocent smile. “If you notice a strange, bitter aftertaste, just add sugar.”
“Let’s sit over here.” I carried my coffee to a table by the window. Since Mason had asked me out, I’d been thinking about all the things I wanted to know, and I didn’t intend to waste any time.
“Thanks for showing up.” He eased into a seat that looked too small for him. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
“I need to know why you left town, and I won’t let up until you give me an answer.”
“Why is it so important?”
“Because when I was fifteen, I was convinced there was something wrong with my boobs.”
He almost choked on a sip of coffee. His gaze dropped to my chest before bouncing back to my eyes. “What?”
“You felt my boobs the day before you left. We were at the movies. It was The Matrix.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I remember.”
“So I figured once you realized my bra was padded, you must have decided you were done with me.” I gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Fifteen-year-old girl logic.”
His light eyes darkened. “Wait. You thought I left San Dante and went to live in Mexico because you were wearing a bra?”
“Not really. I mean, your mother took your brothers away too, so it’d be pretty extreme to assume you all left because of a sad lack of boobage. But the reason you didn’t tell me you were going, or say goodbye?” I screwed up my face. “I’m not sure how I decided your silence was boob-related. But the teenaged brain is a self-conscious, paranoid mess, and thanks to Mom, I was no stranger to dodging around logic. So crazy or not, that’s the conclusion I reached.”
His shock was raw, etched into his expression. “I had no idea.” He shook his head. “Your breasts are great. No, better than great. They’re spectacular. If you ever started to doubt that, you shouldn’t have.”
He sounded so sincere, my thighs quivered. I ordered them not to be fooled, and gave him a skeptical look. “I appreciate you’re trying to be nice, but you don’t need to exaggerate. I know my own bra size. You were the first boy I let touch my boobs, and I didn’t let anyone else get past first base for a long time afterward.” I sipped my coffee, trying not to let his stricken expression get to me. “At least it ended well. I turned my body issues into a positive message, and it kicked off my entire social media career.”
He leaned in, his expression so earnest it made my heart squeeze. “I’m not exaggerating about how spectacular your breasts are. They’re incredible. I used to dream about them. And not just occasionally.”
“You did?”
“Cross my heart.”
I pursed my lips. “Well, I want
to believe you, but you haven’t proven yourself trustworthy.”
“What can I do? Take a lie detector test to prove how much I like your breasts?”
“Do they rent those out? Where would we get one?” I realized I was teasing him, and wondered when I’d stopped being angry about what he’d done. But he was so contrite, how could I not soften?
“Carlotta, when you let me touch you, I thought…” He broke off.
“You thought what?”
A hint of his disarmingly playful smile tugged at his lips. “Let’s just say, I’ll never forget that momentous occasion. The Matrix has always been my all-time favorite movie.”
My insides had gone gooey, and I couldn’t help but smile back. “My fifteen-year-old self thanks you for saying that.”
“My sixteen-year-old self wants to kiss you again.”
Okay, who’d turned up the heat in the café? I put my coffee cup down and gave him a stern look. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going away? I mean, you must have known your Mom was leaving your Dad and moving to Mexico.”
“I didn’t know until Mom took us.”
“What?” I rocked back, surprised. “Why not?”
He shrugged. “Mom hadn’t planned it in advance. She was as unpredictable as your mother, remember?”
“What did I miss?” Nat appeared over Mason’s shoulder, and I blinked, realizing the rest of the world had dropped away while we were talking. Wrenching my attention from Mason was like breaking a spell.
Nat put our muffins down, then slid into the seat next to me.
“Thanks.” I gave her a smile, pretending not to be disappointed about her bad timing in joining us. I had a feeling Mason wouldn’t want to talk about our past with Nat listening.
“How’d you enjoy the party the other night?” Mason looked between Nat and me. “Before your unscheduled swim, I mean.”
I rolled my eyes. “The guy who cornered me was the worst. An obnoxious tweak weasel.”
“A tweak weasel?” He frowned. “What’s that?”
“He was on drugs. As high as the Mars Rover, and I spotted about as many signs of intelligent life.”
No Laughing Matter: Lennox Brothers Romantic Comedy Page 7