Little Jack’s squeal of delight brought her back as he and Arthur played a game to see who could stuff the most green beans in their mouth at once. Mature, big brother Will shook his head and shot her a look as if to say, “look at those kids.”
Arthur swallowed his mouthful and spoke as Kirin picked up empty plates and carried them to the sink.
“How you doin’ on beef, Ms. Lane?”
Kirin thought for a second as she placed a plate in the dishwasher. She answered, “Fine, I think. The freezer’s still pretty full and I’ve only used a few of the roasts.”
“When you run low, you let me know. I’ve got two freezers full.”
“But this time,” she said pointing at him, “you have to let me pay.”
“No, ma’am.” Arthur rose to refill his coffee cup. “I made a promise. Besides, Jack helped me too.” His voice trailed off as he concentrated on the dark liquid falling into his cup.
Jack had been there for Arthur when his wife passed. He’d sat with him through the sadness, then anger and even a few embarrassing drunken nights. He’d helped him work through pain, putting up new fencing to busy his mind and hiring men to fix the angry holes he’d made in the barn.
Kirin smiled lightly. She knew that pain. Like Jack’s death, Arthur’s wife’s had been expected, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept. Death was death no matter if it was expected or a jolt. She learned that lesson from not only losing Jack, but her mama too.
Every day she longed for answers about her mama’s death. Her Aunt Kathy was locked like a vault. Her mama’s sister didn’t smile again until Will was born. Who could blame her? She’d lost her only sister and gained an angry eight-year-old in the shuffle.
Her aunt and uncle doted on Will and Little Jack. Which reminded her to text them to ask them to keep the boys Saturday night for her blind date.
Ugh! Blind date?
Kirin gripped the sink. Crap. She’d completely forgotten. A wave of panic roiled in her stomach as her face flushed. Arthur stood then stepped toward her as Will jumped up and ran to her.
“Mom, you okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine honey, I just got dizzy.”
Her little man of the house hugged her.
Why had she agreed to this? Damn peer pressure and her inability to say no, that’s why. Her head already spun with wanting to meet up with Sam somewhere other than the grocery store. She needed no second man in this already ridiculous situation. It was reckless to worry about dates and handsome men in grocery stores when clearly someone was after her family.
She’d worry about the date later.
First, she had a true late-night date with some caffeine and a dog-eared Marine Corps Field Manual.
Chapter Eleven
After dessert, Arthur asked again if he needed to stay and help, but as usual, she refused. He bid them farewell and walked back across the backyard to his house.
Kirin put Little Jack in a bubble tub and Will into the shower. Little Jack’s devilish smile almost made up for the fact he’d soaked the bathroom floor. After prayers, both boys fell fast asleep. Kirin trotted downstairs to retrieve her hot honey-tea. She knew what lay ahead of her, to scour the rest of the book.
She had to discover if there were any other clues.
As she grabbed it from its new spot on top of the fridge, a note from Rosa caught her eye. Her dad’s attorney called again, and Rosa promised him Kirin would return the call the next day. Kirin snatched the number off the fridge, crumpled it, and jammed it into the top of her purse.
Something else she didn’t want to deal with right now.
Curled up in her yellow comfortable reading chair she set her steaming cup of hot tea on the table and opened the old book.
“Guidebook for Marines.” The green camo cover wore a black crinkle down the center. It looked as if it spent time in several wars and won none. Her dad had called it the “Green Monster” back when she was young. The spine of the book was badly worn, unreadable, and coming apart.
The first time she’d dove into it, she found three pages missing; page #43, a section about the history of the Marine Corps, page #288, adjusting the site on a rifle, and page #167, which looked to be the beginning of the chapter on sanitation and hygiene.
History, guns, and hygiene. The life of a marine recruit, she guessed. But did they tie together to mean something?
As Kirin flipped through the pages and read more about a marine recruit than she ever wanted to know, she froze on a page with her father’s handwriting. He’d had been a lefty but the nuns in Catholic school back then considered left handwriting wrong. So, he learned early on to write with both hands. It showed in his cryptic writing slanted slightly to the left. In his later years, he’d sent her birthday cards with nothing written inside except, “Love, Dad.” And as he got older, she’d had a harder time deciphering those words.
This was written neatly in black ink between the lines, and it read, “Manfred Pitts, Savannah Georgia.” A great clue. Manfred Pitts might have been a friend of his. Or he could be someone she shouldn’t trust. Holy hell, why was this so hard? Couldn’t he have simply told her what to do?
Oh right, that’d mean he would’ve had to speak to her.
Kirin could remember none of his friends’ names from when she was little. She wrote the name down in her notebook with a question mark.
He might have had nothing better to write on, but something about the careful script told her he meant for the name to stay hidden. Lost in thought, Kirin ambled to the main family computer sitting atop their antique secretary. Her plan was to google the name and discover what she could. At the exact second her finger hit the power button, her house phone rang. Kirin yelped like a bee stung her. Nobody called her house this late. Her hands trembled as she answered the phone.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Hello?”
She hung up and checked the kitchen clock. Five after eleven. Her hands shook even more. She tried to navigate Google but couldn’t focus. She stuffed the book and notebook in her purse and powered down the computer. The empty phone call had rattled her more than she wanted to admit, but it was time to fall into bed and start again tomorrow. It took over a half hour to settle her mind enough to fall asleep.
The following week went by way too fast. Between listening to Stacy and Laura’s theories about her upcoming blind date, helping babies come into the world, and Rosa avoiding her questions like the plague, Kirin’s days ran together.
When Friday arrived, she hurried through the day dreading when she’d walk through the restaurant door and meet her blind date. Sarah hadn’t given her much to go on, his name was Pat and he was a client/friend of Sarah’s husband, Tim.
Tim was Pat’s investment banker and occasional golf buddy. According to Sarah, Pat had kind eyes and a great smile. Tim told her Pat was hard working, well off, and loyal. Loyal. That’s how they’d described him. Stacy read this to mean something entirely different. She’d said it meant he wore a mullet and had jacked-up teeth.
Kirin dropped the boys off at Aunt Kathy and Uncle Dean’s. Uncle Dean was a robust and hairy man with a great sense of humor and a wicked prankster mind. He could short sheet a bed while you were in the bathroom brushing your teeth.
Years of living under the same roof taught her to always check the kitchen faucet for rubber bands before turning on the water and to always spin the hard-boiled eggs before cracking them. She’d learned both these lessons the hard way.
She knew she was in trouble when her aunt and uncle ran out to meet them and Uncle Dean wore a Darth Vader mask and cape with his lightsaber drawn. Both boys squealed with delight and barely kissed Kirin goodbye. By the look of mischief on her uncle’s face and the way he whispered conspiratorially to Will, she was in trouble. She shot her uncle a disapproving look and he responded with a guilty smile.
Kirin flew home, showered, shaved, and tried on everything in her closet. This outfit was too tight, that one reveal
ed too much, this tight shirt sent the wrong message. Ugh. If she didn’t leave in the next five minutes, she’d be late.
Hair and makeup done, she settled on a white, knee-length skirt and baby blue scoop neck top, along with some slightly uncomfortable but cute wedge heels. She ran downstairs, grabbed her purse and keys and stared at the book lying on the table, taunting her.
The Green Monster. She glared at it, then threw it into her purse and ran out the door.
Chapter Twelve
The college town of Knoxville boasted a recently renovated downtown area, which turned electric at sundown. The sun’s orange glow shimmered off tall glass buildings as the city bustled. Young urban couples were refurbishing old abandoned lofts above the eclectic stores. Downtown came alive with the dogwoods in the spring and the first shot of warm air brought out most of the city dwellers, crowding the streets.
The day was a mild seventy degrees. As Kirin found a place to park, nerves wracked her body. She wanted this date to be over. She’d much rather be strolling toward a date with Sam, but he’d never called. Maybe he only took her number to be kind. That thought hurt her heart more than it should have.
The place Sarah chose for them to meet was a popular hotspot. A mahogany, rectangular-shaped bar anchored the middle of the restaurant. Beautiful wood floors surrounded it, and the whole place smelled like a thick, juicy steak. Sarah had mentioned several times the restaurant vibe was casual and not stuffy. The food was rumored to be outstanding.
Kirin backed into a parking spot inside the parking garage, shut off her car, and stifled the urge to check her teeth in the mirror. She’d glanced over as she put the car in park and noticed a man sitting alone in the car next to her. A few feet beyond his car, she spotted a group of young women walking together. She’d step in with them to get to the restaurant, so she wouldn’t have to go alone.
The restaurant was a short jaunt from the parking garage. Her heart pounded as she rounded the corner and the sign came into view. She could feel nervous sweat mist her temples. Kirin squared her shoulders, pulled open the heavy wood door and walked straight to the hostess station, not looking at anyone. The perky hostess scanned the list for his name. Why didn’t she think to get his last name? The hostess had no one on her list named Pat.
It was okay. After all, she was five minutes early. She added her name to the list then sat on a long bench in front of a giant window overlooking Gay Street. Couples passed by headed for the movies or dinner, holding hands. It made her long for Sam. How she wished she’d asked for his number. Why hadn’t he called? Maybe the imaginary ex-girlfriend was back.
She people watched, bounced her knee and picked at her fingernails until she spotted a clock. He was now twenty minutes late.
Just then, a handsome man walked in carrying a Mast General Store package. She sat up straighter. Until his family of four ran up and embraced him before being called to their table. Kirin exhaled.
She stood to stretch her legs and craned her neck to look around the bar. Had they seated him and not told her? Hell, she couldn’t even look for him because all she had was a vague description and his first name. A new hostess strolled up. Kirin asked if she’d seen a man seated who looked as if he waited for someone. The young woman halfheartedly looked around and replied no.
Kirin headed to the bathroom to check out the tables herself. No one was obviously dining alone, so she trotted into the bathroom, washed her clammy hands then walked back out. She touched her watch and it lit up in the dark hallway. He was now twenty-five minutes late.
She needed a drink. She walked back toward the front of the restaurant and slid onto a stool toward one end of the bar. Seats on either side of her were empty.
Several people chatted near her while two senior citizens squinted as if the dim lighting bothered them. At the other end of the bar sat a tanned man, wearing a bright button-down with sunglass circles on his face. He knocked back the second of two shots as if he’d lost his best friend. He looked like a car salesman. Three college soccer fans yelled at a nearby TV screen and downed beers, slapping each other on the back.
When the bartender noticed her, he shot her a genuine smile. “Finally, a pretty single lady at the bar; what can I get you, darling?”
Thanks to his loudness, all four of the men looked over at her, checking her out. Great, now she looked desperate.
“Can I have a Jack and Dr. Pepper, please?”
“Coming right up,” he replied, flitting off to the other side of the bar. Kirin looked around the bar hoping to spot her date. She sent a text to Sarah, letting her know it’d been thirty minutes and the guy still hadn’t shown up.
Mr. Bartender served her drink singing a Boyz II Men song piped in on the Muzac channel from the back of the restaurant. Kirin sipped the drink slowly. A tingle of anger took over, and she gulped it down instead. Checking her phone, it’d been thirty-five minutes. Sarah hadn’t texted her back either.
She ordered another one. Maybe this guy walked in, took one look at her, and walked back out. After downing the second Jack and Dr. Pepper, Kirin chatted happily with the other barflies, striking up conversations with them and waving off the hostess when she told Kirin her table was ready.
The suited man at the other side of the bar raised eyebrows at her. She shook her head and took another sip. He was handsome for a middle-aged man, but very much not her type. After examining Kirin as she downed her two drinks, he sidled up with several cheesy pickup lines.
“What is a pretty young thing like you doing all alone?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. Loud. She assured him that being a widow at almost-forty with two little kids made her the most un-datable person at the bar. She processed too late, he probably didn’t want to date her. He only liked the way she looked in her skirt. She scoffed at the idea.
Her aunt and uncle made it perfectly clear with several not-so-subtle hints, they’d be keeping the boys most of tomorrow and hoped they wouldn’t see her until late afternoon, if she happened to bring someone home.
What an absurd thought.
Hell, she couldn’t even get a blind date to show up!
As Mr. Tanned Skin skulked back to the other side of the bar, Kirin ordered a beer to chase the liquors that’d made her light-headed and giggly. Somewhere in her inebriated mind, this sounded like a good idea.
She rose to situate her skirt. The room spun. Flopping back down, she thought an Uber wouldn’t be a bad idea. It was only seven-thirty, and she was snockered. She barely registered it when a man sat down on the stool right next to her.
“Whatcha doin’ all alone, tomato girl?”
She knew that voice. Kirin spun around to find Sam, grinning with kind eyes.
She couldn’t have halted the face-splitting grin if she’d tried. She had to stop herself from throwing her arms around him and drunk-hugging him.
“Hey!” she cried. Even in her own head, her voice sounded too eager. She cleared her throat, trying not to seem so smashed but failing miserably. She followed his line of sight as he glanced at the empty glasses. His brows furrowed, and his tone was tight. “Having fun?”
She stammered, “Um, no. My blind date apparently …” She looked everywhere but into his eyes. “I guess he didn’t like what he saw … and left.”
Stating that aloud pushed her to the edge of tears. She swiveled away from him on her stool to collect herself and stared out into the restaurant. Two familiar-looking silhouettes sat partially in shadow across the restaurant. She couldn’t be sure, looking through her alcohol goggles, but she’d swear it was Scar and Babyface.
Fuzzy brained, she ignored this for the moment and pushed down the anger boiling inside. Sam placed warm hands on her shoulders and spun her body back around. She couldn’t look at him.
He pulled her chin up with one gentle finger and spoke. “Not a chance. He probably took one look and assumed correctly that he didn’t deserve you, so he took his sorry ass back to the house.”
She smi
led at his kind words then swiped unfallen tears from her eyes.
They talked at the bar while she drank hot coffee. Sam nodded to the bartender and laid down a huge wad of cash to pay for her drinks. Kirin protested, fumbling through her wallet to pay but Sam grasped her hand and headed toward the door.
As she pulled her sweater from the back of her barstool, she searched for Scar and Babyface. They’d vanished. As Sam led her outside. Too much alcohol mixed with the cool night air and his warm hand wrapped around hers, made a chill run up her spine. When she shivered, he pulled her closer to him as they walked. She blamed her stumbling on some lame excuse about her shoes being too high.
“But you’re not short, right?” His green eyes twinkled as he cut them toward hers.
“Nope. We don’t wear them to seem taller.”
He slid her a look.
“We don’t! When a woman wants to look nice, she wears heels. My friend Stacy is 5’10” and she wears them.” Kirin pushed her chin upwards. She could argue with the best of them, and except for her giggling and stumbling every few feet, it would have been nice to walk downtown, hand in hand with Sam.
Finally, they arrived at the parking garage and walked up the two flights to her car. Sam turned, held out his hand and demanded, “Key.”
Kirin stopped short, dropped his hand and defensively replied, “I was gonna call an Uber.”
Sam reached down and grabbed her hand once again. “How about I drive you home, and then I’ll Uber back to my truck?”
Kirin protested, but she could tell by the grip he had on her hand, he wasn’t letting go. She had to admit his warm hand and spicy manly smell were more than enough to convince her. She pulled her keys out and handed them over with a scoff.
Sam opened her door and placed her in the front seat. As he walked around the front of the car to the driver’s side, she leaned back in the seat. Kirin closed her eyes and cursed herself for drinking so much while begging the vehicle to stop spinning.
Entangling: Book One of the Kirin Lane Series Page 9
