The Tessa Randolph Collection, Books 1-3

by Paula Lester

  She couldn’t have Silas come over. He’d see Pepper. Even though they were dating, he’d feel bound to tell her to get rid of the pet because those were the rules. And she couldn’t ask him to risk his job for her sassy ball of fur.

  She let her head clunk back against the door. “What am I going to do?”

  Pepper purred loudly and headed for the kitchen, apparently thinking the answer to Tessa’s rhetorical question was that it was cat food time.

  “Cuz you always think with your stomach, you brat.” But Tessa obediently followed Pepper and dumped some kibble into her bowl. “There.”

  The tortie sat and looked up at her, grumpiness written all over her face.

  “No. I’m not giving you canned food. You’re getting chunky. You can have some canned food tomorrow morning.” Tessa crossed her arms and tried to sound firm.

  Pepper yowled and then stalked away, leaving the kibble untouched.

  Tessa narrowed her eyes at the cat’s retreating tail. Maybe her friend, Abi, would take the cat for the evening, so Silas wouldn’t see her.

  But she shook her head to dismiss the idea. If she and Silas were going to be dating, he would be at her apartment sometimes. She couldn’t hide the food, litter, and fur. And she couldn’t deposit Pepper at Abi’s every time. Abi absolutely hated the cat after babysitting her while Tessa was in Florida.

  No, if the cat was going to cause an issue between them, it was probably better to get it over with right away.

  With that decided, Tessa puffed a piece of dark hair out of her eyes, rolled up her sleeves, and attacked the dirty dishes.

  Letting him see the cat was one thing. She didn’t need to reveal her slobby side to the man quite yet. Because, as much as she tried to tell herself the place was messy because she’d lost control of it between packing for Florida, being gone, and jumping right back into work when she got home, the truth was her apartment was always a wreck.

  As she scrubbed dirty dishes, Tessa’s mind wandered, and she felt a twinge of discomfort.

  Was it fair to Silas to begin a relationship with him when he didn’t know the whole truth about her life? And she really didn’t intend to tell him anytime soon.

  After all, having a cat, being a bit of a slob, and not having any sort of cooking skills whatsoever was just the tip of her secret-berg.

  Chapter 2

  IT TURNED OUT THAT, according to the internet, empanadas were way too complicated. That wasn’t exactly true. The internet tried to make everything sound simple. But Tessa could read through the lines of every recipe and video she found. She wasn’t going to be able to make them. Not now, probably not ever.

  She spent a frantic ten minutes pulling all the ingredients she could find out of her cupboards onto the counter. Then she rummaged through the refrigerator and freezer, finally deciding her best bet was spaghetti. That shouldn't be too hard to mess up—it only required that she boil some noodles, brown some meat, and add some sauce.

  Plus, in the back of the freezer, she’d found a forgotten loaf of garlic bread that made her fist pump the air in victory. Maybe this would be a good dinner after all.

  Once the sauce with meat was simmering and she’d added the noodles to boiling water, Tessa made a pass through the house, gathering every bit of clothing she came upon into her arms. She tossed the whole pile into the closet in her bedroom, giving it a kick to get it all inside. The door didn’t want to close, but she managed to heave it shut with a grunt of satisfaction.

  The apartment looked much better when she walked back through. And there was no way Silas would ever go into her bedroom and peek in the closet. Not only would he think she was a good cook, but, hopefully, he'd also believe she was a neat and tidy person.

  She pulled the vacuum out of the closet in the hallway and had to spend a little time fiddling with the unfamiliar controls to get it the right height for the area rug in the living room, which confirmed what she already knew in her heart—she didn't vacuum up Pepper’s fur balls nearly often enough.

  It was getting close to six. She lit a vanilla-scented candle in the living room, crossed her arms, and looked around. She was going to pull this off. She pushed back her shoulders, feeling a bit smug.

  Then the smoke alarm went off in the kitchen.

  With a squeal, Tessa raced into the room. Smoke billowed out of the noodle pan. Luckily, she had the foresight to grab a hot mitt before pulling the pan off the heat. She waited for the big billow of smoke to dissipate before she carefully peeked in, against a wave of trepidation.

  Tessa groaned. The pot had run dry, and what had once been noodles was now a pile of unrecognizable, charred material stuck to the bottom of the pan.

  After she’d redone the noodles—luckily she had another box, and this time she stood right in front of the stove and watched it like a hawk—Tessa had to rush to get herself changed and ready, barely finishing applying her mascara before she heard a knock at the door.

  For as much as her nerves were jittering over the state of her apartment and whether dinner would be edible, Tessa felt a thrill of anticipation about having another date with Silas. They'd had such a good time going out in the evenings after her work conference presentations in Florida. But, somehow, having him over to her apartment for a nice, intimate dinner felt much more as though they were dating and less like were just meeting up as friends.

  As she hurried out of the bedroom, Tessa found Pepper sitting just inside the doorway with her head tilted.

  “I know that look," Tessa hissed. "You stay out of sight and don't make trouble. If you do that—if and only if you do that—I’ll give you half a can of cat food after Silas leaves."

  For good measure, Tessa closed the bedroom door with the cat inside. Maybe Silas wouldn't notice the food bowls and Tessa could continue to get away with having a pet in the apartment, even though she wasn't supposed to.

  She didn't have to fake the smile on her face when she opened the door. Tessa was genuinely glad to welcome Silas in. "You look handsome."

  He waved his hands up and down his own body with a flick of the wrists. "This old thing?" He shrugged. “It's basically my only nice outfit, so it doesn't get worn too often.”

  “Jeans and a plaid flannel shirt are your only nice outfit?” Tessa stepped to the side so Silas could enter.

  “I live in Michigan—what do you expect my nice clothes to look like?”

  Tessa chuckled. “I suppose plaid and denim are just fine. This place is a little bit messy. Sorry about that."

  She wasn't kidding either. She’d missed a few things. There were still magazines strewn across the coffee table, a few dirty dishes she hadn’t gotten to piled on the kitchen counter, and a layer of dust covering the TV shelf in the living room. But that was fine with her. After all, she really didn't want to offer up a complete facade of what her life was like.

  But he didn't need to know that a half-hour earlier, virtually every piece of clothing she owned had littered the place from one end to the other.

  "Looks good to me," he said, “and smells even better." He sniffed the air, reminding her of a bloodhound. "Is that spaghetti and . . . vanilla?”

  Tessa grinned and waved a hand. "The vanilla isn’t edible. It’s just a candle. I did make spaghetti and—oh no!" She darted for the kitchen, remembering she’d shoved the garlic bread into the oven before she went to put on her makeup.

  She grabbed hot mitts and opened the oven door, expecting to again see black smoke billowing in her kitchen. She was pleasantly surprised. Golden brown bread, bubbling away, greeted her with the heavenly smell of garlic and butter. With a sigh of relief, she pulled out the pan and set it on the empty stove burners.

  "That looks great." Silas leaned on the doorjamb. "I love Italian."

  “Well, unless you love Americanized Italian, you’re out of luck. Because we’re dining on Italian-American, mostly out of a jar, tonight.”

  He dipped his head, dimples popping in his cheeks. “American-Italian out of
a jar is my favorite kind of Italian. I mean, really, is there another way?"

  She smirked, thinking of her mother. Cheryl cooked everything from scratch and was a master chef in the kitchen. Those genes hadn’t passed down to her. She’d gotten her father’s cooking skills. Alone one weekend, with her mother gone to a conference—which Tessa now realized was the reaper conference like she’d just attended—her father had burnt a record number of grilled cheese sandwiches before giving up and ordering pizza.

  “Do you need a hand with anything?” Silas asked.

  “Yeah, grab a plate out of there." She gestured at a cupboard over her head. “And here’s a towel. You can make sure the bread stays warm while I drain the noodles."

  As soon as the words were out of Tessa’s mouth, she realized she’d made a horrible mistake. She'd taken the noodles off the heat but left them in the hot water while she went to change her clothes.

  With a wince, she peered into the pot. They looked all right. Maybe everything would be fine. At the very least, they weren’t a pile of stinky ash like the pot she’d shoved under the sink in hopes the stench wouldn’t escape.

  When she got to the tiny dining room table just outside the kitchen with the drained noodles and sauce, she found that Silas had not only taken care of the garlic bread, but he’d also found plates, silverware, and cups and set two places.

  “Oh! That reminds me.” She set down the food, turned on her heel, and went back into the kitchen to retrieve the bottle of Merlot she’d opened and left to breathe a while earlier. For half a second, she felt proud for orchestrating a lovely meal.

  The pride only lasted a few more minutes because when Tessa bit into her pasta, it was mushy and all stuck together. “Oh, no. I overcooked the noodles.”

  But Silas was munching away. Around a bite, he said, “I think it’s awesome. It tastes just like my mom’s spaghetti. With us kids always around, she must've overdone the noodles too. Normally, I don't like anybody else's spaghetti. I guess most people cook the noodles al dente. Not my style.”

  She pursed her lips and studied his face. Was he for real or just trying to make her feel better?

  With a tiny shrug, Tessa decided she didn't care. She chose to believe Silas liked the meal, and she dug in, determined to enjoy it too, even though it was a bit—well, actually a lot—on the mushy side.

  As they both finished their spaghetti, Tessa suddenly realized something. "I'm so sorry. I don't have anything for dessert."

  Silas pushed his plate aside and pulled the wine goblet in front of him. "This is good enough for me. I'm stuffed. Thank you for dinner." Suddenly, he leaned forward and locked eyes with her. "But you really have to do something about the cat. You know you're not allowed to have one."

  Her eyes fluttered for a second. How did he know about Pepper?

  Then, she sighed as she caught sight of the tortie’s tail peeking out from under the table. Tessa leaned sideways to see that the cat was weaving her way in a figure-eight around Silas’s feet. "How did you get out?" she demanded.

  "Out? Did she lock you in somewhere?" Silas sounded shocked, and he leaned down to scratch Pepper’s forehead.

  "Um. Well, I just thought it would be nice to eat without her fur flying into our food. We’re lucky she’s not on the table."

  "Really? So, you didn't lock her away so I wouldn't happen to see her?" A muscle jumped in his lip, and Tessa realized he was holding back a smile.

  She blew out a breath. "Okay, I'm sorry. And, by the way, I think she may be more than a cat. Like, I suspect the little brat may be part witch or something because I have no idea how she managed to open a closed bedroom door and get out here. Seriously, though, you have to let me keep her. I don't have anyone to give her to."

  "What about your mom? Didn't you tell me she lives alone? Maybe she could use some company."

  "My mom?" Tessa leaned back and barked out a laugh. "No, my mom does not need a cat. I mean, yes, she lives alone, but no, she doesn't need a companion. She doesn't get along with roommates very well. Other than my dad, that is, and he . . . he passed away."

  "Maybe she's lonely. You can't assume she wouldn't want a roommate, can you?"

  "Oh, I think I can. My mom likes things just so. I couldn't get out of her house fast enough when I went to college, and I never went back home. Mom’s never had any kind of a pet or roommate or anything else like that since I left. If it was something she wanted, she could've gotten it for herself a long time ago."

  He held up his hands, palms out. "Okay, okay. I'll pretend like I didn't see her here tonight. But you have to keep her away from the windows."

  Tessa pulled the cat, who had left Silas and come to rub on her shins, into her lap. "I will." She rubbed her face on Pepper’s. "You'll stay away from the windows, won't you, girl?"

  "Does she understand English?"

  "She understands it well enough to do the exact opposite of everything I ask her to do," Tessa said. She tossed the cat gently onto the floor. "So, what do you have planned for tomorrow?"

  "I have a ton to do to get this place ready for winter. There's some caulking, some nailing, some siding replacement, some painting, and lots of getting the pool ready to winterize. You know, all the fun stuff. How about you?"

  She shrugged. "Same old, same old. Just another day at work."

  “Riiiight. Work.”

  “Work,” she repeated. “Selling life insurance.”

  "You're still sticking to that story, huh?”

  The flash of irritation in her gut surprised Tessa. But she couldn’t push it down. How many times were they going to have to revisit this topic? She’d thought the conversation they’d had earlier would be the end of it, at least for a while.

  But here he was, trying to poke holes in her story again.

  Without taking a moment to think better of it, she snapped, “Can we give that a rest, please?”

  Silas’s jaw dropped a fraction before he snapped it shut. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right about that job of yours. It just . . . feels like there’s something more to it than selling life insurance.” He twirled the wine glass between his fingers. “I keep thinking about that girl on the pier. The one who almost fell in.”

  “Dani.” The name came out before Tessa could stop it.

  A line appeared on Silas’s forehead. “Yeah. Dani. Funny that you remember her name. That whole thing seemed so strange. I swear it was like you knew it was going to happen ahead of time and rushed straight to that spot to save her.” He leaned forward and spoke in a low voice, as though Pepper may overhear and spread gossip about it. “Are you . . . are you, like, a superhero or something?”

  The bit of irritation had flared into something brighter as Silas spoke. “No, I’m not. I’m just a life insurance agent.”

  “Right. Just a life insurance agent. But for real, if you are a superhero, I’m happy to be your Mary Jane. Or Lois Lane—I’d make a great reporter. You know, there really isn’t a guy version of those two. What a crock.”

  “Silas, I’m not a hero.”

  “Something is up though. I can see you want to tell me. You should just do it.”

  “Nothing is up! If you can’t accept what I tell you, then maybe this whole thing is a bad idea.”

  She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

  But it was too late. Silas’s jaw clenched. He pushed back from the table. “You know, I think I’m going to head home. Long day tomorrow. Do you need help with dishes or anything?”

  A lump formed in her throat. She wanted to apologize for being so mean. But the words wouldn’t come. She just shook her head.

  “Okay. Well, thanks again for dinner. It really was just like my mom’s. I’ll see you later, Tessa.”

  And, just like that, he was gone, and Tessa was staring at the closed door, hating the sudden silence.

  She felt terrible.

  Chapter 3

  IT TOOK TESSA'S
BRAIN a few minutes to properly identify the input and process it as something happening to her physical body rather than a dream occurrence. When it did, the awful dream she was having ended. It was something to do with sandpaper—her mother using it to scrub off paint on Tessa’s elbow. Only now, with the dream over, there was still something rough and moist lashing over and over her skin like an old cassette tape on repeat.

  Tessa bolted upright in bed. Pepper sat beside her, looking innocent.

  Tessa rubbed her arm and scolded. "Really? Licking me with that horrible tongue without my consent? I was fast asleep. That's pretty rude."

  The cat didn't act contrite in the slightest. She reached out and gave Tessa's arm another swipe with her barbed tongue.

  Tessa jerked her arm away and shrieked, "Stop that! You're not getting any canned food anyway. We had a deal. You didn't stay away from Silas last night."

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Tessa groaned and put her face in her hands.

  Silas. Had they really fought last night? Is that what that had been?

  But that wasn’t the only reason she held her head in her hands. It felt heavy, and she was having trouble remembering the details about last night with Silas because she’d finished the bottle of wine alone after he left.

  A full cup of water sat untouched on the nightstand. A good thought, had she drunk any of it.

  She sipped and made herself think about the previous evening for a few minutes. She and Silas hadn't really had a back-and-forth type of argument, but she hadn't been very nice to him when he asked about her job. He’d left pretty abruptly.

  Yep. That had definitely been a fight.

  Tessa felt horrible, and not just from the hangover. She shouldn't have reacted the way she did to Silas’s questions. The only reason she had was because she felt so insecure about that entire subject. Should she come clean and tell him that she was a reaper? Or keep grasping for a lie that he would accept?

  It felt terrible to lie when they were just embarking on a new relationship but telling him made her feel uneasy too. To an outsider, her job would be pretty unbelievable. Chances were, he wouldn’t even believe her.