Love, Lattes and Mutants

by Sandra Cox

  When the bell rings, my feelings are mixed. I won’t have the distraction of Tyler for the next hour.

  Holly scoops up her books and waits for me. I rise reluctantly. I like Holly but doing the girlfriend thing is such a bad idea.

  Ann Jones, the class president who sits in the row in front of us, turns. “Are you heading for study hall, Holly?”

  “I am, but I’m waiting for Piper. I’ll catch ya later.” She smiles at Ann. Holly has one of those smiles that zeroes in and makes you feel like the most important person in the world, like basking in sunshine.

  “Okay.” Ann smiles back, looks at me, and smiles politely. I swear she just stopped herself from shaking her head in bewilderment. I feel like commiserating. I certainly can’t see what my attraction for the twins is.

  Tyler waits at the door. He falls into step as we walk down the hall. Hurried footsteps clatter around us. The scents of books, sweat, and uber-strong aftershave surround us. It’s as natural as the smell of coconut in sunscreen.

  “Tyler, your class is in the other direction,” Holly points out, shifting her books more securely in her arm.

  He ignores her and looks at me. “What did you do now to piss Fahrenbacher off?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I reply with all the dignity I can muster.

  “Come off it, Piper. Fahrenbacher has a hair-trigger temper and he’s psychotic. You need to stay out of his way.”

  It didn’t help that I’d been telling myself the same thing. “Maybe he should stay out of mine,” I shoot back. “Yesterday you said he was harmless.”

  “I lied. Sue me. I was trying to make you feel better.”

  Holly clears her throat. “All right, children, play nice.

  “Tyler, you need to get to class. I’ll take care of Piper.”

  He snorts. “Oh yeah, the five-foot blonde, taking care of the five-foot-eight blonde. Don’t worry, Mr. Smith likes me.” He refers to his history teacher.

  “Why are you doing this?” Heat rushes up my chest and pools in my face and neck. I’ve let my voice slip again.

  Her expression curious, Holly glances from one to the other of us before she slides through the door to study hall. At least, my voice doesn’t seem to have an effect on her.

  “Damned if I know, but I think it’s got a lot to do with the voice. I can’t help wondering if beneath the camo, the package matches those golden tones.” He studies me as if trying to pierce my disguise.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I respond in hoarse tones before I turn my back on him and hurry into the room. I glance back. He’s watching me with an intent expression. When he catches my glance, he winks and saunters off.

  Holly motions me toward an empty seat beside her. I sigh and slide in. Life is getting complicated. Other than sea turtles and dolphins, I’ve never had a friend before. I’m not sure how to act.

  I glance at the hall monitor. He’s talking to a student at his desk. I lean over and whisper to Holly. “Is your brother always like this?”

  “I told you, once he helps someone he feels responsible. Although, he does seem to have taken it to a whole new level with you. If you were more his type I’d say he was interested.” She gives me a speculative look. “But you most definitely are not.”

  I wince.

  “Are you?”

  She takes me off guard.

  “Say what?”

  “Underneath those frumpy clothes and ghastly glasses are you Tyler’s type?”

  “How in hell would I know?” I snap.

  “Would you like to go shopping?” She leans forward eagerly. “We could have a girls’ night. I could fix your hair and show you how to use make up. It would be fun.”

  Her whole face lights up. I hate to rain on her parade, but this idea has to be nipped in the bud.

  “No way. Take me as I am or don’t.” That’s as clear as I can make it.

  “Fine.” She thrusts out her lip.

  Oh great.

  “Ladies, quiet.” The hall monitor has finished his conversation and is determined to end ours. Works for me.

  Holly ignores me and pulls out her notebook. She begins to write industriously. I glance at her paper that’s angled in my direction. This isn’t the end of it.

  I sigh. I knew this friendship thing was a mistake. I’m not sure which twin is more stubborn. The genes fall pretty evenly between them.

  Flipping open my lit book, I ignore Holly and get down to work. I actually have most of my homework done when the bell rings.

  The rest of my classes pass faster than I expect. When the bell rings for the last class, I race for my truck. I breathe a sigh of relief when I make it out of the building with no sign of Fahrenbacher.

  When I get to my truck, I see why. My tire is slashed.

  Chapter 5

  “Dammit.” Heat courses through me. I could swear my blood is boiling.

  “At least he didn’t slice all four.” Tyler stands behind me, hands on hips, studying my flat tire.

  I whip around. “And I should be grateful?” Fuming, I yank open the door of the truck, lean in, and pull the jack out from under the seat.

  Tyler moves me out of the way, engages the emergency brake, then takes the jack out of my hands.

  “What are you doing?” My jaws are locked so tight I have to push the words out.

  “I’m going to change your tire.” He squats down, pries off the wheel cover, and unscrews the lug nuts.

  “I know how to change a tire.”

  “No doubt.” A nut bounces out of the wheel cover and lands on the ground. I pick it up and toss it back. It clinks, spins, and then settles. I start to get the tire from underneath the truck bed but again am interrupted. Tyler nudges me aside with his hip.

  Part of me appreciates the blatant male attitude. I quickly squelch it. “While I appreciate your help, it’s completely unnecessary. I can do that.” I reach for the tire.

  “My father would turn over in his grave if I let a girl change a tire when I’m around.” He holds it easily away from me and squats down to slide it onto the axle.

  I roll my eyes. “Your father’s alive.”

  “Yeah, so it’s important we keep him that way.”

  I bend down so we’re on the same level. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I just told you.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

  “Afraid I don’t.” He turns his attention back to the tire. A motor coughs behind us. White smoke spits from a clunker leaving the lot, followed by a new but dirty compact, a winking girl decal on the bumper sticker.

  “Why are you having anything to do with me?” I can’t figure it out. “There’s not a girl in school who isn’t falling all over you.” As if to emphasize my point, two sophomores walk by giggling and poking each other, as they stare at Tyler’s hindquarters encased in tight soft denim.

  “Except for you.” He spins on a lug nut. The traffic leaving the parking lot picks up.

  “Is that what it’s about? The one you can’t have?”

  “Can’t I?”

  His voice lowers to a velvet swirl of sound.

  “Look at me.” I flip my hands from my shoulders to my thighs. “I’ve seen the girls that chase after you. You don’t have to settle.”

  He sighs. “Haven’t we had this conversation before? Besides, you’re making too much out of me changing a tire.” He turns back to the lug nuts.

  Heat floods my face. “Sorry.” I stand and slap dust off my pants.

  “I’m still planning on taking the boat out Saturday. Have you thought about going with me?” He twirls the last nut on and pushes to his feet.

  “No.” I fight back regret. “And you shouldn’t go either. A storm’s coming in.”

  “The weatherman disagrees. It’s supposed to be sunny with a light breeze.” He puts the jack away and dusts his hands.

  I
open my mouth to argue when a shadow falls across my feet. Fahrenbacher stands leering at me. “Keep that heap away from my car. You even smudge it you’ll be sorry.”

  All the bewildered feelings that Tyler’s presence brings to the surface coalesce into one hot ball of anger. “You jerk.” I ball my fists and lunge.

  Tyler grabs my shoulders, pulls me back, and steps in front of me. “You wouldn’t know anything about this would you, Edgar?”

  “This has nothing to do with you, Carlisle.”

  “Piper’s a friend of mine. I don’t like my friends messed with.” He straightens, his body language unmistakable. Fahrenbacher’s bigger and burlier but something about the way Tyler carries himself makes me think it would be a mistake to tangle with him. I’ve a feeling Tyler’s mild exterior hides raw passion. I hope Fahrenbacher has figured it out, too.

  “Friend?” Fahrenbacher raises his eyebrows, his expression disbelieving. “Have you started slumming?”

  In a movement too fast to follow, Tyler slams him up against my old truck. It happens so quickly, I barely have time to process what’s happening.

  “Fight,” a pimply-faced freshman sings out. Most of the students are already in their cars or out of the parking lot. The ones left come running.

  “Tyler, let him go.” I tug at his arm. Taut muscles beneath my hand quiver and jump.

  “You owe her an apology.”

  “She’s going to be waiting a long time,” Fahrenbacher spits out. “Now let me go before I tear your freaking head off.”

  The students around us quiet and quickly disperse. It can only mean one thing. I glance around and see Mr. Myers, the basketball coach, striding toward us. “It’s Mr. Myers.”

  Tyler drops his hand and takes a reluctant step back.

  Fahrenbacher straightens and pulls away from the truck. He raises his chin and straightens his collar in typical male fashion.

  “What’s going on here?” Mr. Myers stares at the boys suspiciously. He’s tall and rangy, and wears his light brown hair cropped close to his head, his blue striped shirt tucked neatly into khaki pants.

  “Just changing Piper’s tire.” Tyler’s easy smile is firmly in place. He squats down, picks up the jack, and slides it under the seat.

  “I suggest you all quit loitering in the parking lot. Fahrenbacher.” He shifts toward Fahrenbacher, his gaze level.

  “Just leaving.” His shoulder slams against Tyler as he strides away.

  Tyler’s eyes spark and his jaw hardens, but only for a second. He calls in a casual voice after Fahrenbacher, “I’ll catch you later.”

  Fahrenbacher stops and looks back, his expression full of menace. “I’m counting on it.” He stomps to his car, guns the motor, and drives away. Once out of the parking lot, he squeals the tires and peels out.

  “Tyler.”

  “Yes, Mr. Myers?”

  “Whatever issues you’ve got with Fahrenbacher, keep it off school grounds.” He pauses before he adds, “Watch your back.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Myers turns and trots back toward the school building.

  Tyler and I stare at each other.

  “You be careful.” I pluck at a piece of lint on my pants. Not that it’s noticeable in the baggy creases.

  “You be careful.”

  Before I realize what he means to do, Tyler reaches out, grabs my shoulders, and gives me a light shake. His touch electrifies.

  I stare at him, mute, before common sense returns. I step away and he drops his hands. I wonder if he felt that current of electricity, too. By the way his eyes darken, I suspect he has.

  My gaze wanders to his mouth. If such a light touch has this effect, what would those delectable-looking lips be like? My breath catches, appalled at the direction my thoughts take.

  He clears his throat. “I can take care of myself. But you are so tiny a good breeze could blow you away.”

  I lift my chin. “You couldn’t possibly know that.”

  “Those edgy cheekbones don’t show on someone buried in fat.”

  “My glasses hide my face.” I touch my cheeks, self-conscious.

  “Unless you happen to be looking from the side.” He grins.

  “Why are you looking at all?” I shoot back.

  “Damned if I know. It’s certainly not your winning personality and I have no idea about your looks.” He grins as he gives me a once over. “You look like you’re in disguise.”

  His grin lights me up inside. I fight off its effect. “It’s not a disguise. It’s me.” It’s all I can do not to gag. This? Me? Ha!

  “Are you going out on the boat with me tomorrow?” He shifts his weight just as he shifts his conversation, catching me off guard.

  “I already told you, no, I’m not. And, I repeat, you shouldn’t either.”

  “If you change your mind, call me.” He rattles off his number before he ambles away.

  Mentally, I toss up my hands. Why do I bother?

  Chapter 6

  Sunlight filters through the blinds. I roll out of bed, pad to the window, and draw them up, blinking in the bright light. Raising the window, I sniff the breeze. Beneath dazzling sunlight, I smell the storm. By the pressure in my head, it’s going to be a doozy. The doctor blames the pain on sinuses. I know better.

  I reach for my cell on the nightstand and call Holly. She gave me her number when we were doing the girlie thing over lattes. The phone goes to voice mail. I glance at the clock. Eight AM. She must still be sleeping. Maybe Tyler changed his mind.

  I let the blinds drop. Still dressed in the pink boxer shorts and white French tee I slept in, I head for the kitchen. The rich scent of brewed coffee beans tickles my senses as I wander into the cheery yellow room.

  “Hi, Hon.” The papers rattle but Gramps doesn’t look up. He sits at the pine table, a mug of steaming coffee at his elbow. A coffee ring stains the tablecloth.

  I pull out a white cup and bowl, pour myself a cup of coffee, fill the bowl with milk and cereal, and sit down.

  Gramps folds his paper and drops it on the table. “You’re on your own for dinner. I’m taking a couple of tourists out.”

  “Better not, Gramps. Squall’s coming in.” I spoon a mouthful of crunchy flakes into my mouth.

  “Crap, I was saving for a trip to Jamaica.” He gives a disgusted sigh, pushes the chair back, and stands up. He doesn’t argue. He never has. He trusts my instincts implicitly.

  I grin. Gramps has been saving for that Jamaican trip ever since I can remember.

  “Should I batten down the hatches?”

  “Wouldn’t hurt anything.” My head’s pounding like a drum. Even the coffee doesn’t help. The storm’s going to be bad.

  “I guess I better let my old buddies know my arthritic knee is acting up. They’ll spread the word.”

  I nod and scoop up my cereal. Gramps’ knee is legend. The number of times it has been right has garnered him respect in the fishing community.

  I swallow my cereal and clear my throat. “If you see that new boy at the docks, you might let him know.”

  “Tyler Carlisle?”

  I lift my gaze from my bowl. “You know him?”

  “He likes the water,” Gramps says simply. “I’ve run into him a time or two.”

  “Nothing gets past my grandparent.” I raise my cup to him.

  “Not if it has to do with the water. I’ll be on the wharf, anyway. I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

  “Thanks, Gramps.” My tight muscles relax.

  “Nice-looking young man.” He picks up his cup and sips. His eyes above the rim twinkle.

  Heat surges in my cheeks. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Huh.” His head bobs up and down as if surprised, but his lips twitch. He sets down his cup. “Well, I better get to the wharf and let everyone know what my knee is predicting.”

  I nod and rub my forehead.

  He notices. “Headache?”


  “Yeah. It’s going to be intense.” We both know I refer to the squall, not my aching head.

  “I’ll get going then.”

  I nod. It might not be flashy but our tag team routine saves lives. I scoop my spoon into my bowl and hit bottom. I finished my cereal without even realizing it. The chair scrapes the floor as I push up and rinse out my bowl.

  I try Holly’s cell again. Tyler’s a teenager, surely he isn’t up this early, I console myself.

  “Hello.” A sleepy voice answers on the other end.

  I go limp with relief. “Holly, it’s Piper. Is your brother there?”

  “I doubt it. He was going out on his sailboat. He leaves at the crack of dawn.”

  “Could you reach him on his cell?’ My hand tightens on the phone. Darn the boy. Hadn’t I told him it was not a good day to be on the water?

  “Nope. He doesn’t have a booster or a mini tower.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Before I can click off, Holly asks, “What’s going on?” She sounds more awake.

  “Gramps’ knee is acting up. A sure sign bad weather is coming.”

  “That’s nice of you to give us a heads up. But don’t worry about Tyler. He’s an experienced sailor.”

  “Good to know. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Since I’m up—”

  I pretend not to hear and click off. Maybe Gramps is having better luck. I pour myself another cup of coffee and hit speed dial. “Gramps, any sign of Tyler?” I draw circles with the warm cup on the counter.

  “I just got here. I’ll call you back either way, okay?”

  “Okay.” The pressure at the base of my skull creeps downward. I scrub the back of my neck. Holly said he’s a seasoned sailor; maybe he won’t go that far out. Maybe he’ll have enough time to make it home.

  The minutes tick by. I pace, waiting for Gramps’ call. By the time the phone rings, my head feels like a jackhammer is drilling a blast hole through my skull.

  “Hello,” I speak breathlessly into the mouthpiece.

  “Piper, it’s Holly.”

  Crap.

  “I was wondering if you wanted to do anything today.”