by Sandra Cox
This time when Fahrenbacher charges, Tyler steps to the side and swings out with his leg, catching his opponent on the thigh.
Fahrenbacher stumbles, turns and swings wild.
“He’s playing with him.” Holly shifts to the right for a better view.
“Who’s playing with whom?” I shift with her.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not from here it’s not.”
Tyler pivots on his heel and kicks backward, catching Fahrenbacher in the gut with his foot. When Fahrenbacher doubles over, Tyler whirls and clips him on the jaw and he crumples.
Tyler stands poised on the balls of his feet, his fists clenched.
Fahrenbacher shakes his head and lumbers to his feet. He lunges and grabs Tyler in a deadly embrace, squeezing.
Hunching his shoulders, Tyler puts his hands together and brings them straight up, breaking the embrace, then claps his hands against Fahrenbacher’s ears. I squint. It looks like he’s holding back.
Fahrenbacher staggers like a drunken sailor. It doesn’t look like Tyler exerted himself at all.
His fists raised, Edgar the Asshole shakes his head.
“Quit playing with him, Tyler, and finish it,” Holly mutters.
I glance at her out of the corner of my eye but can’t keep my gaze from her brother. As if he heard her—they are twins after all—he twists his hip, throws out his right arm and clips Fahrenbacher on the jaw.
Fahrenbacher’s eyes roll back in his head and he goes down.
One of Edgar’s buddies races forward. He taps Edgar on the face. “Come on. Wake up.”
Edgar moans and starts to sit up.
With the exception of myself and Holly, the crowd surges forward. The guys clap Tyler on the back and the girls ooh and ahh. I shake my head and turn to Holly. “How’d he do that?”
“Let’s go to the Cat and grab a latte. I’ll tell you all about it.”
We trudge in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Since we’re the first to leave, we beat the inevitable crowd. Everyone else must have the same idea. By the time we grab a booth, the place is filling up.
I take a long sip of the iced caffeine-laden chocolate beverage and begin to feel better. My heart has quit thumping like a jackhammer and my pulse rate is almost back to normal.
“Okay, give.” I lean back against the wooden bench.
Holly lifts her straw and licks off the whip cream. She plunges it back in her drink and takes a long sip then sighs with pleasure.
Impatient, I shift on the bench.
“Has Tyler ever talked much about our family?”
“Uh, no. Is there a connection here?” I wrinkle my brow, confused.
She laughs. “Yeah. He spent one summer with our cousins in Chicago. He learned a lot about street fighting.” She grins.
“Ah.”
At that moment, the noise level rises. Excited chatter breaks out around us. I don’t need to look to know who’s walked in.
I wait till he and his retinue move to the front to order then surge to my feet. “Holly, hate to drink and run, but I’ve got to get going. See ya tomorrow.”
“Bwak, bwa, bwa, bwak, bwak.” Holly tucks her hands into her armpits and flaps them, making chicken sounds.
“Sticks and stones, etc. etc.” I turn and flee.
Chapter 10
Beulah grumbles, spouting smoke as I push for more speed. I need the ocean. It’s the only thing that can calm me, give me peace. Cool water pulling at my body, surging and pulsing around me. I can almost feel the waves beckoning me; hear the soft murmur of the sea. I press harder on the pedal and Beulah wheezes up the slope.
I pull to a stop in a cloud of dust. White smoke from the tailpipe pollutes the environment. Gramps’ truck is not in sight. He’s probably down at the docks. I hop out and run into the house. In my room, I shed my nerd apparel down to a hot-pink two-piece. I often wear my two pieces under my outfits so when I shuck my clothes, I’m ready to rock and roll.
I leave a note for Gramps affixed to the fridge, let myself out of the house, and trot to the cliff’s edge and dive.
Tension lifts the moment I’m in the water. I watch the glorious play of colors as sunlight glistens on the surface and lightens the water.
Everything’s okay. As long as I can swim, I can survive.
Something smooth and cold nudges my belly. Startled, I pull up my feet and glance down. A dolphin grins at me and chatters. I chatter back. She swims beside me, brushing me gently with her body. I grab her fin and swim alongside, letting her pull me.
We play this game for a while. Two larger dolphins join us and begin to chirp. With a nudge of her nose, the smaller dolphin leaves me to join her parents. I wave at her. She flicks her tail at me.
I exhale and smile. Bubbles roll out of my mouth. She’s just what I needed.
I take a quick swim through the cove, looking around while I dog paddle. I don’t see anyone and head to shore. Water streaming from my body, I stand and wring out my hair. The setting sun warms my shoulders and throws a red glow on the waves.
Scrunching sand between my toes, I head toward the path that leads to our house.
I’m almost to the pathway when he steps out from behind the ancient Douglas fir that grows next to the dirt track.
Chapter 11
“How long are you going to keep screwing with me?” Tyler’s hands are shoved into a black windbreaker, his cheeks flushed as if he’s running a fever.
Holy Shit. Fear momentarily freezes me. It quickly turns to sizzling anger. How dare he track me down like an FBI agent looking for someone on the most wanted list? I clench my fists. It takes everything I have not to take a swing. All I’d get from that would be broken knuckles, though the fantasy of doing some damage is tantalizing.
I uncurl my fingers, force myself to relax, and arch my eyebrows. “Do I know you?” I change the timbre of my voice, make it higher. It strains my throat.
He blinks and looks confused. Then his lips relax and he shakes his head. “Nice try, but I’m not buying it.”
“I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” Damn him. Damn him. Damn him. Why has he pushed this and put me in this situation? I force myself to relax.
“Yeah, I sure have. With a classmate who hides behind shapeless clothes and glasses. But I’m pretty sure I know how to straighten out the confusion.”
He reaches out and pulls me into his arms. His warm lips cover mine, gentle but thorough. I rest against him, enjoying the pull in my stomach and the tingle that runs down to my toes.
The cry of a gull overhead brings me back to my senses. I push against him. It isn’t much of a shove but he lets me go.
“Yup, you most certainly are Piper.”
I go from sexual tension to pulse-pounding rage in seconds. Hands fisted on hips, my chest heaving, I spit out, “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“I think the question is who are you? I’m pretty open about my identity.”
“Do you think I’ve gone to the lengths I have to disguise myself for grins and giggles?” By now, I’ve given up all attempts to disguise my voice. Not only am I making no effort to mask it, but it has risen several decibels.
“Do you think I enjoy dressing in the most unflattering costumes I can find?” My breathing coming hard and heavy, I lean in. “Do you think I enjoy being made fun of or, worse yet, looked through? Scraping my hair back so tight it gives me a headache? Wearing god-awful glasses I can barely see through?
“Who do you think you are, invading my privacy? Kissing me whenever you feel like it? Do you do that with every girl you spend time with? And what was that fight about today? All you did is draw attention to me. Stars save me from hormonal boys.” By now I’m really wound up.
Halfway through my rant, I’ve wiped the smile right off his face. He asks quietly, “Why do you wear a disguise?”
“It’s none of your damn business.” I st
alk past him and head up the trail, fuming. The sound of a kicked pebble alerts me. I whirl, sliding a bit on the sandy trail. He reaches out to help me. I swat his hand away. “What are you doing?”
“I said I’d teach you to kick Fahrenbacher’s ass, remember?”
“Right now I’d rather kick yours.”
“Uh, yeah, I got that impression. I’ll show you how it’s done, then you can have a go at me.”
I study him, considering. The idea holds appeal. “All right, you’re on.”
His smile comes perilously close to being a smirk, but he’s smart enough not to crow over having won. I grab a branch and hoist myself up along the trail, Tyler still at my heels.
We reach the top of the trail and walk in the back door of the little bungalow. “Gramps,” I call out.
“In the kitchen, hon,” he yells back.
I stalk to the kitchen, Tyler close behind me. “We’ve got company.”
Gramps turns around.
“Hello, Mr. Dunn.”
Gramps takes in Tyler’s appearance with commendable calm. “Tyler.” He nods before raising his eyebrows at me.
I shake my head.
“I was just about to fix some burgers, care to join us?”
I close my eyes and bite back a groan.
Tyler looks at me. “Piper?”
“Do whatever you want,” I snap, pulling plates out of the cabinet. He will anyway.
“Don’t mind my granddaughter. She gets testy when she’s hungry.”
Tyler laughs. “I came over to teach her some self-defense moves. Do you mind, Mr. Dunn?”
Gramps pauses, his hands on the cast iron skillet. He straightens. “Does she need them?”
“It’s always a good idea to know how to defend one’s self.”
“Don’t be a politician, boy. Does she need them?”
“Fahrenbacher’s been giving her grief. I can handle him when I’m around, but I’d like to know she can take care of herself when I’m not.”
Gramps nods.
“Would you two stop talking about me like I’m not here?” I clench my jaw in frustration. “He fought Fahrenbacher today.” I give Tyler an evil look. “You have no more sense than a gnat. You nearly drowned. You can’t be completely recovered.”
Gramps ignores my tirade and turns to Tyler. “Did you win?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” He turns back to the stove.
“I don’t believe this.” I throw my hands in the air.
“Dinner’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”
“I can show you some basic moves in that time,” Tyler tells me.
Gramps turns back. “What kind of moves you got in mind, boy?” Though his voice is gruff, there’s a twinkle in his eyes.
Heat floods my face. “Gramps!”
Tyler clears his throat. “Self-defense, sir.”
“Good. Go. Go.” He waves his spatula at us before turning back to the stove.
“Give me two minutes to throw on sweats.” I race down the hall, pull on sweats and a tee, and am back, if not in two minutes, under five.
We walk outside. There’s a clear spot filled with soft thick grass just past the patio. The sky has turned to a violet that will darken to rich ebony in another few hours. Stars make their appearance. The patio light throws a soft yellow glow on the grass where we stand.
He moves toward me, his arms outstretched. My heart thumping, I swat them away. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
He laughs, a sound singularly Tyler, rich and full of life. “That makes teaching self-defense a bit of a challenge.”
“You’ll manage,” I say shortly.
He starts to circle me. I circle with him.
“If you think you can outrun someone, do it. If not, use the element of surprise.” He continues to circle me. “Don’t be the victim, be the aggressor. You’re not going to take any shit from me.”
I grin.
He doesn’t. “Give me some attitude. Move in and slap your hands over my ears.”
I remember him doing the same thing to Fahrenbacher. I step in and clap him smartly against the head, both hands over his ears. He winces and nods. “That’s it. But if someone had been attacking you for real, you’d need to put all your strength into it.”
“You didn’t with Fahrenbacher.”
He gives me a surprised look. “Was it obvious?”
“You held back.”
“I wanted to sting him, not break his eardrums.”
“But I want to?” We continue to circle each other.
“If someone comes at you intending to hurt you, you hurt them first, especially if it’s a guy that’s got weight and muscle on his side.”
I nod.
He grabs my shoulders.
“Hey, I said no touching.” I squirm but his grip only tightens.
“Do something about it.”
I lift my knee but he jumps back without letting go of my shoulders. From there he moves his hands to the back of my neck. “Okay, now fist your hands together, put them inside my arms, and push up.”
I clench my hands and thrust up. Surprise surges through me when his arms fall away. I chortle gleefully. “Let’s do that again.” I like this one.
“Fine. Only this time, after you break my grasp, clap my ears.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”
He snorts.
We circle and practice the two moves he’s shown me.
“Dinner’s ready.” Gramps stands in the doorway. I don’t know how long he’s been watching.
We drop our arms.
“That’s great. I’m starved.” Tyler pushes his hair back from his forehead.
To my embarrassment, my stomach rumbles in agreement.
Tyler chuckles.
Gramps heads back to the kitchen with Tyler and me at his heels.
“I need to wash up.” Tyler states the obvious. I point to the little bathroom down the hall and go to my bathroom to do the same. By the time I get to the kitchen, Tyler has made himself at home, putting ice in the glasses, and pouring iced tea.
I hold my stomach in to keep it from rumbling. Gramps puts a basket of fries on the table and a plate of burgers. I get the condiments.
We sit down and dive in. I saturate a fry in ketchup, pop it in my mouth, and glance at Tyler. He smiles at me, the burger inches away from those luscious lips. His eyes widen. The burger plops back onto his plate.
“What’s wrong?” I lean forward.
Gramps’ forehead wrinkles, his expression concerned. “You okay, boy?”
Tyler gives a weak smile. “I’m a goner.”
“Excuse me?” I half-rise to my feet intending to feel his forehead. He’s looked flushed all evening.
He motions me back and shakes his head, his voice bemused. “Between that voice and those eyes, I don’t stand a chance.”
Gramps harrumphs into his napkin.
I roll my eyes. “Oh, please.”
“Your geek look is to keep us poor saps away,” he says with conviction.
I glance at Gramps. His lips twitch. He shoves a huge bite of burger in his mouth, but his eyes continue to twinkle. A piece of melted cheese plops on his plate, distracting me.
“Yeah, that’s right.” I take a gulp of iced tea. Not that I need my system jump-started more than it already is.
“Where did you learn your self-defense moves, Tyler?” Gramps tries for a little diplomacy.
“My cousins.” Tyler picks up his burger again and this time manages to get it between his teeth.
“Not from around here are they? I haven’t heard of any other Carlisle or Carlisle kin in these parts.” Gramps has polished off his burger and is working on his fries.
“Nope. Chicago.”
“That explains the self-defense.” Gramps grunts.
Tyler nods. He chews on his burger and studies me. “Gonna tell me about those eyes and that si
ren’s voice?” He gives me that quick quirky grin. “I could listen to it forever.”
“It does sound like angels singing,” Gramps adds softly.
“Well?” Tyler cocks his head and looks at me.
“No.” I toss my napkin on the table. My stomach feels queasy. I’ve no idea whether it’s the grease or the question.
Tyler opens his mouth, no doubt to protest, but before he has an opportunity, Gramps says, “Son.”
“Yes, sir.” Tyler turns his attention to Gramps.
“You’re young, but I can tell you’ve been raised a gentleman. A gentleman doesn’t push if a lady isn’t of a mind to share her secrets. He also keeps his lips closed about what he knows of her.” His gaze holds Tyler’s.
“You don’t need to worry about that, sir. I’d never break a trust.”
“Didn’t think you would.” Ice cubes clink against glass as Gramps picks up his iced tea and drinks.
Tyler turns his attention to me. “You’re an excellent swimmer.”
I take that to be Tyler’s attempt at noncontroversial conversation. Thanks to Gramps, I’ve dodged another bullet. I look at him calmly eating his supper, his hands perfectly clean but gnarled with the beginning of arthritis. A rush of love overwhelms me. What would I do without him?
Tyler clears his throat, waiting.
I focus my attention back on him. For an instant, I forget to breathe, lost in the clear blue of his eyes. Everything else recedes into the background, even Gramps. His gaze, holding mine, grows intense. I can swear heat rises from the table.
Gramps clears his throat. “Would someone pass the salt?”
My breath goes out in a whoosh. I feel somewhat better when Tyler blinks. He looks as bemused as I feel.
Gramps mutters, “Young’uns,” and shakes his head.
I pass the salt before turning my attention back to Tyler. “Tell me about your cousins.”
He leans back against the chair, balancing it on two legs and gives me a speculative look before smiling in a manner that causes demons to dance in his eyes. “We have some secrets of our own in my family. When you’re ready to exchange family skeletons, let me know. I’ve got stories that will curl your hair. I’ll tell you mine when you tell me yours.”
