Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  It wasn’t as if anyone needed her for anything. Lucy had everything under control in the kitchen, and Dan had kept busy all night turning out a steady, and apparently endless, stream of food from the grill. He kept trying to get her to eat something, and she appreciated his concern, but the heavy, greasy smell of the smoke was not sitting well with her stomach tonight.

  One of the cats pattered down the stairs and stopped to rub against her arm. She opened her eyes. “Hey there, Bouncer,” she addressed the big wheat-colored tomcat, idly stroking his head. He had saved her life at least twice, first by calling her attention to a gas leak in the kitchen, and again by scaring Glenn, who had been severely phobic. Now, he crawled into her lap and curled up contentedly. She sagged back against the wall and closed her eyes. Just another few minutes, she promised herself. Just five minutes. Or maybe ten.

  The evening was going much better than she’d expected. Marsha had been right, she could handle this. Why had Lucy been so nervous about it? Her parents had been very cordial. At least... as cordial as it was possible to be to someone who, after they’d befriended her, and accepted her as a guest in their home, had repaid their kindness by leading their daughter astray, and seducing the nephew they considered almost a son.

  Not that it had actually happened that way, of course. But that was apparently how they chose to remember it, judging from the somewhat strained expressions on their faces when they had greeted her earlier that evening.

  Rose and Joe senior had risen from the white wrought iron chairs that had been part of the patio’s furnishings for as long as she could remember.

  “Hello, Scout.” Joe nodded at her.

  Rose embraced her quickly and just a little awkwardly. “I can’t believe it’s been so long since we’ve seen you, dear,” she murmured. “You’re looking well.”

  “Thank you. It’s good to see you, again, too,” she returned their greetings warmly. “You both look wonderful.”

  And they did, too. If you ignored the looks of pained uncertainty they wore – as if they were afraid to even contemplate what she might decide to do next.

  “And this is my Aunt Lillian,” Lucy said, the grimness in her voice matched by the grimness in her aunt’s expression as Scout turned toward her future mother-in-law.

  Grim. Remote. Distrustful. With just a hint of challenge. Now, where have I seen that look before? Scout wondered, but only for an instant, then the answer crashed over her and a huge smile broke across her face. Oh. Of course. So, that’s where he gets it from.

  “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said, impulsively reaching out to grasp her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  She wasn’t certain, but she thought she saw a glint of something in the older woman’s eyes. Humor? Surprise? Belligerence? It was gone again, almost immediately.

  “Thank you,” Lillian answered, her voice as cool and as dry as the clasp of her hand in Scout’s. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you, too.”

  Thinking about it now, Scout couldn’t help smiling all over again. She didn’t care how difficult the woman was rumored to be. It was hard for her to be all that frightened of anyone who looked so much like Nick.

  She could handle this.

  But probably they would all be a whole lot easier to handle, if she didn’t keep disappearing on them like she’d been doing. She really had to get back to her guests.

  Scout opened her eyes reluctantly, to find three more cats staring up at her. She had inherited the cats along with the house, following her stepmother’s death. But it was Nick who’d named them.

  “What’s up, guys?” she crooned softly. Cupcake, Scrabble and Fog regarded her in inscrutable silence. When she had first moved back here, she’d found all those unfathomable, unblinking stares unnerving. It was funny how quickly she’d come to find their presence comforting. Still, there were an awful lot of them, and she had considered, more than once, that perhaps they should find other homes for at least a few of them. Nick, however, had been adamant.

  “Are you kidding me? No way,” he said flatly when she’d hesitantly brought the matter up.

  “But do you really want to keep all of them? You’re sure you don’t mind?”

  “They saved your life, isn’t that what you told me?” The look he gave her was just as implacably unwavering as anything the cats could manage. “They stay.”

  “Oh, Scout. There you are.” She looked up to see Marsha crossing the hallway, with Sam close behind her. “Listen, I’m gonna go. You’ll be okay now, right?”

  “Yeah.” Scout yawned, dislodging the cat on her lap, who jumped off and regarded her reproachfully before turning tail and sauntering away down the hall toward the kitchen. “I’m just tired, is all.”

  “I’ll bet. I remember what that’s like.” Marsha’s voice held a little too much understanding. Scout glanced at her sharply, but she’d already moved on. “So, how are things going with you and Nick’s mother? You two seemed to be getting along okay, huh?”

  Scout shrugged. “Yeah, great. Except she wants me to go to church with her tomorrow morning.

  “Yeah.” Marsha grinned at her. “I heard that part... Jen.”

  “Ohh,” Scout groaned, dropping her head into her hands, “Don’t start!”

  “What kind of name is Scout, anyway?” Nick’s mother had inquired, a forkful of sausage and peppers halfway to her lips. She regarded Scout with a querulous frown. “Is it some kind of family name?”

  “Actually, I got it out of a book I was reading when I was ten.” Scout had been conscious that conversation around the table had stopped once again, and she took a small, fortifying sip from the glass of iced tea she was holding. “You know, To Kill a Mockingbird’?”

  Lillian’ s eyebrows rose. “What do you mean you got it out of a book? You mean it’s not your real name?”

  “Well, it is now. I changed it.”

  “From what? What’d your parents call you?”

  “Until I was ten, my father called me Jen. Or Jennifer. That was what I was christened.”

  “Jen, huh? Well, at least that sounds like a person’s name.” Nick’s mother shrugged and speared another piece of sausage. “I’ll call you that, then.”

  “Nobody calls her that, Aunt Lil,” Lucy objected. “Nobody’s ever called her anything but Scout since as long as I’ve known her.”

  “Is that true?”

  “Well, yeah. Kind of.” Scout felt herself coloring.

  No one except Nick during those few, memorable weeks, all those years ago. And, even now... every once in a while... on certain occasions.

  She struggled to pull herself together. “I mean... that’s really what my name is. Now.”

  “Okay,” Lillian shrugged, dropping the subject as if it held no interest for her, using a piece of bread to mop up the juices on her plate. She chewed for a moment longer in silence. Then, just as Scout was beginning to relax, she fixed her with another piercing look. “You said christened. Are you Catholic?”

  “Well, sort of. I mean I was baptized and everything.”

  “Good.” Lillian turned to her niece. “Lucy, don’t bother stopping to pick me up on your way to church tomorrow morning. Scout can take me.”

  “But” Lucy started to say something, and then stopped again. Momentarily nonplused, Scout could think of nothing to say.

  She watched as Lucy’s face was transformed by a slow, irrepressible smile. An evil, mischievous look that Scout recognized all too well. Oh, shit. Payback time.

  “Sure, thing, Aunt Lil,” Lucy said. “Mass is at ten-fifteen, Scout. I guess we’ll see you there.”

  “I can’t believe Lucy did that to me,” Scout groaned again, lifting her head and looking at Marsha. “What was she thinking? I haven’t been to church in twenty years.”

  “Well, I have,” Marsha answered dryly. “And it’s not like it’s changed a whole lot. You’ll do fine. Lucy probably just wanted company. Maybe I’ll go too, come to think of it. The three of
us can get all nostalgic together, thinking about our lost youth.”

  “You’d do that for me?” Scout smiled teasingly. “Now, that’s true friendship.”

  “Huh. Think so?” Marsha sighed, glancing over her shoulder at Sam, who was retrieving his jacket and the bags from her hall closet. “Believe me, Scout, showing up at church tomorrow morning is going to be nothing compared to tonight. But don’t worry about it. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “You about ready to roll?” Sam asked as he handed Marsha his jacket. His eyes were shadowed, and Scout couldn’t help but think his expression had turned a little grim.

  But then, so had Marsha’s voice, as she answered, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Sam seemed like a nice guy, Scout thought as she closed the front door behind them. And he and Marsha certainly looked cozy down at the center this afternoon. It was too bad he was only in town on a visit, she thought. It would nice if Marsha had someone in her life.

  “You miserable creatures! Get the hell out of here!” Lucy’s voice drifted out from the kitchen, followed by a resounding crash and an explosion of fur as six cats shot down the hall and up the stairs.

  Oh, good, Scout thought, with a sense of relief as she headed for the kitchen; a crisis. Finally. This she was used to. This she could definitely handle.

  * * *

  “You about ready to call it a night yet, Nick?” Darcy asked. She’d been fidgeting for the last hour, Nick realized, as he rubbed the back of his neck. A little out of practice, are we, Boyle, old buddy? He suppressed a grin. What did he have to grin about anyway? He was pretty tired himself. So, maybe she had a point.

  “Yeah. Might as well. We’re not gonna get anything else done tonight.” He closed his eyes, as he stretched the kinks out of his back. Sorry, Paige. We’ll get there, I promise. Just not today.

  “So, uh, you need a ride home, or anything?”

  Home. Nick smiled as he thought of that. Scout. Kate. His mother. Oh, shit. He stopped smiling. How was that going, he wondered? And what could he do, at this point, to help diffuse the situation? Well, for starters, he could always dilute the mix. Give the sharks a little fresh blood. A ride? Yeah, that sounded like a good place to start.

  He opened his eyes again. “Darcy, you’ve met my family, right? Well, it just so happens we’re having a little party tonight. And I know they’re gonna love seeing you again.”

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Ten

  * * * *

  Sam finally brought the bike to a stop in the parking lot behind Beach Hoppers, and Marsha took her first deep breath in several minutes. She felt her heart begin to recover from the too rapid pace engendered by the ride. At least, she was pretty sure it was the ride itself – the speed and the power and the noise – that had done it. Pretty sure it had nothing to do with the way she’d been plastered to Sam’s back, so close that she was sure he could feel every hitch in her breath. Just as she had felt every shift of every muscle as he sped up or slowed down, or leaned into a turn. He’d done that a lot. All that turning and shifting and leaning. His muscles bunching and tensing, and shuddering in ways that should have distracted her from the panic that set in within a few blocks of leaving Scout’s house. Except he’d been driving too fast for her to think of anything else. Really fast. Faster even than on the way out there, when there was still enough light to see by. So fast that she no longer felt as though they were merely speeding rather recklessly, through a dark, foggy night, but as if they were falling. Hurtling through the endless, icy-cold blackness of space.

  And with just one solid object left to hold onto, in all the vast, lonely emptiness of the universe, she was damn sure gonna hold on tight.

  She was still holding on. Her body had apparently decided that fusing itself to Sam’s for the duration of the ride represented its best chance for survival. Her muscles had not quite gotten the message that it was safe to let go.

  She hopped off the bike as quickly as her reluctant muscles would allow. “Well, thanks for the ride,” she said peeling off the jacket and the helmet and pushing them toward him. “And for the jacket and everything and—” she trailed off as she realized he wasn’t even listening to her.

  From across the parking lot, music poured out of Beach Hoppers. The hot, seductive lure of the Latin guitars had obviously worked their spell upon him. He stared across the lot as though entranced. His breathing fast and shallow, his expression rapt. He’d obviously forgotten her existence.

  So soon? Disappointment seized her. She’d hoped to be a little more memorable than that.

  Sighing, she glanced over at the patio as well. Brightly colored lanterns strung on wires overhead illuminated the dining area. Flames flickered in the large outdoor fireplace. She recognized the piquant fragrance of burning almond wood, as well as the sweet scent of lemon blossoms from the surrounding trees. The chatter of the patrons mixed with the music, and the clatter of dishes and silverware to create an intoxicatingly exciting atmosphere.

  Glancing back at Sam, she smiled at the dazed look that still transfixed his face. It was such an expressive face. She especially liked his mouth. His lips, framed by mustache and beard, looked unexpectedly soft and sensual. As she watched, they curved upwards, rather suddenly, in a small, heart-stoppingly sexy smile, and she caught her breath.

  “Would you like to get a cup of coffee with me?” his lips asked, and for an unforgivably long moment, she failed to realize they were addressing their question to her.

  Her eyes flew up to meet his. An all-too-knowing amusement had replaced the dark enchantment that burned there a moment earlier. She felt herself blushing yet again. “Uh, n-no. Thank you, I-I think I’d better go,” she stammered.

  “Tea, maybe?”

  “No, really. I—”

  “All right, if you’re sure.” He shrugged, looking just a little puzzled. He glanced around the lot. “Some other time, perhaps. Where are you parked?”

  “Oh, right over there,” she told him, gesturing vaguely in the direction she knew her van to be. The fog had set in with a vengeance and that whole end of the parking lot was lost to it.

  “What?” He frowned at the featureless wall of mist. “You can’t possibly see through that?”

  “Oh, no. Of course not. I’ve got terrible night vision, even without the fog. But you know, that’s where I left it, so...”

  “Well, I’ve got excellent night vision myself and I still don’t see anything out there. But whatever you say. Hop back on. I’ll drive you over to it.”

  “Oh! No, no,” Marsha felt her heart jump just at the thought of getting back on that thing. “That’s not necessary. Really. I can walk from here, thanks anyway.”

  He looked at her questioningly. “You know, it’s not like I’m suggesting that you aren’t capable of taking care of yourself, but in case it’s slipped your mind, a woman was just killed down here today. You really want to go wandering around by yourself? In that?” He motioned toward the fog bank, and she felt chills wash through her. But there was still no way she was getting back on that bike.

  “I, I’m sure. I’ll be fine. Really.”

  “Sure,” he agreed. “More’n likely, but why d’you wanna take the chance?”

  “I just can’t, that’s all. I can’t get back on, on...”

  He studied her more closely. “You’re afraid of the bike?” he said at last, sounding shocked by the idea.

  “I, I just – I have a slight problem with speed, is all,” she admitted. “And with driving at night, in general.”

  “Well, but – shit, you should have said something,” he told her. “Is that why—?” he broke off with a low, rueful laugh.

  “I don’t believe this.” He shook his head as he climbed off his bike and she felt her heart pick up again as he moved closer. “C’mon then,” he said grimly. “Let me walk you to your car.”

  * * *

  “This where you live, Nick?” Darcy asked, climbing out
of the car and taking a look around. She sounded impressed. “Pretty sweet, bud.”

  “Yep.” Nick looked around as well. He tried to see the graceful old Victorian with new eyes, but it was hopeless. The mingled pain and pleasure the sight brought him had been years in the making. He’d spent too many years on the outside of this house, waiting and watching, hating and hoping. Luckily for him, the inside of the house held only good memories. “Very sweet,” he said as he grabbed her hand. “Let’s get inside.”

  Lucy was in the kitchen, pulling the tray of cannoli he had made last night out of the refrigerator. She looked up as they came in. “Well, it’s about time! Jesus, Nick we—” she broke off as she saw Darcy. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her voice dropped several degrees closer to freezing. “Oh. Hello.”

  “Luce, you remember Darcy, right?” Nick said, frowning at the pastries in Lucy’s hands. He was hungry, but he sure wasn’t ready for dessert. “Hey, we still have some real food left, don’t we?”

  “Yeah, of course. It’s outside,” Lucy said, looking confused as she turned back to Darcy. “What’re you doing here? I thought you’d left town.”

  “I’m back for a visit,” Nick heard Darcy explain, cool as ever, as he crossed to the refrigerator and pulled it open.

  “You’re visiting Nick?” Lucy did not sound pleased.

  “Not exactly. I—”

  “She’s helping me with the case, Luce,” he interrupted. “What’re you drinking, Darce?”

  Lucy scowled at him. “The drinks are outside, too. Along with the rest of your company.” She turned on Darcy once more. “How long are you—”

  “As long as I need her,” Nick couldn’t resist teasing. He pulled open the cabinet next to the refrigerator and took a bottle of cabernet from the wine rack inside. “Gee, look what I found. Sure looks like a drink to me. Darcy? Wine okay? How about you, Luce?”