The Rebel Daughter (Daughters Of The Roaring Twenties Book 2)

by Lauri Robinson

  “Not so close,” Forrest said, pulling her back a few steps. “There. Now, when it’s time, you swing the ball behind you—” he swung her arm backward as he spoke “—and take three steps forward and let go of the ball.”

  It sounded easy enough, and having always enjoyed games, Twyla nodded. “Got it.” She also gave him the thumbs-up sign before she stuck her fingers and a thumb into the holes in the ball. He grinned and though it was hard to pull her gaze off his dimple, she managed to turn her attention back to the game. While the boys at the other end set up the pins again, she watched the other bowlers. By the time her pins were in a perfect triangle, she was holding the ball before her face. The boy at the end of her lane waved before ducking down and she prepared to swing her arm backward.

  This was going to be so simple, and once she proved how easily she could master bowling, she would convince Forrest how much help she could be in his fight against Galen Reynolds.

  To her utter surprise, the ball slipped off her fingers. A great crashing noise followed. Twyla spun about, opening only one eye, half-afraid to see who she’d hit. The chairs and little table sitting there had toppled, but Forrest, Jonas and Scooter were all still standing.

  “Sorry,” she said, rather sheepishly.

  Jonas gathered her ball from where it landed and carried it back to her. “I did that once, too,” he said. “You gotta keep your fingers curled until you let the ball go forward.”

  “Gotcha,” she said, taking the ball he held out.

  Her first ball rolled directly into the gutter. The second one managed to knock over one pin.

  Forrest stepped up to the alley next and with the ease of Babe Ruth throwing a baseball, he sent the ball rolling straight into the pins. All ten toppled.

  Her competitive nature kicked in. “There’s something wrong with this ball,” she told Forrest, holding up her ball.

  “Is there?”

  “Yes,” she insisted. “I’m going to get a different one.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said, laughing.

  By the time Scooter and Jonas had thrown their balls, she had a new one picked out and stepped up to the line. Then, very carefully, she took three steps backward and hoisted the ball before her face. Taking perfect aim, with her eyes glued to the center pin, she swung the ball back and then forward. It bounced once, but rolled straight down the lane and hit the front pin, scattering the other nine in all directions.

  Jumping for joy, she spun around. “See? You’d given me a faulty ball. On purpose, most likely.”

  Forrest’s grin widened.

  She turned to where Scooter was writing on a piece of paper. “What’s that?”

  “I’m keeping score,” Scooter said.

  “Score?” she asked, turning her gaze to Forrest.

  The gleam in his eyes was as bright as the sun. He nodded.

  “No wonder people like this game,” she said. Scorekeeping always made games more fun, and she was all about winning.

  Chapter Nine

  Forrest waited until Twyla was invested in the game before he snuck away. Once in his office, he picked up the receiver and waited for the line to be connected to the resort. When a voice came on, he paused slightly before asking, “Is Ty Bradshaw there?”

  “Who’s calling, please?”

  “Forrest Reynolds.”

  “Hold, please.”

  The next few moments seemed to take hours while Forrest contemplated if he’d made the right choice. Ty seemed to have Norma Rose under control, and therefore, he would be the best one to come and get Twyla. Forrest kept one eye on the door. Though Twyla was focused on winning the bowling game, she’d question his absence and could burst into the room at any moment.

  “Ty here.”

  “Ty, its Forrest. You need to come get Twyla.”

  “Why? Is she hurt?”

  “No, she’s fine. She’s bowling right now. I just don’t want her to drive back to the resort alone.” Checking that the door was still shut tight, he added, “A man who’d been in jail with Galen, Nasty Nick Ludwig, was here a short time ago. I’m not sure where he went, but wouldn’t put it past him to follow her.”

  “I’ll be there shortly.”

  Forrest hung up and arrived back at the lanes just as Twyla was rolling her second ball. She jumped up and down and then spun around when the last three pins fell. “Where’d you go?” she asked. “Jonas bowled for you.”

  “I had something to see to,” he answered, before thanking Jonas for rolling a spare for him. He played it up, saying the boy would soon be the Plantation’s champion bowler, ultimately taking away Twyla’s opportunity to ask more questions. Once the pins were set back up, he took his turn at bowling and then sat down on a chair beside Twyla.

  She was all smiles and laughter right now, but two things could quickly change that—losing at bowling and discovering he’d called Ty to come and get her.

  The latter of those two couldn’t happen fast enough. Being next to her, watching her bowl and laugh, made everything else in his life fade into the shadows. If he wasn’t careful, he’d soon be recalling the kiss from earlier today. In fact, he didn’t need to recall it. He was already craving another one like there was no tomorrow. Her antics were drawing attention, too. Men on both sides of them were cheering each time she knocked over a pin, and when it was her turn to bowl, the rest of the alleys went quiet. Even the billiards room had spectators peering out the door.

  Forrest couldn’t help but wonder if any of these men had visited her kissing booth. Had they paid a dime to taste her sweetness and catch a feel of those perfect lips? That, too, had him feeling things he hadn’t experienced for a long time. It had taken him a while to realize he was jealous, and once he did understand that, it didn’t settle well.

  He kept glancing toward the door, wishing Ty would hurry up and dreading his arrival at the same time. She’d be furious, and a furious Twyla could put on a show for the customers like they’d never seen before.

  When Twyla came in last—even though he’d purposely thrown a couple of gutter balls to lower his score—Forrest was surprised that she didn’t try to cajole Scooter and Jonas into bowling another game.

  Her smile never faltered, and Forrest had an eerie sensation he should be worried about that. After saying farewell to Scooter and Jonas, she turned that smile on him.

  “I need to use the powder room.”

  He gestured toward the separate men’s and women’s bathroom doors near the billiards room.

  “Thanks, I’ll be right back.”

  Forrest couldn’t stop from watching her walk away, even though he tried. His gaze scanned lower, all the way to her heels, which made him frown. She didn’t appear to be favoring one foot over the other, but there was a large red blotch on the back of one ankle.

  He positioned himself to keep one eye on the front door, and the other on the ladies’ room. When Twyla exited, he walked back to meet her halfway and took her elbow. “Why didn’t you tell me you hurt your foot? Was it on the plane?” He’d been racking his brain to remember if she’d tripped or stumbled while climbing up or down but couldn’t recall such an event.

  “No,” she said. “I didn’t hurt it on the plane.”

  “Here? Bowling?”

  She shook her head.

  “You must have,” he insisted. “You’re bleeding.”

  She stopped and lifted a foot, twisting it so she could examine the heel. “The blister must have burst.”

  “New shoes?” he asked.

  A pink tinge covered her cheeks, yet she began walking again with her head up. “Yes.”

  “Doesn’t it hurt?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said. “But I’m choosing to ignore it.”

  He kept one hand on her elbow and led her through the dining roo
m. “How’s that working for you?”

  She made a cute little guffaw. “How do you think?”

  In the front entranceway, he unhooked the velvet cord across the stairway. “I have bandages upstairs. Will that help?”

  Grinning, she shrugged. “It can’t hurt.”

  They encountered Jacob halfway up the stairs. While ignoring the man’s raised eyebrows, Forrest told him they’d be upstairs if anyone asked. He had no doubt Jacob could read between the lines and would send up Ty as soon as he arrived. Jacob might add a bit more between the lines, too, but for now, Forrest wasn’t going to worry about that. He did, however, wish he’d spent a bit of time repairing his apartment.

  It wasn’t shabby or messy, but it wasn’t up to the standards Twyla was used to. At one time it had been a rather lavish living space with a full kitchen, living room and three bedrooms. It still had all the rooms, but the peeling wallpaper and the kitchen cupboard doors that had been ripped off their hinges detracted from what it once had been.

  Arriving at the door, he turned the knob and gestured for her to enter, freezing slightly when a little voice in the back of his head reminded him how alone they’d be for a few minutes. There would be plenty of time for a repeat of the kiss they’d shared at the hangar.

  “I’ve never been up here.” Her stride slowed and she turned around, flashing those sparkling blue eyes his way. The shine dimmed slightly. “Did you have a party up here?”

  “No,” he said, closing the door behind him while thinking more about being alone with her than the apartment. “Someone broke into the place between the time when my mother and Galen left and I arrived.” He wanted to bite off his tongue.

  “Broke in? Goodness.” She started across the room, to the wall between two windows that overlooked the parking lot. “What did they take?”

  Concerned she might see Ty pulling in to the parking lot, Forrest followed. “They damaged more than they took. The bathroom’s this way. That’s where the bandages are.”

  She stopped before reaching the windows, but didn’t follow him to the bathroom, the only door that hadn’t been destroyed. Standing in the center of the room, with the colorful but worn Persian carpet beneath her feet, she asked, “What were they looking for?”

  Forrest stomach dropped. Trust her to pick up on that immediately. Playing ignorant, he asked, “Looking for?”

  Frowning while glancing around, she nodded.

  Forrest wished he knew. It must have been something to do with printing money, or the printed money itself. He had yet to figure that out. He glanced around the large area that made up the all-in-one kitchen, dining and living room. Everything from the kitchen cupboards behind her had been tossed about helter-skelter and paintings had been torn down off the walls. He’d cleaned it all up and resurrected what could be saved. “Anything worth money, I suspect,” he said, hoping she’d believe that.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  He sighed, but then an eerie quiver coiled around his spine. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because this rug I’m standing on, although it needs a good cleaning, is worth a goodly sum,” she said. “So are those two vases on the mantel.”

  Leave it to Twyla to pinpoint the few things in the room that were original and worth money at one time. His grandfather had left several valuable items when he’d died, but they’d long ago been sold. Forrest stepped forward and held out one hand, which she readily took hold of. “The rug is heavy and bulky to carry, and the vases are cracked.”

  The warmth of her fingers against his skin ran up his arm and down his legs. The gleam was back in her blue eyes and challenging him in a secret and exciting way. She’d mastered that teasing glimmer years ago, and he had no doubt she’d used it on plenty of men since then.

  “What about that ashtray on the table?”

  His mind was not on the ashtray—he was too captivated by how perfectly her lips moved when she spoke. How delicate the fine line surrounding them was, and remembering how sweet they’d tasted.

  “What about it?” he asked, before he completely lost his mind and kissed her again.

  “It’s jade, and I’d guess it’s also rather priceless.” Lifting one eyebrow, she added, “And not heavy or cracked.”

  She licked her lips and nibbled slightly on the bottom one, knowing full well what she was doing. Forrest would have liked to say it wasn’t affecting him, but that was a lie. He was about to crack.

  Stepping forward, Twyla used her free hand to tug at his collar. A fingertip slipped down to tap on one of the buttons of his shirt. “I could help you look for other valuables,” she whispered.

  There was no question what she was doing. Forrest, however, was questioning how many men she’d practiced her wiles on. “Girls who play with fire can get burned, Twyla. You know that.”

  “How could I?” she asked, saying far more with her eyes than her lips. “You never let me play with fire. Whenever we lit anything, even a candle, you were the only one to strike a match.”

  She was driving him crazy. He’d never wanted to kiss a pair of lips so badly. “I don’t believe we’re referring to the same type of fire,” he said, close to her mouth, giving her back a bit of what she was dishing out.

  She didn’t back away. “I think we are.”

  Forrest drew in air, searching for a response that didn’t include kissing, but failed. The moment her lips met his, he lost all comprehension. He’d kissed plenty of women over the years, dated some for months to get to know them. At least that’s what he’d believed he’d been doing, whereas, in reality, he’d been comparing them all to her. To the way she’d made him feel way back when they’d been kids running barefoot through the grass and jumping off the rope swing hanging over the water.

  Her body was far more mature than it had been back then. The delicate curves beneath the silk of her dress were as perfect as he’d imagined. This was the real reason he’d never come home. Seeing Twyla and not acting upon that reckless, rebellious and youthful love some never experienced was impossible. He’d known that years ago.

  Forrest considered pulling away from the kiss, but her lips, her mouth, her tongue all teased and coaxed his into a competition of wills he couldn’t lose. There was too much at stake.

  The wild give-and-take of their kiss slowed and became far more intense, affecting other parts of his body. Namely his heart. His heart was Twyla’s. It had been for years, and he felt as if it had just cracked open, preparing for his mind to agree and reveal his best-kept secret.

  He managed to keep that from happening, just barely, and released her lips with a few small and delicate kisses. The kind of kisses she deserved. She may act the part of an experienced woman, but he sensed she was as innocent as she’d been when he’d left home.

  Glorying in the way she fit perfectly against him—which was not so different from how he took the time to appreciate flying into a sunrise—Forrest tucked her head beneath his chin and simply relished holding her for a few minutes.

  “You haven’t changed a bit, Forrest,” she whispered. “You’re as gentle and kind and caring as ever.”

  Forrest opened his eyes and glanced around the room, at the shattered remnants of his past, and he, too, sighed. “Everything’s changed, doll. Everything’s changed.”

  She lifted her head and Forrest wasn’t prepared to answer the questions in her eyes, so he released his hold and took her hand. “The bandages are this way.”

  * * *

  Twyla cursed her blister silently, while following Forrest into the bathroom, where he let go of her hand to open a small cupboard door. He was right, everything had changed. Inside her, that is. Or maybe it hadn’t changed. After all, she had been in love with him once before. He’d been her first true crush. Way back when he’d made her insides warm and her knees weak as if she’d
lost all coordination. That had happened again, and she lowered herself onto the toilet.

  “Do you need some help?”

  She glanced at the hand he held out.

  “I found some iodine,” he said.

  “That stuff burns.”

  “Yes, but it will make the wound heal faster.”

  She took the little brown bottle and the bandage tin. “Thanks.”

  “Do you need help taking off your shoe?”

  For a moment she wondered if he would remove it and her stocking, if she asked, and how enticing that might be. The thought made her cheeks burn. She may act the part of a doxy to get her way now and again, but had always retreated or escaped before things went too far. Her motto had been to leave them wanting more, but it wasn’t that way with Forrest. She was the one wanting more. Sighing, she shook her head. “No.”

  “I’ll wait for you in the other room.”

  Twyla waited until he’d closed the door before looking up, and then she let out a long breath. Kissing him was something she could do all day, every day, but that wasn’t any more likely to happen now than it had been way back when. The fact he’d been Norma Rose’s boyfriend hadn’t stopped Twyla from having a crush on him before. His leaving had stopped all that. That was bound to happen again, whether Galen Reynolds was released or not. Her father had told her Forrest was set on acquiring an airmail route from the government.

  Twyla set the bottle of iodine and the tin on the edge of the sink and removed her shoe before tugging up her dress to unhook her stocking from the garter. Though her heel was still bleeding slightly, dried blood had stuck the stocking to her skin. She managed to get it off without tearing a hole in the silk and dropped it in the sink. The blood would stain if she didn’t get it rinsed out. After applying the iodine, which stung as badly as she remembered, she covered the area with a bandage and then removed her other shoe and stocking. Going without any was better than wearing just one stocking.

  After rinsing the stained one, she draped them both over the edge of the sink and picked up both shoes. The iodine made the blister sting too badly to be further irritated with shoes.