by Conley, Anne
She spoke to him. “It’s okay. That’s my boyfriend. He’s working on the neighbor’s roof.” Calling out, “I’m in the kitchen, Brent!” She stifled her smile at the idea of calling Brent her boyfriend.
The officer relaxed a little as Brent barreled into the room and pulled Casey close to him, enveloping her in a bone-crushing hug.
“Jesus, Case. Why are the cops here? I thought you were hurt or something.” His ragged voice was endearing, but she dreaded his reaction to her intruder.
“Sit down and listen, Brent.”
“You can start over, I’ll make sure my notes are accurate,” Officer Sanchez said.
So Casey started over, telling of coming home to find the half-empty chili can on the counter next to the paper towel with remnants of grated cheese on it, then using her super-sleuthing skills to determine that a hot dog and bun were missing before cleaning up everything and moving on with her afternoon.
“I thought it was my mom, until she came home.”
“And you have no idea of who might have wanted to come in and make supper?”
“No.” She shrugged. It sounded pretty stupid when he put it like that. But Brent’s mouth was agape.
“Somebody broke into your house while you weren’t here?” She nodded and watched the steely glint come into his gray eyes while he clenched his fists.
“Nothing else was disturbed? Did you look around the house?”
“Nothing else is missing or messed up that I’ve noticed.”
Her mom interjected. “I know it doesn’t seem threatening on the surface, but this is a clear case of breaking and entering. Shouldn’t you dust for fingerprints or something?”
Officer Sanchez’ face softened. “I didn’t mean to sound like this is something funny. It is serious.” He turned to Casey. “Did you wipe everything down when you cleaned up the mess?”
Chagrined, she nodded.
“Then there’s probably no fingerprints to find. I’ll take a look around, if you don’t mind. You should change your locks today. If you can’t get someone to come do it today, you both should look into staying somewhere else until you get it done.”
“I’ll change their locks, and Casey can stay with me.”
“I’m not leaving Mom here alone with a crazy man coming in and out of the house! Are you nuts?” She had started out this entire chore with a sense of calm, but everyone else’s nerves were wearing off on her. She could feel sweat break out on her palms at the idea of staying, but she couldn’t leave her mom, could she?
“Your mom can come too. I’ve got a spare room.” Brent said simply.
Gloria shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve lived in this house for forty years, I’m not leaving because somebody came in and fixed himself a chili dog.” She looked at Casey. “You go ahead and stay with Brent, I’ll be fine.”
Looking at Officer Sanchez, she said, “We’ll figure something out.”
He nodded. “Well, you’ve got a file at the station now, we can add to it if anything else happens.” He stood to go down the hallway to the bedrooms. Casey heard a growl of frustration from Brent, before he stalked out the door, reaching for his cell phone as he went.
Casey’s mom rubbed her arm. “It’s okay sweetie. You go on and stay with Brent. I’ll be fine. I’d just as soon you not be here, if whoever did this comes back.”
She rolled her eyes. “Mom, if he comes back and you’re here alone, I would die of guilt knowing I could have prevented it if I’d been here. I can’t imagine someone breaking in if the house is actually inhabited.” She was telling herself as much as her mom.
“Brent’s going to change the locks. Nobody will get in.” She chuckled. “Knowing that boy, he’ll put three locks on each door, and it’ll be tighter than Fort Knox.”
“Well, I’m not leaving you here alone at night. So there.” Casey winced at the churlish tone of her voice.
“Suit yourself. You’re only hurting yourself with that one. I’ll be perfectly safe, and you will be the one without your snuggle buddy.” Casey cringed at her mom’s words. Sure she was an adult, but she still didn’t want to talk about that sort of thing with Gloria.
“Well, until we figure out who did this, I’m not leaving you here alone at night. Snuggle buddy or not.”
Officer Sanchez came into the room then. “You ladies need to keep your windows locked. Every one of your windows without a unit in it was unlocked and pretty easy to open. I locked them all, but you need to be sure they stay that way.” He nodded his head as he gave them each a business card and left.
Casey’s mom got up and started puttering around the kitchen working on something for dinner. Casey went back into her room to work a little more, but was interrupted when Brent came storming into her room.
“You’re going to stay here? Even though your mom said it was okay to come with me?”
The rage in his eyes was palpable. Casey stood, her hands on her hips, slightly amused at his transformation into a temper-throwing toddler. “Yes. I’m not about to leave her alone at night with somebody creeping around. It’s just until they figure out who’s doing it.” She walked over to him and put her arms around his waist. “Then I’ll come stay with you.”
“You know it’s ridiculous. You staying here with somebody coming in and out.”
“The chili-dog bandit?” She raised her head and looked at him, teasing him with her eyes.
His arms went around Casey, hugging her fiercely. “I’m serious. I can’t lose you again.”
She looked up at him, “Being a bit dramatic aren’t we? Change the locks and we’ll be safe. I promise.” She gave him one more squeeze and then let go. “Now, let me get back to work before I lose this gig.” She turned to her drafting table once more, determined to finish something.
He let out a loud sigh, bordering on a groan, and Casey smiled to herself as he left the room. She had just gotten into her project when her mother announced it was time for dinner. Casey grumbled as she got up, deciding to forgo any attempt at work until after everybody else left and her mom went to bed. Then maybe she wouldn’t get interrupted.
Her mother had outdone herself with chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and green bean casserole, and Casey did her best to steer the conversation away from any intruder topics.
“Man, I miss home cooked food.” Brent said, as he wiped his mouth with his napkin.
“Well, you stop by anytime, and I’ll fix you something, Brent.” Her mother’s smile was warm and genuine, and Casey felt the love at the table. Her mom had never really taken to Kevin. She’d always been polite, but never outgoing. The vibes around the table right now made Casey relax into the warm glow of family. This is what she’d come home for.
Brent’s face turned serious. “I really wish I could stay with you guys Mrs. Stewart. But I’ve got to be home at night for my horses. I’ve got a couple that may have trouble, and I need to be there, just in case. But I’ve got Les coming over to sleep on the couch. He owes me one.”
Casey scoffed. Knowing those two, they both owed each other plenty. Les and Brent had been inseparable since practically birth, getting each other into enough trouble to keep Serendipity Police Department on high alert.
Brent shot Casey a sideways glance, telling her he knew what she was thinking. She mimed zipping her lips and smiled sweetly. He nudged her foot under the table with the toe of his boot.
“In fact, I’ve got to get out there now. Since Les is coming here, he won’t be able to help me muck the stalls tonight, and I need to check on things anyway.” He looked at Casey. “Walk me out?”
She stood and followed him out, while her mother began clearing dishes.
On the porch, Brent grabbed the belt loops on her cut off shorts. “Please lock up and be careful?” His eyes burned with a determined focus, and Casey was breathless at the intensity of them. She’d always loved his eyes.
“I will, Brent. Go take care of things. I’ll come out there t
omorrow, if I can get this job done in the morning.”
“I’ll be at Mr. Jackson’s in the morning, then come and get you if you want to come out. I think it’s a good idea for your car to be here, so at least it looks like someone’s home.”
She nodded. He tugged on her belt loops, drawing her closer. “I’ve been curious about something.” He licked his lips, and Casey reached toward his chest and circled a teasing fingernail over his nipple through his T-shirt, pleased at the hiss of breath that came from Brent. “If your panties always match your shoes, what does it mean when you’re barefoot?” His eyes were on her feet, which she carefully placed on top of his boots before lifting herself up closer to his face.
“I wish you could find out,” she breathed into his mouth as he captured her lips in a needy kiss. His hands travelled inside the waist band of her shorts to find the string there before snapping it against her skin. The sharp sting elicited a squeal from Casey as he lifted her up and set her on the porch railing. Trailing hot kisses down her neck, he whispered hoarsely all the things he wished he could do to her. Casey trembled at the thought.
The loud grumble of a diesel engine interrupted them as Les’ ancient pick-up pulled into her driveway. Brent pulled away reluctantly, but Casey was pleased to see the splotches of red marking his cheeks, eloquently illustrating his desire.
Les’ broad frame came up the porch steps, the entire structure seeming to shudder under his footfalls. Les was shorter than Brent, but broader in the shoulders and filled space like a man twice his size. The two men bumped fists and clapped shoulders before Brent kissed Casey once more and left. She turned to Les as he encased her in a spine-creaking bear hug.
“How’ve you been?”
“Never better, Case. How about you?”
“Things are looking up, Les. Aside from this intruder BS, I’m doing great.” She ushered him inside, yelling at her mom that he was here and got him a beer.
They sat on the couch and caught up on years past, two friends filling each other in on their lives. Growing up, Brent, Les and Max had pretty much been inseparable. They had gotten into so much trouble, Brent’s Nana had referred to them as the Terrible Trio. They were infamous for vandalizing houses of teachers and girls who wronged one of the three boys. Unfortunately, Les’s unrequited loves got the brunt of the toilet papered trees, but Casey remembered once, when Max failed Algebra, Mr. Hickerson had gotten an enormous swastika in his pristine lawn when spring time came and the rye grass had grown, bright green against the St. Augustine grass he’d so painstakingly cultivated. The only reason she knew about it was because it had been Brent’s idea, months before hand. They’d just been waiting for an affront so egregious to use the prank.
Les was still attached at the hip to his guitar, having left it in his truck until Casey’s mom gave the okay for him to play it. Of course, Casey told him she wouldn’t mind, but he didn’t get it just yet.
“I want to catch up first. Once I have that thing in my hands, it’s hard not to play it.” She remembered him sitting around at parties, off in a corner, strumming and picking out tunes contentedly.
“Have you done anything with your music?”
He shrugged. “I play at the Gin when Serena lets me, but mostly just for friends. I don’t want to hit the big time or anything. Not anymore.”
She leaned back, peeling the label off her beer bottle. “What do you want to do?”
He shrugged, leaning back on the couch to look at her. “I want to find someone to settle down with. At this point, that’s all.”
“You got your eye on anyone special?”
His gaze dropped. “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure it’s not gonna happen. Her current excuse is her daughter, but I’m pretty sure next year when the daughter goes off to college, she’ll come up with a new one.” He shrugged. “It’s my lot in life.” He closed his eyes and pantomimed a stab to his heart, “Unrequited love.” He began singing “Fool for Love,” making Casey giggle.
They talked for another hour or two, Les telling Casey about his home-building business, and how he’d grown it over the last two years from a handyman service he worked with Max. Then Max had gone and fallen in love, pulling out of the business and going into business with his new wife, Claire. They were expecting a baby. Casey pretended her gut didn’t wrench at that piece of news.
She regaled him with tales of her draftsman work, her failed marriage, and her hopes for the future, which was pretty open at this point. He pointedly didn’t ask her anything about Brent, and she didn’t volunteer anything.
As much as she wanted to gush about Brent and her feelings, she held back. For one thing, Les had never been one much for gushing. And looking at him now, she didn’t think he had changed much in that regard. The other thing was, Brent and Casey’s relationship was too new, too fresh. As long as they’d known each other, the romantic part was too raw, too precarious. They hadn’t seen each other or spoken in so long, there was a lot she didn’t know about him, and she didn’t want to talk about him to Les. She didn’t want to jinx anything.
Her mother went to bed, and Casey got him blankets and a pillow for the couch.
“I owe you, Les. I wish you guys didn’t feel the need to do this, but I do appreciate it.” He had stripped to his boxers in front of her, oblivious to decorum in her living room. But he probably didn’t want to be there anymore than she wanted him there. They were both doing this for Brent. She looked at his strong physique and marveled at his fitness, but felt nothing like the chemistry she felt with Brent. Les was like a brother to her, and there were absolutely no sparks.
“It’s nothing. My bed’s too big anyways.” He said it softly, and Casey heard the wistful tone in his voice, wondering briefly who he was thinking he wanted to share it with.
“Well, she’s a fool if she doesn’t see the awesome guy you are. And if she never does, I promise you there’s someone out there with your name written all over her.”
He snorted at her, pulling his guitar to his lap. “Y’all sure y’all don’t mind if I play a little? It helps me compose myself for sleep.”
She shrugged. “Knock yourself out. Just don’t plug in an amp, and we’ll be fine.”
Casey took herself off to bed with the soft strumming of Les’ guitar in the background of her conscious. He really had gotten better since their teen years, when he played Guns and Roses constantly. Now he was playing something that sounded classical, soft, romantic.
Casey went to her room to work, turning off the window unit, and cracked the other window to let out some of the stale air. As she did it, she reminded herself to close and lock it before going to sleep. Her deadline loomed though, and while she was okay financially, she still needed the money from this huge job, and it sapped her attention. She ended up working for three hours, only stopping when she realized she’d dozed off at her desk, listening to the soft strains of Les’ guitar.
She poured herself into her bed and slept until morning, forgetting all about the open window, not noticing the indentation on the pillow next to her when she woke.
Chapter 12
Brent stopped at Summer’s bookshop on his way to Mr. Jackson’s the next morning, since her car wasn’t at home. He used his key and let himself in the back door, finding her making a pot of coffee.
He brushed a kiss across her cheek. “Feeling better?”
She nodded. “Got my plane ticket, going to do my hair tonight. I’m leaving in five weeks. That’s the soonest I can affordably get there.”
“Good.” He smiled brightly at her, relieved that she was doing something to make herself feel better. He only hoped it worked. If she came back from Europe broken, he’d fly over there, hunt Bo down, and kick the Amazon’s ass. It didn’t matter what Nana had taught him about hitting women.
Summer looked at him appraisingly, and he blushed under her scrutiny. “What?”
“You’ve been talking to Casey…” she mused. “More than just talking, I’d wager…” The cor
ners of her mouth lifted sadly.
“Yeah, well…I’ve been working on Mr. Jackson’s roof, and she’s been staying in her mom’s house across the street. It was probably inevitable that we’d speak eventually.” He opened the mini-fridge and looked around, grabbing a yogurt cup. “Why don’t women eat real food?” Holding up the tiny cup, “Yogurt?”
“It’s good for digestion. So, you managed to put aside your past?”
He turned away, pretending to struggle with the foil-covered lid. “I haven’t told her, yet.”
Summer’s hand on his shoulder stilled his efforts at subterfuge. With a sigh, he turned and looked at his kid sister, so much like the wise old Nana.
“She would understand, you know. Just be honest with her.”
“We haven’t really had time to talk much.”
She smirked and a ghost of her old self returned with the gesture. “Been too busy doing other things?”
“No…” Embarrassed to talk about sex with her, he slammed the yogurt cup on the counter of the kitchenette, inadvertently bursting the foil seal and sending a stream of yogurt over the countertop. He grabbed a dishtowel out of the sink and started cleaning up his mess to hide his embarrassment at the overreaction. “It just hasn’t been the right time to talk about it. That’s all.”
Sensing his need to change the subject, Summer said, “Well, you go on and get to work. I’ve got a store to run.”
Brent sat on the apex of Mr. Jackson’s roof studying it, his thoughts consumed with Casey. He looked over at her house and wondered if she was able to get her work done or if she was consumed by him, too.
Remembering Summer’s words, he promised himself he would tell her about his past. He was dreading it, because everything was going so well, he didn’t want to screw it up. But he knew that the longer he waited, the angrier she would be. He’d already lied about the Buprenorphine strips. Supplements? He shook his head, the feeling of dread spreading through his limbs, weighing them down like tendrils of lead in his veins.
