The Twisted Road to You (Perfect, Indiana Book 4)

by Barbara Longley

  He could manage to make a few basic meals, enough to keep himself fed, but nothing that smelled as good as what was wafting into his bedroom right now. Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, he sat up and struggled to come fully awake. The second shift would be downstairs now, and he was sure Ted or Noah would’ve filled them in about Carlie and her son.

  Yawning, he stood up, stretched and moved to the master bathroom. He took care of business, splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth. A shower could wait. He had a woman in his kitchen, and the wonderful smells filling his apartment hinted that said woman could cook. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt and headed down the hall.

  The sight that greeted him sent his heart into a tumble worthy of the Olympics. Carlie stood at the stove, stirring the contents of a large pot. Tyler worked on homework at the kitchen table, and Rex was stretched out by the boy’s feet. For the first time ever, his apartment looked and felt like a home. Plus the place smelled like heaven.

  Carlie smiled at him over her shoulder, and his insides mustered to attention. Even with her eye blackened and her lip swollen, she was so damn pretty she took his breath away. Knowing she was under his roof where he could protect her sent a surge of heat through him. It felt right, like somehow she was supposed to be there.

  No! Carlie was a threat to the fragile peace he’d managed to scrape together out of the ruins of his life. If having her there felt right, if he got used to her presence, his heart would break for good when she left, and she was bound to leave. This was temporary. He’d best not get used to it. Too much had happened to him over the years. He wasn’t fit for cohabitation. What if he had a flashback or a nightmare with Carlie or Tyler nearby? Would he hurt them? He’d heard about veterans who’d attacked the people they cared about while in the throes of a flashback, and he didn’t want to be that guy.

  Still, it didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate a good meal. “What smells so good?”

  “I made smoked-ham-and-split-pea soup. I also made biscuits. I hope you’re hungry.”

  “When did you go grocery shopping?” He frowned. “Tell me you didn’t go by yourself.”

  “I didn’t go by myself.” She turned off the flame under the soup and moved to her purse where it hung on one of the pegs by the door leading to the back stairs. Pulling out a small leather-clad canister, she held it in the air for him to see. “Ted and Cory bought this for me today. It’s a combination of pepper spray and Mace. Cory carries one, too. They also took me and Tyler to the grocery store. We weren’t alone, Wes.”

  “Good.” He ambled over to the coffeemaker and got things ready to start a pot brewing. This was his morning, after all. “What are you working on, Tyler?”

  “Spelling,” he said, sparing a glance for him. “Ms. Hoff says if we all get at least eight out of ten correct on our next spelling test, we’re gonna have a popcorn and games party next Friday.” He sat a little straighter. “I already do better than that on all my spelling tests.”

  “It’s a good thing we stopped at your school and picked up your assignments today. I wouldn’t want you to fall behind.” Wes chuckled and tousled Tyler’s sandy-blond mop of hair. “I’m not surprised you do so well in school, partner. I knew from the get-go you were a smart kid. Do you have any other homework?”

  “Yep. Reading and math.” He beamed. “I already did it.” He turned back to his spelling practice. “Math is my favorite.”

  Rex got up to greet Wesley with a cold nose nudged into his palm. He scratched the dog behind the ears while grinning like a fool. Silly, really, but he was proud of Tyler. Carlie was one hell of a mom, and she did it all on her own.

  “Dinner is ready.” Carlie opened the oven door, pot holders in hand, and pulled out a cookie sheet filled with golden-brown biscuits. “Put your homework away, Tyler, and go wash your hands.”

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  “Wash your hands and set the table.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Rex, rug,” he commanded. The dog went to the rug by his food and water bowls and circled around a few times before dropping to his belly.

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so used to talking to Tyler like that. I—”

  “No worries. I don’t mind.” Wes washed his hands at the kitchen sink, and then he set the table as ordered.

  Carlie ladled out three bowls of soup and brought them to the table. Then she filled a plate with the biscuits and put them in the center, along with butter, strawberry jam and honey. His mouth watered. He poured himself a large mug of coffee and headed to the fridge for cream. “What do you two want to drink?”

  “Tyler will have a glass of milk, and I made sweet tea.” She shrugged. “I know it’s not summer anymore, but I drink the stuff all year long.” She took off the apron she’d been wearing, hung it on a hook on the wall and called for Tyler. “He starts playing in the sink and forgets what he’s supposed to be doing.”

  “Yeah, my younger brothers and sisters used to do the same thing. I hear Toby does that, too. It’s no wonder Tyler gets along with Noah’s son.” Wes set Tyler’s milk on the table and returned to the counter to pour Carlie’s tea.

  “How many siblings do you have?” she asked, peering up at him.

  Wes placed her beverage down and took his seat. His stomach made an embarrassing rumbling noise. “Five. I’m the oldest, so I ended up taking care of them. A lot.”

  “Ah. That explains why you’re so good with Tyler.”

  Another surge of warmth washed through him, this time sending color to his face. “You think I’m good with him?”

  “I do. You helped Tyler today by making him feel important. You gave him tasks to do so he felt included, and you distracted him from his fear. You’d make a great dad.” Her eyes met his for a second, then darted away. “I’m surprised you don’t have a family of your own.”

  His mouth went dry, but then Tyler returned to the kitchen with his hair dripping wet. A good thing, too, because Wes had no intention of touching upon the subject of his lack of family. “How’d your head get so wet washing your hands?” he asked with a mock scowl.

  Tyler shrugged his skinny shoulders and slid onto his chair. “I don’t know.”

  Carlie laughed, and Wesley shot her a grin. “In what state did you leave my bathroom, I wonder?”

  “Indiana.” Tyler’s face scrunched with confusion. “Right, Mom?”

  “That’s right, kiddo.” Carlie grinned.

  Wes barked out a laugh. “Well, that’s good.”

  Tyler’s gaze shot to his mom. “Can I play video games after supper?”

  “We’ll see,” she answered, splitting a biscuit and placing it on her son’s bread plate. “Eat. The food is getting cold.”

  Wes took a biscuit and settled into his meal in earnest. He was on his second bowl of the hearty soup, and on his third biscuit slathered with butter and jam, before he came up for air. “I don’t remember the last time I ate so well. This is by far the best split-pea soup I have ever had.” He leaned back and patted his full stomach. “My compliments to the cook. To show my gratitude, I’ll do the dishes.”

  Stuffing half the biscuit into his mouth, he was gratified to see Carlie’s face light up. She looked mighty pleased with his praise. If praise led to more meals like the one he’d just inhaled, he’d lay it on as thick as the strawberry jam he’d spread on the warm, buttery biscuits.

  “How do you usually spend your evenings?” she asked, rising from her place. “The only time I ever see you is early in the morning after your shift.”

  “Hmm.” Wes began gathering the dirty dishes. “Generally I go for a run, or head to Boonville to the gym where I work out. Then I hang out with friends, read or watch TV before work. I go to a PTSD support group with Noah, Ryan and Kyle on Thursday evenings. It used to be on Tuesdays, but we had to change it to accommodate Noah’s kids’ after-school activities and schedules.” He stood up and took the dishes to the sink.

  “What’s PTSD
?” Tyler asked, slipping from his place at the table. He grabbed his silverware and empty glass and carried them to the counter by the sink.

  “PTSD stands for post-traumatic stress disorder. Severe trauma can change a person’s brain chemistry, and those of us who have PTSD need to learn how to cope.”

  “Oh.” The kid’s face fell. “Do you think I’m gonna have it? You know, because of what happened . . .” His mouth turned down and his blue eyes grew huge and bright.

  “You know what?” Wes crouched down in front of him. “You’re going to be all right, Ty, but I don’t think we ever get too big for a hug now and then. Do you?”

  Tyler shrugged his shoulders again, and a lump formed in Wes’s throat. He held out his arms, and the little boy kind of collapsed into him. He hugged him close and ran his hands up and down Tyler’s back. “It’s going to be OK, partner. Me and the other guys here at Langford & Lovejoy are going to make sure you and your mom stay safe. You have my word; I won’t let anything happen to either of you.” Tyler sniffed, and Wes’s T-shirt felt damp where the kid burrowed his face against his shoulder.

  “If you want, Rex can sleep with you on your bed.” He looked to Carlie for permission. Her own eyes had grown bright with the sheen of tears, and she nodded. “Rex is a retired military dog,” Wes said. “He’s a soldier, just like me. Did you know that?”

  Tyler sucked in a few gulps of air and shook his head. “Do you think he’d do that—sleep on the bed, I mean?”

  “I’m sure he would. I never let him on my bed, so sleeping on yours would be a special treat.” Wes gave the kid one more hug and let him go. He stood up and ran his hand over Tyler’s head. “Feel better?”

  “Yeah.” He swiped at his eyes. “Can I play video games now, Mom?”

  “On your tablet,” Carlie told him. “That’s all we have with us for now.”

  Tyler patted his hand against his thigh. “Come on, Rex.” The dog’s ears went up, and his tail wagged.

  “Go ahead, boy,” Wes said to his dog. The two new friends ran together down the hall to the room Tyler had chosen. It hadn’t surprised Wes at all when he’d learned Tyler had taken the room between the master bedroom and the third bedroom at the end of the hall. Tyler had placed himself between the two adults. For safety.

  “Wesley,” Carlie said, a telltale quiver to her voice.

  “Hmm?”

  “Thank you.”

  “No thanks needed.” He squirted dish soap into the plastic tub in the sink and started the water. The kitchen had a dishwasher, but he preferred to do his dishes by hand.

  “There must be something I can do to repay your kindness.”

  “Well”—he shot her a hopeful look—“I sure wouldn’t mind if you wanted to make a few more dinners for me. I’m not much of a cook myself.”

  Her expression softened. “It would be my pleasure.” Carlie picked up a dish towel and came to stand next to him. “You wash and rinse. I’ll dry the dishes and put them away.”

  A simple task, domestic, yet it filled him with a pleasure he’d rarely known before. Dangerous. He’d just managed to shake himself out of his reverie when her arm brushed against his as she reached for a bowl to dry. His pulse leaped. “You smell good.” He stifled a groan. He should not have said that out loud.

  “It’s the dryer sheets I use for the laundry.” Carlie grinned at him. “I’m not wearing any perfume.”

  “Oh.” He nodded, wondering what brand she used, so he could get the same kind.

  “I don’t like the idea that my car is still out at my place. I wouldn’t put it past my ex to steal it,” she said, breaking his train of thought.

  “Give me the keys, and I’ll have one of the guys head out there with me tonight on our break. I’ll drive it here and park it out back.”

  She caught his gaze and held it, sending his heart into a thumpfest in his chest.

  “That would be great.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “What do you want for supper tomorrow night?”

  “Do you make meat loaf? My mom used to make this meat loaf recipe with ketchup and brown sugar on the bottom of the loaf pan. I haven’t had it for years, but boy, I sure did like that recipe.”

  Carlie laughed. “I don’t have the ingredients to fix it for tomorrow, or the recipe, but I’m pretty sure I can find something similar on the Internet. You’re easy to please, Wes. I like that about you. You have no idea what a relief it is, and I don’t think the words exist for me to tell you how much I appreciate your help.”

  “Hearing you laugh is enough, Carlie. I like the sound of your laughter.” The temperature in his kitchen rose a few degrees, and the little bit of space between them thrummed and arced with the magnetic pull of sexual attraction. Did she feel it, too? Probably not. Wes concentrated on washing the few remaining dishes. “You want to put that soup in a plastic container so I can wash the pot?”

  “Hmm?” Carlie blinked up at him, her face flushed and her pupils slightly dilated. “Oh, the soup. Sure.” So it wasn’t just him. She wiped her hands on the towel, put it on the counter and looked at the cabinets. “Where do you keep things for storage?”

  “Last cabinet underneath the counter.” The sweatpants he had on weren’t doing much to hide the effect she had on him. He moved closer to the counter and forced his thoughts to other things, like how he’d like to pummel Carlie’s ex into the ground. He needed to keep his focus on the task at hand—keeping Carlie and Tyler safe. Once Carlie’s ex was back behind bars, his life could return to normal. Between the two of them, he and Carlie had enough issues as it was. Neither of them needed to add sexual tension into the mix.

  Wes heard footsteps and Tyler’s voice coming down the back stairs. He glanced at the clock. He’d already made arrangements with Noah to start and end his shift a little earlier so that he could walk Carlie to the diner at six in the morning and then take Tyler to school when it was time.

  Tyler jumped down the last two steps. He already had on his jacket, and his school backpack hung from a shoulder. Rex trailed behind him.

  “Hey, little dude,” Miguel said, giving Tyler a high five. “Good morning, Carlie. You’re looking . . . umm . . . a little less . . . swollen this morning.”

  Ken grunted. “Subtle, Miguel. Real subtle.”

  “Thanks, Miguel.” Carlie smiled and nodded to Ken and the other two guys on the night crew.

  “You and I are going to walk your mom to work, Tyler,” Wes said. “We’re going to hang out there for a while, have breakfast, visit with Jenny and Harlen, and then I’ll take you to school. Is that all right with you, partner?”

  “Sure. Can Rex come?”

  “Not this time,” Carlie said, running her hand over a cowlick in her son’s unruly hair. “We don’t allow dogs in the diner unless they’re service dogs.”

  “What’s a service dog?” Tyler’s face took on the scrunched-with-curiosity look already familiar to Wes.

  Tyler had an inquisitive nature. He asked a lot of questions, a sign that his brain was always working. Wes grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and slid his arms into the sleeves. “It means a dog that has been specially trained to help individuals who have disabilities, like a Seeing Eye dog.”

  “Oh.” The scrunched look remained. “Rex is especially trained, too. He helps me.”

  “He can’t come to the diner with us, partner, but you can help me take him outside before we go.”

  “OK.” Tyler’s shoulders dropped in defeat for a second, but then squared up again. “Can I hold his leash?”

  “If you want.” Wesley reached for the leash and hooked it onto Rex’s collar. He handed the looped end to Tyler.

  “I think I’ll come along to help.” Carlie joined her son by the back door.

  The three of them walked out of the building together. Dawn was just beginning to show on the horizon, and the day promised to be clear. Wesley sucked in a deep breath of the autumn crispness chilling the air. He turned Tyler toward the patch of gra
ss, just as Carlie gasped.

  “What is it?” He swiveled around to see what had her spooked. She pointed, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her hand trembled. Tension tightened his muscles, and he automatically went into fight mode. A note had been placed under her windshield wiper. She started toward her car. He reached for her hand and stopped her. “Don’t touch it, Carlie.”

  He fished into his jacket pocket and took out the roll of small plastic bags he used to pick up after his dog. “I’ll get the note. You stay with Tyler and Rex.” He searched the shadows, rooftops and windows for any sign of Jared as he made his way to Carlie’s Ford. He tore off a bag, and using the flimsy plastic like a latex glove, he tugged the note from under the wiper. Then he moved under the security light mounted above L&L’s loading dock doors. Using the baggie, he opened the folded note as if it might be an IED about to explode in his face. He read the handwritten words scrawled onto the white surface.

  I’ll get to you and Tyler, Kara. Don’t think I won’t.

  Wesley pulled the flimsy plastic up over the note until it was securely enclosed. Evidence. Jared had abandoned the stolen car. How was he getting around? He raised his eyes to find Carlie staring intently at the biodegradable green baggie in his hand.

  His jaw clenched, and he seethed. Asshole didn’t know who he was messing with. No way was he going let that punk get past him. Jared was never going to hurt or terrorize Carlie and Tyler again. Not on his watch.

  Even in the dimness thrown by the fluorescent security light, he could see Carlie shaking. Keeping his distance be damned. He strode across the alley and pulled her into his arms. Her breaths were shallow puffs of warm air against his throat, and she trembled from head to foot. Keeping his eye on Tyler and Rex, he tightened his hold around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. “He’s nothing—just a coward trying to bully and scare you into compliance.” He rocked her back and forth. “I’ve got your six. I’m not going to let that man get anywhere near you or Tyler.”

  “My . . . six?”

  “Yeah, your back. I’ve got you covered.”