Lovebird Café Box Set

by Dylann Crush

  “Dinner.”

  Feeling her resistance slipping, I tried to secure the deal. “Sure, dinner would be great. When can you show me around?”

  “Sunday. But first, I need a favor.” She reached into her bag and pulled out what looked like a business card. “Dinner is Saturday night. Seven o’clock at the country club. Dress nice, okay?”

  My fingers closed around the card she handed me. As I scanned the thick black type, my mouth went dry. “Wait. Swallow Springs High invites you to celebrate your fifteenth reunion?”

  “Yeah.” Her face lit up in a giant grin. “I’m Scarlett. You’re going to be my date.”

  4

  Scarlett

  He looked like he wanted to bolt from his stool and never return to Swallow Springs or the Lovebird Café. Which would be a real shame since I wasn’t kidding when I told him those biscuits were to die for.

  “Your date?” He spoke real slowly, like he was afraid I wouldn’t understand English.

  Nodding, I picked up my takeout again. Maybe this day wouldn’t be a complete waste. “That’s right. You want to know where the caves are, and I need a date to my class reunion. I don’t see a ring on your finger and time’s running out. I’m in a pinch so I guess you’ll have to do.”

  His Adams apple bobbed up and down. “Gee, thanks. And you thought my pick up line was bad? Compared to ‘You’ll have to do,’ I think I’d definitely have better luck at a bar.”

  “Your line didn’t work on Buzz.” I shrugged as I cradled the brown paper bag against my chest. “If you’d rather come back another time, after you’ve checked in with all of those agencies you talked about…”

  His pulse ticked along his jaw. He’d just met me, so he had no way of knowing that I was serious. I didn’t make threats often, but when I did, they sure as hell weren’t idle.

  When he didn’t respond right away, I took a different approach. “Of course, now that I know about the potential existence of the precious bats, I suppose we could sell tickets to the public to go see them before I call anyone in to—”

  “You can’t do that.” He half rose off his stool. The cute bat guy riled easily. I’d file that nugget of info away in case I needed it sometime.

  “Sounds like I can, seeing as how you haven’t confirmed the presence of the creepy flying things yet.” Usually I wasn’t so bold, but my run-in with April must have spurred something inside me. She thought I’d been lying about having a date, which, obviously, I had been. She’d probably left the Cut ‘N Curl and sent a group text out to her posse, telling them to give me shit when I showed up alone. Why the hell had I told her I’d have a date on Saturday?

  Because maybe, just maybe, for once in my life I wanted to shut down a woman like April Waite. I’d been the butt of her jokes and the victim of her judgment half my life. Even thinking about her put a sour taste in my mouth.

  I’d almost given up on the bat guy. But then he scrubbed a hand along the scruff on his jaw. “I suppose I could stick around this weekend. If you’ve got bats in the area, I want to make sure we note the location and try to determine the species.”

  Yes! I wanted to do a little celebratory happy dance—the kind that made my son deny any relation to me—but that would probably freak bat guy out even more. So I settled for thrusting my hand at his chest. “Great, we’ve got a deal.”

  He wrapped his hand around mine, causing a cascade of shivers to race up my arm. The bat guy had a firm grip. He also had nice eyes and a set of shoulders that might make any other woman want to cling to him for dear life.

  But not me.

  I needed him for one thing and one thing only— to save face with April Waite. After he got me through Saturday night, I didn’t care what happened to him or his bats.

  He released his grip. “So do I pick you up somewhere or…”

  “I’ll meet you. Where are you staying?”

  His forehead creased, giving him that dark and brooding look that I’d always found irresistibly attractive. “I don’t know yet. Is there a hotel or something nearby?”

  “Hey, Cassie.” I rose to my tiptoes and directed my voice to the kitchen.

  She peeked through the window separating the counter area from the grill. “Yeah?”

  “Is Mrs. Cahill still renting out that extra room at her place?”

  “Against my better judgment. Why?”

  I tilted my head toward the bat guy. “I’ve got an out-of-towner who needs a place to stay this weekend.”

  Cassie pushed through the swinging door and jotted something down on her order pad. “Here, give her a call.”

  Theo reached for the paper but she snatched it back and turned to me. “You know this guy, right? I don’t want to send just anyone over without making sure Dottie will be safe.”

  “He talks about bats for a living.” I stepped back to better evaluate the stranger I’d just propositioned. “I doubt he’s dangerous.”

  Cassie’s mouth twisted up and she turned an appraising eye on the bat guy as well. “People said that about Ted Bundy, too. From what I understand, he was pretty charming.”

  “No worries there.” I dismissed that concern with a wave of my hand. “Bat guy’s not that charming.”

  “You know, I’m sitting right here. If there’s something you want to know, why not just ask me?” His brown eyes held a hint of what might be humor but could also skew more toward concern. “And my name’s Theo.”

  “Fine.” Cassie tilted her head one way, then the other. “So, Theo, are you a charming serial killer posing as a guy who studies bats so you can take advantage of my friend?”

  “Really? That’s the question?” He leaned an elbow onto the counter. “First off, if I was a halfway competent serial killer, I wouldn’t admit it when asked. And second, I don’t even know who your friend is, so how could I be trying to take advantage of her?”

  “Good enough for me.” Cassie handed him the paper. “Make sure you call her before six. She won’t pick up if ‘Wheel of Fortune’ is on.”

  “Thanks.” He sounded a little unsure about what had just happened. I tended to have that effect on people.

  “Great. It’s settled. You’ll stay with Mrs. Cahill and we can meet here at the Lovebird. Shall we say six-thirty on Saturday?”

  Cassie stepped back and eyed us. I could tell she was going to want the dirt on what kind of set up was going down in her café.

  “All right then.” He tucked the piece of paper in the pocket of his jeans.

  I studied him as I picked up my bag again. He’d clean up real nice, I could tell. Underneath that hint of scruff he had a strong jawline, the kind that would make most women swoon. And those eyes. Dark brown like a cup of coffee with a splash of cream. April and her friends would choke on their own saliva from drooling over the man.

  Satisfied with my choice of fake dates, I waved to Cassie. “Thanks for the help. Oh, and give the bat guy an extra biscuit. You can put it on my account.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know your money’s no good here. But I’ll make sure he’s taken care of when it comes to homemade biscuits.”

  “See you Saturday, Theo.” As I pushed through the door and out into the balmy September afternoon, I seemed to have a little extra pep in my step. I supposed that’s how it felt to finally figure out how to best April at her favorite twisted game. She hadn’t always been such a bitch to me. In fact, we’d been besties up until eighth grade. That’s when she got boobs and I got a broken leg from falling off my baby brother’s mini dirt bike. She spent that summer in a bikini at the community center pool while I nursed my wounds reading classic literature and watching sci-fi movies. After that things between us weren’t the same. Going into high school, she made cheer squad while I made the A honor roll and that was that. Our lives took different directions.

  Didn’t matter now. I’d show up with Theo in all of his broody, hunky hotness on Saturday night and give them something to talk about. Something different than the repetitive st
ory they’d been sharing about my life up to this point. Living in a town the size of Swallow Springs meant everyone knew everything about everyone, the good, the bad and the ugly. And for some reason, April had made it her personal mission in life to keep reminding me of all my past mistakes.

  This would be a turning point, I could feel it.

  5

  Theo

  I spent the afternoon talking to the student body of Stockton Junior High but my mind was elsewhere. I’d left it in Swallow Springs, trying to figure out how I’d managed to commit to accompanying the fast-talking bombshell to her high school reunion. I didn’t even go to my own reunions. In my humble opinion, everything that had anything to do with high school was better left in the past.

  By the time I wrapped up my presentation and answered all of the standard questions—like “Have you ever seen a vampire bat?” and “Do all bats have rabies?”—I was ready for the refuge that the local dive motel could offer. I drove through the town’s only drive-thru burger joint then checked into my room. While I appreciated the importance of educating the general public, being on the road all the time was getting old. As I dug into my double burger, wishing it was that fantastic chicken fried steak I’d had at lunch, I pulled out my phone to get caught up on email.

  I clicked on an announcement from the Conservation Alliance. An image of my dad filled my screen. He stood on a stage halfway around the world with my brother by his side. Together they’d discovered a new species of bat and were being honored for yet another major contribution to the field. Meanwhile, I was nursing a sprained ankle from the first cave exploration I’d done in over a year.

  Why did I bother trying to make a name for myself in a field so dominated by the other members of my family? I’d asked myself the same question for years.

  When I was younger, I didn’t have a choice. Dad would load my brother and me up with enough gear to last us a few weeks and we’d hit the road, descending into some of the deepest, darkest caverns in the US. He’d been credited with single-handedly advancing the study of bats through his independent excursions. The Wilder name had bylines in major scientific publications. I’d spent most of my life trying to follow in his very large footsteps with mixed success of my own.

  Finished with my burger, I flipped on the television. The theme song from “Wheel of Fortune” came through the flickering screen. Damn. I hadn’t called the number the waitress at the café had given me. I slid it out of my pocket, hoping Mrs. Cahill wouldn’t take offense if I called during the first commercial break.

  “Hello?” A sweet-sounding older woman answered the phone.

  “Hi. Is this Mrs. Cahill?” I asked.

  She hesitated. “May I ask who’s calling, please?”

  “Of course. I’m Theo Wilder. I got your number from a waitress at the Lovebird Café this afternoon. She said you might have a room I could rent over the weekend?”

  “You must be the bat boy she mentioned. Cassie warned me you’d probably be giving me a call.”

  Bat boy? It was bad enough being called bat guy. But somehow over the course of an afternoon I’d been reduced to a prepubescent bat nerd. Images of the awkward pre-teens I’d chatted with that afternoon jumped into my head.

  It probably wasn’t worth my time or breath to try to set the record straight. “Um, yes, I work for a bat conservation group.”

  “That’s nice, sugar. You can call me Dottie. Oh, you’ll have to hold. Pat and Vanna are coming back on. Do you watch ‘Wheel of Fortune’?”

  A distorted Pat Sajak morphed onto my screen. His voice came through okay but the picture was whacked. I guess the local motel hadn’t sprung for cable for its eight guest rooms. “Should I call you back later?”

  “No, it’s nice to have company. Let’s see who gets to go first. It’s college week, and that girl from The Ohio State University is making bank.”

  I stifled a laugh. I had no idea what age bracket Mrs. Cahill fell into, but hearing her sweet, little old lady voice talking about “making bank” put a smile on my face. The camera panned to the three contestants. I whapped the top of the television set. The picture came into focus. A blonde woman wearing a white sweatshirt with “The Ohio State University” across her chest solved the pop-up puzzle, earning her the right to go first.

  “She’s good. Why, just last night she won an all-expenses paid trip to Morocco. Have you ever been there?” Mrs. Cahill asked.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Shh. The first round is starting.”

  With nothing better to do than wallow in a bottomless pit of self-pity for not being part of the chosen few who were allowed to orbit the successful father-son duo of the Wilder legacy, I settled my back against the headboard. When was the last time I sat through a show on local television? I couldn’t remember.

  The contestants continued to spin the wheel and guess consonants as Mrs. Cahill’s words of encouragement tumbled through the phone. She was pretty good at the game, and was able to guess “FRENCH WEST INDIES” three letters before the student from Ohio got around to it. Finally, it was time for a commercial break.

  “So about that room,” I reminded her.

  “Yes. It’s nothing fancy but it’s comfortable and comes with a daily hot breakfast. I’ve got plenty of five star reviews if you’re interested in looking me up.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not picky and I only need a place for two nights. Does that mean the room is available?”

  The show came on again. Vanna pressed the tiles to light up the squares for the next puzzle. I got the feeling it was going to take me the whole half hour to make my reservation.

  I was right.

  Twenty-five minutes later Mrs. Cahill gasped and let out a laugh when the gal from Ohio solved the final puzzle and added another eighty grand in cash and prizes to her total. “Well I’ll be. I hope she wins again tomorrow.”

  I’d given up on trying to push my own agenda, figuring Mrs. Cahill would wrap up the conversation when she was good and ready. I didn’t have anything pressing to get to anyway. Most of my nights on the road were filled with catching up on email, binge-watching something on my phone, or searching for new grant opportunities for the Alliance.

  “Now, about tomorrow,” Mrs. Cahill said. “Make sure you arrive before six so we can catch the show together.”

  The idea of sitting through another episode of “Wheel of Fortune” with Mrs. Cahill wasn’t terribly appealing. But what else was I going to do on a Friday night in a town the size of Swallow Springs? “I will. Now, can you give me your address? And I’m assuming it’s okay to pay you in cash when I arrive?”

  She rattled off her address and made a point to provide directions, including landmarks to look for, from every possible approach I might take into town. I’d only driven along the main road earlier, but after listening to her describe each street, I felt like I’d spent an entire week there.

  “I almost forgot to go over the rules. No drugs, no loud music, and no overnight visitors no matter how cute they are. Does that work for you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She ran a tighter ship than my own parents had when I still lived at home.

  “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, enjoy the rest of your evening.” I disconnected while a variety of feelings swirled around inside. Seemed like spending time in Swallow Springs was going to require a lot more effort than I anticipated when I agreed to go to the reunion. Shit. The reunion. Scarlett said to dress “nice.” I guess that meant something other than my “Hung Like a Bat” shirt I’d worn under my button-down flannel today. I’d probably have to find a place to pick up a halfway decent pair of pants and a shirt with a collar.

  Suddenly the potential payoff didn’t seem to match the level of effort I’d be putting in. As I flipped through the television stations, trying to find a channel with a stronger signal and clearer picture, I thought about calling the whole thing off. That idea didn’t last long when I realized I didn’t even know her
last name and had no idea how to reach her. I’d never been a flat-out no show. And it might be a long shot, but what if there was an undiscovered colony of bats right under my nose? This could be my chance to make my mark. To finally prove the famous Wilder genes hadn’t skipped me over.

  It would be worth having to buy some new threads and playing nice with Scarlett and whoever she needed to impress. All I had to do was hang out with Mrs. Cahill and survive someone else’s high school reunion. On the plus side, no one had any clue who I was. I could make up a new name and background and none of them would have any idea. That could be kind of fun.

  On the downside, I was on the road so much that not being able to get home over the weekend was going to put me behind schedule on the little project I’d been working on for my aunt. She’d understand. Out of all of my relatives she was the one who “got” me. As my dad’s younger sister she knew better than anyone what it felt like to live in someone else’s shadow. Unlike me, she’d bucked expectations and forged her own path. Now she lived outside town with her wife and a small herd of goats they used to make goat milk bath products. I’d learned a lot about life from watching my Aunt Celeste.

  One thing I hadn’t learned, though, was how to handle a first date with a stranger at her high school reunion. Even though I’d never want to go back in time and relive the experience, high school had been a breeze for me way back then, thanks to my status as the varsity quarterback. How hard could it be to go back for a night?

  6

  Scarlett

  “I’m going to run to the concession stand. Can I bring you anything, Ma?” I spread out my stadium blanket to save seats for the rest of the family. Mom and I had been coming to Rodney’s games for years, but this was the first time he was playing starting quarterback for the varsity team. My stomach pitched and rolled as I thought about how he must feel going into the game tonight. The expectations of his team, the school, and, hell, the entire town, rested on his shoulders.