by Anne Tenino
The tips of Seth’s ears turned pink. “If you say so.”
Why does he try to sidestep compliments about his work? No wonder he’s content to wait tables or bartend. Probably nobody ever encouraged him for his real abilities. Well, Nate could handle that. “You know, with this level of skill, you could land a gig with a high-end remodeling firm without breaking a sweat.”
Seth’s eyebrows bunched over his nose. “Why would I want to do that?”
“But you could get paid for it. Really well. Historically accurate Victorian restoration is big business, and not everyone has the experience to do it right. I bet you could name your price.”
“No.” Seth edged away, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m happy with the job I have, Nate. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“But—”
The front door opened, and Morgan called from downstairs, “Hey, guys. Where do you want these mirrors?”
“Stay there. We have to take them around back.” Nate made a mental note to revisit the idea of encouraging Seth to branch out, develop some of his obvious skills and interests, once they had some time alone. Maybe tonight they could have dinner at his place again. They wouldn’t have another opportunity for a while, since Seth had evening shifts for the next few days and Nate had to be on deck for a series of night shoots.
The two of them trotted down the stairs, Tarkus accompanying them in a clatter of toenails. Time for a trim, before he starts catching those things in the underbrush. Guilt washed through him—not a lot, but enough. He’d been spending so much time with Seth lately that he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to Tarkus. Not that Tarkus seemed lonely—how could he be, with his teenaged fan club at Bluewater Bark, Morgan (at whose feet he was currently lolling in adoration), and now Pearl, with her homemade dog treats.
Morgan handed the big mirror in her arms to Seth. “Here. Be useful so I can hug my baby.”
“You guys are sure affectionate with each other,” he said as he tried to keep the ornate frame from jabbing him in the throat.
“She’s not talking about me,” Nate said dryly.
Sure enough, as soon as Seth had a firm hold of the mirror, Morgan squatted next to Tarkus and hugged him around the neck. “You’re neglecting my god-dog. Look at the state of his fur—he needs a good brushing.”
“Well, don’t do it now, or Seth’s grandma will need the industrial-strength vacuum from the shop. Are the other mirrors in your truck?”
“Nope. Right there.” She pointed to the frames leaning against the wall. “Your breakaway, and one with two-way glass. You really gonna break three mirrors in this scam of yours?”
“Just one, I think. But we need an understudy, just in case.” Nate picked up another mirror.
“Gotcha.” She stood, then frowned at her hands. “Look at this—if I wipe my hands on my jeans, I’ll scatter fur from hell to breakfast.”
Seth changed his grip on the mirror. “I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s been running around here all morning, following Grandma and getting under Nate’s feet. I think the fur coating for everything in the house is pretty much a given.”
“Not cool, not if your grandma needs to keep things pretty for her buyers.” She hoisted the remaining mirror. “What about this? Once we stow the props, I’ll take Tarkus back to Nate’s place and you can remove the evidence of canine occupancy.”
Seth let the way down the hallway, through the butler’s pantry to the door to the servants’ staircase. “Sounds good to me. I’ve got a vacuum that can do the job—the cobwebs we collect around here make Tarkus fur look like nothing but pixie dust.”
Nate followed the two of them up the stairs, trying not to trip over Tarkus, who didn’t want to be left behind. Normally he didn’t like leaving Tarkus alone in the yard for long—let alone in the house. He was a little too resourceful, way too curious, and hadn’t an ounce of self-preservation sense. But they were almost done, and Tark had surely worn himself out enough for a nap with all the traipsing around after them.
“Hey, guys,” Nate said. “Do the two of you want to have dinner at my place? I haven’t managed to get to the grocery store lately, but we can stop on the way. Pick up whatever you’d like.”
Morgan shot him a grin over her shoulder. “Sorry, baby. I’ve got a lady-date with some of the gals from the costume department. I’ll leave Tarkus in the yard. He can hang out in his pup-tent until you get home.”
Seth set the mirror down in the narrow space behind the false wall. “Tarkus has a tent, huh?”
“Morgan’s being poetic. It’s not a tent. It’s more an igloo made of fiberglass.”
Morgan set her own burden on the other side of the stairway. “This is the two-way piece. See this mark on the back? Make sure you don’t mix them up.”
Nate set his mirror next to Seth’s. “I know how to set a stage, Morgan. I’ve been doing this longer than you have.”
“Never hurts to verify, baby. Now I’ve got to run. Is Tarkus’s leash downstairs?”
“On the table by the door. Thanks.”
“Yeah, Morgan,” Seth said. “Thanks for doing all this. I really appreciate it.”
“My pleasure.” Despite the narrow confines, Morgan hugged Seth, and then Nate. “Come on, puppy-boy. Auntie Morgan will get you a nice soup bone on the way home.”
She vanished down the stairs with Tarkus at her heels, and suddenly the space seemed smaller than it had with them in it.
“So.” Nate stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to keep his elbows from bumping into the walls—or Seth. “You want to come over for dinner once we’re set?”
Seth smiled, and Nate couldn’t catch his breath, as if the air had been sucked out of the space. Talk about your haunted-house effects.
“Awesome. What else have we got to do besides de-furring?”
“Just haul Floating-head Fennimore up here, and maybe test the door on the third floor.”
“Okay. I’ve got a vacuum that’ll suck the—” Seth smirked. “I mean, I’m on vacuum duty. Do your stage magic woo-woo, and I’ll meet you downstairs after. Deal?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Great. Then . . . break.”
Seth raced down the stairs.
An hour later, they had everything in place and had de-Tarkified the house.
Nate repositioned one of Pearl’s Queen Anne chairs on the runner in the entry hall and dusted his hands off on his jeans. “Done. That didn’t take long.”
Seth coiled the vacuum hose and stowed it in a cupboard under the stairs. “Nope. We didn’t need to send Tarkus away after all.”
“Are you kidding? If we hadn’t, we’d’ve had to start all over again before we even finished. He has an endless supply of fur, although it’s not as bad now as it was in the spring.” Nate peered up the stairs at the landing. The stage was set—now all they needed was a patsy. “How are you planning to convince Lucas to be your unsuspecting victim?”
Seth waved one hand airily. “Don’t you worry, I’ve got that covered.”
“Yeah? Good deal.” Nate checked his watch. “You up for an early-ish dinner? We can pick up a chicken to throw on the grill. I’ve got a recipe for a great lemon-rosemary marinade—”
“Dude. You realize you just won and lost Bluewater Bay redneck points within two sentences? Grilling?” He flashed two thumbs-up. “But lemon-rosemary marinade?” He blew a raspberry.
Nate grinned. “Shut up or I won’t let you have any.”
“Oh no. I know you better than you think—you’d never violate the sacred bro hospitality tradition. Not when I’m bringing the beer.”
“Beer? Not shrubbery?”
“Shrubs, not shrubbery.” Seth flapped his hands, shooing Nate out the door. “And I make a lot more than just those. Of course, I only share my secret cocktails with guys who don’t threaten to deprive me of lemon-rosemary–marinated grilled chicken. Come on. I’ll drive.”
“You sure? You’ll have to bring
me back here to pick up my Jeep later.”
“It’s five miles, not five hundred, and it’s not like your car’ll get jacked on the streets of Bluewater Bay.”
Nate laughed. “True. You’re on, then.”
They mock-bickered in the grocery store—Seth threatening to toss barbecue sauce in the grocery cart on top of the bag of lemons—and all the way to the cabin. Nate was still chuckling when they pulled in the driveway, gravel scrunching under their tires.
“I’m telling you,” Seth said, “real lumberjacks don’t grow beards.”
“And you’re a real lumberjack?”
“Meh. More like a meta-lumberjack. That’s why I can have a beard.”
“‘Meta’? Seriously? What did you study in college?”
“The question is, what didn’t I study? I was sort of a free-range student. I think I took every 101 class in the catalog. Lots of breadth. Not much depth.” He climbed out of the Jeep and slammed the door. “Hey, looks like you got a package. Expecting presents?”
“Just some genealogy books.” Nate hauled the grocery bag out of the rear of the Jeep. “I hope the UPS guy got here before Morgan dropped off Tarkus.”
“Why? He can’t get to the front porch from the backyard. It’s fenced, right?”
“Yeah, but you’ll find out at the haunting how vicious Tark can sound when something gets to him—I used a recording of the UPS truck as one of the sound cues to set him off tomorrow during the haunting.”
“That terrifying, huh?”
“The hound of the Baskervilles has nothing on him, and I don’t want the UPS guy to refuse to deliver to me. Internet shopping is—”
“There you go. Losing redneck points again.” Seth scooped up the package and waggled it in Nate’s face. “We do not talk about internet shopping.”
“No?” Nate opened the door and flicked on the lights. “You’ve never ordered anything online?”
“I didn’t say that—but we don’t call it ‘internet shopping.’ We refer to it as ‘porn acquisition,’” Seth said in his fake-posh voice.
Nate laughed as he unloaded the groceries. “I stand corrected.”
“I’m telling you, it’s all in how you spin it. At least, according to my Marketing 101 class.” Seth wandered through the living room and looked out onto the deck. “If you— Uh . . . Nate?”
“Hmmm?” Nate was rummaging through his crisper drawer, searching for the arugula, although that would probably put his man-points in jeopardy too.
“The gate in back is open.”
“What? It can’t be. I never open it, not with Tarkus . . .” Nate rushed across the room, leaving the refrigerator door hanging open. “He should have been at the door already. He’s always there to greet me. He knows the Jeep.” He yanked open the door and ran onto the deck, the wind whipping through his hair and slicing through his shirt.
Shit shit shit. The gate was hanging open. What idiot built a fence with a gate opening outward instead of inward? If Tarkus had been determined enough to get out, he could have worked it open, but usually he didn’t bother, far more content to hang out in the yard.
Ah hell. The UPS truck.
Nate’s hands shook as he dug his cell phone out of his pocket. “Maybe Morgan hasn’t dropped him off yet. It hasn’t been that long since she left, and she always takes him the long way around. Claims he likes riding in her car better than the Jeep.” He was babbling, he knew it, but damn. He fumbled the phone, dropping it in the damp grass.
Seth scooped it up and handed it back, placing a warm, steadying hand on Nate’s cheek. “Hey. Chill. We’ll figure it out, ’kay?”
“One of the reasons I rented this place was that there wasn’t a lot of traffic, but there’s some. He only has one eye, his depth perception is funky. And the woods. What if there’s a bear? He’s too friendly. He might not realize—”
“Bears are never seen this close to town.” Seth sounded confident, but was that a flash of uncertainty in his expression? He shifted his grip from Nate’s shoulder to the back of his neck, squeezing, grounding Nate a little bit. “He’s a smart dog, right?”
Nate clenched his eyes shut and nodded. “Yeah. But he—”
“Nate. We’ll find him. Trust me.”
He took a shuddering breath and opened his eyes, meeting Seth’s concerned gaze. “I do. Absolutely.”
“Well then. Let’s go get our boy.”
Nate lurched through the gate and charged up the driveway, gravel crunching and skidding under his trainers. He glanced wildly around, then took off in the direction of the highway as Seth caught up to him. In the twilight, in the murk between the double lines of towering firs, it was hard to make out anything but shadows.
Then the headlights of an approaching car illuminated a huddled mass on the verge, and Nate’s heart tried to leap into his throat. No. Please no. He stumbled to a halt, afraid to go any farther, afraid to know the truth.
“Hey.” Seth was there, beside him, lacing their fingers together, and his felt so warm in comparison to Nate’s cold ones. “Do you want me to scope it out for you?”
Nate nodded, unable to speak. Seth squeezed his hand once, then strode down the road until he reached the lump. Nate closed his eyes. If I keep my eyes shut, that’s one second more, ten, a whole minute, that I can still believe Tarkus is all right.
Seth’s footsteps approached, muffled by the rank weeds that lined the road. Was he walking slow? Fast? Which was better? Why did it feel like a year since Nate had seen that dreadful unmoving lump, yet no longer than a blink of an eye?
He jerked when Seth gripped his shoulders. “Nate. It’s not him. It’s not. It’s just a pile of burlap sacking.”
“Not him?” Nate’s voice wobbled. “Oh God. Not him?”
“It’s not. I promise.”
Nate sucked in a breath and tried not to break down. There’s still a chance. He could still be okay. But where is he? How can I find him? “I don’t— I can’t—” Why were his teeth chattering? It wasn’t that cold.
Then Seth’s arms were around him, holding him close, sharing warmth until Nate’s shuddering lessened. “Better now?”
He wasn’t, not even close. He wanted to stay here in the circle of Seth’s arms, but that wouldn’t help Tarkus, so he nodded and moved away reluctantly. “Sure. Let’s go.” He headed toward the highway, but Seth grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop.
“Where are you going?”
“That’s the path the UPS truck would take—up the drive, turn right, and take the service road up to the highway.”
“But why would Tarkus follow it? By the time he got out, would the truck even be here anymore?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t here. I shouldn’t have—”
“Chill, Nate, okay? Now, I’ve only known Tark for a little while, but he doesn’t seem like a dog who holds a grudge. I mean, the UPS guy isn’t always on his mind, right? He doesn’t hang out by the door waiting for the chance to take a chunk out of him.”
Nate blinked at him, not understanding. “No. Of course not. But when he hears it, he goes ballistic. If he had the chance to chase that truck—”
“What if he didn’t chase it? He’s a dog, a smart one, but by the time he got out, he’d be over the UPS truck. He’d use his freedom more wisely.” Seth took his shoulders again and gave him a little shake. “Come on. I’ve got a hunch.” He grabbed Nate’s hand and pulled him the other direction.
“Where are we going?”
Seth gave him an encouraging smile. “Following the love, not the hate.” Seth said something else, something about trees and a gate, but Nate was so far from okay that his hearing kept skipping out on him.
Unresisting, he let Seth lead him down the road toward the cemetery, although he couldn’t help looking back over his shoulder at the headlights zooming by on the highway. If Tarkus was up there—
Seth started to laugh, and Nate whirled, yanking his hand away. Christ, did he think this was a joke?
“It’s okay.” He captured Nate’s hand again and nodded toward the cemetery gates. “He’s right there, he’s fine.”
Barely visible in the gathering darkness, Tarkus sat at the foot of the oak tree, staring up into the branches. A sob caught in Nate’s throat, and he broke into a run, Seth pounding along beside him, until he could drop down next to his dog and hug him around the neck.
“Tark. God, Tark, I thought I’d lost you.”
Tarkus just panted, with a soft whine thrown in every now and then, although he wasn’t paying any attention to Nate at all. Nate kept his face buried in Tarkus’s ruff, despite getting fur up his nose, unwilling to let go. Dimly, Nate registered odd scrabbling sounds, a soft curse, more scrabbling, a thump.
Suddenly Tarkus leaped to his feet, tail wagging like mad, yipping excitedly, and dumping Nate onto his ass. Nate looked up to see Seth hand Tarkus that damned red Frisbee.
“See? This, he remembers. Love wins out over hate.”
Nate blinked, glancing from Seth to the tree. “You climbed the tree? You climbed the tree?”
Seth raised an eyebrow, squinching his face. “Sure. Seemed like the best way to keep Tark from making a break for it again.”
“But the Frisbee was stuck miles up there!”
“It was like ten feet. No big. I am a professional, after all.”
“Yeah, but—” Nate’s acrophobia kicked in big time when he imagined being up that high without even a ladder. “I can’t believe you climbed the tree. You found my dog and you climbed the tree.”
Seth’s expression turned mystified. “Seriously, why is the tree such a big deal?”
“Because . . . because I’m afraid of heights.”
“Wait, you are? Seriously?”
“As a freaking heart attack. Why do you think I left that damn Frisbee up there in the first place?”
Seth grinned. “You know, if you’re that easily impressed, I’ve got some other mad redneck skills I can wow you with.” He took off his belt and looped it around Tarkus’s collar for a makeshift leash. “What do you say we get this guy home?”
