Mr. Congeniality

by Sherry Lewis

  Last night’s dinner had been one of the best meals Dean had ever eaten, but pain curdled what was left in his stomach this morning. His medicine left a bitter taste in his mouth, taking away the memory of the sweet tang of Annie’s barbecue sauce and the pleasant sourness of his first-ever gourmet coleslaw. Still, he refused to cave in to his physical limitations. The driver who’d caused his accident had stolen almost everything; Dean wouldn’t hand the rest over without a fight.

  After a long time the pain began to recede. He rose to his feet and forced himself to dress. It took a while and it hurt like hell, but just as the sky began to turn a pale blue-gray he was ready to leave his room.

  He stood in the hall for a minute, studying Tyler’s door and wondering what new challenges the kid would have for him today. No doubt he’d soon find out. It had become increasingly obvious that Tyler was trying to provoke a reaction. He was determined, Dean would grant him that. But Dean was just as intent on proving that not everyone reacted to provocation with hysterics.

  He turned away and his gaze skimmed across Annie’s door. Maybe he should tell her that last night’s dinner had been truly worthy of a world-class restaurant, but he couldn’t decide whether she’d been challenging his authority by changing his planned menu, or simply trying to introduce herself to the rest of them. He’d been too busy trying not to stare at her tight-fitting jeans and bare arms, and had struggled to keep her gaze from completely disconcerting him during dinner. He had been unable to keep his mind from repeatedly noting the similarities, as well as the differences, between Annie and Hayley.

  This morning, it all seemed unimportant.

  Putting her out of his mind, he clutched his boots in one hand and tiptoed down the stairs and out onto the porch. He sat on the wide front steps and looked out over the land that would be his home for the rest of his life. He spent far too many mornings awake when the rest of the world was still asleep, but there were times when he enjoyed the solitude.

  Birds and squirrels never passed judgment, told him how to feel or offered opinions on what he should do with his life. They didn’t pout when he had a bad day or expect more than he could give. They were, in short, the perfect companions.

  Boots on at last, he stepped into the gathering sunlight, circled the lodge slowly and gave everything a once-over. Soon, the day’s work would get under way. There was still a lot to do, but if he could convince Tyler to help, the workload for each of them would be cut considerably.

  As Dean rounded the corner to the back of the lodge, an unfamiliar scent made him stop and scan the area. It only took a second to realize he was smelling smoke—not from a forest fire but from the bitter scent of a cigarette. He pivoted in his tracks and followed the smell to the back of the shed, where he found Tyler sitting on an overturned bucket, eyes closed as he inhaled.

  Dean snatched the cigarette before the kid even had time to get his eyes open. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Tyler was on his feet in a flash, fists clenched, eyes shooting fire. “Give that back. It’s mine.”

  “Not anymore.” Dean tossed the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his heel. “Where did you get it?”

  “None of your damn business.”

  “As long as you’re living here, it is my business. You’re not even old enough to buy cigarettes in this state.”

  Tyler’s nostrils flared. “So? What do you care?”

  “You’re my sister’s kid. You’re my responsibility as long as you’re here.” Dean reached into Tyler’s shirt pocket, pulled out the pack he could see outlined against the fabric and crushed it in his fist. “You’re not doing something this dangerous and stupid as long as you’re living under my roof.”

  Tyler looked as if he wanted to hit him. Instead, he curled his lip and jerked his head toward Dean’s hand. “Go ahead. Take them. I can always get more.”

  “Not from anyone who lives here.” Dean threw the crushed pack into the trash barrel beside the door. “What’s your problem, Tyler? Aren’t you in enough trouble? Your mom says—”

  Raw emotion flared in Tyler’s eyes. “What do I care what she says? She thinks I’m a worthless piece of scum, anyway.”

  The burning pain in Dean’s shoulder ate through the thin veil of relief his medication had created, but the sudden spiny knot in his stomach was almost as strong. He remembered his vow to remain calm with Tyler and did his best to pull himself together. “I know your mother’s excitable,” he admitted, “but she doesn’t think you’re worthless.”

  Tyler laughed bitterly and took a couple of steps away. “Well, that just shows how much you know.”

  Staying calm in the face of Tyler’s hostility wasn’t easy, but Dean wasn’t about to give up. “Okay. Fine. Then why don’t you tell me what’s going on between you and your mom?”

  “Like you really want to know.”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

  Tyler shrugged and glanced away. His eyes darted from one end of the clearing to the other and his shoulders remained tense, his legs taut and ready to spring. “She doesn’t want me, that’s what’s going on. Big surprise, huh?”

  Such agony filled the boy’s voice, Dean couldn’t stay angry. He poised on the balls of his feet, ready for anything. “Of course your mom wants you. She loves you.”

  “Yeah? Then I guess I’m a liar, too, aren’t I?”

  “I didn’t say that. I only meant maybe you’re mistaken.”

  Tyler rolled his eyes as if Dean’s naiveté exasperated him. “Yeah? So, then, what am I doing here?”

  Dean wondered what reasons Carol had given Tyler for this visit. She’d been pretty tightly wound when she called him, but he wanted to believe she’d showed some restraint when she explained her plans to her son. “You’re here,” he said evenly, “because I want to spend time with you this summer.”

  “Bullshit.” Tyler snatched a rock from the ground and hurled it at a nearby tree. “Don’t lie to me, okay? I’m not stupid.”

  Dean could have kicked himself for stretching the truth. “I’m not lying. I do want you here. But your mother did call me first to ask if you could come.”

  “I heard my mom call you. I know what she said, and I know you didn’t want me here.”

  The knot in Dean’s stomach took a painful twist. He felt about an inch tall. “You heard her part of the conversation,” he said in an effort to dig himself out of the pit he’d created. “I never said I didn’t want you here. I just thought you might prefer to go somewhere else.”

  “Yeah, well, why do I have to go anywhere?”

  Good question. Dean wasn’t sure he had the answer. “Your mom’s upset,” he said. “Some pretty expensive stuff has gone missing at home.”

  “Yeah, and she thinks I took it.”

  Dean looked at him head-on. “Did you?”

  The question seemed to catch Tyler off guard, but he recovered quickly and hid behind his tough-guy mask. “Why ask me? I’ll probably just lie. Besides, everybody else thinks I did, so it doesn’t matter what I say.”

  “I’m asking because you’re the only one who knows the answer. I don’t know what’s going on between you and your mom, but sometimes when two people are clashing a lot the smartest thing to do is put some distance between them. By the end of summer, you’ll both have had time to think—”

  “She won’t be thinking,” Tyler snarled. “Not about anything Randy doesn’t want her to think about.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. Dean plucked a stalk of wild grass from the ground and turned it between his fingers. “I take it you don’t like him?”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “You want to tell me about him?”

  Tyler shrugged. “What’s to tell? He’s got my mom wrapped around his little finger. Whatever he says, goes. Whatever he wants, he gets. She’s a puppet and I hate it.”

  “It’s that bad?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” For the
first time since he arrived, Tyler stared Dean straight in the eyes. “He’s been wanting to get rid of me since the day he met my mom. He finally got his way and he used you to do it. How does that make you feel?”

  There was such pain, such self-doubt, such anger and bitterness in Tyler’s eyes, Dean felt as if someone had gut-punched him. How had this happened? Why had Carol allowed things to get so out of control?

  “For the record,” Dean said, “Randy didn’t use me. If I hadn’t wanted you here, I wouldn’t have said yes. And this is only temporary. Your mom wants you home at the end of the summer.”

  “You wanna bet?” Tyler pushed to his feet, picked up another rock and tossed it into the clearing. “You wait and see. Randy’ll come up with some excuse to leave me here or send me somewhere else.” Picking up a handful of small stones, he hurtled one after another against the side of the shed, his movements becoming shorter, harsher and more tense with every throw. After firing off a few more, he whirled to face Dean. “Just forget it, okay? None of it matters. Not to you. Not to her.”

  “You’re wrong about that. It matters to both of us.”

  Tyler let another rock fly. “You don’t even know my mom. You don’t know what she feels, or what she thinks, or why she does what she does. And I’m not stupid. I know damn well why you wanted me here. So just do me a favor and quit pretending.” He threw another stone hard enough to chip the wall of the shed, and set off across the clearing.

  Dean scowled at the wall and thought about following, but he recognized the expression in Tyler’s eyes and he knew the feelings behind it. If he tried to reason with Tyler now, he’d only be wasting his breath.

  DEAN WAS STILL RATTLED when he let himself into the back door of the kitchen a few minutes later. Things at Carol’s house must be worse than she’d told him. If he was going to help Tyler, he needed more information about their life at home. He had to call the bank in a few hours, anyway. He’d take a few extra minutes to call Carol while he was at it.

  Lost in thought, he forgot that Irma wouldn’t be the one putting coffee on and getting ready for the day. When he saw Annie standing behind the counter, his step faltered enough to bring her head up.

  She sent him a warm smile. “Good morning.”

  Caught unaware, he wasn’t prepared to resist her. The slim fit of her jeans made his mouth dry and the curve of breast beneath a soft peach tank top made his pulse jump. In sharp contrast to the woman of his past, Annie’s face was freshly scrubbed and she wore minimal makeup. Her hair floated around her shoulders and framed her face gently.

  He managed to hide his reaction by tugging down the brim of his hat and making sure he didn’t have a goofy smile on his face. “Morning.”

  “Coffee’s about ready if you’re interested.”

  He nodded once and headed toward the coffeemaker. “That’s what I came in for.”

  “What time would you like me to serve breakfast?”

  He avoided her gaze while he found his mug and kept his eyes from straying while he waited for the coffeemaker to stop gurgling. He didn’t want to look at that skimpy blouse—the same color as clouds at sunrise—her slim, bare arms, or the narrow piece of bare midriff that showed whenever she moved.

  “It doesn’t matter what time we eat today,” he said. “When the guests arrive, the crew’ll need to be finished eating and ready to work by seven. Breakfast for the guests will be between eight and ten.”

  Again, he thought about commenting on last night’s dinner, but it was easier for him to avoid the subject. One argument per morning was enough for him, and complimenting her might give her the wrong idea.

  Annie reached into the cupboard for a mug just as Dean started to pour his coffee. Her blouse skimmed up one side and exposed a hand-width of bare skin. He tried to decide if she was teasing him on purpose, or if she was so naive she didn’t realize what a sight like that could do to a man first thing in the morning.

  Hayley would have known. She never made a move that wasn’t calculated for effect. But Annie’s eyes were so clear and bright, so completely guileless, he made up his mind that she had no idea what she was doing.

  He shook his head to clear it, realized he’d stopped pouring when his cup was only half-full and made himself top it off. “So, are you all settled in?”

  “I think so.” She moved closer and Dean swallowed thickly…until he realized she only wanted the coffeepot.

  He tried not to notice the warmth that spread up his arm when their fingers brushed. “And Nessa? Is she adjusting to the fact that I’m not going to put in a satellite dish so she can watch MTV?”

  A slow blush crept into Annie’s cheeks. “She asked you about that?”

  “She did.”

  “I am so sorry. I told her not to, but her philosophy of life is that it doesn’t hurt to ask.”

  Dean sipped and tried to ignore the effect that blush had on him. “No harm done—as long as she can take no for an answer.”

  Annie leaned against the counter and crossed one foot over the other. “That’s the problem. She doesn’t easily, and she rarely gives up on anything she wants.”

  “Yeah?” Dean grinned, grateful for something else to think about. “Well, I was born stubborn. I never give in without a good, long fight.”

  Annie’s eyes met his and he felt as if someone had sucked the air from his lungs. “Don’t let Nessa know that. She loves a good fight.”

  “So do I. And I’m very good at it.”

  A slow smile curved her lips. “I’ll bet you are.”

  She seemed different this morning. Dean couldn’t put his finger on what had changed, but whatever it was he liked it. “Now, how could you know that? Has someone been telling on me?”

  Her smile widened a little more. “Nobody had to tell me anything about that. I met your argumentative side the first day I got here.”

  Dean grimaced with embarrassment and lowered his mug to the counter. Her straightforward reaction surprised him. Hayley had hated his moodiness—and with good reason. But he’d hated the way she’d tried to manipulate him out of it just as much.

  “Yeah,” he said to Annie, “I guess you did. I apologize for that. I’m not usually such a bear—at least I try not to be.”

  “That’s good to know. Any other personalities I should be aware of?”

  Dean had recently reencountered one, but he didn’t think Annie would appreciate meeting it just now. This personality couldn’t seem to remember his vow to forget the fair sex for a while. It didn’t even worry about making another mistake.

  In fact, this personality didn’t seem to think at all.

  Silence fell between them and Dean saw the sudden shift in Annie’s expression, the astonished and unexpected awareness of what was happening reflected in her eyes. Even then he couldn’t make himself move. He would have sworn the clock had stopped ticking, the birds had stopped chirping and the breeze had stilled. Not even a whisper of sound broke the silence.

  He didn’t know how long they stood that way before the sound of heavy footsteps sounded on the back porch and Gary’s familiar whistle cut through the stillness. Annie’s startled gaze flew to the door, and that was all it took to get Dean moving.

  He hurried across the kitchen and pushed past Gary into the rapidly warming morning, muttering the briefest “good morning” in history as he did.

  What had happened in there?

  Scratch that. How had he let it happen?

  He didn’t want to become involved with a woman, especially not an employee. That was a surefire one-way road to disaster. He didn’t want to become involved with a woman who reminded him so much of Hayley—although, if he was a hundred percent honest with himself, he’d admit that the resemblance had all but evaporated over the past couple of days.

  A sudden surge of anger with Gary curled in Dean’s chest as he headed toward the stables. A true friend would’ve warned him about Annie. Would have told him what she looked like and mentioned that she could bewitch
even the most cynical of men with a smile. He sure as hell wouldn’t have let Dean be alone with her. Because the images flashing through Dean’s mind right now were not the kinds of things most guys wanted people thinking about their cousins.

  He reached the stables and wrenched open the door, taking out his irritation, frustration and surprise on the innocent piece of wood. The unexpected pain that tore through his shoulder knocked him to his knees and tore a cry from his throat.

  He dropped his coffee and, through the haze of agony, felt it soaking into his jeans. He gulped air and tried to blink away the sudden blinding tears. Cradling his shoulder with his good arm, he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out again.

  What was wrong with him? How had he forgotten, even for a moment, that he couldn’t use that arm to open the heavy stable door? What had he been thinking?

  He sat back hard in the dirt and turned slowly toward the house. He knew what he’d been thinking, but it was absolutely unbelievable. It made no logical sense at all. And yet…

  For the first time since the accident, he’d had a few minutes without even a flicker of pain. And all because of Annie Holladay.

  ANNIE WORKED HARD to keep Gary from seeing how flustered she was after that moment with Dean. It had been a weird moment, and completely unexpected, but she wouldn’t pretend it had actually meant anything. She wasn’t even sure that she was attracted to him. She might just be responding to his human side now that she knew he had one. Or she could have been overreacting since Dean was the first man who’d looked at her in eight long months. The first man who’d really looked at her in years.

  Yes, that’s all it was. That’s why her cheeks were warm, her hands shaking, and her heartbeat had taken a moment to return to normal. She slanted a glance at Gary, who was leaning on the edge of the counter sipping coffee and chattering about something. She poured another cup for herself and cradled the mug in both hands, struggling to pay attention, to forget those deep brown eyes and the play of golden hairs on tan, muscular arms.

  She shook herself and lifted her cup to her lips again, hoping another jolt of caffeine would drag her foolish head out of the clouds. She tuned into the conversation just as Gary said, “The horses should be here by Tuesday afternoon. You should come down to the stables and watch us unload them.”