He held up a finger, pointed to the phone, then took a step back and waved her inside.
She stepped across the threshold, trying to keep her shoulders square. She slid a hand into her jeans pocket and threaded her fingers through her keys again.
“No,” he said, and it took her a second to realize he was speaking into the phone, not to her. “You can buy it by the bag, but a sack of mulch will only cover about four square feet ... mm-hmm ...”
He headed for the kitchen, leaving her standing there by the door. She had no idea whether he expected her to follow.
When he reached the doorway, he glanced back and gave her an exasperated look. He put a hand over the bottom of the receiver and whispered, “You want to come sit down or what?”
She scurried after him, but he was already speaking into the phone again. “You’re welcome to have your husband call me, but I feel fairly certain you’ll need more than ten bags to go around your house.” Becca could hear the sigh behind his voice.
He pulled out a chair for her without looking, and she perched on the edge. A laptop sat open on the kitchen table, next to a bottle of water and a three-inch white binder bursting with worn pages. A regular spiral notebook lay beside it, the page covered with chicken scratch.
“Yes, the bushes will take up some of the square footage—but still, I’m thinking truckloads, not bags. Would you like me to come out and—”
He sat across from her, put an elbow on the table, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I fully understand. Have him call me. I’ll come out and give an estimate ... okay, then. Okay. Yes. Okay.”
He pushed the button on the phone and set it on the table. Both hands came up to rub his eyes. “People give me a headache. Everybody wants to nickel-and-dime. Ten bags of mulch for, like, four thousand square feet. Jesus.” His hands dropped and he looked at her. “You know that’s crazy, right?”
How the hell would she know? Mom was lucky she could work the mower. Becca thought of the meticulous landscaping out front. “You ... ah ... you work for a landscaping company?”
“I am a landscaping company.” He uncapped the water and took a swig. “You here for Chris?”
He didn’t seem to be making any threatening moves, but she kept on the edge of the chair. “If I say yes, are you going to try to kill me?”
He sighed and glanced away. “Look, I didn’t mean to frighten you last night. You ran out of here so quick—”
“You mean after you grabbed me?”
“You mean after you punched me with a fistful of keys?”
“Yeah, well, you were—” She broke off and flushed. He’d just been standing there, acting scary. Now that she thought about it, he’d never made a move toward her.
Then she remembered how she’d fought to evade him in the yard. “What about when I was trying to get to my car? I should have you arrested for assault.”
He slid the phone across the table. “Go ahead.”
Now she wanted to punch him with the keys and it had nothing to do with self-defense. “You’re kind of a jerk, you know that?”
“Yeah, I’m such an asshole. Trying to keep an upset kid from flying out of here in the middle of a rainstorm.” He rolled his eyes. “They’d better lock me up for sure.”
Now she had to look away. She kind of felt like an idiot, but she hadn’t imagined his aggression, his threatening tone.
Michael let the silence stretch out for a moment, until she wanted to squirm, and she had to focus to remember why she’d even come here.
She refused to look at him. “Is Chris home?”
“Yeah. Top of the stairs. Make a left.”
He expected her to just go up to his room?
She remembered going to Drew’s house once, last May. Drew’s mom had made sure they stayed in plain sight in the den. The woman had seemed to know every time Drew’s hands found Becca’s knee or the curve of her waist. At the time, Becca had wanted the woman to go the hell away and mind her own business.
Now, in retrospect, she owed Mrs. McKay a hug.
“You want an escort or something?” said Michael. He was already looking at his laptop, his fingers striking the keys.
She shoved herself out of her chair and headed for the steps.
Five doors were on the second level, but she never got to make a left. A bathroom was just to her right, the door wide open. One of the twins stood in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth.
Shirtless.
Breath left her lungs in a rush and she almost stumbled on the last step. Loose button-fly jeans hung low at his hips, exposing just the edge of a pair of boxers. She could clearly see the clean muscled line of his back, the smooth tapering of his rib cage into a tight waist.
He caught her eye in the mirror and grinned around the toothbrush before ducking to spit. He turned off the faucet and wiped his mouth on a towel before turning to face her.
“You’re back,” he said.
She looked at him—a huge mistake, because it put her eyes right on his chest. The guy was no stranger to a bench press. “Ah ... yeah. Are you Nick or Gabriel?”
He stepped close, until she could smell the spearmint in his toothpaste. “Does it matter?”
Her cheeks were burning. It was a lot harder to maintain independence and indifference when a hot guy was standing half-naked in front of her. She gulped and grasped at the banister. “I was looking for Chris’s room—but, ah—you know, I’ll just see him tomorrow—”
“No way.” He grabbed her hand. “Come here.”
He dragged her around the corner. His fingers were warm on hers. She stared at the beige walls, at the neutral carpeting, anything but the guy attached to her arm.
He knocked on a door. “Hey, Chris. There’s a girl here for you.”
Something heavy hit the door. “Shut up, Gabriel. I’m busy.”
She stared at the doorknob, unsure whether to be dismayed or relieved. But at least she knew who had hold of her arm.
Gabriel knocked again. “Hurry. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold her.”
Angry footsteps, then the door flew open. Chris glanced from her to his brother and back. “Oh.”
She stared back at him, knowing her face was still flushed, her eyes desperate for a fully clothed target. Luckily, Chris fit the bill with sweatpants and a tee shirt. She could see into the room behind him: nice, really. A double bed that hadn’t been made that morning, with a navy comforter haphazardly thrown across the bottom. The floor was mostly clean, though his laundry sat in a pile in the corner, under a rather impressive fish tank. It had a fluorescent light and everything, and reminded her of something a little boy would have. Finding it in his room was somehow ... charming. A desk sat by the open window, almost an afterthought. The tiny halogen light was on, books and notebooks strewn across the surface.
“See?” said Gabriel. “A real one. Breathing and everything.”
Chris didn’t look entirely happy about her presence. “What are you doing here?”
She dug her free hand into her pocket and pulled out the sixty dollars. “Here.”
His face went stony. He made no move to take the money. “You came all the way over here for this?”
Becca wanted to throw the cash at him. She jerked her hand out of his brother’s. “No. I came all the way over here to tell you Tyler and Seth showed up at the pet store where I work.”
Gabriel got in front of her and crossed his arms. The smile was gone. “What are you talking about?”
She stared up and over his right shoulder and gritted her teeth. “Could you please put a shirt on?”
“Did they hurt you?” said Chris.
“No. Yes. It’s fine. Tyler just—” Her throat suddenly got tight.
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
They were both staring at her. Of course.
Chris shoved his brother in the shoulder. “Go. Put on a shirt.” Then he took a step back. “Come in. Sit down a minute.”
She delibera
ted in the doorway for a moment, then followed him in. She glanced dubiously at the bed. No way was she sitting next to him on it. So she edged around him and sat in the desk chair. She dropped the crumpled twenties next to his Physics textbook.
He settled on the corner of the bed and rested his forearms on his knees. “You want to tell me what happened?”
She fought for any emotion to replace the tears. Anger usually did the trick, and this time was no exception.
“Why’d you give me sixty dollars?” she demanded.
“You said I owed you.” A dark smile, though there wasn’t much humor to it. “Personally, I thought sixty bucks was pretty cheap.”
“Whatever. You know I was kidding. Didn’t you think what it would look like? You don’t have to treat me like a—”
“Wait a minute.” He came halfway off the bed. “I didn’t treat you like anything. I asked you out, you said no.”
“Asked me out. You asked me to a soccer game.”
“So what?” He looked incredulous. “God, you are the most baffling girl—”
“Oh, okay. Your brothers didn’t put you up to this? Maybe your friend Drew?”
He was standing now, his fists clenched, a little flare of color on his cheeks. “What do my brothers have to do with anything?”
“Hey, little brother.” Gabriel came back through the door and flopped on the bed, drawing his legs up to sit against the wall. “Girls are more likely to stay if you don’t fight with them.”
Chris was still staring at her, his breathing a little quick.
She looked away from him. Gabriel had put a shirt on—a dark green one with a screen print of a truck. It said, My other ride is your mom.
Her eyebrows went up. “Hilarious.”
He grinned. “I aim to please.” He reached up over his head and knocked on the wall. “Nicky!”
She straightened. “Wait—look, I just came to—”
“Trust me. He won’t want to miss this.”
A door in the hallway opened; then his twin appeared in the doorway, wearing jeans and a Henley and an irritated expression. “If you want me to fix your homework, you need to leave me alone.” Then he spotted her. “You’re back.”
“Yeah.” She glanced between him and Gabriel. “You do his homework?”
“Just the math. It’s a miracle he can count to ten.”
“I can count to one.” Gabriel gave him the finger.
Chris sighed. He’d settled onto the end of the bed again, his expression flat and dark and full of unidentifiable emotion. “Just tell us what happened with Seth and Tyler, Becca.” His voice was low, intimate, almost too soft for company. He met her eyes and held them, making her pulse step up. “Then you can get out of here.”
Becca couldn’t sort out the sudden emotion—she felt as if her heart had started scattering butterflies through her abdomen, then he’d kicked her in the stomach and pissed them all off.
She swallowed. “They came by the pet store where I work. They were stealing dog food.”
“Does Michael know that’s why you’re here?” said Nick.
She shook her head. “Does it matter?”
Gabriel snorted. “Doubt it.”
A slow peal of thunder rolled in the distance. “They threatened you?” said Chris.
Her arm still throbbed. She had to make a conscious effort to keep from touching it. “Someone else came in, and they ran off. It’s fine.”
Chris was watching her a bit too intently. “They did hurt you.”
“I’m fine.”
A bolt of lightning split the sky, somewhere beyond the trees. This time, thunder cracked.
Becca shoved out of the chair and tucked her hair behind her ears. She should never have come here. “Forget it.”
She felt Chris behind her when she made it to the stairs. “Wait a minute,” he said.
She didn’t. “Whatever your mess is with that guy Tyler, get me out of it, okay?”
“Stop. Wait. Just tell me—”
“You stop.” She whirled on him at the door. “You, Chris. You stop. I get hassled enough. I need my job. I don’t need to be in the middle of some version of West Side Story meets High School Musical.”
“I’m not trying to hassle you.” His voice was intense and quiet, the way you’d talk to a cornered animal.
“Yeah, well, then you’re the only one.” She seized the knob and gave it a firm yank. The humidity swirled through the doorway to grab her, latching onto her skin and refusing to let go. She stormed off his porch.
Chris kept up. “Wait.”
She ignored him, shoving through the night air to get to her car.
“Wait. Please. Just tell me what happened.”
Her key slid into the lock, but the door refused to give. She made a frustrated noise and slapped it with the heel of her hand.
Then it started to rain.
She swore. “Great.”
Chris was still right behind her. She heard his breathing, could feel his presence like a weight at her back. Rain touched her cheek and rolled down her neck, finding a path under the neckline of her shirt to trail along her shoulder. The water felt warm, like a finger tracing the side of her face.
The thought made her shiver, and she swiped it away.
Chris reached out and took hold of the door handle. It lifted and opened without protest.
Figures. She turned to look at him. Her breathing felt a little quick. “Thanks.”
His eyes were dark. He didn’t seem to mind the rain on his face. “You’re welcome.”
Becca slid behind the wheel and pushed her key into the ignition. But she couldn’t make herself start the car, and he was standing there with a hand on the door, holding it open.
She sighed. “Tyler said if you pulled this again, that they’d take care of it themselves. That the deal was done.”
Chris didn’t say anything for the longest moment. “That’s it?”
“Yeah.” She looked up at him, unable to figure out his expression. “What does that mean?”
Lightning flashed, illuminating his features for a moment. For an instant, he looked frightening.
Then the lightning was gone, and he smiled in the darkness. “I have absolutely no idea.”
And with that, he swung her door shut and turned for the house.
CHAPTER 8
Chris wanted to sit on the porch and feel the rain. But Michael would eventually come out and ruin it, so he went back to his bedroom, where he could lock the door and sit by the window.
The heart of the storm was drawing closer, sending a strong breeze through the screen to ruffle pages of the notebook sitting there. Nick had claimed the desk chair to prop his feet on the bed. Gabriel was rolling a silver Zippo lighter across his knuckles, making it click every time it changed direction. Chris leaned against his dresser and looked out the window, watching the lightning flash in the distance.
Then he just waited.
“So she doesn’t like rain,” said Gabriel.
Nick smiled. “I kind of like the irony.”
“Jesus, you are such a nerd.” Gabriel flung the lighter at him. “Stop using big words.”
“Five letters is a big word?”
Chris sighed. “No one likes rain.”
“You do,” said Nick. He flung the lighter back to his brother.
Gabriel caught it. “Maybe we should put some money on it, see how long it takes Chris to get her wet.”
Chris ignored the double entendre and glanced at the pile of makeup work still sitting on his desk. “Could we maybe speed this up?” He could feel the rain pooling on his windowsill again. The red tail sharks in his tank circled and chased, slicing through the water until the less aggressive ones hid among the driftwood at the bottom.
Nick gave a low whistle. “Leave him alone, before the fish kill each other.”
Chris gave a pointed look at the door. “Why don’t you both leave me alone.”
Gabriel laughed and made no move to l
eave. “You have got it bad for this girl.”
Like that mattered. She’d been pretty clear where he stood. “Tyler shouldn’t be hassling her.”
“He’ll back off,” said Nick. “He’ll realize she’s got nothing to do with us.”
“I don’t know about that.” Chris glanced at the fish. They helped him manage his temper—he didn’t like riling them. But they seemed to be settling. “He threatened her. He told her the deal is off.”
Nick pulled his feet off the bed to sit up straight. “He said that?”
Chris nodded. “Well. She said he did.”
Gabriel rolled the lighter across his knuckles again, slowly now. “Because of last night?”
Chris met his eyes, then shrugged.
He still didn’t regret it.
“The deal can’t be off,” said Nicholas. “They can’t just decide—”
“They can do whatever they want,” said Chris, the words tasting bitter.
Nick stood. “We have to tell Michael. He’ll—”
“He’ll do nothing,” said Gabriel. “Don’t tell him.”
His twin looked at him like he was nuts. “Are you crazy? We have to—”
“No.” Gabriel sat up, any trace of humor gone from his expression. Thunder rolled in the air outside. “You saw him last night. He doesn’t give a crap what they do. All he cares about is letting them have their way.”
“So what do we do?” said Chris. He thought about the way he’d felt the water freeze into Tyler’s skin. That had been a good storm. A powerful one. He wondered how much damage he could do if he practiced.
The thought scared him, a little. But it comforted him, too.
“Tyler says the deal is off.” Gabriel flipped the lighter in the air and snapped it, lighting it as it spun. The flame danced between his fingers. “He’s not going to hold to it. Right?”
“Don’t be stupid,” said Nick. He knew his twin.
Chris knew him, too. But he liked the note of danger in Gabriel’s voice, the promise. It reminded him of that moment of solidarity last night. “Right ... ?”
Gabriel smiled. “That means we aren’t held to it, either.”
Storm Page 7
