In the Worst Way (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 5) (18 page)

He put up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. I’ll get him.”
 

A few minutes later, Oliver came out. He wore a pressed white polo and slim-fitting jeans. The effect was excellent. Unfortunately, it only reminded me of Chuck. Nobody wore jeans like Chuck.
 

“They’re having s’mores up at the fire pits. I thought we’d go up there,” said Oliver.
 

“Well…um…I”
 

“There’s not really anything else to do around here at night.”
 

I racked my brain for another idea and came up empty. Oliver held out his hand and I forced myself to take it. I was on a date. Dammit. How did this happen? I’d have to tell Chuck at some point, although I didn’t know why. He’d taken off, not me. We had no understanding. I didn’t know if we had anything anymore at all.
 

Oliver squeezed my hand and insisted on introducing me to his staff, a bunch of rugged retired pro players. They were polite about staring at me. The boys weren’t so much. Oliver introduced me to all the players. He began with the Grizzlies and I wondered if that meant something. Enrique was the front runner for the prize, according to pretty much everyone. He was there with the rest of his team. He had a shy smile and firm handshake. Enrique didn’t look much like a star athlete being small and wiry, but in his eyes was a solemn determination. His two brothers, Parker and Kellan, were both big blonds that resembled Robin, the woman from the mud baths, but they had their father’s hair. Enrique must’ve been adopted. He didn’t resemble anyone. Robin’s boys and the rest of the team were extremely polite. Their eyes flicking to Oliver to check his responses to their behavior.
 

Next were the Lions. Taylor was adorable close up with freckles and dark auburn hair that matched Cherie’s dye job. The blond, spiky-haired kid he’d been trading punches with was James. Their team was equally polite, but they weren’t as concerned with Oliver.
 

The Vipers were last. Quinn was there, more polite than the last time I’d seen him. He also resembled his mother with her dark hair and calm demeanor. His catcher was Anders. I’d seen him get out of the Escalade with Quinn.
 

When pleasantries were done, the boys went back to foosball and video games and we walked up to the fire pits. Cherie was there with Anthony, who was introduced as the kid’s grandfather. Lane sat on her other side cuddled up in her varsity jacket over a huge white jersey that nearly reached her knees. When she saw me looking at her, she zipped up her jacket and looked away.
 

Nicole, her husband, and the rest of the Viper parents showed up and sat as far from Cherie and Anthony as possible. Some of the Grizzly parents were there, sipping cocktails instead of beer and being well-bred. Tim drank Long Island ice teas. He had three empty glasses on the table in front of him and he slurred his words as he bragged about Parker’s academic scholarship offers and Enrique’s going pro in less than a year. Both boys had bright futures and he let everyone know between hiccups and unintelligible sentences. Robin came out and sat next to him, her face bright pink with matching lipstick. Deanna followed a young waiter around, flirting and having her wine glass continuously refilled.
 

My cousins spotted us at the edge of the crowd and I dropped Oliver’s hand. I don’t know why, but I felt oddly guilty.
 

“Mercy, what are you doing here?” asked Bridget.
 

“I told you I’d come,” I said, cheerfully.
 

“But Tiny said…” Jilly looked at Tiny, who sipped a beer.
 

Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
 

“I thought you were ill,” said Jilly.
 

Thank you.

“Never mind about that,” I said. “I’m better.”
 

“You were sick?” asked Oliver.
 

“Monumentally,” said Sorcha, looking Oliver up and down.
 

“But it’s over,” I said.
 

“How could that be over so fast?” asked Bridget.
 

“What was wrong?” asked Oliver.
 

I wrinkled my nose and batted my eyes. I’m told it’s distracting and it was. “I’m fine. How about some drinks.”
 

“Okay,” said Oliver, looking deep into my eyes. “What would you like?”
 

“Red wine. Pinot, if they have it.”
 

Oliver didn’t move.
 

“Oliver?” I asked.
 

“Huh?”
 

“Something wrong?”
 

He shook his head. “No, no. Pinot. Got it.” Oliver went into the castle and I sat down.
 

“Wow,” said Jilly. “Can you teach me how to do that?”
 

“What?” I asked.
 

“He was like a deer in the headlights.”
 

“Oh, that. It’s a gift, comes with the face.”
 

Jilly frowned. “So you can’t teach me.”
 

“I can try.”
 

“I can use it on Chuck,” she said.
 

Ah crap!

Oliver came back with drinks for everyone and Aaron brought out the gourmet s’mores. Gourmet was right. He’d made the graham crackers and the marshmallows. The chocolate came from Peru and had gold flecks in it. Aaron also brought out thermoses of hot whole milk for hot chocolate. He had a tray of chocolate from the Chocolate House in Luxembourg City. The Chocolate House was my favorite when I was a kid, especially the hot chocolate. Nobody made hot chocolate fun like them. Wooden spoons stuck in chocolate blocks that you dipped into steaming mugs of milk. Aaron knew I loved about twenty flavors and it’d be hard to avoid drinking it. The s’mores were bad enough. Oliver made me a triple decker. It oozed chocolate on my fingers. The homemade marshmallows were super light and fluffy, not like store bought at all. Everyone licked their fingers and the mood lightened up. The baseball parents even laughed when Anthony’s marshmallow fell off his stick and plopped into the fire, sending sparks up five feet. After the influx of sugar, we talked about baseball with the parents for a while. Oliver kept trying to hold my hand with Sorcha watching us covertly. She hardly said a word. Everyone except Sorcha and Lane were having a decent time. Lane looked more and more bored and excused herself early.
 

“Where are you going?” asked Cherie with an edge in her voice. It’s only 9:20.”
 

“To bed,” said Lane. “I’m tired and I’m going for a ride in the morning.”
 

She didn’t look tired to me, but she left quick before her mother could stop her. Moms. Always so suspicious. In my case, it was justified. I didn’t know about Lane.

There was probably something I didn’t know because Cherie left a half hour later with a concerned frown. For heaven’s sake, the kid was sixteen and Cairngorms Castle was a fortress. But the rest of us didn’t last much longer. The air got misty and cold as clouds rolled in. The fire pit and blankets couldn’t combat the chill. I shouldn’t have worn a dress. My legs had goosebumps. I tucked the blanket tighter around my legs and did a jaw-cracking yawn. It’s amazing how being pampered tires you out and the baseball parents had to get up early to hover over the players. Tiny was already asleep in his chair after his beer. The only ones that weren’t tired were Sorcha, Bridget, and Jilly.

“Let’s not go to bed,” said Jilly.
 

“Slumber party!” exclaimed Bridget and Sorcha. They looked at me with big smiles.
 

Oliver laughed. “I know when I’m not wanted.”
 

“Sorry,” they said in chorus.
 

“Wait. Aren’t we too old for slumber parties?” I was too everything for one of my cousins’ slumber parties. They always included duct tape, permanent marker, and pillow fights where I was the only target. Pass on the so-called party.
 

“You’re never too old to have fun,” said Bridget.
 

“I am.”
 

“Mercy,” she whined. “It’s my bridal weekend.”
 

Oh dear lord.
 

“I’m sort of on a date here.” It wasn’t a date I wanted to be on, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

Oliver hauled me out of my chair and gave me a thankfully brief kiss on the lips. “It’s okay. Lunch tomorrow? We can picnic at the Shut-ins.”
 

“Um…they’re closed. Flood waters or something.”
 

“We’ll stay on shore. I’m not crazy,” Oliver gave me a rakish grin, “despite what the sportswriters say.”
 

Sorcha grabbed my arm. “That sounds good. We’ll picnic.”
 

We?

Oliver frowned but agreed. He left, walking off down the path into the darkness. We all watched him, even me. I couldn’t help it. Oliver had a great rear view. The walk was pretty slow so I suspect he knew it.
 

“I can’t believe you got a date already,” said Jilly. “We’ve been here five minutes.”
 

“It’s definitely been longer than five minutes.”
 

Five months. Five years.

Bridget shook Tiny awake and announced we were having a slumber party and he was coming. For the first time, Tiny said no. He’d be around if I needed him. The big coward. All they were going to do was straighten his hair and mascara his long lashes. Now it was all me. Break out the duct tape. Thanks, bodyguard.

There was no duct tape, just wine. Lots of wine. And talk of Chuck and men and sex. All three made me uncomfortable so I drank plenty. I didn’t manage to get out of Bridget’s room until after midnight. My tower room was stuffy and hot when Pick and I got back to it. I opened the window wider, thinking the cool air would make me feel better. It made me cold and I ended up vomiting a little. I collapsed on my bed with Pick trampling all over me in an effort to get under the covers. I finally gave in just so he’d stop stepping on me. He burrowed underneath the coverlet and I fell asleep with my nose buried in his fuzzy neck.

Bark.
 

Bark. Bark.
 

Bark. Bark. Bark.
 

“What the hell?” I rolled over.
 

Bark. Bark. Bark. Bark.
 

“I will kill you!” I yelled at the empty bed. Pick was at the window with his front paws on the sill, barking his fool head off.
 

I stumbled out of bed, yanked him back by the collar, and closed the window. “Go to sleep, maniac.”
 

Pick ignored me and paced in front of the window, growling, as I climbed back under the covers. He barked several more times and I threatened him with dismemberment. He finally jumped back on the bed, spun around seventeen times, and plunked down on the pillows. All the pillows. What was happening to my life? This wasn’t even my dog. I grabbed my phone and texted Chuck. “I’m going to kill your dog. Come home and save him.”
 

There was no response as usual, but I fell asleep staring at the screen, hoping.