The Secret of Everything (18 page)

As the guys wandered out of work, blinking in the bright
sunshine following an afternoon of training films, a couple of them invited Vince to come along to a local watering hole.

He shook his head. “Got other plans,” he said, and headed home for a quick shower. Taking her card out of his wallet, he sat next to Pedro on the couch and dialed the number.

She answered, “Vince, hello.” Her voice, smooth and low, percolated near the base of his neck. “I’m so glad you called.”

“Me, too,” he said, and at least it was honest. They arranged to meet in an hour.

Which was how he found himself in one of the lanes along the plaza, as the evening breezes began to sweep north across the river. She was sitting outside a little restaurant on a bench, wearing jeans and a simple tank top and gold sandals. A big fringed scarf, printed with wild red paisleys, was thrown over her shoulders. She didn’t see him.

He stopped, filled with a hunger that had been missing in his life for a long, long time. Her tanned throat drew his eye, and he loved the wavy blond hair, the way she pulled it all into a kind of messy ponytail or something so that shiny little curls fell around her face and neck. Everything about her spoke of confidence and the solid sense of herself and clear-sighted directness he found refreshing.

Beside her, leaning against her leg, was a black-and-white dog, scruffy and badly in need of a bath and a good meal. She spoke to him quietly, rubbing his ears, touching his shoulder blades, firmly stroking down his back. The dog panted softly in the warm evening, smiling upward into the air.

Tessa looked up as Vince approached. In the twilight, her eyes were the color of new leaves, and she gave him a rueful smile. “I keep running into this little guy. I’m going to have to name him pretty soon.”

“Lot of strays around here,” he said. “Breaks your heart.”

“You have room for one more dog, don’t you? Look at this face.”

Vince snorted. “It’s a good-looking pup, but no can do. I have a houseful already.”

“I’m so tempted to take him to my room for the night. Maybe tomorrow, then, I could take him to the humane society or something. Is there a no-kill shelter here?”

“Probably.” The dog really did have a great face. Vince held out his hand. The dog sniffed it and gave it a gentle lick, then let Vince stroke his chest. “He’s so skinny.”

Tessa sighed. “I’m totally stuck on him. I can’t leave him again.”

“Again?”

“I’ve seen him every day since I’ve been here,” she said. “My dad would tell me that means he’s mine. And although I do try to avoid all that metaphysical crap he loves so much, I have to admit … this one is weighing on my conscience.” Light edged her hair as she bent toward the dog. “Do you think the hotel will let me keep him for a night?”

“It’s Los Padres, right? They do have a dog policy.” He grinned. “Not sure they have
stray
dogs in mind. He’s probably riddled with fleas, you know.”

“I know, this is nuts.”

“Tell you what,” Vince said. “I’ve got my truck over there. We can put him in the back for now, have some dinner, and figure out what to do.”

“I’d like to feed him.”

“There’s probably some dog food left from the other day when we went up to the lake. And I’ve always got water.”

She smiled at him. It gave her skin a radiance, something
nearly supernatural. Her long green anime eyes again made him think of something. Someone. “My hero,” she said in that hot-chocolate voice. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He bent and scooped the dog into his arms. “Come on, baby, we’ll get you something to eat.” The dog licked his neck, whimpering softly until Tessa came along and put her hand on his head. “It’s okay, sweetie. Promise.”

At the truck, Vince put the dog down and unlocked the back gate, letting it swing up so the dog could leap into the rubberized back. He poured water and kibble into dishes, and the dog went after the food like the starving creature he was.

“Poor baby,” Tessa said, and Vince thought she might be blinking tears away. It made him want her in a way that felt like too much. He took a step backward.

The dog was happy enough to curl up on a blanket in the back of the truck, and they left him there and walked back through the gathering evening.

“I like your scarf,” he said, mainly because he couldn’t think of anything else.

“Thanks.” She smiled at him. “Do I make you nervous, Vince?”

He stopped. “Maybe a little. You’re not really like the women I usually meet.”

She stood looking up at him, her hands caught behind her back, which afforded him a pleasant view of her not-insubstantial breasts, sloping away into darkness beneath her tank top. “What are they like? Your lovers?”

“Lovers?” He nearly coughed. “Uh. Just … women, I guess.”

“I’m just a woman.”

“No,” he said. “You’re kind of … mysterious.”

She laughed. “Trust me. I’m really not at all.” She took a step closer, her lips still turned up at the corners, teasing and sweet
at once, and he thought of his fantasy of her lying on the shores of the lake half naked, pleasuring him. Her gaze went to his mouth. “Here is something unmysterious—I’ve been thinking about kissing you since the first night we met.”

“Is that so?” He looked at her mouth, and, feeling way over his head, bent down to kiss her. Thinking maybe it would just be a little taste, an appetizer. Her lips were pillowy soft and yielding. Her breasts barely brushed his chest, and her arms were still locked behind her, which was weirdly arousing. He stepped slightly closer, aware that they were on the corner of a lane that was not well traveled but there could be someone passing at any moment, and yet the moment was so sweet, so engrossing, he couldn’t think of a reason to stop.

Instead, he angled his head a little and she tilted the other way, and he took her head into his hands, feeling hair on the backs of his fingers, the angle of her jaw against his palm, her sweet mouth opening and inviting his tongue inside. So he dove, and she made the softest sound and followed him back when he would have retreated. Her hands came up to his sides, the backs of his arms, and he felt the brush of her body down the front of him, nudging breasts, belly, thighs. It gave him a massive hard-on—slightly embarrassing in so public a place—and he lifted his head. “We have to stop this.”

She half-closed her eyes, resting her cheek on his palm. “I love your voice,” she said. “It sounds like something wild. The wind or an elk.”

Her lower lip glistened, and he bent as if in a trance to suck it gently into his mouth. “How hungry are you, really?”

She laughed. “Hungry enough we do need to eat.”

It broke the tension, and Vince managed to pull himself together. He took her hand as they walked toward the restaurant.

“Where are your girls tonight?”

“My mother took them to Pueblo to go school shopping. It’s a pretty good-size town about three hours north of here.”

“I would have thought Albuquerque was closer.”

“It’s about the same. Easier driving north, and my mom’s sister lives there.” He felt that ripple of worry over the fighting again. “I’m hoping a break will shake things up and they’ll stop fighting so much.”

“They are clever at pushing each other’s buttons. And Natalie is a little intense.”

He paused, his hand on the door to the restaurant. “What do you mean?”

“She’s just a little prickly.” She narrowed her eyes. “Protective. Doesn’t like it that Pedro likes me.”

“Picked up an awful lot in an hour.”

She raised an eyebrow. One side of her mouth lifted. “Did I step on your toes? I didn’t mean to. It’s part of my job to be observant, figure things out.”

“You didn’t step on my toes.”

“Yeah? So, were you ever going to open the door, then?”

Maybe, he thought, she was too brash for his tastes. Too plainspoken. He pulled the door open and she brushed by him. A scent of lemon and nutmeg rose from her skin, and in response, a rush of saliva filled his mouth. He didn’t even like lemons. Too astringent.

And yet he discovered he was again watching her ass as she walked ahead of him, rear end shapely from all that hiking.

A young hostess seated them on the patio, brought water. “Have you eaten here?” Tessa asked, scanning the menu.

Vince shook his head. “Hasn’t been here long, I don’t think—a year or a little more.”

“It has a pretty good reputation,” Tessa said.

The menu was new American, pretty simple stuff. Local
meats and fish, trout and bass, and even some game meats—venison and rabbit—cooked simply and straightforwardly. The side dishes were unfussy—roasted summer squash and roasted ears of corn. Tessa ordered venison stew, along with a salad of fresh greens and the roasted corn. After his long day, Vince was starving, and he ordered a steak and a beer. “You want me to order anything else?” he asked. “We can try the beets, too.”

“Sure,” she said. When the server gathered their menus and departed, Tessa inclined her head. “You’ve done restaurant tastings or something?”

“My wife was a big fanatic for food television. She fancied herself a gourmet.”

“Ah. What kind of food did she cook?”

“Classic French style—Cordon Bleu, the whole nine yards.” He shrugged. “Let’s not talk about her.”

“Is that a painful wound, still?”

“No,” he said, meeting her eyes. “I’d just rather talk about you.”

A slow grin spilled over her face. “Good answer.” She leaned back and the scarf slid sideways, showing the smooth line of her collarbone. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me where you lead your tours.”

“Small talk, then.” She smiled at him. “Okay. I’ve been in thirty-seven countries, and lived in four. I like it. I like learning new things, meeting new people, just the adventure of it.”

“Where have you lived?”

“I’ve been based in Santa Monica for the past two years. Before that, it was Tasmania, and before that, New Zealand, and Crete.” She frowned, looking at her hands.

“Which one was your favorite?”

“Tasmania,” she said without hesitating. Something flickered over her mouth. Melancholy.

“You miss it.”

She nodded. “There are things about Los Ladrones that make me think of it, oddly. The mountains, the sort of hostile environment, maybe.”

“Not sure I know where Tasmania is.”

“I didn’t know, either, until I went there. South of Australia.”

“Did you see Tasmanian devils?”

“Do you know that everyone asks that question?”

“It’s the only intelligent question to ask.” He leaned forward, elbow on the table. “Did you?”

She twirled scarf fringes around one finger. “I did. They’re kind of a cross between a rat and a squirrel. Black and white, with these weird ears that turn bright red when they’re eating. And they are savage, savage little things. Absolute eating machines, that’s all they live for.”

“I know a dog like that.”

She chuckled. “The devils are endangered, actually. There’s a really nasty face cancer that spreads among them and kills them in about three months flat. Scientists aren’t sure they can save them.”

“That would be sad.” Light began to fade behind her. It set the edges of her pale hair afire and illuminated the wistfulness in the lines around her eyes. Vince guessed, “But it wasn’t Tasmanian devils you loved there, was it?”

She shook her head. “No, there was a man.”

“But not a husband?”

“We lived together for four years. A scientist,” she said. “Studied penguins.”

Vince grinned. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

She looked down, twirled the fringes again, and he could see
plainly that she missed her old lover. “Yeah.” Then, as if realizing her own body language, she sat up and leaned toward Vince, her pale, beautiful eyes focused entirely on him. “But I’d rather talk about you.”

For a minute he met her gaze, aware of a rustling of jealousy in his belly. Then he leaned back, signaled for another beer. It wasn’t going to go anywhere. It wasn’t going to be anything. He didn’t have to collect her whole life story. They could go back to the hotel, have a good fuck, and be done. It was what he’d been thinking about since seeing her that first night.

He would enjoy it, but it would be a mistake to gather too much information, find out too much about her, give too much away about himself.

Keep it light, man
.

The food came, elegantly arranged on square white plates garnished with orchids and nasturtiums and a green leaf Tessa didn’t know. Before she even tasted the food, she knew she would be faintly disappointed, and she was. The venison was adequate, if a little tough, and she ate a bit of it. Even the corn, which should have been brilliant this time of year, was bland. Drinking water, she sat back in her chair. “How’s yours?”

He lifted one shoulder. “Okay. Not the best, not the worst.” He gestured with his knife to her unfinished plate. “No good?”

“It’s fine.” From her back pocket, she took a notebook and a pen and made a few notes, thinking as she wrote of the encounters this morning at Green Gate Farms. The eerie sense of something lost moved through her chest again, cold and hollow.

“You okay?”

Tessa looked up. “Yes, sorry. Woolgathering.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I keep thinking you look familiar. We must have met somewhere.”

Tessa nearly told him that she’d been here as a child but then just didn’t want to get into the whole weird history of it. “They say everybody has a twin.” She shook her head. “It’s been kind of an odd day.”

“Want to talk about it?”

Tessa looked at him, pulled the scarf closer around her shoulders. Hurricane lamps were burning on the white-covered tables, and waiters moved quietly and ubiquitously through the well-dressed patrons. In contrast, he sat like an elk amid Abyssinian cats, his eyes calm and dark. He looked tired. He had shaved, hastily, and cut himself. She thought of his belly, of the blue T-shirt flung over his shoulder the other day, thought of him picking up the dog and carrying him to his truck.

“Maybe I do,” she said finally. “But not here.”

His mouth lifted on one side. “I know a place.”