The Secret of Everything (27 page)

Annie never thought she’d buy a cloth
napkin
, but she liked the table in the corner with the window over it, and she liked having nice things, since she had so very rarely had anything in her life. The napkin was pale yellow, to match the flowers on the table, with a cheerful, embroidered edge in red and white, very simple and pretty.

Her other indulgence when she got paid was a set of oil pastels and a pad of decent paper from the drugstore. She had bought the small set of pastels, and the paper was really just a tablet of blank paper, but it was very white and a good weight. She couldn’t wait to play with them. Maybe she would be brave enough to go out to the church and sketch the graves or even sit on the plaza and sketch the tourists on her day off.

As she sat at the table, eating, a cat jumped up on her narrow strip of second-floor porch and meowed at the screen door. It was a little white thing, not very old, and Annie had been feeding her sometimes because she looked like a cat Annie had as a child. The cat rubbed on the screen door now.

“Oh, okay,” Annie whispered. “Come in for a minute.”

She went to the door. Standing against a wall across the plaza was a man with long dark hair, loose on his shoulders. For a second, Annie’s heart went cold, as it always did until she remembered.

Oh, yeah. She was safe now. Smiling to herself, she pushed
open the screen door and the cat trotted happily inside. “I bought you something, too.” Leaving her soup on the table, she opened a can of super-cheapy cat food and put it in a little saucer. The cat crouched over it delicately, politely. When she tasted it, she started to make a growling
meow meow meow
noise that was so cute Annie sat down on the floor with her, eating her own supper while the cat ate chicken-flavored mush. When they were both finished, Annie washed their dishes and put them away, then folded her napkin neatly for next time. She found an old comb and used it to smooth out the knots and tangles in the poor thing’s white fur. The cat liked it, swirling back and forth under the comb, purring so loud you could probably hear it in Nebraska. Afterward, she climbed up on Annie’s lap, and they watched television until it was time for bed. Annie was strictly not allowed to have pets, but she didn’t have the heart to put the cat out. One night couldn’t hurt, surely.

   V
ince and his partner, Jason Martinez, found the three teenagers at the bottom of a ravine—cold and hungry, a little banged up, but otherwise fine. They delivered them home and checked out and it was still only a quarter to ten.

Ten o’clock was the cutoff with his mother. If he worked until ten, he left the girls with her. If he was finished before that, he called to see what state they were in. Tonight, he was going to let the girls stay with Judy. It made him feel a little guilty, but if Tessa was leaving in a week, he wanted to see her as much as possible.

A voice mail on his cell made him waver. It was left at 9:37 p.m., only a few minutes before. “Pedro tangled with a porcupine,” Judy said. “We’re going to the vet, but he should be fine.”

He held the phone in his hand. A porcupine. Damned dog.

If he was a good man, Vince thought, he would go rescue his mother and his girls and his dog. But he’d buy his mother something really sweet to make up for being a heel tonight. Not that he intended for her to ever find out. No way. She’d kick his ass, and he honestly did need her help.

Before heading into town, he stopped at his place and showered
away the sweat of the past few hours, put on a crisp, clean shirt, and shaved. He told himself it was just good to escape his life for a few hours, to have some relief from the heavy responsibilities he carried.

And then he felt like an ass. Tonight his mother was taking on his responsibilities. Not only his children but the care of his dogs, and all of them at the vet at once would be no fun. If it wasn’t for Judy, he’d have to hire a nanny, and while he was sure there were plenty out there who were great, none of them would be Judy. Over the past few days, she’d had his daughters more hours than he had.

As he headed out again, he punched his cell to check the time—10:23. Definitely in the safe time slot, but, just to be sure, he didn’t return her call until he got all the way into town. Her voice mail picked up. “Hey, Mom,” he said. “Sorry to miss the excitement. I’m headed to town for a little while if you want to give me a call.”

He put the phone down on the seat beside him. A CD played on the deck, System of a Down, good solid rock and roll, and he turned it up, singing along in the darkness, feeling good. Hopeful. Young.

Hungry.

At the hotel, he parked in the lot in the back and walked around to the plaza. It was quiet here. A single couple ambled along arm in arm, talking quietly. On the patio by the hotel restaurant, a few late diners lingered over coffee and dessert while a woman sang torch songs in a sultry voice. From beneath the tree somewhere came the sound of a woman weeping softly, inconsolably, but peer as he might, he couldn’t see where she was.

On the second stories around the square were lights burning
in apartments and hotel rooms. Vince saw it all in excruciatingly perfect detail, as if it mattered. As if he would remember it later.

He found Tessa’s number in the history of his cell phone and punched the talk button. It rang once, twice, three, four times, and Vince began to wonder if she’d gone to bed when she picked up. “Hello?”

“Hi, Tessa. Did I wake you?”

“Not at all. I’m sitting on my balcony having a glass of wine. Where are you?”

“In the plaza.”

“You are?” The phone made noise as she moved around. “I’m looking at the plaza and I can’t see you. Can you see me?”

Vince looked at the row of balconies bound with heavy vigas. A woman was outlined against the light of French doors. He said, “Lift your hand above your head.” The woman lifted her hand, and Vince moved toward her. “I can see you.”

“I still don’t see you at all,” she said.

“Keep watching.” He walked to a spot right below her, and now he could see her leaning on the railing, her long curly hair falling over her arms.
“But, soft!”
he said quietly into the phone,
“what light through yonder window breaks?”

She laughed. “Quoting
Romeo and Juliet
doesn’t seem very auspicious.”

“They had a good time while it lasted.”

“True. Would you like to come up?”

“Yes,” he said. “I think I would.”

When Vince knocked on her door, Felix leapt up protectively and gave a serious warning bark. Pleased, Tessa bent and gave his chest a vigorous rub. “Good dog.”

She peered through the peephole, to be safe. When it was indeed Vince, she changed her voice, opened the door, and said happily, “Friend!” spreading her hand to indicate Vince. Felix wagged his tail and came over to sniff Vince’s knee.

To her surprise, Tessa felt shivery. Shy. His hair was freshly washed, too long, but that deep molasses shine was even more emphatic. Very good hair. And eyes, she thought, that dark-brown glitter. And his face, all broad lines and solidness.

“You make me think of an elk,” she said, leaning on the door-jamb, looking up at him.

He raised his eyebrows. “I hope that’s good.”

Tessa nodded. She stepped back and let him in, and suddenly the room seemed minuscule, with the bed taking up most of the room and Vince filling the rest. “What can I get you?” she asked, picking up her wine from the dresser where she’d left it. “We might have some time before the bar closes. I can order something.”

“Are you nervous?” he asked, that very small, very sexy smile playing over his mouth.

“No.” She gestured so broadly with her wine that she spilled some on her thumb. “Yes.”

“I won’t bite you.” His voice rumbled so deep, it seemed to come from his chest instead of his throat. “Get me a beer out of the minibar and let’s go sit outside. Sound good?”

Tessa nodded and bent down to look inside the fridge. “Heineken, Coors, Budweiser.”

“Whatever. Grab one.” He moved around the bed and stood by the French doors. He held out his hand. “I’m here for the woman, not the refreshments.”

For one long minute, Tessa felt literally dizzy, as if she would remember something, but then she realized it was just that she had been thinking about him all day. His kind, deep eyes and
wide mouth and powerful thighs. Now that he was here, it seemed dangerous, something way too big to be playing with. The thought gave her a sharp feeling in her ribs.

He stood there, solid and patient, waiting for her, his eyes steady on her face. “Let’s just sit outside, Tessa,” he said. “No pressure.”

She nodded and gave him his beer, and they stepped out into the darkness, lit only by stars and the twinkle of Christmas lights across the way. Felix trotted out with them and collapsed by the wall with a sigh. The silky sound of Carla Bruni rose to polish the hard edges of their slight awkwardness. Vince took her hand as they sat down, side by side. His thumb moved on hers, softly, and in a moment Tessa took a breath and let it go.

“That’s better,” he said.

“How did your rescue go? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

“It turned out fine. Our big rescue was finding three teenagers who had walked into a box canyon and couldn’t get back out. No harm, no foul. They’re fine. Although”—he raised a finger—“I had a message from my mother that Pedro tangled with a porcupine.”

“Oh, poor baby.” She scowled at him. “He needs more supervision.”

“He’s a dog, Tessa.”

“And this is a dangerous environment. Cars and porcupines and probably coyotes and mountain lions and people who don’t like dogs who could be mean to him.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see a mountain lion mess with Pedro.”

“He could get hurt, Vince. He did tonight!”

He looked at her. “You could be right.”

“I am right. Remember, I’m the one who saw him dashing across the highway after a rabbit.”

“That’s still bizarre, honestly—that you saw him first, before you met me.”

A vision of Pedro, dashing across the highway with his tongue lolling happily, flashed through her imagination. “You need to fence him,” she said firmly, “to keep him safe.”