Two Wrongs Make a Right (16 page)

“What kind of cereal?”

He grimaced. “Captain Crunch or Rice Krispies?”

“I love Rice Krispies!”

“Whew. That’s a relief. I figured I’d get an eat healthy lecture.”

“Are you kidding? I’m the one who doesn’t eat right or exercise. Remember?”

“Oh yeah. The parking lot speech. By the way, you don’t need yoga. You’re plenty limber.”

He chuckled, and she was sure he didn’t mean her dancing ability. Her face heated. “Don’t bother getting up. I can help myself.”

“I need more coffee anyway.” He followed her in, refilled his cup, and passed her a bowl and a box.

She got milk from the fridge, then looked at the audience of dead animals. “You must love to hunt.” She shook the cereal into the dish, poured the milk, and listened to the snap, crackle, pop.

He followed her gaze to the mounts on the wall, then pointed at each one. “I bagged the Pronghorn Antelope and javelina on a hunting trip out toward your neck of the woods. Fort Stockton. The pronghorn and deer with a gun, javelina, a bow.”

Quinn said nothing.

“Let me guess. You’re an animal activist and don’t believe in hunting.”

“Why do you say that?”

He grinned. The one that made her tingle all over. “I keep trying to find something wrong with you.”

She leaned into the counter to keep from collapsing. He gave her serious quivers. The kind that made her want to rip his clothes off. “No. I just don’t care for dead animals as decorations, and if you knew me better, you’d discover lots of character flaws. Please tell me you eat the meat from your kills and they didn’t just die for sport.”

“Nope. Have it butchered, then donate it to one of the local homeless shelters.”

“Of course you do.”

He pulled his brows together. “Why’d you say it like that?”

“Just that you’re so damn perfect, I should have known you’d never kill just for sport. Have you always had such a high moral compass?”

That got a chuckle from him. “Hey, I can be a bad boy, when I need to be.” He took a sip of coffee, then glanced at his watch. “I’ll get the tackle box and poles. Be right back.”

For the next two hours, they fished and threw back everything they caught. Soaking up the sunshine and the sight of Dak, she’d never experienced the mix of emotions buzzing in her head. Happy to be with him. Sad to be leaving.

Later that day, she made sandwiches, and they watched a baseball game on TV, then made love on the sofa. She usually kept her eyes open during sex, but pinched them tight, because today, beautiful creatures glared down at her as if condemning her for taking advantage of the guy who’d killed them. At one point, she pictured her head next to Bambi’s daddy. Not a good thing when you’re in the throes of passion. But crazy notions were easier than looking at Dak because of what she was about to do. Tomorrow, he’d find plenty of things wrong with her.

The next morning at four-thirty, Quinn woke Dak to have sex again, knowing when they finished, he’d go sound asleep, and she’d be able to leave without saying goodbye. It was a terrible thing to do, but no more awful than what she’d already done.

The night before, using an excuse of writing reports to get some alone time, she tried to compose a farewell letter. No confession. But he at least deserved an explanation why she’d leave without waking him. It seemed easy enough to tell him long-distance relationships rarely worked, and she’d started over a dozen times, but there was nothing to say. If she promised to call or give him false hope of another visit, it only added to her list of lies. A clean break was best. No note. No goodbye.

This weekend would remain the greatest three days of her life. She’d go back to her grim apartment, decrepit car, and lack-luster job. Molly would be gone along with Dak Savage, world’s best kisser, sweetest man on Earth, killer of innocent animals.

Taking three deep cleansing breaths for strength, she slithered out of bed, lifted her suitcase and tiptoed down the hallway. Once in the kitchen, she opened the bag, grabbed jeans and shirt, put them on, and slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops. Breath strangled in her throat from a mixture of fear and remorse. She removed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water, then gulped. She set the glass on the counter and took one last look around the beautiful room. Luggage and purse in hand, she eased the door open, then stepped into the morning air.

The moon sank and her heart hitched a ride. She stared back at the place. A chorus of crickets and frogs sang from the lake, and the now familiar squeak of the porch swing accompanied the melody. She took it all in wanting to remember everything. Every sound. Every moment.

Once in her car, her fingers froze on the keys, half of her wished Dak would rush out and drag her back inside, the other half, petrified he would. She turned the engine, backed around and headed down the drive. When she reached the road, she stomped the gas pedal and got as far away as fast as possible.

She swung by the rental place, dropped the car off, and headed home. If she turned around, drove through Mickey D’s again, she’d be back at Dak’s house by seven with coffee and Egg McMuffins. Tell him the truth. Beg for mercy. Explain how the early menopause curse had clouded her judgment and made her go crazy, then offer to furnish character references as to her sanity.

But she remembered the scar on his chest. No. He’d never forgive her. He’d lump her into the same category as the lying bitch who’d gotten him shot. Quinn couldn’t blame him. She wasn’t any better. A lie was a lie regardless of the reason.

She parked on the street and made her way back inside her apartment. The cats were nowhere to be seen. They probably thought she’d deserted them. She set her luggage down, plopped her purse onto the counter, then went to check their automatic dispenser bowls.

Not empty, but the shake of the Kibble bag caused the girls to come running. “Hey ladies. Did you miss me?”

Quinn gave them fresh water, emptied their litter box, and took the sack to the dumpster.

After a quick shower, she climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her head. Drifting to sleep, she brought Dak’s face into view. Every little wrinkle. Freckle. Line.

~~*~~

Dak rolled over, reached for Molly and found the bed empty. He opened his eyes and listened. No light under the bathroom door. No sounds from the kitchen. He smiled, and pictured her on the back deck watching the sun rise. She loved the view from there, and he loved the view of her.

He imagined her leaned back, sunshine reflecting off her raven hair, bare toes running up and down Homer’s spine, while he half-closed his eyes in pure ecstasy.

Funny. After two days, Dak already liked having her there. Then reality hit him. This was their last day together, and it made his chest hurt.

El Paso was too far to drive for a weekend. Almost six hundred miles. She might as well live in another state. Southwest Airlines probably had direct flights with reasonable fares. He’d share the travel. Then another idea occurred. Fort Stockton, his hunting ground, was that direction. A good meeting location, halving the driving distance for both of them.

He sat up on the edge of the bed. He felt—happy. Which was odd because he was always happy. But this was a different variety. This wasn’t about beer with the guys or football Sundays. It didn’t involve high-fives to celebrate landing a big account. This happiness occupied a part of his heart he’d paid no attention to until Molly. She filled it with her laughter, nervous rants, and the crazy button thing. How could that be? He didn’t want her to disappear from his life. Not today. Maybe never.

Sonovabitch. What was wrong with him? He was acting like a love sick high school boy. But then he remembered how good she felt in his arms, and excitement ignited within him. He pulled on his pajama pants and tee-shirt, then went to find her.

Through the wall of windows, he had a clear view of the back deck. No sign of her. He walked to the doorway expecting to see her at the water’s edge, but she wasn’t there either. A strange feeling passed over him. He rushed to the front door and peered outside. Breath froze in his chest. Her car—gone.

He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to make sense of it. Why leave without saying goodbye? Sneak away as if avoiding being caught by a jealous wife. She knew there was no such person.

She’d claimed to like him and he believed her. Why else extend her trip? He scanned the bar for a note. Checked the refrigerator door. The bathroom mirror. The coffee table. Her pillow. He hugged it to his chest and breathed in her scent.

His good mood from earlier evaporated, replaced with sadness he’d not felt since his grandfather’s funeral, six years ago. An emptiness that only time could remedy, but he didn’t want time or memories. He wanted her. Two days wasn’t enough to plan a lifetime together, but plenty to realize it might be possible.

He rose, and returned to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Caffeine helped him think. The early morning sex must have been her goodbye. A damn good one for sure, but some dialogue would have been nice.

He picked up a glass from the counter, and ran his fingers around the rim where her lips had been. Such a kissable mouth. The one in the parking lot—the best first kiss of his life.

After popping a pod into the Keurig, dark Columbian brew streamed into his cup. Once it finished, he brought it to his mouth, blew across the surface, watched the vapor rise and disappear into thin air. He took a slow sip and picked up his cell. Shit. He didn’t have her number.

He’d asked, but she’d never given it to him, and he could kick himself for the oversight. She didn’t have his number either but he was in the book, so she could call on the land line. Then his phone chimed, and his heart jumped, but when he saw the name, it fell back into place. Sim.

“Hey, Sis. What’s up?”

“Is your house guest still there?” she whispered.

“It’s unnecessary to speak in a low voice. No one can hear you but me.”

“Your crabby attitude tells me she’s left already. I want to hear all about her. Ben said he couldn’t tell much from where he was. Just that she had dark hair and a nice figure. So give me the important details. Are you going to see her again? I mean, you’re interested because you brought her there. To the cabin. No woman’s land. Do I hear wedding bells?”

“Doubtful.”

“Oh, come on. Give me something.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes. Something. So what it is?”

“There was nothing wrong with her.”

“Oh. My. God. You fell for her. I’m so happy.”

“Pretty sure she doesn’t feel the same.”

“She doesn’t want to see you again?”

“Guess not. She left this morning before I got up. I’d say the message is clear.”

“I’m coming over.”

Dak started to protest, but the phone went dead. In a way he didn’t want her to come, but she might explain why Molly acted as if she couldn’t get enough of him, and then vanished without a word.

By the time Sim arrived, he had searched every place for a note. Molly had a playful personality, so she might write it in lipstick across a mirror, or pin it to the chaise, or tape it to a fishing pole. But he’d checked all those places and found nothing. It was time to face the truth. From the beginning, she indicated it was revenge sex against her ex, but Dak had hoped it meant more. He shouldn’t be pissed. She’d warned him. Even discouraged him. Tried to talk him out of it with that crazy sermon. Nope. He couldn’t blame her. He’d pressed. Invited her to stay. Brought her to the one place he’d never brought a woman before. Dammit to hell. His sister was right. Over the last three days, he had fallen for Molly.

Sim opened the door without knocking, and threw her arms around him. “Oh, my big brother in love for the first time. I’m so sorry you have a broken heart.”

He backed away. “I’m not sure I’d classify it as heartbreak. I’ll be fine.” It wouldn’t be as easy as he made it sound, but he didn’t want Sim to know.

She dipped her head down and rolled her eyes up. “You invited her here. That tells me more than anything you can say. You’ve
nev-ver
let a female set foot on these premises. You can call her.”

“Didn’t get her number. Besides, she told me she’d recently broken up with a guy. I figure this was a way for her to get back at him. It is what it is.”

After his sister left, Dak switched from coffee to whiskey, and considered what he knew about Molly Harper. She lived in El Paso and worked for a medical supply company. There couldn’t be that many.

He grabbed his laptop, and searched for companies large enough to have sales reps, and found two. He clicked on the first one and checked the employee roster. No Molly. He moved to the next one. Again, no luck. Strange. He remembered her saying she’d been with the company for three years. She should be listed.

He stared at the screen and wished he’d gotten the business name. There were other companies, but smaller. He doubted they had traveling representatives, but no harm in checking.

For the next hour, he investigated every possible company in or near El Paso. Nobody named Molly or Harper appeared on any site. He closed the computer, leaned back in the chair, and stared at the ceiling. There was one other place he could check.

He waited in the parking lot until Rowdy’s neon sign came on, then got out of his truck and made his way inside. Standing behind the counter, the same bartender from the other night was hanging wine glasses in an overhead rack. Dak walked over to him and got right to the point. “You remember me?”

Dave cocked his head. “Hooked up with the pearls chick. Right?”

“Yeah. I’m trying to get in touch with her and lost her number. Do you know any of the girls she was with that night?”

“Wasn’t with any. Came alone.”

“No, she was with that group sitting over there.” He pointed to the vacant table.

Dave picked up a cloth and swirled it over the countertop. “Nope. They asked her to join their party because she was by herself. I thought you knew her.”

“Why?”

“Because she was waiting for you.”