Page 35 of To Die For

“Fig Newton. I had four of them, and it was an emergency. That doesn’t qualify as eating.”

“It’s four Fig Newtons more than I’ve had, so to me it qualifies.”

“That’s beside the point. Feeding me is now your duty.”

His lips twitched. “Duty? How do you figure that?”

“You commandeered me, didn’t you?”

“Some people might think it was more along the lines of saving your life.”

“Details. Mom would have fed me extremely well. You took me away from her, so now you have to step up to the plate.”

“Interesting woman, your mother. You came by the attitude honestly, didn’t you?”

“What attitude?” I asked in bewilderment.

He reached across and patted my knee. “It doesn’t matter. Your dad told me his secret to handling you.”

“He didn’t!” I was appalled. Dad wouldn’t have sided with the enemy, would he? Of course, he didn’t know Wyatt was the enemy. For all I knew, Wyatt had told him we were engaged or something and that was why Dad hadn’t batted an eye about Wyatt taking me home with him.

“Of course he did. We men have to stick together, you know.”

“He wouldn’tdothat! He never told Jason any secret. There isn’t any secret. You just made that up.”

“Did not.”

I fished out my cell phone and furiously punched in Mom and Dad’s number. Wyatt reached over and neatly confiscated the phone, punching theendbutton, then slipping it in his pocket.

“Give me that!” I was seriously hampered by my wounded arm, since he was sitting to my left. I tried to turn in the seat, but I couldn’t move my arm much at all and it sort of got in the way, and I bumped my shoulder against the back of the seat. For a moment I saw stars.

“Easy, honey, easy.” Wyatt’s crooning voice reached me through the waves of pain, but it was coming from the right, which was very disorienting.

I took a few deep breaths and opened my eyes, and found that his voice was coming from the right because he was leaning into the car from the open passenger door. The car was stopped in a driveway, the motor still running, and a dark house loomed in front of us.

“Are you going to pass out on me?” he asked as he gently straightened me in the seat.

“No, but I might throw up on you,” I answered honestly, and let my head drop back while I closed my eyes again. The nausea and pain receded at the same rate.

“Try not to.”

“It was probably an empty threat. I haven’t eaten, remember?”

“Except for four Fig Newtons.”

“They’re long gone. You’re safe.”

He brushed his hand over my forehead. “Good deal.” He closed the car door, then came back around and got behind the wheel.

“Isn’t this your house?” I asked in confusion. Had he pulled into the first driveway he came to?

“Sure is, but I’ll park in the garage.” He hit a button on the garage-door opener clipped to the sun visor, and simultaneously an exterior light came on and a double garage door in the side of the house began sliding upward. He put the car in gear and pulled forward, then turned to the right and smoothly slotted the car into its place. He punched the button again, and the door began sliding down behind us.

His garage was neat, which impressed me. Garages tend to be catchalls, getting choked with everything except the cars they were meant to house. Not Wyatt’s. To my right was a tool bench, with one of those big, red, multidrawered tool chests like mechanics have parked off to one side. An array of hammers, saws, and other guy stuff hung neatly on the pegboard wall. I stared at them, wondering if he knew what to do with all of them. Men and their toys. Huh.

“I have a hammer, too,” I told him.

“I bet you do.”

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