Page 45 of Close Match
“I tried,” I admit.
“I’m glad,” she says. “Because otherwise, I was going to cheerfully set you on fire with the way you stink. Jesus, Monty.” She pulls away to my uproarious laughter. “Did you roll around in the horse dung this morning.”
Grinning, I stalk after her to give her a sweat-soaked hug. “It’s called shit, Mom.”
“No, that’s what you smell like,” she retorts. “Stay away!” She takes off screeching with laughter.
I stop chasing her as she makes it up to the deck. “Dinner in a few hours. Can you make yourself presentable by then?”
“I can try,” I call back. Flapping her hand at me in the way only a mother can, she ducks inside the kitchen. But now that she’s mentioned dinner, my stomach growls when it realizes it missed lunch.
Knowing there will be something to eat somewhere in the tack room, I head in that direction. Passing by any number of kids ranging from six to eighteen, I nod as I make my way toward the back of the barn. I open the fridge and spy a bag of apples that are marked, “For Humans.” Knowing this is my mother’s handiwork, I snag two and a bottle of water before shutting the door.
Something’s changed about Ev in the last few weeks. There’s something he’s hiding. Panic rips through me as I wonder if he’s sick again, but then I think back to the times I’ve caught him with a small smile playing about his mouth at the oddest times. I quickly dismiss the idea of an affair because more often than not, he’s wearing that look when he’s talking to Mom.
So that leaves one thing: Linnie. There’s something about Linnie I don’t know.
Well, the time for not asking questions is over. She’s staying with us now—that means the gloves can come off. I promised Ev I wouldn’t investigate her. I didn’t promise I wouldn’t try to find out everything possible about her.
And now my ability to do so just got a hell of a lot easier.
Sinking my teeth into the crisp apple, I wander back out into the September sunshine, wondering what Mom’s going to make for dinner.
* * *
“This is way too much food,”Linnie protests. I can’t help but grin. I didn’t forget how tiny she is, and the amount of food Mom’s piled on her plate must look like someone swapped her plate with mine at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Terrified eyes meet mine across the table. I try to school my features, but I can’t. I’m snickering as she shoots me a death glare. “Char, I appreciate your warm welcome, but there is no way I can eat all of this. I’ll finish maybe a third.”
Calmly, Mom plucks Linnie’s plate back up and slides half of it onto mine. “Hey!” I protest. I already had a small mountain of homemade enchiladas, beans, and rice on my plate.
“Did you eat lunch?” Mom asks.
“I ate.” It’s not a lie, though two apples for the amount of physical labor I hardly counts.
“Shut it, Monty.”
Shaking my head, I slide my chair back and walk over to the fully stocked bar. I begin to mix a pitcher of margaritas expertly. “Ev, I know you’re good with tea. Mom, margarita?”
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“Linnie?” I remember her saying she doesn’t drink, but right now, she looks like she could use one. Her eyes are enormous in her face, and she looks like a skittish colt, ready to bolt at any second.
“No, thank you.”
Clearing my throat from the bar, I ask, “Then what would you like to drink?”
“Oh, water’s fine with me.” Everyone around the table laughs.
“Linnie, you’re going to need something to wash the spice down,” I assure her. “If alcohol’s not your thing, we’ve got soda, tea, or I can make you a virgin margarita.”
Her lips curve in a smile. “A virgin margarita sounds delicious. Thank you.”
Grabbing a second pitcher, I quickly mix up some of the fresh lime juice we keep on hand with orange juice and simple syrup. Sticking a slice of fresh orange on top so I can be sure which pitcher is which, I bring both back to the table. “Here you go.” I place the pitcher next to her. Pouring for Mom, I reach over to pour for Linnie just as she’s about to grab ahold of the pitcher’s handle. Our fingers brush and that electricity that sparked between us in the lobby of the Hamilton shimmers again. Her lips part slightly just like they did in my dream. Only they’re not bright red but instead stained in pale pink.
Tugging, I pull the pitcher away and quickly pour her drink. After putting it down, I lift the one well doused with alcohol for myself. I’m about to take a sip when Ev stands. Pausing with the glass so close to my lips, I put it back on the table.
What’s he about to say? Panic assails me. A glance at the other table occupants shows no outwardly indication that there’s anything wrong, so I try to calm my racing heart.
“I’d like to propose a toast. Linnie, we’re honored you’re able to take the time away from your job to join us at our table. Having found you has been a surprise, yes, but a wonderful one. I hope you know we’ll all do what we can to make you feel welcome in this family.”
