A Kiss in Winter Page 10

  She eyed her closet. The urge to open the door and start dragging everything out was strong. Obsessive-compulsive. Laurel said Macie had OCD. Just to prove Laurel wrong (and even more because deep inside Macie feared it might be true), she turned her back on the closet. That didn’t seem to be enough. She got up and walked to her dresser. Opening her sock drawer, she reached in both hands and tossed them like salad. Then she stared at them for a long moment; they were no longer lined up by color and type and length. Her drawer was a spaghetti bowl of colors and textures—just like a normal girl’s.

  Her palms itched to straighten everything back out. There were probably socks that needed to be thrown away. At least it would give her something to do…

  She slammed the drawer closed.

  At exactly the same moment the drawer banged, her cell rang.

  She snatched it up without looking at the caller ID; Laurel had absolutely no patience when it came to waiting for scoop. “Hello!”

  “Whoa! Bad time?”

  Her insides turned to warm butter. “Caleb! No, I was just fighting with my sock drawer.” Oh my God, how stupid could she sound?

  He laughed. Not an I-can’t-believe-this-girl-is-so-lame laugh, but a relaxed I’m-having-fun laugh; just like last night. “Who’s winning?”

  Relieved that he didn’t sound like he thought she was a total idiot, Macie eyed the drawer. The ends of a couple of socks were sticking out. “Too early to tell.”

  “So, was your sister freaked last night when you got home so late?”

  “Nah, she was cool.” She didn’t want to sound like a dork—well, any more than she already had.

  “Lucky you. My mom met me at the door with her fangs bared. She’s a werewolf, you know. Instead of the full moon changing her, it’s me missing my curfew. One minute after the stroke of midnight and it’s all claws, fur, and howling.”

  Macie laughed. She’d thought she was the only senior with a midnight curfew. “Did she retract her claws when you explained?”

  “Not until she saw the paper today. She just decided to unground me ten minutes ago. She said even though I couldn’t help being stuck up there, I should have had my phone. I can’t win, you know? If I’d lost the phone on a ride she’d be after my ass, too.”

  “Oh, yeah, I know just what you mean.”

  “Anyway, since I’m ungrounded, you wanna take a ride on my motorcycle?”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, the werewolf won’t let it out of the garage after dark.”

  Macie bit her lower lip. Caroline hated motorcycles in all forms. The only reason she let Sam keep his dirt bike was because Dad had given it to him. And she always paced around like her shoes were filled with hot coals when he was out on it. No way would she approve of Macie riding on Caleb’s bike; she’d had a fit when Macie wanted to ride in the guy’s car, for God’s sake.

  She thought quickly and said, “I was just going to walk down to the drugstore, Hermann’s on Main. Why don’t you meet me there?” Well, she did need mousse.

  “Okay. Fifteen minutes?”

  “Okay.” He hung up before she thought to ask if he had an extra helmet. She might be willing to leave her sock drawer a mess and sneak around behind Caroline’s rigid back, but she wasn’t ready to be an organ donor.

  She went downstairs. Caroline was in her darkroom. Which was good; Macie wouldn’t have to lie directly to her face.

  “Hey,” Macie called through the darkroom door, “I’m going to the drugstore to get mousse, then meet some kids at Taco Jack’s.”

  “What about your closet?”

  Sheesh, she hated being so predictable. “I’ll do it when I get home.”

  “Okay. Be careful! Let me know if you’re going to go do something else.”

  “Um-hmmm.” It was scary how easily the lies came. Maybe she had a felon within, like a split personality that was just emerging. Maybe Sam had some suppressed, organized, overachiever in him. It was an interesting idea.

  When she got to the drugstore, she did at least buy the mousse. She was standing on the sidewalk with the little bag in her hand when Caleb roared up on his motorcycle. If he’d looked cool before, sweet Jesus he was poster-worthy now. Mysterious, dangerous, and fast. A buzzing warmth began in places that were soon to become intimate with that motorcycle.

  He killed the engine and sat up straight. He pulled off his helmet—Macie was glad to see he wore one—and shook his head, then pushed his hair away from his face.

  “Hey,” he said with a smile.

  “Nice bike.”

  “Thanks.” He reached behind him and unstrapped a second helmet from the seat. “Here.” He handed it to her. “Nobody rides my bike without one.”

  She stuck the bag with the can of mousse under her arm and slipped the helmet on. She felt like Darth Vader behind the full-face shield. The sound of her own breathing echoed around her head.

  Her fingers fumbled with the chin strap until Caleb gently moved her hands away and fastened it for her. He took the can of mousse from her and shoved it in the cargo pocket of his shorts.

  As she threw her leg over the seat and climbed on behind him, she thought, What the hell am I doing?

  The felon within answered, Having some fun for once in your dull, predictable life.

  Chapter 9

  Mick loaded his truck from the Home Depot flat cart. Few things had changed around Redbud Mill since he’d left for college, and in general he liked it that way. But he was glad for the addition of this particular chain store. It made for one-stop shopping where he would otherwise have had to hit not only several stores, but probably a couple of other towns.

  Although September was half over, the heat radiated off the asphalt parking lot like it was July, giving the cars on the far side of the lot the quality of a mirage.

  He hefted a bag of Quikrete into the truck bed, then took his work gloves off, lifted his cap, and wiped his sweaty brow.

  As he stood there momentarily, a most welcome sight appeared in that shimmering parking lot mirage. Caroline Rogers’s image wavered as in a fun house mirror, then sharpened and settled into the beautiful woman she was. She walked toward him behind an orange shopping cart. He hadn’t seen her for over two weeks, not since the fair. A couple of times he’d come close to calling her but hadn’t—unsure what he’d say. Once, looking for an excuse to make that call, he’d deliberately left the kitchen door open, but the raccoon hadn’t accepted the invitation.

  And there had been dreams—dreams that didn’t take a psychiatrist to interpret: Caroline on his lap as they rode the tractor around his farm; making love upstairs with the night coming softly in the open window. His subconscious was taking quite a leap, but he decided to enjoy the fantasies just the same. Fantasies were probably as close as he was going to get.

  He watched her approach, those fantasies taking on new life. The warmth of his insides grew to compete with the heat outside. He couldn’t tell if she saw him as she stopped her cart beside an Astro minivan one aisle over. He was just about to give her a shout, when she looked up and waved.

  Abandoning his half-unloaded cart, he walked over to her. He was glad to see her smiling at him after the way they’d parted at the fairgrounds.

  “Hey there, Farmer Larsen.” The way she emphasized the Farmer part told him she still doubted his commitment.

  Caroline had to admit Mick looked more—not exactly farmer… cowboy was closer—than doctor. He had the color of a man who spent his time outdoors. His gray T-shirt showed biceps and a chest used to lifting more than a tape recorder and a pen. And boy, oh boy, a woman had to admire the way those jeans fit. She did give him one “farmer” point for wearing a John Deere baseball cap, even though he had the visor stylishly curved around his forehead in a way that made the impossible happen; John Deere couture looked sexy.

  She wished she hadn’t noticed. The whole Mick Larsen package was becoming too appealing. There was a reason a man his age wasn’t married. There was always a rea
son; whether commitment issues, or any one of the dozen other excuses she’d heard her natural mother weep about after she’d been abandoned by her most recent “friend.” Then again, Caroline had “commitment issues” herself; she was leaving and had no room for romance in her future.

  “Hey there, Raccoon Tamer Rogers,” he said with a smile that knocked that healthy wariness off the shelf, unexpectedly lifting her heart. Watch it, she cautioned herself.

  She glanced beyond him toward his cart. “You’ve certainly got a load of paint there.”

  “Painting the barn.”

  Thank God. Her father would roll over in his grave at the very idea of that vulgarity marring his once-pristine barn. “Doing it yourself?”

  He nodded. “Done baling the fields. The first of the stock arrives next week. I want to get the painting done before the weather deteriorates.”

  She gave him a couple more farmer points for seeing the value of baling the unused pastures. “Doesn’t feel like that’ll be happening any time soon,” she said, sweating like she’d been baling.

  He pointed to her cart. “End-of-the-season sale?”

  “I wish.” She’d bought four fourteen-inch portable fans. “Air-conditioning went kaput.”

  “I don’t know a lot about air conditioners, but I can take a look. Maybe it’s something simple.”

  She was tempted to let him come and tinker with it, just to spend a little more time with him—which told her just how much trouble she was in. At the fair he’d reached right inside her and touched a place she’d shielded from everyone. He saw things in her that no one else did—things she was ready to leave behind.

  She put temptation behind her. “Already had the AC guy out. This one has been pronounced DOA. We’re not going to need it much longer this year. I don’t want to sink a bunch of money into it if I’m going to be moving soon. Macie is looking at some very prestigious colleges; with both kids in school next fall, pennies count.”

  Mick lowered his chin. “Moving? Away?”

  “I’ve been sending out portfolios to the major magazines. I’m hoping to get involved in something global. I’ve been waiting for the kids to graduate.” She released a breath, like someone who sees the end of the road after carrying a heavy load.

  “Oh. I see.” He’d been thinking of Caroline as someone permanent, someone who felt as attached to the land here as he did.

  Maybe she just needs a reason to stay.

  He said, “Do you have any leads yet?”

  “Not yet. I’ve really just started the process.”

  He caught himself just before he said a satisfied, Good. He did say, “I want to thank you for talking through the livestock with me.” Since I scared you off and didn’t get to at the time. “I think I’ve made some good selections.”

  “My pleasure. If there’s ever anything else I can offer”—she let it hang there long enough for Mick to conjure lots of things he’d like from her, before she finished—“concerning the farm or the equipment, just let me know. A couple of the machines are pretty temperamental. Oh, and you should check the sump pump occasionally; the float sticks. And don’t run onion skins down the garbage disposal.” She paused, then raised her finger. “Oh yes, be sure and double-check the outside cellar door; sometimes it leaks if it’s not shut just right. And when the furnace starts up for the first time in the fall, there’s this little trick you need to do with the switch—”

  Mick grabbed his opportunity. “Hold on. I think it might just be easier if you come out and run through the whole list with me—that is, if you don’t mind.”

  “Well, I don’t mind… but Ms. Stockton might have already fixed some of the things.”

  “We won’t know until you show me all of the idiosyncrasies, will we?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “How about this evening?”

  She shifted and her gaze slid away in a way that said she was looking for an out.

  “I really don’t want to screw something up,” he said. Then he ramped up the drama. “It might already be too late.” He grabbed for his heart. “Dear God, I’ve already run onion skins down the disposal.”

  She laughed. “Okay. What time?”

  “Five? That way we can go over the outside stuff before dark.”

  “All right.”

  He walked back toward his truck, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll make dinner.”

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  He pretended not to hear.

  Caroline carried the last two fans in through the back door, calling, “Macie, you home?” She doubted it; Macie always came out without being asked to help haul things in from the car.

  After unboxing two of the fans, Caroline carried them upstairs, anxious to get some air moving.

  As she climbed the stairs, she heard music coming from Macie’s room. Maybe Macie had fallen asleep when she got home from school; she’d been looking tired lately. She was taking a heavy class load, plus a workshop geared to increase SAT scores. Even though Macie’s SAT scores were good, the top schools were very competitive and it couldn’t hurt to see if she could bump her scores a bit higher.

  Caroline left one fan at the top of the stairs to put in her bedroom at the opposite end of the hall and took the other one to Macie’s room. Poor kid was probably sweltering up here.

  Unwinding the cord, she pushed Macie’s half-closed door open—and dropped the fan at her feet.

  Macie and that California man-boy jumped guiltily at the clatter, straightening and separating themselves. They sat on the floor with their backs pressed against Macie’s bed.

  “Caroline! I didn’t hear you come home,” Macie said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “That’s pretty obvious.”

  Caroline just stood there and glared, until Macie said, “Um, this is Caleb… from California.” Then she lifted her hand, palm up, as if displaying Caroline as a prize on The Price Is Right. “Caleb, my sister Caroline.”

  Caleb lifted his chin and looked up from beneath the hair that hung over his eyes. “Hey.”

  He didn’t seem in the least uncomfortable getting caught going for second base. Caroline felt her teeth grinding together.

  She relaxed her jaw enough to get out a few words. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you the night of the fair, Caleb.” A monkey could have interpreted her tone well enough to complete her thought, When you should have at the very least walked Macie up to the door after bringing her home so late.

  “Yeah, man, that was some night.” He bobbed his head. “We even made the paper.”

  “So you did.” Caroline reached down to pick up the fan so she wouldn’t reach over and snatch the man-boy up by his shaggy hair—not that she could have lifted him. He probably outweighed her by forty pounds.

  Macie spoke up. “We’re studying for tomorrow’s history test.”

  Caroline set the fan on Macie’s dresser and offered a dubious grunt. That meant Caleb was in Macie’s AP class; he sure didn’t look the academic type. “Wouldn’t it be cooler to study downstairs? Or on the front porch?”

  “The stereo’s up here,” Macie said, as if even an old out-of-touch hag like Caroline should have that figured out.

  Caroline plugged in the fan and turned it on, setting it to oscillate. The blast of air in her face did nothing to cool her temper-heated cheeks.

  “Mace, can you come and give me a hand for a second?” Caroline asked and turned stiffly and left the room.

  Macie followed her downstairs. “What do you need?” she asked when they reached the kitchen and Caroline turned to look at her. Macie’s arms were crossed over her chest, her expression making it quite clear she knew exactly why they were down here.

  “I need for you to think about what you’re doing.”

  Macie shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  “Seriously, Mace. You’ve always been levelheaded. Don’t do something stupid now.”

  Macie rolled her eyes. “We
weren’t doing anything.”

  “Not yet.” Caleb had been driving Macie to and from school since the first day. So it wasn’t just a date on a weekend or two. That much proximity bred intimacy. “This is the first time you’ve spent this much time with a boy.” Caroline tried to impress upon her the gravity of adult decisions. “Things can get out of hand in a hurry.”

  “Just chill. You don’t need to worry.”

  “It’s not just that. You should keep in mind that not many girls have your academic gift. If you want to get into Northwestern, or Princeton, or Stanford, you’re going to have to stay focused. I know your GPA is great for your applications, but they’ll look at your performance this semester, too. Now’s not the time to get distracted.” She looked into Macie’s eyes and saw a rare thing, defiance. She added gravely, “You have a shot. Don’t blow it.”

  “Quit freaking.” Macie leaned forward and shrugged with her palms up. “We were studying, for God’s sake.”

  “Come on, Mace.” Caroline reached out and touched Macie’s hair. “I’m not asking you to not have any fun. It’s just, this boy—”

  Macie jerked away from Caroline’s touch. “Likes me. He. Likes. Me. Not Laurel, or any of the other girls.” Macie slashed her finger through the air. “He likes me. Besides, if we were gonna fool around, we wouldn’t be stupid enough to do it here, knowing you’d be home any minute.”

  Caroline wouldn’t have been more surprised if Macie’s head had just spun around on her shoulders. It was as if some alien being had taken control of her body—there was nothing of the peacemaking, cautious, mindful girl Macie had always been.

  Masking her shock, Caroline continued with a rational argument, in a rational voice. “A girl has so much more at risk, Mace. I don’t want you to make a mistake that will change the rest of your life. You’ve worked so hard. Everything is about to happen for you. I don’t want you to throw it all away for a boy who will be here today and gone tomorrow.”