Chapter Seven
Donna left the house to buy peanut butter and the ingredients for a chicken salad. She came home with a pet cat for her daughter.
Lynette still couldn’t believe it. She’d always wanted a cat, but the reality of pet ownership wasn’t turning out exactly as she’d expected. Instead of working on her shed, she was prowling the neighborhood because the dang thing had an uncanny ability to escape. She couldn’t even call for the cat by name while she searched because she hadn’t gotten around to naming her yet.
When Lynette was a little girl, she’d begged her mother to buy her a cat. But Donna always refused. They’d moved around too much, and most landlords didn’t allow pets.
Even though it had been years since Lynette mentioned a cat to her mother, Donna somehow believed that now would be the perfect time for a pet. She didn’t even consult with Lynette beforehand. If she would have asked, Lynette would have simply told her mother to let go of her guilt from all those years ago.
She no longer felt a burning desire to own a cat, although she hoped she’d managed to hide her apprehension from Donna. It would be too easy to become the crazy cat lady . . . holed up in a big old house . . . on a quiet street . . . in Small Town, USA.
Donna hadn’t asked, but three days later and after the initial shock wore off, Lynette was already getting used to having the stealthy feline around. The cat was half grown, but her previous owners had never intended to keep her, so they’d left the naming task for her forever owner.
If Lynette had still wanted a cat, this was the type she would have picked. The kitten was as black as midnight, which fit perfectly with her girlhood dream.
At least, she’d thought the kitten was perfect—right up until it ripped the head off Lynette’s favorite old toy. Her threadbare teddy bear—the one she used to take everywhere as a child, even to summer camp—was no more. Since moving back to Ruby Shores, the teddy had rested on a rocking chair in the corner of Lynette’s bedroom.
Before Lynette, the bear had belonged to Donna as a child.
When Lynette discovered the carnage, she quickly hid the evidence and crossed her fingers that Donna wouldn’t notice the bear was gone. She’d located all the bear’s pieces except one black button eye. If the stupid kitten ate the button, things might get interesting soon.
Unless she couldn’t even find her cat this time.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” she said in a singsong voice, scanning the lawns and bushes surrounding her neighbors’ homes.
She’d spied the runaway moments earlier, heading in the general direction of her friend Owen’s house. Maybe he’d be home and willing to help her look.
She stepped off the curb to cross another street, and her ankle popped. She recognized the sensation and paused, muttering under her breath. If she ended up with a bum ankle right before her girls’ trip, that cat’s stint as her pet promised to be short.
A school bus approached from her left, and she waited for it to pass, grateful to take a moment so the pain in her ankle could hopefully fade. The voices and laughter of children floated out of the bus’s open windows. School wasn’t in session, so the kids must be from a daycare or nearby camp.
Her old summer camp—the one she used to bring her bear along to for company—had ceased operations years ago. Otherwise, she might have guessed the bus held kids from Camp Barefoot.
The bus continued on its way, and Lynette tested her ankle. The pain was gone, so her hunt could continue. If she didn’t find that darn cat, how was she ever going to explain to Donna that she’d already lost the only pet her mother had ever given her?
A trio of birds took flight, exploding out of a neatly trimmed hedge up ahead. Had her kitten flushed them out? Lynette already knew the cat loved to slink around under the cover of flowers and plants.
She crossed the street, calling for the kitten again.
That’s when she spied her. Barely a blur of a shadow. Lynette would never have noticed the stealthy little thing if she hadn’t been looking right at it. The kitten broke free of the hedge, bounced across velvety grass, wove through a flowerbed, and slunk into a dense row of lilacs.
The bushes edged Owen’s backyard.
Lynette chased behind her, feeling foolish and inept as she hurried across a stranger’s lawn, careful of her ankle. She should just go home, put a bowl of kibble out, and hope for the best. The cat obviously had no intention of letting Lynette catch her. She was probably watching her from Owen’s lilac bushes right now, thinking what a fun game this was.
The clang of hammers caught her attention, followed by male laughter. The sounds came from the other side of the lilacs. At least two men were back there, working on something. She recognized Owen’s voice and wondered if one or both of his sons were back there, too.
The boys had seemed like nice young men when she’d met them briefly at Jackie’s surprise fiftieth birthday a year and a half ago. Maybe she’d pop over, say hello, and ask them to keep an eye out for her ornery kitten. Then she’d get back to working on her shed. At this rate, it would never be done before she left for Whispering Pines.
She considered going around to the front of Owen’s place, but she spied a hole in the bushes and chose the more direct route instead. Was that meowing she heard, just beyond the lilacs? She ducked and stepped into the opening. It wasn’t as large as she’d initially thought. Sharp brambles caught in her hair and scraped at her arms and legs.
“If I lose an eye in here, you’ll earn yourself a one-way ticket to a shelter, cat,” she said, frustration increasing the volume of her words above her intended whisper.
The rubber-soled toe of her left tennis shoe caught, throwing her forward and shifting too much weight to her weaker ankle. She might have stumbled to the ground if a higher branch hadn’t jabbed into her hair, catching in the clip on the top of her head. She screeched and reached for her hair, pain causing her eyes to water. With a tight grip on the overhead branch, she regained her footing but struggled to pull her tangled hair loose.
Despite her anguish, she noticed the quiet. No more hammers. Had Owen and whoever else witnessed her complete lack of grace as she’d tried to traverse the lilacs?
“Stop! You’re making it worse,” a low-pitched, male voice demanded as someone brushed her hands out of the way.
“Oh, crap,” she hissed, keeping her eyes shut tight. “I’d hoped no one saw that.”
“If it makes you feel any better, Owen ran up to my truck to grab another box of nails. He missed the show. Now stop squirming so I can get you loose.”
While she appreciated the help, the man’s bossy tone grated. Something didn’t jive. The gravelly voice didn’t fit with how she remembered either of Owen’s boys the night of Jackie’s party. This guy sounded like he enjoyed two packs a day, though she couldn’t detect the unmistakable odor of a heavy smoker. She opened her eyes to get a look at the man, but he stood behind her, yanking at her hair.
“Ouch! That hurts!”
He chuckled, which only infuriated her further. “I told you to stay still.” A branch snapped above. She attempted to pull away, but a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. “You aren’t loose yet.”
“Sorry,” she said, holding as still as she could and feeling like a scolded schoolgirl.
A few more tugs, and her snarled hair tumbled down around her shoulders, obscuring her face for a second.
“Here. Sorry. This snapped,” the deep voice said.
Lynette spun and took a blind step backward and tried to push her hair back from her face, instinctively wanting more space between her and the voice. She’d been right. Her rescuer was nothing like Owen’s boys. This was an older man. A large, bald man, wearing dark sunglasses, a long-sleeved shirt despite the temperature, and a smirk.
She took a second step back.
“Careful,” he said. He thrust his chin toward something over her left shoulder. “If you fall into those roses behind you, it’ll hurt worse than the lilac branches.”
She tried to glance behind her, but her unruly hair blocked the view. Her curls had to look more like a rat’s nest now versus the loosely styled updo she’d started her day with. In her first bit of luck since leaving her house to chase after the kitten, she located a hair tie around her wrist. Even though she refused to cut her silver curls into a shorter, more “age-appropriate” style, she hated it when her hair tickled her face.
Once she’d done what she could to smooth the frizz into some semblance of order, she regarded the man again. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get back to whatever he’d been doing before she’d caught herself up in the bushes. She glimpsed a large screwdriver sticking out of the front pocket of a well-worn pair of jeans.
“You should be careful with that,” she said. “It looks sharp.”
His gaze dropped to the tool, then back to her face. “I’m perfectly capable of handling a screwdriver. I think I’m the one who has to keep telling you to be careful. What the hell were you doing in the bushes, anyhow?”
She huffed. “Well, I certainly wasn’t spying on you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
He held up his hands. It was his turn to take a step backward. “I don’t recall saying I thought you were spying.”
Someone cleared their throat. “Lynette?”
Thank God.“Owen! Am I glad to see you!” Lynette spun again and hurried toward her old friend.
Owen looked between Lynette and the man who’d rescued her, a confused expression on his face. He held a box of nails in one hand and a large hammer in the other. “Lynette, did I miss a call from you? Did you need something?”
She gave a nervous laugh as she reached his side. “No. I wasn’t the needy neighbor this time, looking for a tool. I actually lost my cat. She snuck out of the house, and I can’t catch her.”
The other man chuckled. She looked back at him and then swung her gaze to where he pointed. “That gangly thing?”
Sure enough. Her kitten sat perched atop some type of wood structure attached to the back of Owen’s house.
“Huh,” she said. “How did she even get up there? And what is that thing she’s sitting on top of?”
Owen followed their gazes. “It’s a half-built pergola. Since when do you have a cat?”
Since Owen had been to her house more than once to help with an odd job here and there, he would know they didn’t have pets.
At least they hadn’t until Donna brought the little troublemaker home. She confessed as much to Owen while pointedly ignoring the irritating man behind her, even though he’d saved her from the lilacs. He was rude, and probably just some handyman Owen had hired to help with his project.
“What did you say her name was?” Owen asked, wandering over to stand below the post where the cat perched. He dropped the box of nails and his hammer onto the edge of his patio, then straightened to look up at the kitten again.
“I haven’t named her yet,” Lynette admitted. She walked over to stand beside him. “How are we going to get her down?”
“I have no idea. I can’t figure out how she got up there, either.”
The other man came to stand on Owen’s opposite side. “Maybe you should name her Abracadabra. Or Shazam!”
Lynette bent forward to shoot a glare around Owen at the guy. “Cute. By the way, you didn’t tell me your name either.”
The guy shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”
Owen shook his head, looking slightly amused over their banter.
A loud meow pulled their attention back up to the young cat. She was visibly shaking now, as if only just realizing where she was and wondering, too, how she’d get down.
“What are we going to do? If she falls . . .”
Owen gave her arm a reassuring nudge. “She won’t fall, Lynette. Cats have crazy balance. Hey, go grab that tall ladder off your truck, will you?”
If the other man’s loud sigh was any indication, he probably felt that rescuing one female had wasted enough of his day. He didn’t look overly enthused about riding to the rescue of another one, but he turned on his heel and headed toward the front of Owen’s house.
“Man, that guy is kind of a jerk, Owen. Who is he, anyway?”
Owen took his eyes off her cat to give her another perplexed look. “You mean Taran? Oh, don’t mind him. He’s handy on projects like this, so I tolerate him. Hey, didn’t he just save you from being abducted by a bush a few minutes ago? I’d think you’d be willing to cut him some slack.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Taran? What kind of name is that?”
“Guess it’s the kind of name his mother gave him when he was born?”
Lynette wasn’t sure why Owen had such a goofy look on his face. Was he enjoying this, despite the precarious position of her new pet?
The cat let out another meow, but it turned into more of a yowl. Her terror was obviously growing over her unfortunate predicament high above their heads. Lynette forgot about Owen and turned all of her attention back to her poor kitten.
“Don’t move, honey. Momma will get you down from there. Don’t jump!”
The other man returned with a large ladder. “Momma? Lord.”
“What are you going to do with that thing?” Lynette asked, ignoring his comment. “This structure can’t support that.”
Owen helped the man with the ladder. She realized it was actually a tall step ladder, rather than the expandable type like she’d initially thought. She hurried forward and started up the ladder before they even had the thing stabilized.
“Whoa, there! Not so fast,” the man Owen had called Taran exclaimed, wrapping his arms around Lynette’s waist and setting her back on the ground. “This ladder is tall, but you still won’t be able to reach her. I’ve got a few inches on both of you. I’ll do it.”
Before she could even protest his audacity, he was halfway up the ladder. She could quickly see that it would be a stretch, even for the taller man, to reach her cat.
“Grab that tarp!” he yelled down.
“Over there.” Owen pointed. “I have to hold the ladder. The ground isn’t flat here.”
“What do we need a tarp for?” Lynette yelled back while scrambling for the blue vinyl sheet Owen had indicated.
“In case I drop her!”
That horrific possibility had Lynette moving even faster. She’d barely gotten back to Owen’s side with the tarp and opened it up when a loud yowl from the feline and a muffled curse from the man filled the air.
“Catch it!” Owen yelled.
Later, Lynette could applaud her own heroic efforts and fluidity over scooping up the flailing kitten in the tarp a split second before she would have smacked down onto Owen’s trampled grass. But first, she thought she better see to Owen and the man who’d saved her from the bushes. She may have caught the cat, but no one broke Taran’s fall, and it was doubtful that he possessed the same nine lives as her kitten.
She set the tarp and her unharmed cat on the ground, whispering a prayer that the foolish kitten would stay put. Then she turned back to Owen and his friend. Both men were on the ground, but at least Owen was sitting up. The other guy was flat on his back.
She dropped to one knee beside Owen. “Are you all right?”
He nodded. “I’ll be fine. Caught his damn boot on the side of my head, though. But you better check him. He fell hard.”
Lynette scrambled across Owen’s matted lawn on her knees. She reached Taran’s side just as the man’s eyes fluttered open. He groaned and flung a forearm across his forehead.
“Is anything broken?”
The man only grunted. He was hurt, but at least he wasn’t dead. She pushed on his chest and stomach, then giggled when she realized how ridiculous her actions must look. It wasn’t like she could tell if he had internal injuries just by pushing on different parts of him.
His hand shot back down to grab her by the arm. He grimaced again. “Damn, woman, knock it off. That hurts!”
The movement pulled his shirt sleeve up, revealing a smear of blood. She ignored his complaints and pulled her arm loose so she could grab his wrist, pushing his sleeve up farther to try to find the source.
“You’re bleeding!”
He was strong, despite lying flat on his back after a fall from a ladder. He pulled his arm away, but not before she saw something else under the streaks of blood. Tattoos covered his forearm and bicep. She hadn’t noticed them earlier because of his long sleeves. But the massive, intricate set of intertwined tattoos weren’t what had snagged her interest. It was one silly little mark in particular, on the skin just above the inside bend of his elbow.
The tiny butterfly looked ridiculous on the burly, broad-shouldered man.
The tattoo was also an exact match to the butterfly on her inner thigh.
The muscles in his arm contracted, as if he realized she’d just connected the dots.
She pushed his sunglasses up to get a look at his eyes, then slapped the man’s arm and scooted away from him, falling onto her butt. Her kitten, temporarily forgotten, rubbed against her side, as if to either thank her for her world-class catch or offer comfort. But Lynette ignored the cat and the tattooed man, instead pinning her furious gaze on Owen.
“You said his name was Taran!”
Owen squirmed. “That is his name! I’ve been in business with the guy for almost thirty years. I know his legal name.”
She scrambled up and stood with hands on her hips, still keeping her full attention on Owen. Her cat pressed against her ankle.
“But that wasn’t the name he went by when we were kids, was it?”
Owen shrugged. “He made me promise not to say anything to you.”
The softly spoken admission hit her like a ton of bricks.
Or a storm.
The man obviously knew who she was. Owen had called her by name more than once. And aside from the silver in her hair, some extra weight, and a few well-earned wrinkles, she was the same girl she’d been at seventeen.
Oh, and my still-perky breasts. But those are none of his business.
“You son of a bitch,” she said through gritted teeth. She wasn’t even sure if she meant the words for Owen or Taran.
Disgusted, she scooped up her kitten and turned her back on the men, leaving them both on the ground. She’d considered them each a friend, once upon a time, and both had betrayed her, though in much different ways.
But why?
All she knew for sure was that the man on the ground used to go by the name Storm, and it was her turn to walk away from him.