Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
H arry had changed into dry clothes— jeans and a T-shirt. There was a knock on his door before the new laptop had even booted up. He said “come in” without thinking or getting off the bed where he sat, back-to-headboard, tapping keys.
Maria came in with two foamy mugs and an iPad under her arm. She’d taken time to change, as well. She was wearing denim shorts, and a T-shirt that said, “too busy dancin’ to get knocked off my feet” over an image of sparkling shoes. “I was afraid you were bringing more food,” he said, jumping up to take one of the mugs. It was ice cold and foamy. He sniffed. “Root beer?” Then he took a sip.
“Homemade root beer. And yes, food is a thing here. Anytime I stay, I have to diet for a month to make up for it.”
“That’s right, you don’t live here, normally,” he said.
“I was livin’ with my folks when I wasn’t at school. But now, everything I own is packed up, for my planned move to Bluebonnet Lane. Everything, that is, except the stuff I brought here, where I spent the whole week before the weddin’.”
“Right, you and your cousins were staying here, you said.”
“Yep. We wanted to spend the week together. So rare that Bubba gets home these days. We were here a lot as kids, every break from school, and most all summer. It’s the Brand family hub, I guess.”
“I get it.” He set his root beer down, then returned to his spot on the bed, pulling the laptop onto his outstretched legs. “I feel that way about Ithaca. Not with the generations of family in the same place, like you, but my family is there. I spent my whole childhood there. Every family event was held on the shore of Cayuga Lake. And those autumn trail rides… I can’t imagine fall without color.”
“I’ve never seen that, except in pictures. They don’t look real.”
“They’re real, but you can’t capture it in a photograph. The colors are more vivid, in motion with every breeze. You can feel autumn in New York. You can taste it.”
She was studying his face. “I want to see it someday.”
He would love to show it to her, he thought.
Maria cleared her throat, lowered her eyes from his, and pulled a scrap of paper from her jeans pocket. “Wi-Fi password,” she said, handing it to him.
“Right. I’ll input that right now.”
“I thought I could help. Brought my iPad.” She held it up. Then she pulled the rocking chair closer to the nightstand where her root beer awaited.
Harrison keyed in the password, hit enter, and watched the computer connect. Then he logged into the cloud to set the machine up from his stored backup. “There. It’ll take a while, but it’s underway.” He looked over at Maria, in the rocking chair with her tablet, and found her eyes on him. They were almost always on him. There was something warm about the way she looked at him. It made him feel ten feet tall. “That was amazing of your cousins, going in on a laptop for me.”
“I agree. I had no idea they were doin’ it.”
He looked toward the door. “I kind of took it and ran, didn’t I?”
“You thanked them,” she said.
“I need to do something nice for them. For all of you.”
She lowered her eyes. “Not me. You wouldn’t be in this mess if not for me.”
“That would only be true if your good ol’ boy Billy Bob had been behind it. But I don’t think he stole the solar tile.”
“Billy Bob wouldn’t know it was worth stealin’.” She tapped her iPad screen to bring it to life. “What can I do?”
“It’s gonna take some time to download my backup from the cloud,” he said. And he set the laptop aside. “We could use your tablet to run the patent search.”
“Okay.” She took another drink of her root beer, then hopped out of her chair. “Shove over.”
He did. She sat on the bed beside him, her back against the headboard, knees bent, tablet resting against the slant of her thighs. He reached across to tap in the URL. His forearm rested on her bare thigh for a moment, and he went still, then said, “Why don’t I just…” while she said, “You take it.”
He took the tablet, but his eyes stayed on her thighs for a few seconds longer than the tablet did. Then he took it and swiped and tapped, and soon he was typing terms into the search bar. But he was too broad, and hundreds of results popped up.
“Try under your names, you and your team,” Maria suggested.
He keyed in Solomon Hadik and a handful of patents popped up. So did the recurring lump in Harrison’s throat.
Maria's warm hand slid over his, like you’d pet a cat. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“I know.” He scrolled the list of Solomon’s patents.
“What are they?” Maria asked.
He glanced at her, reminded himself she was a scientist, too. Hard to remember when she was so damn cute all the time. Neanderthal remnants in his brain didn’t automatically connect cute and sexy with smart professional.
Wait, sexy ?
Yes. Sexy as sin.
She moved on the bed, leaning away from him to get her mug. When she leaned back again, she was touching him from shoulder to hip to thigh, to knee. Her shorts left her legs bare and made him wish his were, too…
Whoa, now! Not good, not good, not good.
“Um, right, Solomon’s patents. They make fuel burn more efficiently in different types of combustible engines, small and large. He has a separate patent for each type.”
She nodded, then said, “Try searching under Robert. Of them all, he’s the only one who resembles the guy that took your car.”
Nodding, he entered Robert’s full name, hit enter, and thought he’d made a mistake when nothing happened. He tried again. No results. Zero. Robert had never patented a thing.
“Trying Carrie,” he said, tapping the screen. “Just her two patents. She came up with this foam you used to insulate mugs that can keep their contents hot for hours. Licensed the rights, but kept the patent. She’s always been ingenious about things like that, maximizing profit from her work. The second one of hers was the same, but in thermal canisters.”
“I didn’t know how any of this worked before.”
Her “I” always sounded like “Ah” and it made his spine tingle every time she said it. Silence stretched out and he realized he was staring at her thighs again, and she was staring at him staring at her thighs. He looked at her face instead, but that brought his lips awfully close to hers, and her gaze grabbed his and held on.
He was going to kiss her. Yes, he was going to do it. He tilted his head ever so slightly. Her brown eyes widened, but she didn’t turn away, and then he pressed his lips to hers even while his brain was telling him it was a terrible idea. He kissed her.
She slipped her hands around his nape, fingers sliding up into his hair, and she kissed him back. And then their lips parted. He started to lean in again, and the next thing he knew, she was shoving a frosty root beer mug in between them.
“Uncle Garrett’s homemade root beer’s good, isn’t it?” she asked, nodding with her eyebrows arched high.
He took a sip, having no choice as she put the mug to his lips. It was sweet, but not as sweet as that kiss. “It’s amazing.”
“Told you.” She sat back on the bed and resumed sipping from her mug as if nothing had happened, so he tried to rein in his feelings of desire, arousal, yearning, confusion, and then desire again.
He distracted himself by resuming his search for the patent.
By the time the root beer mug was empty, he’d determined that no patent had been filed for the solar tile. He didn’t know why Carrie hadn’t done it, but she hadn’t.
“What’s stopping you from filing it right now?” Maria asked.
“I’d need a prototype.”
“Can you build a new one?”
“I’d need my lab. My equipment.”
She pursed her lips, which made him look at them, which made him think about kissing her. Then she said, “How long would that take?”
He shook his head, doing internal calculations. “Weeks.”
“Do you think it would be too late?”
“I do.”
She grinned and it felt like sunshine. “You did it again.”
“Did what again,” he asked, a little bit lost in her light.
“Said ‘I do’ to a runaway bride. You’d best stop teasin’ me, or I might start to think you mean it.” She slid off the bed. “Imma take the glasses downstairs,” she said. “I’ll be back.”
He nodded and watched her go. When she closed the door, he closed his eyes and blew every bit of air out of his lungs. Instead of passing, his attraction to her was getting bigger every minute he spent in her presence. And she knew it. He’d revealed it all with that kiss.
He’d wanted more. To keep on kissing. To do more than kissing. So, now what?
His text-alert chimed, saving him from having to think too hard about that question just then. When he saw that the text was from his research partner Carrie’s husband, his heart tripped over its own beat.
John Sayre: The blood on the safe was hers. It was Carrie’s
Harrison: Oh no. I’m sorry. What can I do, John? What do you need? Are you with someone?
John Sayre: There is no one.
Maria exited Harry’s room, leaned back against the door, and pressed her free hand to her heart, which was racing. He did want her, too! He did feel all the same things she did. He’d told her every bit of it with that kiss.
“Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh,” she whispered. She wanted him so much, and yet she was scared to trust her own judgment, after barely avoiding the disaster of marrying Billy Bob.
She should’ve kept on kissing him. She shouldn’t have freaked out. Maybe now he wouldn’t try again.
She leaned off the door and headed for the stairs, but she hadn’t got very far when Harry called her name. She turned, saw his face as he leaned out the open bedroom door, and knew something was wrong. She set the root beer mugs on a nearby stand and started back as he came toward her. They met halfway in the hall, and he showed her his phone screen.
Shock rippled through her, and it must have been far worse for him. The blood on the safe door was Carrie’s. She put a hand on his shoulder. “It was only a little bit, though,” she said. “She might still be okay.”
“Solomon wasn’t,” he said softly.
Willow came up the stairs and joined their huddle. “DNA results on that blood from the safe are in.”
“I know,” Harry said. “Carrie’s husband texted me. He’s terrified. I don’t think he’d heard about Solomon yet, and I didn’t think it would do any good to tell him.”
“If Carrie Sayre is alive, we’ll find her,” Willow promised.
“What if they’re looking in the wrong place, though?” Harry asked. “Whoever did this… was here .”
“Looking for you,” Maria said, and the notion sent a shiver up her spine.
“Or for the prototype, which they got,” Harry said.
“Or for both,” Maria argued. “They’d have grabbed you, too, if you hadn’t been busy gettin’ your face punched in at the time.
He rubbed his jaw like a reflex. “Maybe I should thank Billy Bob, huh?”
“I hope you’re kiddin’,” Willow said.
“He’s kiddin’.” Maria sighed. “Willow, has there been any sign of the fourth partner? Robert Philipson?”
“No sign of him,” Willow said. “He’d booked a flight into Silver City but never used the ticket. His car is in his driveway. The last transaction on any of his bank accounts or debit cards was two days ago.”
“Maybe they got him, too,” Harry said.
“Or he’s the bad guy.” Maria was sure of it.
“It wouldn’t make any sense.” Harry was looking at the floor, but not really. Maria suspected he was deep in thought.
“Tell me why not,” Willow said. “What are you thinkin’?”
Harry looked up and said, “Robert’s a decent guy. I’ve worked with him for seven years. I just don’t think he’d do this.” He paced a few steps away, stopped and turned to face them, snapping his fingers. “And he wouldn’t have needed to wait for Carrie to open the safe. We all have the combination.”
“That’s a good point,” Willow said. “Although he could’ve just been there first, or come in while she was openin’ it. Just because he was there when she was, doesn’t mean it was planned that way.”
“There’s the surveillance footage from Manny’s that resembles him,” Maria said. “Then again, it was just height and body type. Couldn’t see his face. He wore a hat.”
“I’ve never seen Robert wear a hat,” Harry said softly.
He was clearly fond of his co-workers, grieving for Solomon, terrified for Carrie, and defending Robert. “Besides,” he went on, “even if one of us decided to kill the other three and try to claim full credit for the invention, how would they expect to get away with it?”
Maria said, “Only a scientist would think taking credit for the invention would be the goal.”
“Well, what else would it be?”
“What it always is. Money. Who cares who invented it?” Maria asked. “It’s the guy who has it in his greedy, thievin’, no- good hands at the time of the sale who’s gon’ take the money and run.”
“But why?” Harry asked. “We stood to make good money from the tile. All four of us.”
“Sure,” Maria said. “And if there were just one, they’d have made four times as much.”
“We should be talking to the potential investors, too,” Willow said. “They know about the solar tile, and they also know who you all are, yeah?”
“Yes,” Harrison said. “We’ve had several meetings with them. They flew to us.”
He turned and walked away from them, into the guest room. When he came out, he had his phone in hand. While scrolling it, he said, “I have all the investors’ contact info.” He paused there. “I wonder if anyone’s called them to cancel the demo on Wednesday.”
“Hold up,” Willow said. “How about if I call ’em? Since it’s part of an official investigation.”
From below, Drew said, “Hey!” Then she came upstairs and headed their way, all denim and lace in jeans and a pretty blue blouse. Her blond ponytail bounced when she walked. “The cousins have opted for the bunkhouse tonight,” she informed them. “You’re with us, Harry. We’re all clearin’ our stuff out of here to make room for the elder-Brands.”
“Oh,” he said, looking at Maria as if for affirmation.
She said, “It’ll be way more fun out there.”
“Yeah,” Drew put in, “and you won’t have to hide in a hallway for a secret meetin’ to which I was not invited.”
Hands on her hips, Willow said, “I’m a deputy and you’re a twenty-year-old amateur.”
“Twenty-two!” the little blonde retorted. But then she shifted her gaze to Harry. “The guy who stole your car isn’t stayin’ anywhere local between here and Manny’s. Any stranger in town would’ve been noticed.”
“I wasn’t noticed,” Harry said.
To which all three women replied without a word. One snorted, one laughed, and one rolled her eyes.
“Oh, you been noticed,” Drew said. “The rumors are juicy. ”
Maria shook her head. “Drew, don’t?—”
But she kept on talking. “Folks are sayin’ Harry’s the reason you dumped Billy Bob at the altar. That you’d had a secret tryst, and he couldn’t bear the thought of you marryin’ someone else.” She put a lot of drama into her words. Hands to her heart, she went on. “So he came to the church on your weddin’ day and stole you right out the back door.”
“Who? Me?” Harry asked, and he looked from one of them to the next. When their eyes met, Maria couldn’t look away. Her cheeks felt warm, and his were a little bit pink, too.
Willow cleared her throat, and they broke eye contact. Maria turned a little bit and lowered her head, so nobody would notice her trying not to smile. It got Harry’s attention, though, and he said, “This feels like it’s getting dangerous. For you, all of you, the whole… clan.”
“Not as dangerous as it might be for you, out there on your own,” Maria said. “There’s strength in numbers. You just hold on with us, Harry. Things are fixin’ to improve. I just know they are.”