Chapter 11
“So you’re learning to play the guitar?” I point at one of the photos on the kitchen wall. A much younger version of Jack sat on the porch, playing the same guitar I had seen him play the night before.
Patty drops a baking sheet into the sink. Thomas squeals. “He what?” Finn leaves the room quickly and we can hear him guffawing out in the hall.
Jack looks at me wide-eyed with a cookie in the air, his mouth open, about to take a bite, frozen in mid-movement.
“What is it?” I whisper to him. “Isn’t your family supposed to know? I heard you play the other night.”
Thomas is literally staring at the ceiling.
Rory slowly puts the cookie down and clears his throat. “What gave you the impression I’m not a pro?”
I laugh. “You played the same line over and over. And you took notes. You better not plan on making money with your music anytime soon.” I jokingly punch his shoulder. He pretends to stumble back and holds his shoulder. Grinning, he plops the cookie into his mouth and says, with his mouth full, “Let’s go train Lilly.”
With that he grabs his hat from the sideboard and marches out of the kitchen. This is a weird interaction. Something is off, but I can’t fathom what. I look at Patty, but she is engrossed in rubbing that baking sheet. Thomas flees the kitchen before I can ask him. Okayyy, so guitars are a sensitive subject in this family. I slowly put on my fleece and follow Jack and Lilly. She walks toward a delivery van that just happens to roll into the yard.
“Hey, where’s my girl?” the driver calls. He jumps out of the truck and kneels down. Lilly walks right up into his arms. “You want scratches, right,” he coos. “There we are.”
Lilly’s eyes roll back in delight, and she lets her tongue loll out of her grinning mouth.
“What, nobody ever loves on you? And you get no food? And everybody is mean to you anyway?” His voice is high-pitched as he runs his hands through the thick coat.
Lilly licks his hands and the neck. “Nah, not the face, sweet girl.”
With a last ruffle to her ears, the driver gets up. He takes a couple of boxes and hands them to Jack. “Hey, man. My daughter will go nuts when I tell her I’ve met you.” With a wink, he turns to leave.
“Excuse me,” I introduce myself. “Does Lilly ever bark at you?”
“My girl? Nah, why would she do that?”
“For how long have you been on this route?”
“Ten years?” He scratches his neck. “More like twelve probably.”
“And she never barks?”
“No, not ever.”
“Are you the same with all the dogs on your route?”
“I am if they let me. Mrs. Sanchez has a mean Pomeranian and there are a few farm dogs that have been trained to alert and scare.”
So this is someone who knows about dogs and has known Lilly for years and she doesn’t bark at him. We’re on to something. I’m excited. When I ask Patty and Thomas if they’re expecting another delivery, they tell me there should be one within the hour. I assume my post on the porch. Lilly lies on the grass, not far from me. Jack joins me with coffee. “What are we up to?”
“Research.” The coffee is good although I’m spoiled by the Caffeine Drip now. Theirs is unbeatable. “Why doesn’t she bark at this particular driver? I’ve got to see her interact with other drivers.”
I take Jack’s hand. And together we wait for the next truck to come. “There are quite a few things you do not want to talk about.”
“Sorry,” Jack says. “Can we talk about this later?”
“You’re not much for living in the moment, are you?”
I have to drop this for now, as a truck veers onto the property and I have a dog to observe.
???
Later I decide I need to witness Lilly’s morning trance. We agree that I’ll spend the night at Jack’s. Just as we are about to settle for the night in his incredibly tidy cabin, my phone rings and I see Brittney’s name pop up. “Let that ring. I’ll call her back tomorrow.”
“You’re sure?” Jack asks. “I wouldn’t mind.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I let my finger glide slowly down his front—throat, sternum, abs, belly button… “She is trying to set up my next gig. We were about to sign contracts with someone who didn’t tell us that his dog had been in several fights with other dogs. I hate lies, and that includes those by omission. So if Brittney dug up another no-good, lying celebrity to work for I’d have to kill her. And that in turn would kill the mood.”
A frown flashes over Jack’s face, but it quickly dissolves, when I nibble on his earlobe and at the same time, slide my hand into his pants. There’s no way I’d let Brittney and one of her celebrity clients come between this.
Our lovemaking is heated and passionate. It feels like Jack wants to make me lose my wits—and he is quite successful at it. Only after we’re done, lying with our legs entangled and Jack’s light snore filling the room, do I remember that I had meant to talk about all that secrecy.