Chapter Five
Wade woke before dawn, disoriented.
He hadn’t slept well on the floor, though the conditions had been comfortable enough for one night.
He’d camped out in the open like a cowboy plenty of times, and he wasn’t picky.
The blankets made a thick barrier underneath him.
Still, he hadn’t felt at peace. He’d been plagued by the aftereffects of a harrowing day.
When he finally drifted off, he had a nightmare about his mother.
She’d been stuck in the tornado rubble, motionless.
After he’d freed her from a shallow grave of debris, her blue eyes had sprung open.
“You’re not my son,” she’d said.
He’d jolted upright, unsettled by the dream, and the unfamiliar setting.
He could hear livestock in the distance, and birds chirping in the nearby trees.
His phone lay underneath his pillow, battery dead.
He hadn’t been able to charge it due to the power outage.
His legs were tangled in a lightweight blanket.
Despite the coolness of the morning, his chest had a damp patch of sweat, and his lungs sawed for breath.
Jesus.
Wade grabbed a bottle of water from his backpack and drank deep. He closed his eyes, trying to collect himself.
“Morning.”
Wade jumped at the sound of her voice. He gripped the plastic bottle so hard, water spilled over in his hand. Mary was standing over him.
It felt strange to be viewed by this woman in a vulnerable moment.
Her bare feet had disguised her approach.
His mind flooded with the memory of their clumsy encounter last night.
She’d fallen on top of him, groped his junk, and gotten her hand caught in his pants.
Now she was creeping up on him in his sleep. The woman was a menace.
“There’s coffee,” she said. “And breakfast.”
Wade dragged a hand down his face and revised his opinion of her. She was a goddess. “What time is it?”
“Five ten.”
He groaned and rose from his makeshift bed.
His muscles were sore from yesterday’s exertion, but he couldn’t afford to rest. The power was back on, so he plugged his phone into an outlet by the table.
After a quick trip to the bathroom, he returned to the kitchen, poured a cup of coffee, and sat down.
Mary slid a plate of eggs and hash browns in front of him. His stomach rumbled with hunger.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, and made short work of it.
She sipped her coffee in silence.
As the fuel and caffeine recharged his system, it occurred to him that he should have dressed for breakfast. She seemed uncomfortable in his presence.
She kept her gaze averted, but Wade didn’t return the favor.
He studied her with interest. She was wearing blue jeans and a faded yellow T-shirt advertising Big Bend National Park.
She’d fashioned her dark hair into a braid and tucked it under an army-green baseball cap.
Her clothes were threadbare and ill-fitting. He wondered if she shopped secondhand.
Although she was a lovely woman, she didn’t enhance her looks with makeup. The clothing, even the cap, seemed designed to downplay her beauty.
Mary Meadows, he thought, was hiding something.
He pictured her as she’d been last night, her body close to his, her T-shirt riding up to expose her pale, slender thighs.
Wade suddenly wished he was wearing clothes he could hide in, because the memory of her prim white panties caused a physical response in him that wasn’t appropriate for the kitchen table.
He reached for his coffee cup, but it was empty.
She picked up the carafe and refilled it for him.
“You don’t have to wait on me,” he said.
“I know.”
“Are you always up this early?”
“I feed the goats and chickens at five.”
He hadn’t realized there were goats or chickens, though he’d heard vague animal sounds. His mother had always dreamed of owning livestock, but she’d never followed through. “Were those fresh eggs I just ate?”
“Yes.”
He scraped the last bite off his plate. “My mother doesn’t give you a day off?”
“Today is my day off, actually. I agreed to volunteer again.”
Wade wasn’t surprised she’d been asked to come back. She’d been extremely helpful yesterday, and there was plenty more to do.
“You can ride with me,” he said, after a pause. “We’re going to the same place.”
“When are you coming back?”
“I don’t know. It might be late, like yesterday.”
“All right,” she said.
“Ten minutes?” he suggested.
“Sure.”
Wade finished his coffee and stood. Although his body had relaxed into a calmer state, he felt awkward as he crossed the room.
Her nervous gaze traveled from his bare chest to the sweatpants riding low on his hips.
She wasn’t comfortable around him, but this wasn’t her house, and that wasn’t his problem.
As soon as he got outside, he found clean clothes and donned them right there on the porch.
Mary could look elsewhere if she didn’t want to see him in his boxer shorts.
Better yet, she could live elsewhere. His mother needed a caretaker, not a drinking buddy.
Wade figured Mary fit in the second category, based on past history.
Wynona surrounded herself with party animals.
She wouldn’t have hired a sober companion.
When he rejoined Mary in the kitchen, she was washing the breakfast dishes.
He made a note to do it himself next time, before she could beat him to the punch.
His phone chimed with notifications of messages that hadn’t delivered overnight.
One was from Natalie Luna, asking if he was okay.
She must have heard about the tornado. He responded with a quick text.
He hoped she wouldn’t follow up with a voice call.
Between Mary and his mother, he’d had his fill of awkward conversations with females.
Mary finished the dishes and joined him outside. Her dogs were loose now, running in circles around him. Chico yapped at his heels as he walked toward his truck.
“You’re going to leave them out?” he asked.
“Yes. They won’t run away.”
Wade grunted in response. “Do they bite other people, or just me?”
“Just you.”
He glanced at the mark on his hand, which had scabbed over. “Is Mary Meadows your real name?”
She bristled. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“It sounds like Suzy Sunshine. It sounds fake.”
A telltale flush rose to her cheeks. “It’s not.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“No.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-five.”
He scanned her face, skeptical. Without makeup, her skin was clear and unlined.
She wasn’t a bright-eyed ingénue, but he didn’t think she was thirty-five.
He doubted she was even thirty. Which begged the question.
Why lie? For that matter, why lie and add years?
In his experience, women over twenty-one didn’t do that.
It was also true that some women, like his mother, looked much younger than they were.
Wade’s instincts told him that wasn’t the case with Mary.
Even so, he decided not to press her for more information.
He didn’t want to seem too interested. He was already watching her intently, hanging on her every word.
Against his better judgment, he liked her. Which was all the more reason to keep his distance. He had a new job and a sick mother to deal with. Mary Meadows raised a lot of red flags. She also raised something else, and he didn’t need the complication.
“You should give me your number,” he said.
Her brow furrowed. “Why?”
“I don’t want to search for you at the end of the day.”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“You don’t have a phone? How do you communicate with my mother?”
“We talk in person,” she said. “Face-to-face.”
“You have something against technology?”
She gave him a puzzled look. “No. I just don’t own a cell phone.”
While he pondered this anomaly, his own cell phone rang.
It was Sheriff Nava, who updated him on the plan for the day.
Before he knew it, they’d arrived at the Lost Lake Sheriff’s Department.
Wade parked in front of the station and got out.
A small group of Red Cross employees had gathered at the community center across the street.
Wade found his notepad and scrawled his phone number on it.
“Here,” he said.
She tucked the paper into her front pocket and strode away. Wade watched her go, studying the way her body moved, and the fit of her worn denim jeans.
“Is that your girlfriend?”
Wade dragged his gaze from Mary. Sheriff Nava was standing outside the front door of the station with a square pink box. He was checking out Mary’s figure, just as Wade had been. Wade deliberately moved to block his view.
“She works for my mother,” Wade said.
“As a driver?”
“Driver, caretaker, whatever.”
Nava opened the box to reveal gleaming donuts. Wade grabbed one as they entered the building. They were the first two to arrive, so the office was empty.
“Speaking of your mother, did you know she got a DUI?”
“I heard about it,” Wade said. He took a bite of the donut, which had vanilla icing.
“I’m the one who pulled her over,” Nava said, choosing a donut with sprinkles. “She was well over the legal limit.”
Wade chewed and swallowed, though his taste buds rebelled against the sweetness.
Nava lifted his own donut in the air. “I wanted to give her a break, because she’s having a hard time dealing with the loss of your brother, but she was weaving all over the road. She couldn’t walk a straight line.”
“I understand,” Wade said. “I’m glad she got her license revoked.”