If there was one thing that she’d learned from years of studying human beings, it was that when a soul had been damaged, it needed to be repaired.
Maybe Anthony and I can do something about that for Toby.
She saw the calculation in Toby’s eyes, just a slight flash, but enough to tell her that she needed to stop him. It was pure reflex working in him now, so she couldn’t blame him. But she didn’t want any glib lines between them.
So she copied Anthony’s gesture and toasted Toby with her cup. “So tell me, Wyoming, what have you figured out about me?”
She held his gaze long enough that she knew that he knew that she knew…something. And hopefully, he understood and believed that she wasn’t going to push or prod or ask for anything more than he was willing to give.
As far as she was concerned, the evening so far was going very well. They were playing “getting to know you.” and while there was no actual music to go with it, it was a dance of sorts. A dance they needed to master if they were going to move forward.
Move forward? Well, you’ve done an about-face and jumped right in with both feet, haven’t you?
You know, you could just take the night off.
Mary put a lid on her inner good versus bad angel bickering. Arguing with oneself could be exhausting. She needed her wits about her with these two men.
Toby’s expression resumed that smartass edge she liked on him. “I’ve figured out that your being a student and attending varied classes is not a sign of an inability to focus on a single goal. It’s a testament to your ability to focus on a goal that others can’t see. And I would bet that each of the courses that you’ve taken over the last few years were not given by traditional teachers, were they? They were offered by professionals who were experts in their various fields. Yes?”
“Yes. Why learn from teachers when you can learn from the people living what it was you wanted to learn in the first place?”
“Why, indeed. And that half-leery, half-hopeful quality I noticed in your expression when we met first met? That was based on the fact that I’m a cop, and you were…bracing for a rejection or a brushback of some sort. Correct?”
“Right again, Wyoming.”
“That’s why you gave off that vibe?” Anthony focused his attention on her. “Well hell, that’s a good thing to know, cupcake. We both thought you really didn’t like us.”
“I didn’t know whether or not I liked you. I just knew I didn’t necessarily trust you.”
“What changed your mind, then?” Toby asked.
That was a hell of a good question and one that begged for a deeper explanation than she wanted to give just then. Fortunately, she was a bit more adept at fending off or turning a conversational gambit than Toby apparently was.
“Well, you see, the tests came back. You didn’t have rabies after all.”
Both men chuckled. Toby shook his head. “That was a good one. Okay, we’ll leave that alone for now.”
“Brother, are you going to tell me what you discovered about our sweet thang here?
Anthony had laid the Texas accent on thick, and Mary couldn’t help her wince. Then she turned to Toby. “You should get Cousin Adam to demonstrate for you his good-ole-boy drawl some time. It’s a hoot.”
“I’ll do that. And yes, brother, here it is. Our Mary is an author. She writes mysteries—probably crime-type mysteries if the cops she’s met give her grief—and she’s apparently damn good at it, judging by the award sitting in plain sight on her mantel.”
“No kidding? That’s great!” Anthony grinned at her. “So…why have you been keeping it a secret?”
“It just got to be a habit,” Mary said.
“I can completely understand that.” Toby nodded. “We have cousins back in Wyoming who’ve always acted as if Sean and Noah are little better than transients. Now, to be honest, those particular brothers of mine have always had that wanderlust—at least they did before they met their Brittany. And they, too, had taken different courses, geology and business and a few other areas of expertise that should have been clues. But because our cousins, encouraged by their mother, our Aunt Terri, were so obnoxious in their derision, Sean and Noah kind of closed down about the business they’d started shortly after college.”
Anthony looked between her and Toby and then slowly nodded. “I guess if you’re constantly misjudged or teased, it would tend to make you keep to yourself.”
“That’s what happened with me, although I have to say, my cousins and brothers were never mean in their attitude toward me. Well, except for the time they stole my diary and read it out loud, laughing all the way. But my keeping to myself got to be such a habit I don’t think about it much anymore.”
“Aunt Samantha knows, though, doesn’t she?” Toby said. “That you’re an author?”
“She does. She must have done some digging around to find out, too. And she told all my aunts and Grandma Kate.” Mary sighed. “I was a bit put out at first, but then I realized they also understood my reticence to share. Because my cousins and brothers and their wives still don’t know.”
“And now you’re here. A famous author—wait. You have to have a pen name, right?”
“Of a sort,” Mary said. “MJ Kendall. Not M period J period, just MJ.”
“Which, on the surface, sounds masculine,” Anthony said.
“It does, especially if you’re used to thinking of authors of cop mysteries being men.”
Anthony winked. which she took as his letting her know he didn’t think that way.
“Okay, back to my point.” Toby tilted his head as he met her gaze. “A famous author from New York City, who lives in a ritzy apartment—you did agree to my description of your white-and-chrome minimalist décor—just up and moves from the Big Apple to Lusty, Texas.”
Mary felt a prickle of unease scoot down her spine.
“So tell
