gardens. They provide as much nitrogen as fertilizer but are more eco-friendly, and they’re great for acid-loving plants, like azaleas. Plus, worms love coffee grounds.”
“And that’s good?” she asked as he none-too-subtly moved her into the shop proper and toward the door.
“Worms aerate the soil, which allows good root formation.” At the front entrance, he glanced up and down the street before turning the key in the lock, then ushering her outside. “There’s also some evidence that the use of coffee grounds is helpful in repelling gophers and moles.”
Worms, gophers and moles. She’d never had a sillier conversation so soon after having great sex. But silly talk was better than no talk at all. It was better than the mistake speech she’d been expecting. Was still expecting.
The night was humid, quiet and cool. Her car was the only one parked on the square. Every business was closed up, everyone gone home. “What time is it?” she asked as they walked toward Ellie’s Deli.
“Twelve-twenty.”
His hands were at his sides. It would be so easy to slip her hand into his, curl her fingers over his. He probably wouldn’t push her away. He probably wouldn’t do anything at all-would just tolerate her action-and for that reason, she did nothing either.
She tried conversation again. “Do you think Natalia let Elizabeth and Bear out?”
“I’m sure she did.”
“So they won’t be bouncing up and down with their legs crossed by the time you get there.”
At the corner they turned south, walking along the western edge of the square. He breathed deeply-wishing she would just shut up and let him regret in silence?- and said, “No. They’re probably kicked back on the sofa, if they haven’t destroyed it, watching Animal Planet.”
“Geez, they eat one pillow and get branded as destructive for life. Cut ’em some slack. It was one mistake.” As she faced him across the car, she lowered her voice. “Cut yourself some slack, Joe.”
For the first time, he met her gaze, his mouth a thin line. He started to speak, then shook his head and unlocked the doors.
What had he been about to say? That having sex with her was a mistake he wouldn’t make again? That he wanted to forget it ever happened? She would give almost anything if he’d insist that it hadn’t been a mistake at all. That he still wanted her. That he would always want her.
Of course he didn’t.
She gave in to silence on the way home, feeling bluer with each passing block. When he parked next to her house, she got out and picked her way carefully over uneven ground to the sidewalk. Feeling the chill more acutely, she lengthened her stride, climbed the steps and stuck the key into the lock.
“You think it was a mistake?”
Joe’s voice came from behind her. Slowly she turned to face him. He stood at the bottom of the steps, serious, still, unbearably handsome.
In every way. “No.”
“Neither do I.” He sounded as sincere as she did. Was he lying, too?
“Then what…?”
He dragged his fingers through his hair before shrugging and parroting an answer she’d given him a few days earlier. “It’s complicated.”
Her laughter was short and regretful. “With you Saldana boys, everything’s complicated.”
“See, that’s part of the problem. Most women I date don’t even know I have a brother. You know. Man, do you
If life were fair, she would tell him the truth: that Josh had never laid a hand on her unless it was for an audience. The bigger truth: that she’d never wanted him to. The biggest truth of all: that she’d never wanted any man the way she wanted
She returned to the top step and gazed down at him. “But I’m not holding it against you.”
Against his will, he laughed before sobering. “It’s just…weird. You being with Josh for so long, then tonight with me. It’s…”
Weird, she agreed. If it were true. When he was physically identical to the ex-boyfriend, it would be hard not to wonder if he was being used as a substitute, if when she touched him, kissed him, made love to him, she imagined he was Josh instead of Joe.
“I can honestly say I didn’t think of Josh even for an instant tonight.”
Joe stared at her, still, as if he didn’t believe her.
“What do you want me to say, Joe? That I wish I’d never known Josh? That I’d never been involved with him?” To counteract a shiver, she folded her arms across her middle so her hands were tucked against what little warmth her body had to offer. “I’ve told you before-I don’t love Josh and never did. I don’t want him back. Everything between us is over. Once I find him, I won’t care if I never see him again.”
“And what about everything between us?” Joe asked quietly. “Once you find Josh, what happens to us?”
She didn’t know what to say. How could she commit to a relationship with him when he didn’t know who she really was? How could she promise him anything? She didn’t even know what she wanted. A long-distance affair? To see where weekend visits, sex and e-mail could take them? Was she willing to give up her job and live in Copper Lake? Would she rather lure him to Dallas or some other city?
She didn’t have a clue what she wanted…besides him. Romance, love, marriage, family-the whole fantasy would be incredible. But maybe they’d find out in a few months’ time that the attraction between them was mostly physical, and they’d each be ready to move on. Maybe they cared, but not enough to make a long-term commitment work.
She could give up her career for a sure thing, but for nothing more than maybes?
“I guess silence is a pretty clear answer, isn’t it?” Clouds had drifted over the moon, throwing his face into shadow, but she heard the disappointment in his voice.
“No, Joe, that isn’t-”
But he’d already pivoted and headed toward his house, his long legs taking long strides. She could kick off her shoes and run after him. She could yell across the space to him.
But she chose to do the wise thing: let him go. She stood there in the cool night shadows and watched until he disappeared inside the lavender house. Watched his shadow pass the window. Watched moment after moment while everything remained still.
Her feet hurting, her skin cold, her chest tight, she heaved a sigh at last and turned to the door. Just before she went inside, she cast another glance across the lawn and murmured, “That’s not my answer at all.”
Joe had trouble falling asleep. His yawns were so wide that they swallowed his face, but he couldn’t relax enough. Liz’s fragrance clung to his skin, even after a 2:00 a.m. shower. His fingers tingled with the feel of her. His whole self echoed with her silence.
What about us?
When he finally drifted off, it was to disjointed dreams of Liz, him, Josh, pain and disappointment and loss.
He got up at seven, groggy and still tired, and put the dogs out. There was no sign of life across the yard.
After letting the pups in again, he set out food dishes and fresh water in the middle of the kitchen floor, then fell back into bed, back into a restless sleep. It was nearly noon when he awoke again. His head hurt. His eyes felt like sandpaper. His joints were stiff. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in so late, or the last time he’d woken up feeling so lousy. College, probably.
Beside him, Elizabeth lifted her head, scowling her annoyance with him for disturbing her nap. He scowled back, slid to his feet and shuffled into the kitchen. First things first: dumping Ayutepeque beans into the grinder, scooping more than a tablespoon but less than a heaping tablespoon into the filter, adding eight ounces of cold water from the refrigerator dispenser. While the coffee perked, he went into the living room and returned with the biking magazine.
It had arrived in the mail two months ago, give or take, in a manila envelope postmarked Denver. The address had been handwritten with a felt-tip marker, by a woman, he’d guess. It would have been so easy for Josh to persuade a postal clerk to do it-a phony bandage on his right hand, a smile,
He’d almost tossed it anyway, figuring it was junk mail, a come-on from someone who wanted to part him from his money. But he’d flipped through the pages, and near the back a familiar mark had caught his attention. A smudge on the final digit of the page number. A printer’s error, or so it seemed.
It was a simple code, one they’d used as kids, when age and proximity had kept them close. Anything with numbers and letters worked-a book, a newspaper, a catalog. Small smudges, faint pencil lines, blots-the message was spelled out one letter or digit at a time. He’d written this one down the night he’d gotten it, then immediately burned the paper. Now he wrote it down again.
For emergency. Following it was a ten-digit number.
How had Josh gotten his address? had been his first thought. From their mother’s friend, Opal, maybe. Hell, he might have looked up Joe on the Internet. Leave it to the good brother to hide using his real name, he could imagine Josh scoffing.
What emergency could ever make Joe want to contact him? had been his next thought. Nothing less tragic than the death of one of their parents.
That and, now, Liz.
What about us?
Her damned silence still rang in his ears.
Did it matter now whether Josh still had a claim on her? No. Because, apparently, Joe didn’t either.
But maybe…Maybe then he’d know whether she’d been using him as a substitute for Josh.
The coffee finished, and he breathed deeply, immediately regretting it. Damned if it didn’t make him remember last night. Damned if it didn’t arouse him more than a little. Great. Getting a hard-on every time he smelled coffee brewing, especially when he worked in a freaking coffee shop…He’d known Liz was trouble from the first time he’d seen her. Had known he should stay the hell away from her. But no, he’d had to ignore the wise voices in his head, and look at him now.
He sweetened the coffee with a spoonful of raw sugar, then drank it while he got dressed, laced on his sneakers, took his helmet from the coat stand. With the notepaper crinkling, he stuffed his wallet in one pocket, a handful of change in another, grabbed his keys and left the house.
He needed a pay phone because it seemed likely that his home, cell and shop phones were being monitored by the good guys, the bad guys or maybe both. And the best place to use a pay phone unnoticed was at the mall.
He carried the bike down the steps and was cinching the helmet strap tightly when he caught the sound of a door closing nearby.
