Page 15 of Devil in Disguise
He said, “Aw. You don’t want to see that.” Teasing, because he could, now. Because his confidence was back, and he was sure.
“Isowant to see that,” she said, “you cannot imagine. I’ve wanted to see it since the first night I met you, and you’re finally wearing a T-shirt. I can almost see, but I want to see more. Come on, Owen. Show me.”
It was the kind of thing you did when you were twelve, or maybe fifteen, when you started getting some actual muscles and had to stare at them in the bathroom mirror to make sure they were real. But when he put his fist up and slowly flexed, he felt the way he’d imagined feeling all the way back then. She had both hands on him, was running over every curve of muscle like she wanted to lick him there, and he got the kind of hard rush that almost hurt.
No smile now. No dimples. Her blue eyes staring into his. Her hands exploring him, learning him by touch. She leaned forward, pushed the sleeve of his T-shirt up, kissed him there, on the spot where the muscle swelled, and said, “I want to do this so much more. I want to touch you and kiss you and satisfy you the same way you did for me. I know it’s not supposed to be just about that, that I’m not supposed to say it, and I’ll wait to do it if I have to, but … I want to. And I need you to know that.”
Harlan’s voice, then, from the entryway, the most unwelcome sound he’d ever heard. “Hey. You planning to come on in here or what? I’ve been smelling barbecue since I got home, and I want it. Quit mauling Dyma and come do whatever magic thing you do to those ribs. I’m hungry.”
9
Monkey Wrench
Owen was worried.
Two weeks after that dinner, and Dyma was finally supposed to come to the ranch tonight. She’d traded a shift with Annabelle to do it, and he’d planned out the time already. Teaching her to ride, which he’d bet she was going to love. Taking her up to the lake in the high country, whichhewas going to love, although it was also going to seriously test his resolve. Dyma in a wet bra and panties, sliding up close to him in the sunshine? Yeah, that would be a test. Making dinner with her, though, and having his whole family over to eat it with them. Something that was vegetarian but wouldn’t taste like it, he figured. Italian. You could hide the lack of meat easier with Italian.
Any other woman would be intimidated to meet a guy’s mom and dad and brother and sister-in-law and four nephews, especially when she had to know that all those people, except maybe the nephews, had reservations about this deal, but he had faith in Dyma.
He wasn’t sure she was coming anymore, though. He wasn’t surewhatwas going on. Harlan had run out of his kids’ football camp today like the devil was chasing him, because Jennifer had spilled out of a rental car from nowhere, sweaty and tense, and told Owen, “Get Harlan.”
He spent the next two hours not knowing anything more than that Harlan was gone, during which time he did his best to keep the kids moving and the camp running, in between glances at his phone that didn’t yield any more information, and getting more concerned every minute.
If it was Dyma, they’d have told him. Harlan wouldn’t just have bugged out without saying. He knew that had to be true, and still, it was all he could do not to get on a plane and head to Portland. Because when he’d texted Dyma, she hadn’t answered.
That bicycle. Riding home through all that traffic without nearly enough caution. Did she even wear her helmet? He didn’t know. He wouldn’t have taken any bets.
Not possible. They’d have told him.
Now, he picked up gear with the rest of his volunteers, waved to the mom of the final kid, an undersized boy whose heart was only matched by his ability to get thrown aside when he tried to tackle—Owen was going to suggest he work on his kicking next week, because that kid had “kicker” written all over him—and finally,finallyheard the chime of a text.
He almost dropped the phone getting it out of his pocket, and he’d been called the surest pair of hands in the NFL. He swore, another thing he didn’t do, especially not when he was around kids in any way, juggled the phone, and got the text open.
It was Dyma.
I can’t come. I’m sorry.
Which told him nothing. He typed, cursing the size of his fingers,What happened?
Didn’t Harlan tell you?
Nothing. You OK?
He waited, feeling his heart slamming against his ribs, his chest tightening.It can’t be her,he told himself again.But why didn’t she text me sooner, if it wasn’t? And why am I not on a plane right now?
The little dots blinked at him, and finally, the message appeared.
In ND. Crisis with H and A’s dad. He’s taking a plea deal for killing their mom, which means he confessed I guess. They released the mom’s body. I think going to do the funeral this wknd. Meeting his other sisters there plus grandparents. Gone two days? Really wanted to see you though. I wish
The message broke off, and he swore again, only aware he’d done it when Hank, the elementary-school-principal dad who was his second-in-command, looked up, startled. Owen didn’t say words like that off the field.
He said, “Sorry. Bad news.” Although maybe it wasn’t. Maybe this was good news, or as good as it got, except that nothing about his closest friend’s family situation could be called “good news.” He didn’t worry that he wasn’t helping put gear away and thanking his volunteers. Didn’t think that it was hot, that he was hungry. He held the phone and waited for those blinking dots to turn into the rest of the message.
Sorry,he finally saw.Hit Send by mistake. I wish you were here. Trying to be strong for Annabelle, because Harlan’s kind of destroyed. Mom’s trying to help him, and there’s only me to help A. This is going to be horrible for all of them. And I miss you.
He thought a second while the sweat pooled under his Devils cap, then typed,Should I come? Would it help?
Not sure,he got back.I think it’s going to be a family thing.Mom’s in the middle because of the baby. Baby helps H I think. I’m sort of waiting to see what they need. Not sure what my part is.
