Honeytrap (12 page)

“You're back,” Deacon said, wasting no time in getting to the backroom. He slipped past Micah, who hadn't moved from his spot leaning against the doorframe.

“You all squared away with the mower?” he asked.

“That's why I'm here.” Flushing, blushing . . . dammit.

“We sure appreciate your business, Angel.”

“Did you have to tell the twins about nicknames?” I asked. “About . . . everything?”

Micah lost that grin. “I might've mentioned the angel part, but that's all.”

Again, I didn't know what to believe. Micah, who thrived on his reputation, had held back his four aces from his cousins, telling them the bet was off. Why? He definitely seemed to still be anteing up for me.

“Well,” I said, walking toward the door, “thanks for your discretion.”

“Hold up.” He motioned toward my pickup. “Yesterday, I noticed your truck is blowing gray exhaust smoke. Have you had it checked lately?”

Was he my pickup gynecologist now? “I changed the oil less than a month ago, and it's been running fine.” My truck ran so well that I'd never had to take it to a garage for repairs, which would've been an expense I could barely afford. “I've been telling myself that I need to enroll in some kind of class on engines one day, just in case.”

“Do you have the manual handy? I could give you a quick lesson, if you've got the time.”

I was sure he could instruct very well, and even though my sex drive was going, “Yip-yip!” I shook my head. “I got the pickup used, and the manual wasn't in it. I've always looked things up online since the information's there.”

“Hell, I've got old manuals. I can get you one . . . just so you'd have it in your dashboard for emergencies on lonely Texas roads without cell reception. You might need it.”

What was he up to now? “Okay. Thanks. I can pick it up here someday.”

“Actually,” he said, “I could get it to you sooner if you ran me home now. I rode with the twins this morning, so you'd save me a walk.”

“I . . . thought you said you liked to walk.” Hadn't he mentioned it last night when he was being so flip about being in my neighborhood?

“Never said I liked it, but if I have to, I will. Home's not far from here.” He jerked his chin at me, smiling. “So how about it, Shelby? I'll even lay low so no one sees me in the truck with you.”

How much of a dick would I be if I said no? It was just a ride, and he was going to give me the manual I was missing. Then again, Micah had the talent to turn something even
that
innocent into a situation that would sway me.

“Come on,” he said softly.

Crap. But really, what would be the harm? And why was that secret, bad-girl part of me pushing me to say yes?

“All right,” I said, walking toward the door. “But I'm leaving now.”

“Great.”

He shouted to the twins about going home and giving me a manual, and when they responded, there wasn't any wink-wink-nudge-nudge in their tones.

“Meet me out back in a few,” he said.

He was serious about laying low. Only the twins would know he'd left with me, and they had to realize I wasn't about to linger in the lion's den of their house after I got that manual.

Micah disappeared into the backroom, and I went out to my pickup, my blood swirling.
You won't let him touch you
, I said to myself.
Not this time
.

I drove to the rear of the shop, where Micah was waiting in his jeans and T-shirt. I pulled to a stop, and dust flew around his legs as he opened the door, then got in. When he didn't do up his seatbelt, I waited.

“Always with the rules,” he muttered, but he didn't buckle up.

I hesitated, then took off. He slumped in his seat, leaning an arm on the door, taking up a position that allowed him to cover his face from anyone who might see us. But I didn't think that was likely out here, where there were more pine trees than cars.

We traveled in the direction of Miller Dock Lake, passing the abandoned mom-and-pop gas station with its old-fashioned pumps and “Rebels Rule!” spray-painted on a crumbling wall. Thirty seconds later, we came to a dirt road marked by a mailbox with a red flag near a white fence. He told me to turn off and, after bouncing over the graveled lane, the twins' one-level brick house appeared, along with an open car shed that housed the skeletons of what looked to be a broken-down convertible and an old farm truck. The lawn was surprisingly neat, with a homemade swing hanging from an oak tree. The porch had a gliding swing, too, the door freshly painted.

Were we at the right place? I'd never been to Deacon and Darwin's, but I'd had a certain idea of how their house might look.

“Where's your Camaro?” I asked, making sure.

“In the garage. The twins let me have the place of honor.”

“And those . . . things?” I asked, nodding toward the hunks of junk in the shed.

“Cars I've rescued from scrap heaps. Works in progress.”

I could feel his smile on me as I pulled up to the closed garage. Another car was in the driveway—an old station wagon—and Micah sprung out the door of my truck, keeping it open.

“There's lemonade in the fridge,” he said.

Here it went. “Could you just bring out the manual?”

“I have to dig through a bunch of crap in my room to get to the one you can use. Besides, there's someone I want you to meet.”

What? Who? Huh?

He didn't explain as he shut the door and started toward the back of the house, not even checking to see if I was coming or not.

I weighed my options: drive away or stay? But when I saw a little kid in baggy pants and a Dallas Cowboys T-shirt waddling around the corner, I sucked in a breath. Micah wasn't far behind, scooping the boy into his arms and swinging him around.

Was this who he wanted me to meet?

Then another, more foreboding question sank into me. Why the hell did he want me to meet a baby unless . . . ?

I gripped the wheel, dreading the rest.

When Micah saw my face through the windshield, he frowned, as if he didn't understand my shock. Then he started laughing harder than I'd ever seen him laugh before as he tickled the boy, making him laugh, too.

He came around to my window while my engine still idled. How long had he been planning to surprise me with this? How many guys, besides him and Rex, would have more awful stunners in store for me during the course of my life? How many times would I walk right into their traps?

“You should see your face,” he said as the little boy reached through the open window for my ponytail.

I let him pull it. I didn't actually feel anything.

Micah removed the kid's hand from me. “I see what you're thinking, Shelby, and let me put this rising terror to rest. He's not mine.”

Oh, Lord, thank you God
. I didn't know why I was so relieved—what was Micah to me, anyway?—but I was.

“Did you really think I had a family tucked away back here?” he asked.

“Yeah. I mean, isn't that why . . .”
You wanted me to meet him?

I didn't finish, because I was going to come off like Micah had been so serious about me that he'd wanted to introduce me to his child. Presumption at its most embarrassing.

“If there's one thing you can depend on me for,” Micah said, “it's that I don't get myself into situations like this. My reputation might say that I'm careless, but I'm as careful as they come.”

The glint in his eyes told me that he wasn't exactly talking about being conscientious when it came to taking care of a girl's heart. He was telling me he was always prepared, like an oversexed Boy Scout with a backpack of condoms.

What should I say to that?

Turned out, I didn't have to respond at all because the little boy was grabbing for Micah's ponytail. Micah intercepted his hand and bumped fists with him instead. The kid was overjoyed at the new game.

“This is Henry,” Micah said. “Darwin's boy.”

My heart fully started up again. “Darwin has a baby?”

“It's a recent development. Baby Mama came here a couple weeks ago with her sister, bringing this teeny surprise with her, too.” Micah pressed Henry to his chest and covered his other ear with his free hand. “Dar had no idea about Henry since his mom, Lucille, was just passing through town more than a year and a half ago, if you know what I mean.”

“Evidently, she didn't pass through fast enough.” But I had to say that Henry was as cute as a button. I wouldn't consider him a mistake, just as Mom hadn't considered me to be one.

“Darwin has already cottoned to Henry.” Micah uncovered the toddler's ear. “He quit smoking and everything, but his only objection is the name. The kid's going to be a librarian with ‘Henry' stuck to him.”

“I'm surprised the entire town isn't buzzing with this news.”

“Oh, it's starting. You've just been downwind of all the gossip.”

I turned off the engine, even though I didn't make a move to get out of the pickup. Micah seemed to think this was encouraging, even though I'd only shut down because I didn't like the thought of a baby breathing in truck fumes.

“See, Hank?” he said to the boy. “She's gonna drink lemonade with us. Score one for you, little man, you're already a charmer.”

Henry clapped and, yes, I was utterly charmed. What ex-babysitter wouldn't be? I got out and made sure Micah knew that I wasn't here for his company as much as to be a girly girl and fuss over Henry, then grab that manual and go.

As Micah handed over the child, Henry came to me with slobbery glee, reaching for my ponytail again, his eyes wide and blue just like his daddy's. This time, he succeeded with my ponytail.

I bounced him up and down. When Henry laughed, I laughed, and we followed Micah to the rear sidewalk, going toward the bush-lined back patio with its view of a fenced pasture. I didn't see or smell any livestock nearby, so I was betting the Wyatts didn't keep any.

When we entered the house through the sliding glass door, I got another surprise because, like the outside, everything was cozy and neat. The family room was decorated with clean yet faded plaid furniture, a widescreen TV, and polished oak end tables. The kitchen had a peekaboo window where something that smelled like chili was cooking on the stove, although no one was around to mind the food. The only mess I could see was a couple of laptops lying on the counter that separated us from the kitchen, one of the motherboards exposed.

I didn't know what I'd expected from the place where Micah and the twins lived. A total dump with trash ankle-deep on the floor? A bachelor pad with discarded bras draped over lamps?

Micah was watching me, and I tried not to advertise my keen interest as I wandered around with Henry on my hip.

“I'm in charge of keeping things in order,” Micah said. “The better I clean, the more money I get off the rent.”

Mom had a similar arrangement with her guests—clean or be gone. “The twins own this house?”

“Yup. They don't do too bad with their shop.”

As Henry touched my face, mapping it with his fingers, I gestured toward the computers. “Is this another side job of yours, besides playing maidservant?”

He was amused by that last term. “Those computers are Deacon's. If life had been different, he might've started up one of those geek businesses that are making millions on the West Coast, but he just likes to tool around here in the boonies instead. Maybe he can fix that laptop of yours that died up at college.”

The one I'd been using for Lana Peyton. I did still have the machine, not knowing what else to do with it. “If he wants to take a crack at it, I'm game. Thanks.”

A woman appeared from the hallway, standing at the kitchen stove, picking up the lid and sniffing the contents. Micah and I got quiet, but Henry leaned over and reached out his hands for her, making a sound that resembled, “Meh-mah!”

She wasn't much older than I was—maybe in her early twenties. I could tell she'd already lived a long life, though—her brown hair was fixed in a bunch of big curlers, her gaze was red-rimmed and burned out. But she had a beautiful smile for Henry, even if a front tooth was chipped.

“My man!” she said, coming around the counter and taking Henry from me. She kissed his cheek about ten times as he gurgled. When she was done, she said, “Are you having fun with new friends?”

She was clearly dying to know who Micah had brought home.

I stuck out my hand. “I'm Shelby.”

As she shook with me—
very
firmly—she gave me a longer gaze, making a semi-impressed face, then giving Micah a flagrantly questioning look.

“I've got a truck manual she needs,” Micah said. “She's not really here.”

“She's not?”

“You never saw her.”

The woman seemed to know that this meant I wasn't to be talked about to anyone. Fine with me since I shouldn't have been here at all.

Micah said, “Shelby, this is Lucille.”

We shook hands until Lucille suddenly made a beeline for the stove with Henry in tow. “Glad to meet you, Shelby. Micah doesn't bring many . . . friends . . . home.”

“Not a friend,” Micah repeated. “She's absent, remember?”

This could be fun. “Who
does
he bring home, Lucille?”

Micah cursed under his breath as Darwin's baby mama took off the chili lid and set it down, turned Henry away from the pot, and stirred as steam floated out.

Lucille answered me. “From what I've heard, he brings home the same kind of girls Deacon and Darwin used to bring before I arrived—”

Micah interrupted. “Lucille used to compete in rodeo barrel racing until she took that fateful trip through Aidan Falls and ended up with Henry. I think she's forgetting she was one of those girls at a point.”

Was there bad blood between them? I didn't think so, because Lucille gave Micah the kind of look an older sibling would give a younger brother.

He continued. “Her sister Natalie came with her, so Darwin got double the trouble.”

Something tweaked me, and I hated to think it might be jealousy at a woman living in this house. With Micah.

Lucille dipped a wooden spoon in the pot and smelled it, closing her eyes as Henry watched, enthralled. She opened her eyes, tasted the chili, and smacked her lips. “I would get Natalie out here to meet you, Shelby, but she's at the public pool for the day. She just got a new used bike so she's been riding everywhere. Lord help us when she gets her license in a few years.”

Hah! Her little sister was massively illegal. Even she had to be off-limits for a man-whore like Micah.

I realized something else—when Micah had mentioned that the twins had some guests over last night, he hadn't been talking about cheap dates pulled from the nearest bar. Instead, Darwin had an instant family . . . or at least the wobbly start of one.

Micah smiled at Henry as the boy stared at him now. “Natalie's biking to a slumber party after the pool, leaving me to babysit this little critter. That girl makes friends
fast
.”

Henry giggled, and Micah's smile widened. I was sure he wasn't even trying to impress me with his natural ability to get along with toddlers, either. He wasn't trying to score points. He and Henry just . . . were.

A cynical voice whispered to me.
What if he's showing you his softer side to bring you into that web of his?

“Mike,” Lucille said, “are you going back to the shop today?”

“No, I took off early. I was thinking I'd see to a few adjustments on the Camaro before you leave for the potluck, but then Shelby came along, needing a manual.” He looked at me and, for a moment, it seemed like he was keeping some kind of secret. Then his expression went back to normal. “I don't know if you've heard, but that Brian Taggart bast . . . er . . . guy has been making noise about a racing rematch with me.”

Wow, he didn't even cuss in front of Lucille and the baby. “Are you going to accept?”

Lucille rattled the lid on the chili pot as she put it back on. “No, he ain't. And I got on Darwin's tail about being Micah's wingman for that last race. Men don't play that way, do they, Henry? Only babies do.”

She made a face at Henry, and he laughed.

Micah seemed to remember that he'd promised me some lemonade, and he went to the cabinet, fetching glasses. “You stick to your Chamber of Commerce activities and I'll stick to my cars.”

“That's fair.” Lucille stroked her son's hair. “Micah's kind enough to babysit tonight while I stand by my man at his business function, so I'm not one to be giving him grief.”

Well, it sounded like Lucille would be whipping more than Darwin into shape if she was fortunate. I couldn't help liking her.

She trained her gaze on me. “Will you be helping Micah . . . babysit?”

“Nooo!” I waved my hands in front of me.

“Uh-uh.” Micah's denial joined mine as he walked out of the kitchen with the lemonade, giving me a glass clinking with ice. “As I mentioned, she just stopped in for an errand. Don't you need to get ready or anything?”

Lucille took the hint, sending me one more curious glance before nodding at me and taking Henry with her down the hallway, leaving me alone with Micah.

I sipped from my glass. The only sounds seemed to be the ceiling fans, the tick of a clock near the front entrance of the house, and the burbling of Henry as he chattered with his mom in their room right before Lucille closed the door.

I narrowed my gaze at Micah, who'd taken up a lethargic stance against the back of the couch.

“So who do you usually bring home?” I asked, going back to a most interesting subject.

“I knew you wouldn't drop this.” He took a long swig of lemonade. “By the time Lucille showed up with Natalie and Hank, I wasn't bringing anyone home.”

“But before that? You've been living in Aidan Falls since the beginning of the year, so you had plenty of time to introduce girls to your room.”

“All right. There were . . . girls.”

I waited, a slight smile on my mouth. It felt a little forced.

He shrugged. “The twins and I weren't monks.”

“But now, with a young and impressionable little sister and a baby around, you might as well be.”

“Maybe Darwin's gone responsible, but Deacon and I just learned to change our MO, not our lifestyles.”

“So now you ambush girls' bedrooms and make good use of movie theaters. Understood.”

With another shrug, he meandered out of the family room and headed for the hall. I supposed that was my cue to get that manual he'd wanted to give me, so I trailed him past the closed door of what I assumed was Darwin and Lucille's room and down to the very end.

Micah's room was well kept, too, the bed covered with a thin, striped white-and-blue blanket. His desk was stacked with used, page-curled car and equipment manuals, as if he studied them over and over. The shelves were the only grimy section, holding grease-worked items that looked as if they belonged in a car's engine. Far be it from me to identify exactly what they were, though.

I went over to the shelves to get a closer look, and he spoke from behind me, sending invisible fingers down my spine.

“What is it that they call a fair trade?” he asked. “
Quid pro quo
or something?”

“Very good. Are you hinting that, since you saw my room, it's your turn to show off yours?”

“Let's just say I'm giving you five minutes until I kick you out.”

I caught his smirk, then returned it, facing his shelves again and setting my lemonade down on a nearby table. “If I were a detective, I'd detect that you liked cars.”

“Good start.”

I touched a metal springy-looking device. “Spark plug?” I asked.