Black Bird of the Gallows(48)

He shrugs. “What else could it be? Decent people don’t turn homicidal for no reason. Don’t worry. I’ve got us covered if it’s the water. We’re getting a new water filter installed next week.” His eyes go bright with excitement. “You should have seen the demo of this thing. It turned urine into drinkable water—”

I hold up a hand. “I’m not drinking my own urine.”

“No, no, of course not. But you could, if you had to. They use a reverse osmosis filtration…”

I stop listening there. It’s unfortunate my dad is buying the bogus theory about the water. I’m not surprised. He doesn’t hide the fact that anything but a logical, scientific explanation is pure hooey. Yes, hooey is the technical term for all things whimsical. He says my mom cured him of hooey and whimsy.

The doorbell rings. It plays this bombastic little tune that must be audible to the whole neighborhood.

“That would be Reece,” I say.

“Does he have to come over tonight? I was going to order a pizza.”

I raise my eyebrows. Pizza? That’s so tempting. “I asked you earlier if it was okay, and you said yes. You should have stated your objection then.”

When he just frowns at me, I lean over and kiss his cheek. “You said yes. I’m going to let him in before he rings that doorbell again and wakes up every napping infant in a five mile radius.”

Dad grumbles but doesn’t stop me. Roger leads the way to the door, tail wagging as if he knows who it is. I follow the dog down the hall, suddenly a little self-conscious. I should have changed. I’m barefoot in purple leggings and a huge, bleach-spattered sweatshirt with the neckline cut out. I tug up the frayed neck, but it slips right back down over my left shoulder.

I open the door to find Reece on the front porch. His hands are jammed deep in his jeans pockets, his shoulders hunched. He looks up, gives me a lopsided grin. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” The porch light glints off his wet hair. He looks so darn cute standing there. A little nervous. A little eager.

His brows go up. “What?”

I shrug one shoulder and grin at him. “We’re eating ice cream.”

“About time.” He shakes out his rain-soaked hair, reminding me a little of Roger when he does it.

He tucks his arms against his torso and shifts his feet. “Can I come in? It’s cold out here.”

I lean outside and press my mouth to his. He draws in a sharp breath, then eases into the kiss, slanting his lips against mine. He tastes like cold rain and mint gum—two things that in this moment, I’m sure I could subsist on indefinitely. When I pull away, reluctantly, there’s hunger in his eyes that makes my stomach tighten. I drop my gaze, unsure of myself, of these feelings that are intense and unfamiliar. It’s a real problem. The more I feel for Reece, the deeper the claws of dread dig into my chest. It’s harder and harder to remind myself…he can’t stay.

Reece’s dark eyes hold mine. “Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

“No, I—” I think I’m falling for you. “You’re a good kisser.”

“My gift. My curse.” He gives me a shrug and another lopsided smile. “So may I come in?”

“Oh. Sorry.” I dance backward as he steps inside.

He crouches to scratch behind Roger’s floppy ears. “Is your dad going to be mad I’m here?”

I beam a smile. “Not at all. Come. We’ll have a pint.”

“Mint chip?”

“I can share.”

He hangs behind but follows me to the den. My dad is still sitting there, spoon in hand and a scowl on his face.

Reece stops in the entrance to the den. “Hello, Mr. Dovage.”

“Mr. Fernandez,” Dad says coolly.

The two eye each other for a long, uncomfortable moment. My dad must have a point to make. I plop next to him on the couch and stick an elbow in his side.

Dad shoots me a stern look. “Don’t poke me with your elbow.”

Reece sighs. “I can go.”

My dad huffs out a breath and waves Reece in. “Damn it, come and sit down.”

Reece hesitates. It’s so obvious that he’d rather not deal with my glowering father, but he comes in and sits down next to me. My dad leans forward and fixes Reece with a hard gaze. “Angie likes you, so you must be an okay kid. But so help me, if I catch you sneaking in the basement with my daughter again, you will leave on a stretcher. Got it?”

Wow. Even as my cheeks heat up, I am a little in awe of this previously unknown side of my dad. It’s as fascinating as it is embarrassing.

Reece swallows. “Yes, sir. No basements.”

“That’s right.” My dad settles into the couch. “Have a daughter one day and you’ll see. Forget the water,” he mutters. “Kids are what’s making people lose their minds.”

I can’t tell if Reece is intimidated, or if he’s pretending for my dad’s benefit. I pass Reece a speculative look, which he returns with a quick smile and amused eyes. Only pretending, then. Not surprising. Nothing my dad could do to him would be worse than going through puberty nine times.

“Here.” I pass him the mint chip. “You know. Life’s too short.”

He drops his gaze. “Indeed it is.”