Heroes Are My Weakness(76)

He’d talked to Jessie and her father today, trying to get a feel for how people regarded Annie, but he hadn’t learned anything that raised his suspicions. They were curious about why she’d come to the island, but they were more interested in sharing their stories about Mariah. After the boats got in tomorrow, he intended to hang out at the fish house. He’d take the men some beer, see what he could pick up. He’d also make sure they knew Annie would be armed, a disturbing prospect, but necessary.

He’d come to the island because he couldn’t tolerate being around people, yet here he was, involved with everything. It had been over an hour since he’d heard her go to her room. She’d be wearing those awful pajamas. Or maybe not.

His good intentions vanished. He set aside his laptop and left the studio. But as he saw the Post-it note on her door, he stopped cold. It had one word.


No.


THEO DIDN’T MENTION THE NOTE to her the next morning. He didn’t say much of anything except that he needed his car that day. Only later did she discover he’d driven to the dock to pick up the locksmith. Knowing she didn’t have the money to pay the bill made her feel ashamed.

He was in the studio when she returned to the cottage. She took the box of wine from her closet and carried it out to his car. He opened the kitchen door for her as she came back in. “What did you put in my car?”

“Some excellent wine. You’re welcome. And thanks for taking care of the locks.”

He saw right through her. “I had the locks changed for myself. I can’t chance having my laptop stolen while I’m out.”

He was trying to let her save face, which only made her more indebted. “Uh-huh.”

“Annie, I don’t want your wine. This isn’t a big deal to me.”

“It’s a big deal to me.”

“All right. How’s this? No more Post-it notes on your door, and we’ll call it even.”

“Enjoy your wine.” She couldn’t think straight with him standing in front of her, oozing all those male pheromones, not after what had happened at the farmhouse. “Did you bring a gun?”

He didn’t press. “I’ve got it. Grab your coat.”

They went out on the marsh. After he’d gone through the basic rules of gun safety, he showed her how to load and fire the automatic pistol he’d chosen for her. The gun should have repelled Annie, but she liked shooting it. What she didn’t like was the unexpected eroticism of having Theo so close. They were barely inside the cottage before they were tearing off each other’s clothes.


“I DON’T WANT TO TALK about it,” she snarled at him later that night as they lay in her bed.

He yawned. “Fine by me. More than fine.”

“You can’t sleep here. You have to sleep in your own bed.”

He tried to settle her against his naked body. “I don’t want to sleep in my own bed.”

She didn’t want him to, either, but however murky some things might be, this was clear. “I want sex, not intimacy.”

He curled his hand around her rear. “Sex it is.”

She wiggled away. “You have two options. You can either sleep by yourself, or you can lie here for the next three hours and listen to the details of every crappy relationship I’ve ever had, why they were crappy, and why men suck. Warning. I cry ugly.”

He threw back the cover. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I thought so.”


ANNIE HAD GOTTEN WHAT SHE wanted from Theo—the best sex of her life—but she’d also set boundaries.

Very sensible, Dilly said. You’ve finally learned your lesson.

The next afternoon, Annie took Livia outside again. It was too windy for the beach, so they hung out on the front porch steps. Annie needed to know if she’d done any damage yesterday, and she propped Scamp on her knee. The puppet got straight to the point. “Are you mad at me for talking about your daddy when we went down to the beach?”

Livia pursed her lips, thinking it over, then slowly shook her head.

“Good,” Scamp said, “because I was worried you’d be mad.”

Livia shook her head again, then climbed up on the stone balustrade that had replaced the wooden spindles. She straddled the balustrade, her back to Annie.

Should she drop the subject or keep it on the table? She needed to do more research on mutism and childhood trauma. In the meantime, she would trust her instincts.

“I would hate it if I had a daddy that did bad things to my mommy,” Scamp said. “Especially if I couldn’t talk about it.”

Livia began riding the balustrade horse.

“Or sing about it. I believe I’ve mentioned that I’m an accomplished vocalist.” Scamp began singing a series of scales. It had taken Annie endless years of practice to sing well in the vocal registers of all her puppets, something that set her apart from most vents. Scamp finally stopped. “If you ever want me to sing another song about what happened, let me know.”

Livia quit riding her horse and turned around. She stared at Annie, then at Scamp.

“Yes or no?” Scamp chirped. “I shall abide by your wise decision.”

Livia dropped her head and picked at some residual pink nail polish on her thumbnail. A definite no. What had Annie expected? Did she really think her clumsy interference could unlock such a deep trauma?