The Great Escape (Wynette, Texas #7)(59)

“Are you sure about that?” He was still smiling, congenial. “Winters are long, and people here only have one another to depend on if they drive into a ditch or run out of heating oil. Or if their kid—a kid like Toby—gets sick and has to be taken off the island.” He rubbed his chin. “You should be careful what you wish for, Bree.”

Blackmail. She wanted to throw something as he walked away, but she’d never been a thrower or a screamer. She’d never been much of anything except a mediocre student and Scott’s cheerleader.

After Mike left, she retrieved the wheelbarrow and the quilt she’d been using in her display. Only then did she see the present he’d left for her, the one he’d said would help her with her business. Not Skittles or Lemonheads. Mike Moody had stepped up to the major leagues. His current form of bribery was a new Mac notebook computer.





Chapter Thirteen




LUCY WRAPPED A TEENAGE MUTANT Ninja Turtle beach towel around her waist and stepped from the outdoor shower. She’d gone for a swim off the dock, but the lake water was still cold enough that she hadn’t stayed in long. As she latched the warped wooden door behind her, Panda came down the steps from the screened porch. His sweat-soaked T-shirt and damp hair indicated he’d just finished one of Temple’s workouts.

“I want my bedroom back,” he said, taking in her wet shoulders and the too-thin top of her cheap black swimsuit.

She pulled the towel under her armpits. “You’re guarding Temple. You need to be near her.”

“Temple sleeps like a log, and the food’s locked up.” He wandered closer, moving from shade into sunlight. “There are three empty bedrooms upstairs. Choose whichever one you like. Hell, you can sleep in all of them if you want.”

He had justice on his side, and she believed in fair play. But not about this. “It’s my room now, and I’m not giving it up.”

“Is that right?” He leaned closer, bringing with him the scent of clean sweat and male menace. “Evicting you won’t bother me one bit. Remember that I’m bigger than you, I’m stronger than you, and I have no principles.”

Not completely true but close enough. She didn’t like the nervous flutter in her stomach, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “You could do that … but then you’d have to explain it to Temple.”

He still looked sinister but also a bit … sulky? “There’s a brand-new mattress on that bed.”

“Now we get to the crux of the matter.” The mattress was heaven. Not too soft, not too hard, and it had a cushy new feather-top, which still took second place to the room’s private entrance and exit. “It seems to be the only furnishing in the house you haven’t neglected.”

His glare wasn’t entirely convincing. “If I have to give up my bedroom, I want something in return.” His eyes lingered on her exposed collarbone. “What are you offering?”

What, indeed? “Decorating advice.”

“Forget it.”

“Sparkly windows.”

“Like I care.”

She thought hard, and then … Ka-ching. “Bread.”

A few seconds ticked by. He eased away, cocked his head. “I’m listening.”

“If you can keep Temple down by the cove for an hour tomorrow afternoon, I’ll make sure there’s a loaf of fresh bread hiding behind the plants on the porch when you get back.”

He considered. “She’ll smell it the minute she walks in the house.”

“I’ll burn some candles. Bake with the windows open. Squirt a little air freshener. What do you care?”

“You think you can do it?”

“I know I can.”

“Deal. Fresh bread whenever I want it, and you keep the room.” He turned on his heel and headed down to the water.

Only after he’d disappeared did she begin to have second thoughts. No one knew better than she did how seriously Panda took his work. Would he really leave Temple alone on the second floor all night just for a great mattress? She couldn’t imagine it.

The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced that Panda’s threats had nothing to do with getting his bedroom back and everything to do with making her give up her bread. Apparently she wasn’t the only one suffering from a lack of food. She stomped into the house.

He’d set her up, and she’d fallen for it.



HE SURFACED, THEN DIVED UNDER again. When was he going to apologize for what he’d said to Lucy that night? As if he didn’t have enough other things haunting him, those words had turned into a verbal ear-worm he couldn’t shake off. You weren’t that good anyway. He needed to apologize, but he could already feel himself letting down his guard, and if he apologized, things might get cozy between them. He didn’t want that. Be the best at what you’re good at.

He began swimming back toward the dock. He was hungry, damn it, and he hated being Temple’s keeper. That’s why he felt like he was off his game—losing focus, the old itch to get drunk clawing away at him. Lucy’s bread would set things right again. With something decent in his stomach, he’d be able to stay on top of this job that felt like it would never end. More important, he’d do a better job managing the girl with the fake dragon tattoo.