It's a Sweet Life

Chapter Seven

Monday morning, Libbie felt marginally better than she had the day before. Still, her body groaned in protest as she slowly rolled onto her side and pushed up into a sitting position. She hadn’t set eyes on her tenants since Saturday, although a few times she’d heard them come and go via the outside stairs.

Not even the sound of their TV filtered through her walls.

In a way, it was a relief.

She made her way out to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee, glancing over to where her purse sat on the counter. The money they’d given her was tucked inside the zippered interior side pocket where she kept her tampons.

I need to run to the bank and deposit that. She didn’t like having that much cash on hand. She’d put the security deposit part of it in her savings account where it would stay, untouched. The rest of it would go straight into her business account so she could pay bills, with some held back as cash to pay Jenny.

As she tried to stretch, her muscles protested. A trip to the bank could wait until after she’d had a pain pill, a hot bath, and rubbed some of Mandaline’s miracle cures all over her.

An hour later, she felt strong enough to make the trip. That would be about all she’d accomplish, but she was used to that. The sudden fatigue could hit her and make her feel like someone had flipped a switch on her energy. Even in the middle of a shopping trip, she’d find herself looking for a place to sit down and rest for a couple of minutes with barely enough strength to go on, much less the energy to schlep her groceries upstairs when she made it home.

62 Tymber

Dalton

She’d learned to save large grocery trips for days when Jenny was there. The girl was happy to help out and traipse up and down the stairs for her.

Libbie had found sometimes she only had enough strength to get back up the stairs and crawl into bed, much less repeated trips.

Today, however, she slowly made her way down the stairs, the ones that ended in the hallway leading to the outside at the back of the bakery. They put her closer to her car because the door opened onto the carport. She rested for a moment after getting in, then carefully backed out. Ken and Charles had backed their pickup truck in. She briefly wondered whether or not Nebraska was a single-plate state like Florida when she saw no license plate attached to the front bumper, but by the time she reached the street the thought had already been chased out of her head by her need to concentrate on her driving.

By eleven, she was back in her apartment and curled up on the couch with her Kindle and Galileo. She’d had all sorts of plans for today, such as working on paperwork and washing her car, but knew if she wanted to be able to work in the morning she had to take it easy.

A little before ten Monday morning, Allan decided to leave their apartment again to get some air and look around some more. Going downstairs, he noticed Libbie’s car was gone. He took another turn around the center of Brooksville again on foot. Stores closed the day before had opened, including Many Blessings.

“What the hell, I could use a coffee.” He stepped inside, surprised to find it nearly deserted except for a woman dusting a bookshelf, and another woman standing behind the counter.

As he stepped up to the counter, he recognized the woman who’d given them the information about Libbie’s apartment.

She also apparently recognized him. She greeted him with a It’s a Sweet Life 63

beaming grin. “Ah, I see you’re still around.”

He nodded. “Yes, thank you. The apartment you told us about was perfect.”

She waggled her eyebrows at him. “I did mention Libbie was single, didn’t I?”

He felt the blush reach his cheeks. Dammit, what the hell’s wrong with me? He was used to standing up in court without breaking a sweat. Why was he suddenly getting all bashful when he thought about their cute landlord? “Um, yes, you did. I’m sure we also mentioned we’re gay.”

She let out a snort. “Sure you are, sweetie. What can I get you this morning?”

He wanted to argue the point then realized how absolutely stupid that was. Somehow, this woman had seen through their charade.

The fact that it was a New Age shop didn’t escape him.

Maybe she’s a witch. He could barely think it and manage to hold back his laughter at the same time. “Just a large coffee, please. House whatever. Black.”

She nodded and turned to get it, but he didn’t miss the tickled smile on her face. When she returned with his coffee and he reached for it, she grabbed his hand with her free one and stared into his eyes.

He felt frozen in time and space, locked onto her gaze.

“Hmm,” she muttered, frowning slightly. “You aren’t what you say you are. Neither of you are, but you have good reasons for it.

You’re good men.” She released him and smiled, holding his coffee out to him. “Here you go.”

He stood there blinking and wondered for a moment if he’d imagined the whole thing. “How much?” he asked, feeling rattled.

She shook her head. “No charge. Not today.” Her eyes narrowed.

“I know you’ll do the right thing by her, won’t you? She needs good men like you.”

Mumbling his thanks, he took the coffee and hurried out of the shop.

64 Tymber

Dalton

Something about that woman, what was her name? Mandaline? It unnerved him. Not in a serial killer sort of way. While the peaceful atmosphere of the shop had felt calming, he wasn’t sure he believed in psychic abilities.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel like all his secrets had been laid bare before her with just the touch of her hand to his.

He decided to return to the apartment and noticed Libbie’s car was back in her normal parking space. He wanted to spend some time with her. Nonwork time. He assumed when she was in the bakery that she was all business and not able to socialize very much.

Wouldn’t hurt to ask her out to dinner. He found himself hesitating at their door instead of going in. Allan wasn’t sure what Ben would say about it. Frankly, he didn’t care. Decision made, he turned, strode over to Libbie’s door, and knocked.

From inside, he heard her faint reply. “Just a minute.”

He regretted disturbing her when he realized how long it was taking her to get to the door from the sound of her slow progress across the apartment. When she opened the door, the pinched look of pain on her face wasn’t easy to miss.

“Hi,” he said, his heart aching for her. “Sorry to bug you. I just wanted to know if we could make dinner for you tonight.” Screw going out, it looked like she could barely walk, much less go down the stairs and be sociable in a restaurant. “As a token of our appreciation.”

When it looked like she might refuse, he quickly added,

“Seriously, we don’t want you to bring anything but yourself. Please?

We’d like to do this for you.”

Her green eyes stared up at him. He suspected her pale complexion was due more to her pain than lack of sun exposure. After what felt like hours, she slowly nodded, the ghost of a smile curving her lips. “Okay. Thank you, Charles. I appreciate it. What time?”

“How about six? Is that okay?”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

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She’d started to step back, as if to close the door. He couldn’t bear to let her go just yet. “Listen, Libbie, is there anything I can do to help you?”

She hesitated. “We can talk about the bakery at dinner.”

“I didn’t mean that. I meant anything else. Can I carry laundry down or up for you, or take out your garbage, or…anything?” He felt his face heat as he realized how lame that sounded.

She started to reply when her huge, orange tabby stepped through the doorway and curled himself around his legs.

With a smile, Allan reached down and picked him up. “Hey, fellow.” He glanced up at her. “I saw you had a cat, but I didn’t get to see much of him during the move.”

Her eyes widened. “He…seems to like you.”

The cat loudly purred in his arms. He rubbed under the cat’s chin.

“I love cats. I haven’t been able to have any pets for a while now. Too busy,” he added.

“No, you don’t understand. He hates everyone. Well, except me and Grover. And sometimes I think he only tolerates me because I feed him and keep his litter pan clean.”

The cat looked at him and head-butted his chin. Allan laughed.

“He seems to like me. Maybe he knows I’m an easy touch. Is he allowed outside?”

She shook her head and reached for the cat. “No. He’s not allowed in the bakery, either. But he’ll go downstairs with me sometimes when I do the laundry.”

“We’ll make sure we keep an eye out for him then so we don’t let him out.” He reached over and stroked the cat’s head again. The cat stretched his neck to keep contact with him. “What’s his name again?”

“Galileo. Or asshole, when he’s being a real pill.”

Allan’s eyes locked with hers. For a moment, the heat rising inside him took away his ability to speak. Then she shifted her gaze to the floor as another ghostly smile flitted across her features before 66 Tymber Dalton

disappearing again. “I’ll see you at six,” she softly said, stepping back inside the apartment.

“Six,” he repeated.

He turned and heard her door shut behind him. Kicking himself, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Gay. I’m supposed to be gay.

He adjusted the semi-stiff chubby in his jeans before returning to their apartment.

Libbie closed the door and leaned against it with Galileo tightly snuggled in her arms. She buried her face in the cat’s coat. For a moment, when her eyes had locked on Charles’, she felt something, like a bolt of heat streaking straight through her.

Except for the fact that he was gay, she would have sworn he felt it, too, from the way his eyebrows arched.

“Mrwao.” Galileo struggled to free himself from her grasp. She let him jump from her arms. He landed on the floor where he sat and proceeded to groom himself.

“Ungrateful ass. What was that all about, anyway?” She looked down at him. “You hate everyone. Why’s he special?” Galileo never friendlied up to anyone. Including the three guys she’d had less than stellar onetime dates with in the past couple of years.

Hell, even the vet techs drew straws to see who had to deal with him when she took him in for checkups and vaccinations.

But that was yet another point in the men’s favor. Grover and Galileo, the only two important men in her life, had apparently signed off on the cousins.

Well, Galileo had signed off on Charles. He had yet to officially meet Ken, but she had a feeling the cat might like him as well.

Being sociable hadn’t blipped her screen of daily tasks, but she suspected spending time with others outside of the bakery would be a It’s a Sweet Life 67

good thing for her. Grover was always bugging her to get out and socialize more often.

Come on, six o’clock.

Ben glared at his brother. “Thanks for asking me first.”

“Hey, I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”

Ben leaned back and scrubbed his face with his hands. It still caught him off guard sometimes that he was now clean-shaven. “I’m sorry. Look, I’m just not in much of a socializing mood tonight.”

“Then leave. Go to a movie or something.”

He studied the stern set of Allan’s jaw. “This really means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, it does. If you’d seen her, how much pain she’s obviously in, you would have agreed with me. Besides, I want to be nice to her.”

He wanted to be nice to her, too, but the kind of nice he wanted involved no clothes, a bottle of Astroglide, and a marathon lovemaking session. His dreams the night before had been consumed by her, so much so that he’d rubbed two out that morning before getting out of bed.

A record even for his healthy libido.

“Earth to Ben.”

He looked up and realized Allan had been saying something else.

“What?”

When Allan’s brow furrowed, Ben knew he’d been made. “Oh, shit. You like her, too, don’t you?”

“That’s not the issue here.”

Allan pulled out a chair and sat across from him at the table.

“Yeah, it is. You feel it, too. Don’t lie to me. You might be a great undercover cop, but I’m your twin.”

“Okay, she’s cute. Is that what you wanted to hear me admit? And yeah, it’s been a long damn time since I’ve had anything resembling a 68 Tymber Dalton

relationship. But she’s still off-limits. You got it?”

Allan slowly nodded. “Yeah, I got it. I’m just wondering how much you’ve got it.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m the one who said we’d tell everyone we’re gay cousins.”

“I know.”

Ben didn’t like the way the conversation was heading. “Listen, Counselor, that shit might work on someone sitting on the witness stand, but it won’t work on me. Fine, she can come over for dinner and we’ll cook for her.” He slapped his laptop closed a little harder than he’d meant and headed for his bedroom, remembering at the last moment not to slam it shut behind him so Libbie couldn’t hear it from across the hall.

He leaned against the door and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand as he closed his eyes and tried not to recall last night’s scorchingly hot dreams.

The one person he couldn’t lie to—Allan—was the only one who understood exactly what he was going through.

He turned and snatched the door open and stalked across the apartment to where Allan still sat at the table. He jabbed a finger at him. “We can’t do that to her,” he said, forcing himself to keep his voice down.

Allan stared up at him, a look of cool, calm determination on his face. “Can’t do what, bro?”

He leaned in. “You know damn well what. Besides, we already told her we were gay cousins.”

Allan shrugged, infuriating Ben.

“We cannot drag an innocent woman into our lives right now. She deserves better than that.”

“You want her as much as I do.”

“And we can’t have her,” Ben said, poking the table with his finger for emphasis. “We. Can’t. Have. Her. Besides, we don’t even really know her.” Which was all the more reason he was freaking out It’s a Sweet Life 69

over his sudden feelings about her.

“Dude, all I did was ask her over for dinner. You’re the one wigging out.”

He straightened, looking down at Allan. The smug smirk that curved his twin’s lip made him want to reach out and slap it from his face.

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page.”

Allan slowly nodded. “We are. But I won’t lie and say I’m not attracted to her when I am. You obviously are, too. We can be attracted to her and still be just friends with her.”

Clenching his jaw to hold back his retort, Ben spun on his heel and returned to his room.

He was attracted to her.

Too damn much.

Allan took the truck and headed out to the grocery store. He hadn’t cooked for anyone other than himself in months.

Tonight’s menu would start with Caesar salad. Followed by sweet potato soup, steamed broccoli, and broiled salmon with a parmesan crusted sauce. And for dessert…

He still wasn’t sure what to get. Considering she ran a bakery, it seemed silly to buy a grocery store dessert. After finding the other items on his list, he had an epiphany and returned to the produce section. There, the special was fresh peaches, of all things. Shrugging, he grabbed several, returned to dairy for a quart of vanilla yogurt, and then located a bag of granola.

He smiled at his own cleverness as he made his way to the checkout stands. Sweet, healthy, and not baked.

Hopefully she liked peaches, or he was screwed.

When he returned to the apartment he managed to haul everything up in one load. Ben still sat at the table, working on the laptop.

70 Tymber

Dalton

“You need help?” Ben asked.

“No, I got it.” He piled everything onto the counter. He glanced at the clock and realized he had two hours to get everything ready.

Plenty of time.

“Why is this so important to you?” Ben quietly asked.

He pondered the question as he put things away in the fridge.

Eventually he turned to his brother. “I’m grateful we found such a perfect place, for starters. And yes, I feel sorry for her. So shoot me.”

Allan didn’t miss the slight frown on Ben’s face as his brother refocused his attention on the laptop. “Okay.”

“You know, you can sit there and pass whatever kind of judgment you want on me, but the truth is you don’t know me as well as you think you know me.”

“I know what I read in the gossip columns. And what my friends in the department relate to me on a regular basis. How my party-boy brother lives it up at night on a regular basis and is seen going home with a bunch of different women.”

Allan clenched his fists and took a deep breath. “Fuck. You.”

Ben lifted his gaze to his brother. With his voice soft and level, he said, “Don’t hurt her. Don’t you dare.”

“Or what? Not that that was my plan anyway.”

Ben leaned back in his chair. “If I think you’re fucking playing her, or trying to get into her pants, or any of that kind of bullshit, I’ll put you on your ass myself. Don’t think I won’t.”

Stalemate. They stared at each other in an uneasy silence for several minutes. “Why are you so insistent on goading me, huh?”

Allan asked.

“Because I spent the last three years of my damn life with these fucking animals. I know what they’re capable of. I’ve seen them do stuff to women that made them wish they’d gone ahead and killed them.”

“Well, if you think she’s in such danger, why the hell did we take the place?”

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“She’s only in danger if we put her there. Which we won’t.

Right?”

Allan tried to remember all his brother had gone through. It was the only thing that helped him hold on to his temper and back down.

“Right,” he agreed. He tried lightening his tone. “Look, seriously. I just want to do something nice for her. Have her get to know us, what little we can let her, so she knows we’re not jerks.” He stepped forward and extended his hand to his brother. “Please?”

Like ice calving off a glacier, he watched as Ben deflated, his expression turning sad. He took Allan’s hand and shook. “I’m sorry. I just… You have no idea.”

Allan took this as an opening and put cooking out of his mind for a moment. He slid one of the chairs out and sat, switching to his “kind prosecutor” mode. The I’m-on-your-side persona he’d used countless times to ease witnesses through the trauma of preparing for a trial.

“We’re on the same side, bro. Honestly. The impression I got from Grover on Saturday was that she rarely goes out, has hardly any social life. She could probably use the distraction as much as we could.

That’s it. That’s all. I’m man enough to store it up in my brain for at night when I’m alone, or for in the shower.”

That earned him a smile from his brother, which was what he’d hoped for. “I don’t know who yelled louder,” Ben said, “you or Mom, when she accidentally walked in on you that time. You dumb-ass.

You should have had the water going so she could hear you were in there. Or locked the door.”

“You have no idea how long that ruined shower sexy time for me.”

Ben let out a long sigh. “I missed you.”

Allan leaned over and hugged Ben, pleased when his brother hugged him back. “I missed you, too, bro.”

72 Tymber

Dalton