Twilight time, p.9
Twilight Time, page 9
“You’ve got a beautiful dog.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
“Are you here alone?”
The hair on Spence’s nape stood up on end.
Dude. Really? I’m literally five feet away, recording her.
While Maia indicated his presence with a quick head jerk in his direction, Spence switched the phone’s lens around to show his contempt with an exaggerated eyeroll. Maia would edit that out later, but so what. He’d made his point.
Flipping back to the scene in front of him, he caught the precise moment Surfer Boy asked, “Is that your dad?”
Her dad?! Did he look old enough to be her dad? Then again, for today’s excursion, with the spring air warming, she’d opted to tie her long hair into twin braids, and donned shorts, a t-shirt, and flip-flops. So, no. He looked his age. She looked like a teenager. Still, that gap was a far cry from being her dad.
Maia’s giggles only made Spence bristle with more intensity. “Spence is a friend,” she demurred without declaring the vastness of their age difference was nowhere near what Surfer Boy assumed.
“We’re traveling together,” he added. God knew why. “And we should get going if we want to hit the farmers market for fresh stuff for dinner.”
She glanced at the cheap fitness watch she wore. “Ooh. Right. I’m dying for a crisp salad tonight. Those wilted lettuce bowls I get at the convenience stores taste like wet grass.” With a series of hand claps, she called, “Come on, Lily. Time to go!”
The golden raced out of the surf with Lily’s ball in her mouth, which she dropped at Surfer Boy’s feet.
“Good boy, Barkley.” He patted the retriever’s head while picking up the ball and handing it to Maia. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
“So... umm... are you two... dating or anything?”
“No, we’re just friends.”
“Oh, cool. You... er... you wanna go out tonight?”
Spence couldn’t stifle the snort of amusement that rose to his lips as he zoomed in on her sudden panicked expression. Nice to see he wasn’t the only person here caught off-guard by this intruder.
Maia sucked in a slow breath as Lily finally hobbled up to stand beside her. Bending to clip the leash to Lily’s collar, she managed to turn him down without actually having to look him in the eye.
“That’s sweet,” she said, never turning her attention from Lily’s harness, as if she had to make sure she stayed tethered to the pooch. “Thanks for asking, but no, I’d rather not.”
She didn’t elaborate further, didn’t give him any lame excuse. Her declination left no room for debate, though it probably would’ve carried more weight had she bothered to connect with him visually while she spoke. As it was, she projected a stance of someone repeating a rehearsed line that someone else demanded she say.
Confirming Spence’s opinion, Surfer Boy gazed from Maia to him, his stare as hard and icy as sleet. In response, Spence offered a carefree shrug. What else could he do? Any comment he ventured would be misconstrued.
Besides, it was Maia’s choice. If she really wanted to go out with the beach bum, no one would stop her—especially him. They had no claim to each other.
Though, the more he watched her now the more a protective streak woke up inside him. Her reaction to the simple invitation for a date seemed... off.
...you can put up with the insults, the snide comments, the walking on eggshells and shrinking into corners to avoid rousing his anger...
Spence’s internal slumbering hero came up with a jolt. Dammit, she was doing it again! But this time, her change in demeanor had nothing to do with anyone’s anger.
“Oh, sure.” Surfer Boy shuffled his feet in the sand. “Sorry to bother you. Have a great trip.”
She offered a curt nod before finally straightening to level her focus on Spence. “We should go.”
Before he could question her or make any comment at all, she jogged up the beach, away from both men.
At the RV park after a long day of sightseeing along the Lakefront Trail and water therapy at the beach, Maia sat in one of the two camp chairs Spence had set up near the firepit while he poured glasses of white wine into plastic tumblers. An exhausted Lily curled up on the ground at her feet.
“She did great today,” he said with a nod in Lily’s direction. He handed her the tumbler with the more generous amount of buttery Chardonnay before taking the seat across from her.
“She’s losing more energy every day,” Maia countered. “And the limp in her back leg is getting more pronounced.”
He winced. “I’m sorry. I thought you hadn’t—”
“It’s okay.” She took a long sip of the wine and stared into the dancing flames.
Did he really think she hadn’t noticed? Lily was her dog, for God’s sake. Their years apart had in no way diminished their lifelong bond.
“We both know what’s coming, right?” she said with a sigh. “We can prolong the inevitable temporarily, but we can’t fully prevent it.”
“I wasn’t sure you were ready to acknowledge it yet.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Another sip, followed by a long, hard swallow. “People sometimes think I bury my head in the sand because I don’t spend hours at a time talking about a problem I’m facing. But that’s not true. Just because I don’t want to talk doesn't mean I’m not aware and not working it out on my own. My dad always called me ‘a worry wart.’ I don’t confide. I feel better when I work things out on my own. Ever since I was a kid, whenever I’m presented with a problem, I tend to form solutions in my head while, on the outside, I seem like I refuse to see what’s happening. I go about my day, crack jokes, have fun, pretend everything’s fine. Used to drive my mother—and my ex—crazy.” She held the tumbler to her lips again but didn’t drink.
“Not your dad?”
She shook her head, placed the wine in the drink holder on the armrest to her left. “I’m pretty sure I got the habit from him. Daddy was a long-haul trucker. He used to tell me he was good at his job because he was always planning four to five miles ahead. I guess I incorporated that advice into my personal life.”
“Aah. That’s why you know so much about life on the road, the truck stops, and the food choices, et cetera.”
Her mood took a downward turn, maybe due to the wine, or Lily’s prognosis, or her parents, or, more likely, all three. “Daddy used to take me with him, and I’d always try to envision what we’d see a few miles ahead. It was a game for us.”
“How often did you ride with him?”
“Not as often as I would’ve liked. Summer vacations, when I was little. Never in winter. Daddy insisted the roads were too treacherous. Once I became a teenager, though, I preferred to stay home, hang out with my friends, and go to the mall, you know? Like a normal kid.”
Guilt sliced into her heart, reopening an old wound that had never fully healed. If she’d gone on that last trip, would he have survived? Maybe avoided the accident altogether? Could she have seen something down the road and warned him? To drown the questions, she tilted the glass and drained the contents.
“Whoa, easy there,” Spence remarked. “Let me get you a bottle of water if you’re that thirsty.”
He started to push up, but she raised a hand to stop him. “No, I’ve got it. Thanks.”
She rose to her feet, twisting her hips to sidestep her snoozing pooch who offered little more than an ear flick in reaction to the motion. Lily had exhausted herself today and nothing short of a pound of bacon sizzling near her nose would wake her. Maia climbed the stairs to the RV and opened the fridge door. Bypassing the row of bottled waters inside, she grabbed the wine and filled her glass nearly to the rim. When she returned to the campfire, Spence eyed her choice with one brow quirked in doubt, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.
As she took her seat, she looked him squarely in his dubious expression, then took another long sip of the wine. God knew why she felt the need to challenge him. Something about how formal he tended to hold himself brought out a secret delight to show her seedier side.
The crackle of gravel preceded the appearance of a white light that splashed across the overhead pine branches. Seconds later, a vehicle drove down the nearby road toward another campsite.
“You’re gonna have one helluva headache tomorrow morning,” he warned.
She tilted her head back to peer at the starlit sky while the cold liquid sluiced her throat. Never lowering her gaze in his direction, she tossed back, “It’s my head.”
“That it is.”
Dancing on the fine line between stubborn and obnoxious, she straightened to take another sip. And another. The third must have been the death blow to her sobriety as her imagination went into overdrive. Behind Spence, a shadow seemed to appear, moving beneath the trees, quiet and threatening. She blinked to clear the vision from her soused brain, but the figure only took firmer shape and drew closer to their campsite.
“Umm... Spence?” When she had his attention, she added through clenched teeth, “Real slow, turn around and look behind you. I think we’ve got a bear.”
He snorted his amusement. “I warned you to switch to water.”
Still, he did as she advised, swiveling in a smooth, lazy motion at the exact moment the bear’s shape converted to that of a human man in a bulky coat. Maia breathed a sigh of relief. Stupid wine!
“Hey, Spence,” the man said in greeting, using that same cultured enunciation Spence’s words always carried.
Maia settled deeper into her chair. Well, well. What have we here?
“Hey, Spence.”
At the sound of the voice from his past, he stiffened his posture and braced to confront the intruder. Lily lifted her head from her paws, sensed no threat, and went back to dozing.
“Spence?” Maia’s attention swerved from one man to the other and back again. No doubt she was unsure what to make of this man’s sudden appearance at their campsite.
A feeling Spence shared, to be frank, but he got up from his chair to face the newcomer, allowing no hint of welcome to show on his face. Whatever the reason for this impromptu visit, it would be best if Lawrence said his piece and left. No need to prolong the reunion. He looked good. Well, why wouldn’t he? Marrying a plastic surgeon had its benefits.
“Lawrence,” he greeted with a curt nod and a cold stare. “It’s been a long time.”
“Too long.” Lawrence strode forward and hugged him, which only made Spence even more uncomfortable. “How are you, baby bro?”
Spence squirmed out of the familial embrace, taking a position behind his chair, hands stuffed in his back pockets. “Great. How’d you know I was here?”
“Search engine alert. I get a notification anytime something new pops up on the ‘net with my name, yours, or Pru’s.”
He couldn’t stifle the sarcasm that rose to his lips. “Of course, you do. Can’t take a chance something ugly might pop up.”
Lawrence ignored the biting tone, keeping his own reply light and pleasant. “I started seeing the videos last week, and I’ve been following them ever since.” He turned his attention to Maia, who still sat in her camp chair, eyes round with curiosity and jaw slightly slack. “You’re Maia. I recognize you. I’m Lawrence, Spence’s older brother.” Lawrence held out a hand toward her.
She shook, but her confused face stayed riveted on Spence. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“And a sister,” Lawrence announced. “Pru lives out near Boston.”
“A place I was careful to avoid,” Spence retorted.
“Yes,” his brother murmured. “Your presence the last few months has been noted. We missed you at the service.”
Spence twisted his lips. “Somehow, I doubt that.” Under his breath he added, “I should have detoured past Chicago when we had the chance.”
While Lawrence laughed, Maia let out her breath in a long whoosh and got to her feet. The wine had obviously affected her because she swayed before righting herself. “I’m guessing you three aren’t on the best of terms.”
Lawrence directed a condescending glare his way. “Only in Spence’s opinion. Pru and I have no hard feelings.”
The air between them crackled with unspoken conflict, with memories of sibling rivalries and family resentments. Even so, Spence picked up on the precise moment Maia put the name together.
“Oh, my God, you’re Lawrence Knowles.”
“We established that,” Spence replied through gritted teeth.
Starstruck Maia missed his warning tone as she gushed, “No, I mean, the Lawrence Knowles. The author.”
Lawrence preened. “Have you read my books?”
“Read them?! I have an automatic hold at my local library anytime you release a new one—” She stopped short in her hero worship and stared at the ground. “I’d buy them if I could, but funds are tight...”
“They’re in the library for that very reason, Maia. I’m glad you enjoy my work.”
“Oh, I don’t know if I’d say I enjoy them.” Spence’s mood lightened until she added, “I mean, I don’t ever want to be admitted to a hospital, thanks to you.”
“Well, thanks, but remember, they’re fiction.”
“Terrifying fiction,” she corrected. “The one about the newborn-swapping experiments in the neonatal unit?”
“Rockabye Baby.”
“Yesss! After I read that one, I postponed my annual GYN exam for months—just in case he had any ideas of renting out my uterus.”
He chuckled. “Again, the stories are all fiction. You shouldn’t neglect your personal health because I have a taste for the macabre.”
“I know, but you have a way of making routine medical appointments seem sinister. Like that last story about the brain tumor patients being used as lifelike robots. How do you come up with this stuff, if not from whispers and conspiracies going around the hospital that no one else knows about?”
He rocked on his heels. Lawrence was always in his element when talking about himself. “Honestly, just from my vivid imagination. Though, admittedly, I had help with the research for that last one.”
“That’s right. You consulted with your sister.” She turned accusing eyes to Spence. “Your sister.”
“Our sister,” Lawrence confirmed. “Prudence is one of the top neurosurgeons on the east coast.”
She smirked. “Wow. Neurosurgeon, New York Times best-selling author, first chair violinist. You’re a family of real overachievers.”
Spence had heard enough. “What do you want, Lawrence?”
“To see you, Spence. Spend some time with you while you’re here. Cecily and I would like you to come to dinner tomorrow. With Maia, of course.”
“Oh, no,” she demurred. “Thank you. That’s so nice of you to include me, but I couldn’t possibly attend. I’ll stay here with Lily.” She bent to ruffle the sleeping dog’s head and nearly stumbled again.
“You should come,” Spence countered. If only to keep him from saying something volatile at the dinner table. His older brother always knew how to get under his skin. Baby bro...
Maia skimmed her feet along the dirt. “I don’t think it’s appropriate.”
Now she worried about appropriate? “Why not?”
Her eyes rolled heavenward before refocusing on him in a flinty glare. “Because you and your brother clearly have some unfinished business that has nothing to do with me. And I’d just as soon stay out of it. You don’t need a stranger butting into family stuff. Besides, I’m not comfortable leaving Lily alone.”
“Please,” Lawrence said, “join us.”
How quickly her expression and tone turned pleasant at Lawrence’s statement. “I’ll think about it. Thank you.”
Spencer stifled the urge to wonder aloud why she wouldn’t go for him, but for Lawrence? All of a sudden, she was a maybe. Story of his life when it came to his family. Always struggling to flourish beneath the shadows of greatness his older siblings cast.
As if he could read Spence’s thoughts, Lawrence snickered in his brother’s direction. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” he said to Maia. “And by all means, please bring Lily. Our boys have been pestering my wife to allow us to get a puppy for years. Perhaps, if Cecily sees how well behaved a dog like Lily can be, she’ll look upon their pleas with more favorability.”
Oh, right. Because a dying twelve-year-old dog is the perfect example of what to expect when you adopt a puppy to bring home to boisterous twin pre-teens.
To Spence’s surprise (and secret delight), Maia snorted, not once but in a series that clearly indicated she tried to stifle her amusement.
Her reaction took Lawrence aback. “I’m sorry?” he intoned.
The snort grew into full-blown giggles. “You guys really talk like that? Around each other?”
Of all the comments he’d anticipated she’d make to explain away her laughter, their diction in conversation never occurred to him.
She faced Spence, and her half-lidded eyes conveyed how hard the wine had hit her. “I mean, it’s not just you putting on airs to lord your social class over me like I’m somehow inferior.”
“I never—”
“Yeah, you do,” she accused flatly and flitted a hand at his face. “It’s okay. I’m used to hearing that kind of snooty, superior attitude from men I know. It just never occurred to me it was a competition among you to see who can out-snoot the other.”
Two questions popped into Spence’s head. One, what did she mean she was “used to” hearing a superior attitude from men she knew? And did she really think him guilty of trying to “out-snoot” his sanctimonious brother?
True to form, though, Lawrence straightened and gripped the top sides of his jacket in his traditional offended posture. “I beg your pardon.”
“No, you don’t,” she rejoined, the words biting but her smile still in place. “You people don’t beg for anything. You’ve never had to.”
Lawrence’s cheeks turned beet-red, and his eyes narrowed. Spence hadn’t seen that expression since, at thirteen, he’d stolen his older brother’s brand-new BMW for a joyride and “joyrode” it straight into their neighbor’s fence.
