Siren in Waiting

  Mouse tried to shrink into the background. Clarissa and her friend, Melody, stood just outside the doorway. Clarissa looked ready for action. Her blonde hair was teased sky-high, and her jeans looked painted on. She was the picture of a small-town princess walking on the wild side. She took a long drag on her cigarette.

  “I think after I get through with old Bo, I might have to give Trev a whirl. My big sister said he was a stud back in high school.”

  Trev McNamara. Mouse had sat across from him all through dinner. He was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. Of course, she had a little streak of masochism. She’d stolen glances all night. Trev was a huge man. He’d looked almost too big for the booth, but he hadn’t complained or seemed uncomfortable. His shoulders were broad. His face looked like it should be on a movie screen. He had dark hair that was just a little long. It curled over his ears. His deep-blue eyes had seemed on the weary side as though he’d had as much of the world as he could take, yet he kept on. But when he’d smiled at her, those eyes had lit up, and she hadn’t thought about Bo for a little while.

  Idiot. If she couldn’t handle Bo, she definitely couldn’t handle a former star quarterback.

  And it looked like it took two women to really handle Bo.

  “Well, don’t let anyone know about that. You don’t want to get a reputation,” Melody complained.

  Clarissa’s laugh split the air. “I already got a reputation, hon. I’m just making damn sure I live up to it. Now, how about we get Bo and show him a real nice time.”

  The women tossed their cigarettes to the ground and turned to go inside. Mouse breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Is that Mouse Hobbes?”

  Oh, Mouse wished she’d stayed at home.

  Clarissa cocked her head. “Mouse, what the hell are you doing here?”

  There was nothing to do but brazen her way through. “I thought I would get a beer.”

  Clarissa’s eyes rolled. “No, I think you thought you would pull your crying act and get Bo to come home with you. Do you have any idea how pathetic you are? Everyone in the county laughs about it. You just follow that man around like a sad little puppy. He’s never going to fuck you, hon. He likes real women, not pathetic little losers.”

  Melody shook her head. “It’s so sad how you use that man. He can’t have a real life because he feels sorry for you.”

  Clarissa stepped forward, her eyes narrowed. “You aren’t talking to him tonight, Mouse. In fact, as long as he’s with me, I don’t think I want you around him at all.”

  “Bethany?”

  Tears blurring her eyes, she turned at the deep voice calling her name. Trev stepped out of the shadows looking long and lean and slightly dangerous.

  “I thought we were going to meet out back. I was worried you had stood me up. Now, come on. Let’s get out of here. You know I can’t hang out in a bar.” He held out his big, callused hand.

  It was the second time in one day that he’d saved her.

  Clarissa took a step back. Her mouth firmed as she looked him over. “Damn, Trev. You look fine. How are you doing? And what are you doing here? I should have known all that sobriety shit was for show. Nothing ever stopped Trev McNamara from having a good time. Hey, dump the mouse and come inside with us.”

  Mouse waited for him to do exactly that, but his hand pulled her close. His arm went around her waist. She felt tiny and petite next to him. Her head barely came to his shoulders.

  “I think we’ll pass. I want to spend time with Beth. I don’t think this establishment is good enough for her. After all, I’ve seen the clientele.”

  Clarissa’s mouth dropped open. “You’re a bastard, Trev.”

  “Everyone knows that,” he replied.

  Mouse didn’t. Mouse was pretty sure he was her guardian angel. Clarissa turned on her heels and flounced back into the bar, Melody right behind her.

  Trev immediately stepped back, and Mouse missed the heat of his body.

  “I’m sorry, Beth. I didn’t think about how this was going to look. She’s probably going to march in there and start telling the tale about how she saw you with me. I wasn’t thinking. I just heard what she said, and I couldn’t let her get away with it.” His deep voice had a gravely quality to it that she found oddly soothing even when he was stumbling over words to apologize.

  She stared down at his boots because she worried she might drool if she kept looking at his face. “It’s okay. The worst that might happen is they think old Mouse Hobbes finally found someone who can stand to sleep with her.”

  His hand came out, and he lifted her chin. She was shocked at the dark look on his face. His hands came down and curled around her shoulders, his grip the slightest bit harsh. It got her attention.

  “Don’t you dare say such things about yourself. Not around me. And your name is Bethany.”

  Her heart did an odd pitter-pat, like it couldn’t quite find a rhythm. “I like Beth better.”

  His mouth curved up, and the hands on her shoulders relaxed. “All right then, Beth. No more Mouse. And no more calling yourself old. God, girl, you’re practically a baby compared to me. Spare an old man, please.”

  She snorted. She just did it from time to time. “Yes, Trevor. You look like an old man.”

  “I feel it. Never doubt that I feel it.” His face closed off, and she wished he was smiling again. “Did you drive here? I’ll follow you home. This really isn’t a good place for a woman on her own, and I really can’t go in that bar.”

  She reached around and pulled out her bike. It had been her mother’s at one point in time. It was a feminine bike with a comfy seat and a basket on the front. It was painted a muted green and white.

  A single eyebrow arched as he looked over her favorite mode of transportation. “Are you serious?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t really like to drive much. It scares me.”

  “And being on the highway on a bicycle in the middle of the night doesn’t?”

  Now he sounded like Bo. “I can handle it. I’m responsible for myself, sir.”

  “Fuck.” He said it under his breath, but she caught it. He shifted as though he was in a little pain. “Give the bike to me. We can put it in the back of my truck. I’ll take you home. Unless you really were planning on walking in and hauling Bo out of there.”

  She couldn’t stand the thought that Trev believed that. “I didn’t come here for Bo.”

  “You seem pretty close to him.” His eyes became hooded.

  “He’s my friend. I will admit that I care about him. But he doesn’t want me like a man wants a woman. He sees me as his sister. I really didn’t come here for him.”

  “Why did you come here, Beth?” The question rolled out of his mouth like a silky temptation, as if he knew what she was looking for, but he was going to make her say it.

  “I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” She forced the admission out. Maybe Clarissa was right. Maybe she was pathetic, but by god, she was honest about it.

  He took her bike, easily picking it up with one hand. He didn’t roll it along. He simply lifted it as though it had no real weight. “Come on then, darlin’. I don’t want to be alone, either. You’re sure you don’t belong to Bo?”

  “I don’t belong to anyone.” She didn’t anymore. Her family was all gone. Bonnie loved her, but it was in a distant way. And Bo was too busy having crazy ménage sex. She was never going to be enough for him. She belonged to herself. She was responsible for her own happiness.

  Trev stopped in front of a battered old Ford pickup. It was green and white. It was lovely to Mouse’s eyes. Trev hefted the bike up and gently put it in the back of the truck.

  “This is yours?”

  He smiled, one eyebrow cocking up. “I hope so, darlin’. Otherwise I just gave away your preferred mode of transportation.”

  She let her hands find the truck’s body, remembering everything she loved about this model. 1970. Green body. White trim. Bench seats. “My granddaddy had a truck jus
t like this. I remember how it felt to sit beside him as he drove through town. I felt like I was bigger than everyone else. He always played Loretta Lynn.”

  Trev grimaced. “I don’t have that, darlin’. The only thing I’ve spent money on in this car is a CD player. I’m afraid the best I can do is Miranda Lambert. My sister gave me her CD for my birthday.”

  “Same difference. The point is, I love your truck. It’s been a long time since I saw a truck like this.”

  “It’s a mess. It needs to be fixed up.”

  “I like to fix things up. It’s so much better than buying something new.”

  Trev stopped and stared. “You know, you’re just about perfect for me. Where did you come from?”

  “Deer Run. I was born here.” It wasn’t so surprising he didn’t know much about her. They had lived in the same town their whole lives, but she had never really spoken to him. He might have occupied the same space, but his world had been completely different.

  He laughed, throwing that gorgeous head back. “I’ll buy that, darlin’. I will. Now take a seat and I’ll get you home. Buckle up.”

  Trev ran around the truck and managed to get to the passenger door before she could. He opened the door and held out his hand to help her up.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He sighed again. “Beth, you’re killing me.”

  She wasn’t sure why, but it felt nice when he handed her up. He pulled the seat belt out and buckled her in. His hand sliding across her waist sparked something odd and primal in Mouse. Her skin sizzled everywhere he touched.

  She tried to turn her attention away. “What were you doing here?”

  Was he already slipping? She found that unaccountably sad. He didn’t seem drunk. The cab of his truck smelled like coffee, rich and warm. She didn’t see any evidence of a drinking binge.

  “I was sitting out here staring at the bar.”

  It was a stark admission. His eyes trailed back toward the honky-tonk.

  Without really thinking about it beyond the fact he seemed to need it, she brought her hands up to his face and gently forced his head to turn to face her. “Why?”

  “I was trying to decide whether or not I would go in and have a drink. I sat here and drank my coffee and made a deal with myself. I would wait five minutes and then I would go in and have a drink. And then I would decide to wait another five minutes.”

  He was on the edge of something bad, yet he’d managed to treat her with genuine kindness. “Are you all right?”

  He hadn’t tried to move out of her hold. He simply stared at her, the moonlight illuminating his gorgeous face. “No, Beth, but that’s not your problem.”

  But Clarissa hadn’t been his problem. “I want to help you if I can.”

  Now he did take a step back, and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t wearing a hat. His hair tumbled over his forehead. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Beth. I think I should drive you home, and then I should probably stay away from you.”

  He closed the door to the truck and walked around to the driver’s side. He hopped in, but he didn’t say anything, merely turned the engine over and started out of the lot, gravel crunching beneath the tires.

  He asked for directions to her house in a controlled, quiet voice, but Mouse knew that easy intimacy they had found in the parking lot was gone. He was just doing her a favor. He was cleaning up the small mess she’d made by trying to go somewhere she shouldn’t.

  Mouse stared out of the window. The moon was huge and full, hanging low in the sky. She was right back where she had started. She would spend the night alone, like she spent all her nights.

  But at least now she knew once and forever that Bo wasn’t going to be hers. It was long past time to let that dream go. He was a nice man who had been a good friend to her, but she couldn’t compete with the Clarissas of this world. She didn’t have a lick of experience with anything but taking care of sick people, running her boss’s errands, and accounting. She had a wonderful, sexy degree in accounting from an online college. Yep, she was going to attract a man like Bo with her innate ability to add.

  The drive was over all too soon, though Mouse knew it was for the best. Trev McNamara wasn’t for her, either.

  He pulled the truck to a stop.

  “Isn’t this the old Bellows’s place?” He put the truck in park and killed the engine. “I heard my sister’s husband say something about you buying it.”

  She undid the seat belt. Now that she was home, she just wanted to get inside. She could put the idiocy of the night behind her. Trev had already said he didn’t intend to see her again. She would just go back to her life, a little wiser than before. She would concentrate on her new house.

  “I bought it in an auction.” She’d used the all of the insurance money she’d inherited and still had to take out a loan to cover the mortgage. She would be forever grateful to Bonnie, who hadn’t taken her half of the money their parents had left them. If she had, Mouse wouldn’t have been able to afford the house. Her sister had hugged her and told her she deserved the money. Even as it was, she needed another loan to make the improvements. “It was a last-minute kind of thing. I was lucky. Not a whole bunch of people showed up to the auction. I think most folks around here think this place is haunted. If Bryce had shown up, I doubt I could have afforded the place.”

  She opened the passenger side door, but Trev put a hand on her arm.

  “Did you leave the front door open?”

  She looked out the window. He was right. Sure enough, the front door was wide open. She scrambled to get out. Her boots hit the ground, and she started to sprint toward the house. Was someone in there? Was someone stealing the antiques? She didn’t have much in the house of her own, but she’d bought the place, and it was all she had.

  A big arm clotheslined her midsection. Trev caught her and tightened his hold.

  “Let me go. I need to get in there,” she pleaded.

  “Not happening.” Trev set her on her feet, but kept his hands on her. “I’m not about to let you go into that house. You stay here. If you hear anything funny, call 9-1-1. Do you understand me?”

  Mouse nodded as he shoved his phone in her hand. He was right. If there was someone inside, exactly how did she intend to deal with them? A politely worded request for them to leave probably wouldn’t do it.

  She opened her mouth to call him back, but he was already on the steps by the time she thought of it. He turned, his big body shadowed.

  “And, Beth, if you come in here after me, you will not like what I do to your backside. Is that understood?”

  She nodded, not trusting her voice. He turned and disappeared inside.

  Had he just threatened to spank her?

  The phone in her hand trilled. She looked down at it. Someone named Marty was calling. She slid her finger across the phone to answer. “Hello?”

  “Thank god. I’ve been trying all week. Who is this? I need to talk to Trevor.” The man had a slick-sounding accent, like he was from back East. He spoke in the quick cadence of a man used to having his needs met.

  Trevor might be fighting for his life. Mouse’s stomach turned. “He’s unavailable right now.”

  There was a humorless huff on the other end of the line. “That’s not surprising. Tell me something, is it just booze, or is he back on the coke?”

  “No, I think he’s just drinking coffee. And at dinner he had a Dr Pepper.”

  There was a long pause. Mouse gave serious thought to disobeying Trev. He wouldn’t really spank her. That was just a threat. What if he needed her help?

  She started to walk toward the house as the voice on the other end of the phone kept talking.

  “Are you serious? Listen, when he comes to, tell him to call me. I have a team in LA desperate for a veteran QB. I’m hopping a flight from JFK to DFW in the morning. He needs to be ready to head out to LAX by afternoon. Got that, doll? And I’ll bring him a little pick-me-up. He needs to look good for these guys.”


  The connection was cut without a good-bye, and Mouse grasped the phone. She might need it. She was on the first step, trying to move quietly, when she heard a voice.

  “You are not where I left you, Beth.”

  Mouse shrieked. He’d caught her unawares. Her heart felt like it would pound out of her chest. Trev stood in the doorway glaring at her.

  “It’s my house. You can’t expect me to just stand in the yard while someone murders you.”

  “I expect my direct orders to be obeyed.” His sculpted arms crossed over his chest.

  “Should I call the cops?” She tried to avoid the whole discussion about direct orders. Something about the way he was looking at her made her a little breathless.

  His head shook. “No one’s in there. Are you sure you locked it?”

  She bit her bottom lip and tried to remember. “I think so. But maybe not.”

  His face hardened. “You live alone in this big house, and you didn’t bother to lock up?”

  “Well, nothing much works in this place. And the door isn’t very sturdy. Even if I did lock it, it wouldn’t take much to get in. It’s on my list of things to replace. I don’t even think the back door has a lock.” She laughed a little. Now that the threat had passed, it seemed a little silly. She’d watched too many movies. “Well, I thank you for the ride.”

  She started to move past him, but he stood there in the doorway, an immovable hunk of granite.

  “We’re not done here, darlin’. You can’t expect me to walk away. Anyone could walk in here while you’re sleeping. You could be raped.”

  She laughed outright at that. “Didn’t you hear what Clarissa said? I think I’m safe. No one is going to touch old Mouse Hobbes.”

  “I warned you.”

  Mouse gasped as Trev pulled her wrist into his hand and started to haul her into the house.

  * * * *

  Trev felt his blood pressure threaten to hit the roof. It was all too fucking much. First, the altercation with Bo O’Malley, then he’d had to listen to his poor sister fight her husband over having Trev in the house. Then there were the calls from Marty. That had really threatened to send him over the edge. Marty had left about thirty messages promising him money, women, and all the coke he could snort if Trev would just meet with the general manager of the LA team.