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Duffy righted himself and lowered his voice. “Sometimes you have to use your outside voice. They don’t always wear their hearing aids.”
Was he joking? “Have you been drinking?”
“This is my second.” Of which he’d drank very little. “I’ve been in town less than a month. I’m still the new guy and a curiosity. Most people who’ve moved here recently are either related to someone or grew up here. In a word, known.” There was a sharpness to his voice that hinted at annoyance. “I’m a stranger. And I don’t talk much.”
He was talking just fine to her. Much better than he had the other day.
“They’re still trying to figure me out.” He raised a hand to acknowledge Eunice, who sat on the opposite side of the room with several other older women—all looking their way. “I caught Eunice peeping into my kitchen window the other morning.”
Jess envisioned Eunice framed in her quaint kitchen window on the other side of a white picket fence. “So your houses are close?”
“Nope. Her nose was pressed against my glass.”
He had to be pulling Jessica’s leg. If so, she was glad. She enjoyed this man more than the one she’d first met. Baby must think so, too. Her little bundle of joy was still.
“And Felix over there.” He tipped his bottle toward a barrel-chested man with what looked like cat hair sprinkled on his black polo shirt. “He’d like me better if I adopted a cat from him.”
That didn’t sound so bad.
Duffy nodded toward the huge man across from Felix. “And Rutgar... I think Rutgar believes I’m the advance wave of a subversive group. I’m surprised he didn’t bring his binoculars to keep a close eye on me tonight.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, it didn’t really start until the day you showed up.” He rubbed his hand back and forth over his hair, unintentionally spiking up the cowlick at his temple. “My coworkers at the winery tell me it’ll pass, but after only a few days, it’s starting to get to me. I don’t share my life with strangers.”
And yet, he’d essentially shared a lot with Jess in the past few minutes.
A fact he apparently realized, since he picked at the label of his beer and mumbled, “I told myself I wouldn’t crack under the pressure.”
Of Jessica’s appearance? Or the town’s nosiness?
The elderly woman at the table next to him reached over to touch his arm. “Duffy, we’re all curious about Jessica’s baby.”
Duffy’s eyebrows lowered to storm-warning levels.
“Due in two months,” Jess said impulsively, adding a smile that felt as fake as the time the bakery circuit breakers had blown and Vera had filled her cookie case with store-bought goods.
Jessica’s smile eased as she faced Duffy. His predicament—or more precisely, the serious import he gave it—was amusing. “So you don’t like them prying.”
“Exactly.” He sank back into his seat. “Have you remembered anything else about Greg?” She could tell by his guarded tone that there were many more questions in the wings. For starters, whether she remembered if he’d swindled her or not.
“Not much.”
Outside, the rain came down harder.
“Well, dinner tonight is my treat.”
My treat.
Another rainy night. A flat tire. Hot coffee. My treat. An irresistible smile.
“Greg stopped to help me with a flat tire in the rain.” Jessica’s hopes floated high with the realization. “A random act of kindness.” If that wasn’t an indication that Duffy’s brother wasn’t a bad man, she didn’t know what was.
“Saw you as an easy mark, no doubt.” Duffy stared out at the rain. “A woman. Alone.”
* * *
DUFFY COULD TELL Jessica didn’t like his assessment of Greg.
Her dark eyes cooled, until they were as cold as the stormy night outside.
Oddly, when she’d come in, he’d felt they were in the same lifeboat in the midst of a graying sea. He’d lowered his guard. Not that it mattered much. After dinner, he and Jess probably wouldn’t see each other again. He’d ask to be notified when the baby was born, but otherwise keep his distance.
“What do you do for a living?” Duffy asked after the waiter came by to take their order.
“I’m a baker.”
Greg’s target of choice had been more established, professional women. Jessica lacked the age and paycheck that Greg had preferred. The good news was that the baby wouldn’t lack for birthday cakes.
Jessica’s gaze had grown distant. “Greg liked things with cream filling. Éclairs. Cream-filled cupcakes. Danish.”
“Yes.” Duffy dipped a chip into the small bowl of salsa. “I don’t doubt you didn’t know him.”
“I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m just happy to be remembering.” She had steady, dark brown eyes. Trustworthy eyes. The kind a man could look into all night long while they discussed everything from the latest sports scores to the meaning of life. “I’ll try not to share if it bothers you.”
Her memories didn’t bother him as much as the increasing empathy he felt toward her did. He had no idea if she was running a con or not. Until he knew for sure, he couldn’t afford to feel anything but suspicion. Duffy pushed the small bowl across the table. “Salsa?”
“Baby doesn’t like spicy food.” Jess stared at the bowl, and sighed wistfully. “I miss it.”
“Greg hated spicy food.”
A smile curled slowly on her face. “He did, didn’t he? He was a...meat-and-potatoes man. A griller. He had a barbecue!” This last was announced with as much fervor as a fan announcing a game-winning touchdown.
He compressed his lips to keep from smiling. “Top-of-the-line.” Duffy had sold it. Why had Greg needed a grill that could cook forty burgers at a time? Because Greg only bought the best. “Do you remember the car he drove?”
Her slender brows drew down. “Blue. BMW. It had really stiff seats.” She rubbed her forehead as if her head ached. “Don’t ask me any more questions. Tell me something about Greg’s childhood.” She added quickly, “Something nice.”
That gave Duffy pause. He hadn’t thought about his brother in a kindly way for a long time. “He brought home a puppy once.”
“How sweet. A rescue?” Jessica’s eyes roved across his features and seemed to catalog his movements. She looked at him as if he were precious to her.
He suspected she was trying to see Greg in him. It should have been an intense intrusion. But her searching for Greg in Duffy’s appearance and voice touched him. She believed she’d cared for Greg. Duffy was oddly grateful, because sometimes late at night when he couldn’t sleep, he felt guilty for not mourning his brother more deeply.
“We thought the puppy was a rescue.” Duffy cleared his throat, unexpectedly reluctant to destroy her good opinion of his brother even more. “Turns out Greg stole it from a pet store at the mall.” And had tried to blame Duffy. That had been the beginning of the end of their twin bond.
“I wanted to hear something nice,” Jess chastised softly.
It didn’t escape his notice that she wasn’t arguing the fact that Greg had stolen something.
“There must be some memory,” she prompted in a voice so tender, so full of hope, that disappointing her would have been a crime. “One where you think of him fondly.”
It should have taken longer to dredge up something positive. “We both received model airplanes one Christmas. Our cat knocked mine off a shelf and it broke. Greg gave me his.” Duffy had to force the last words out. “Greg used to be generous like that.”
“A plane.” She beamed at him as if he’d given her an unexpected gift. Candy or flowers or something. “Greg took me to the airport once to...to...” Her smile wavered as she reached for the memory. “To watch the planes take off. He said one day he’d fly away and take me with him.” Her smile wavered. “I bet you think that was a line.”
It was hard to believe Jess was a con artist when she seemed so naive. Duffy hated to disillusion her, and so he chose his next words carefully. “Greg could be kind. And in that moment, he might have meant it.”
Her small smile pleased him. It shouldn’t have. If she wasn’t who she said she was, he was making himself vulnerable, becoming a mark.
It’s only dinner. Then she’ll be gone.
Their food arrived as thunder clapped strong enough to shake El Rosal’s foundation. The room echoed with gasps and expressions of surprise.
Shortly thereafter, the sheriff entered the restaurant, calling for quiet. He was one of the few residents Duffy’s age. “The rain is coming down so fast the roads are beginning to flood, especially on the east side of town near the river and the highway. Cal-Trans has issued a warning about the highway being closed between here and Cloverdale.”
People began asking for checks and reaching for their coats. Duffy exchanged a glance with Jessica.
Hers was worry-filled. “The highway’s closed?”
Duffy shared her concern. He called Sheriff Nate over. “There’s no way to get out of town and back to Santa Rosa?”
“Not tonight. And maybe not tomorrow.” Nate’s expression was grim.
But it wasn’t as grim as Duffy felt. “There’s still no hotel in town?”
Nate shook his head. “I hear the Lambridge sisters want to open a bed-and-breakfast, but they haven’t moved back here yet. Are you looking for a place to stay, Miss...”
“She can stay at my place, Nate.” Duffy’d spoken before he realized what he was saying. Had he been played?
“Oh, I couldn’t,” Jessica protested, all wide-eyed innocence.
“It’s that or the jail,” Nate said, glancing at her baby bump, with much the same bachelor wariness Duffy had felt the first time he’d seen Jess.
“I’ll take her home,” Duffy repeated, trying not to let regret seep into his voice. “Finish your dinner.” Although he’d lost his appetite.
Nate moved on to other tables, making sure people had rides home. Given how hard it was coming down and the way some of the elderly residents were unsteady on their feet, walking in many cases was an accident waiting to happen. The sheriff quickly assigned people that had come on foot into car pools.
Eunice pulled up a chair at their table and smiled triumphantly, like the cat who’d eaten the unsuspecting blue bird of happiness. “The sheriff said you could see me home.”
Thunder boomed above them again. The lights flickered.
It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_c5e24b44-7f0d-5843-948f-71988213baff)
DUFFY WAS A GENTLEMAN.
Not only had he offered Jess a place to stay, but since he’d walked from his house, he’d asked for Jessica’s keys and braved the rain to bring her car to the restaurant’s front door. Jessica waited in the crowded lobby of El Rosal with Eunice and the rest for vehicles to be brought around, hopeful that being stranded meant Baby would have a positive relationship with Uncle Duffy someday.
The sheriff braved the downpour and as vehicles pulled up, he called out the names of waiting passengers. It wasn’t long before he announced, “Eunice and Jessica.”
Eunice held on to Jessica’s arm as they picked their way through the puddles to Jessica’s car. Rain pelted them in big, angry drops, bouncing off the pavement and back at them.
Duffy was scrunched in the driver’s seat, shoulders hunched and knees bent on either side of the steering wheel. “I couldn’t get the seat to go back any farther,” he admitted when Jess noticed. “Good thing it’s a short drive.”
“The last time this happened was 1992,” Eunice said from the backseat. “The roads were flooded for five days.”
Jessica began to feel foolish for ignoring the flood warnings. She didn’t want to be trapped with Duffy for five days. Not to mention, Vera would fire her.
The rain pounded on the roof and the windshield wipers could barely keep their view clear. Duffy drove slowly, but they still created a wake in the rising water.
“When we get rain, we really get rain,” Eunice was saying over all the storm noise, as if she were their personal tour guide. “Sometimes the rain doesn’t stop for days. The clouds can’t seem to make it past the range that starts with Parish Hill.”
Neither Jessica nor Duffy said a word. She could tell by Duffy’s gripping and regripping the wheel that he was having second thoughts about inviting her to stay since it might be for more than one night.
A turn onto the town square, a turn off the town square and they were at Eunice’s house. Duffy pulled into her driveway.
“Thanks for the ride,” Eunice sing-songed. “I’ll see you in the morning, Jessica.”
“Let’s hope we don’t see her while I’m making coffee,” Duffy muttered after he’d escorted the old woman to her door. He waited until Eunice was safely inside her house with the lights on before backing out and parking Jessica’s car next to his truck.
Duffy’s house was a small, old home with gingerbread gables. Most of it was dark and in shadow. The porch light barely reached beyond the front steps.
He waited in the downpour for Jessica to come around the hood, and then took her arm and led her up the stairs to the door. He paused with his key in the lock, gazing down on her with an endearingly sweet smile she’d never have suspected he possessed. “I can’t remember what state the house is in.”
“I don’t care, as long as it’s dry.” She was wet, and starting to shiver.
He opened the door and turned on a light in the foyer. “Stay here while I do a quick run-through.”
“I’m not Eunice. I won’t snoop to see what’s in your fridge or which magazines you keep in your bathroom.”
“I meant...” His grin turned mischievous, making Baby do an equilibrium-busting tummy flip. “I have a tendency to shed my clothes as I come. I usually leave them on the floor like...um, bread crumbs leading to the shower.”
“By all means, pick up your unmentionables.” Jess removed her jacket, hanging it on a coatrack near the door. Next to go were her wet sneakers. She held the damp sweater away from her skin. Baby was hunkered on her bladder. As soon as Duffy gave the okay, she was restroom bound.
The living room had worn hardwood floors and a fireplace with built-in white bookshelves on either side. Beyond that, the main room was classic, out-of-date bachelor pad—a brown leather couch, a black lacquered coffee table and a television mounted over the mantel. The small oak dining room table beneath the kitchen pass-through was in worse shape than Jessica’s. Nothing was hung on the walls, but photos of people were on a couple of shelves.
At the risk of seeming as nosy as Eunice, Jess moved closer.
There were several photos of an older couple with salt-and-pepper hair. The man was in a wheelchair, and had Duffy and Greg’s dark coloring. The woman had their smile, so rarely seen on Duffy’s face. Sometimes Duffy was in the pictures with them, but never Greg. There was only one picture of Greg. He stood with Duffy in front of a Christmas tree. They might have been eight or nine. Slender bodies, pants that were too short for their long legs and T-shirts they didn’t fill out. They were both grinning and holding baseball mitts.
Duffy wasn’t as heartless as he appeared, which meant neither was Greg. Warmth blossomed in Jessica’s chest.
“All clear.” Duffy returned and removed his boots. “The house is only eight hundred square feet.” He began pointing. “Kitchen that way. The three doors over there are my bedroom, the bathroom and my home office. You can sleep in my room.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch.” Jess sat on it, sinking-sinking-sinking, realizing too late she should have taken a bathroom break first. Otherwise, the sleeping-arrangement standoff was going to be short-lived.
“Yeah. That’s not happening.” The mischievous Duffy had gone, replaced by the resolute man she’d first met. “You’ll take my bed. I’ll change the sheets.”
