Finding Floyd (4 page)

Not wanting to wake Chris, Diane closed the
door to the living room after Bella and Colby-Jack slipped into the
kitchen.

"Good Girl!" she whispered, stroking Bella's
smooth head. The dog wagged her tail in greeting, her nails
clicking on the hardwood floor, but Colby eyed her warily and
walked sedately to the door.

"Seriously, cat?" she muttered, pulling open
the door to the back porch. A gust of considerably warmer air blew
in, carrying the scent of damp earth as they both scampered
outside. Bella ran gleefully in circles around the yard while Colby
turned his back and ignored her as she set down their food dishes.
Shaking her head in disgust, Diane went back inside.

She smiled remembering their day together.
Chris was so sweet yesterday. He's really a nice guy and I think he
really does like me, even if he chose to sleep on the couch last
night. He cooked such a great dinner, so I'll make a nice breakfast
to surprise him. Then we can eat together, maybe in front of the
fire. It's a good thing I stocked up on groceries. I'll have
breakfast all ready and waiting when he wakes up. She couldn't
remember feeling this good about herself in ages.

Back in the kitchen, she found bacon in the
refrigerator, spread it on a foiled baking sheet, turned on the
oven and popped it in. Next, she took out eggs and butter and
dropped two slices of bread into the big, family sized toaster. She
flew around the room, still humming softly, cracking eggs into a
bowl and setting two places at the table. The eggs were beaten; a
skillet was heating on the burner. She quickly checked the bacon.
Almost done.

Returning to the bedroom, she changed from
her worn flannel shirt and jeans to a pretty blue dress that
revealed considerable cleavage, and then decided a little make-up
couldn't hurt. She studied herself in the mirror. Not bad!

She rapped softly on the doorframe to the
living room, but received no answer. Peeking inside, she saw that
the room was empty. The blankets and pillows Chris had used were
folded neatly on the couch, but all his belongings were gone as if
he'd never been there.

Where'd he go? I know. He must've decided to
sleep upstairs in one of the bedrooms. Sure, that's it.

At the foot of the stairs, she called him,
but heard nothing except the ticking of the tall case clock in the
foyer. She quickly mounted the steps and checked the rooms, but
they were all empty. Even his duffle bag was gone. Where the hell
did he go?

Puzzled, she returned to the kitchen. There
was a soft sputtering from the oven and she smelled burning bacon.
"Man! I forgot the bacon." Pulling open the oven door, she grabbed
for a pot holder, reached for the sheet pan, and carefully laid it
on the stove. Her thumb touched the hot pan and she grimaced. The
bacon was obviously overdone. Dismayed, she slumped against the big
farm sink and ran cold water over her thumb.

Wandering over to the side window, she looked
outside at the huge oak laying on its side with its massive
branches spread over the driveway and across the lawn. Amazingly,
all the snow and ice had melted. Chris's SUV was gone too, as
though he'd never been there at all. Just like every man she'd ever
wanted, he'd vanished.

Angrily, she tossed a pat of butter into the
hot skillet. The butter sizzled as she expertly tilted the pan to
distribute it. The eggs followed the butter into the pan and they
sizzled as she slid her spatula under them. Her temper rose and
sizzled right along with them.

"What a bastard," she growled. "He just
walked out without even a goodbye. What's wrong with men anyway?"
With more force than necessary, she slammed around the room as she
finished cooking her breakfast. "Are they all such bastards? Or
just the ones I like?" Switching off the fire, she jammed the lever
down on the toaster and the bread slices disappeared into their
slots. "I'll just eat this by myself." Sliding the fluffy eggs into
a bowl, she slammed the skillet down on the stove and yelled, "I
hate all men!"

Startled by loud rapping on the back door,
she screamed, nearly upsetting the eggs. She stared in confusion at
the door. The shadow of a large man was outlined on the curtain
hanging over the window.

"Hold your fire!"

Her heart pounding, armed with her dripping
spatula, she approached the door. "Who's there?"

"Miss Diane? I surely hope you don't mean
that you hate me," a voice called through the glass.

"Oh! Mr. Evans." Relieved, Diane pulled the
door open. "Good morning."

Shielding his face with his arms, he peered
at her. "Is it safe?"

Diane laughed. "Yes, it's safe. You're not in
my line of fire."

The big man smiled at her, one hand touching
the brim of the ball cap in greeting. Standing next to him was a
younger, thinner, version of himself. Just as tall as his
attractive father, the younger man was extremely good looking. His
eyes were laughing as he too smiled and nodded.

"This is my boy, Kyle. We didn't mean to
startle you so early, Ma'am, but we seen that big old oak tree come
down in the ice storm and thought you might want it cleared
away."

Confused, Diane dragged fingers through her
long curls. "Oh yeah, the tree," she stammered. "It blew over
yesterday morning after the storm, but I didn't call anyone
yet."

"Your vehicle's stuck in the garage. Am I
right?" asked Kyle.

She turned her stare to the younger Evans and
frowned. "I'm sorry. Does Sandy usually hire you for this kind of
work?"

Amused, his bright blue eyes twinkled and he
pushed a shock of red-gold hair off his forehead. "Ma'am. Just let
us know what you want done with that tree. You got a couple of
cords of right nice firewood there. We could stack it back there
next to the rest." He gestured to the neatly stacked logs at the
bottom of the hill.

Behind them on the porch she saw two large
chain saws and a gas can. "I guess that would be okay, but how much
do you charge?"

"Unless I miss my guess Darlin', smells like
you've got somethin' cooking." Mr. Evans looked at her hopefully.
"Some hot coffee and breakfast, and we'll call it even." They both
turned their charming smiles her way.

"Oh." Diane looked over her shoulder at the
food she'd prepared. "Yeah, sure. Come on in."

The men slipped off their muddy boots and
followed her eagerly inside.

"That coffee sure smells good!" said Jesse
Evans.

Her mind was still whirling as she filled two
cups and set them on the table. I made this special blend coffee
especially for Chris. "The hell with him," she muttered
angrily.

"Pardon?" Jesse raised his brow in
question.

Absent mindedly, she slipped the overdone
bacon onto a plate and brought it to them. "Sorry, I kind of burnt
the bacon. I've got plenty of eggs though, if you'd like."

"That would be mighty nice. Don't mind if we
do and I like my bacon on the crispy side anyways," said Jesse,
popping a piece into his mouth, crunching noisily.

In another minute she was serving them eggs,
toast, and putting butter and jam on the table. She topped off
their coffee and felt like a waitress in a diner as she served
them. As the food rapidly disappeared, she realized if Chris came
back there would be literally nothing left.

Man! They can eat! I'd better mix up a big
batch of pancakes, just in case. After all they are working for
this. She moved a large, empty cookie jar over to make room on the
counter, got out the largest mixing bowl, and began to measure dry
ingredients. Maybe I should make some cookies and fill that empty
jar, she thought absently.

"Are you making griddlecakes?" Startled, she
looked up at Jesse. He'd turned from his clean plate, leaning over
the back of his chair watching her intently. "My wife used to make
real fine griddlecakes. Do you use buttermilk?"

She hesitated. "Umm. Yes, I do."

Jesse smiled and nudged his son. "She makes
buttermilk griddlecakes."

Kyle grinned at this revelation.

Then Jesse asked her, "Do you like to
cook?"

Puzzled, she looked over at them and said
hesitatingly, "Yes."

"See there, Kyle. There's a woman who likes
to cook." He leaned back in the chair to watch her. "A big stack of
griddlecakes would be real nice. Now don't you hurry, Darlin'. We
got plenty of time. That tree out there ain't goin' nowhere."

The eggs and toast were gone. They're still
hungry? Seriously? I'd better double the recipe in case Chris comes
back. Finishing the batter as quickly as she could, Diane set the
huge bowl to rest, laid more bacon on the pan, and popped it back
in the oven. While she worked, the two men sipped coffee and sat
back to watch her as she moved around the kitchen.

She heated up the B & B's extra large
griddle and started cooking. I can fit eight pancakes on this thing
at once. It's a good thing, at the rate they eat.

As they were finishing their second stack of
pancakes, she heard a vehicle outside and rushed to the window.
Maybe it was Chris!

Disappointed, she watched as a man in jeans
and flannel shirt got out of a pickup truck and stood, hands on
hips staring at the fallen tree.

Jesse saw her looking through the window.
"Now then, don't you worry. We'll get that there tree cut up,
directly. Kyle, you get those dishes over to the sink."

The younger Evans gathered up the plates,
carried them to the sink, and began to rinse and stacked them. They
made eye contact and he winked at her.

Surprised, Diane studied Kyle. He was
good-looking and around her age, but sadly, he wasn't Chris
Owen.

A sharp rap came from the front door and she
started. Chris is back! I'll bet he just went out to the store for
something. She turned to answer the knock at the door, but screamed
when she collided with a strange man whose broad shoulders filled
the kitchen doorway.

Tall and dark, his coal black eyes gave her a
cool appraising look. A firm thin lipped mouth was framed by the
largest handle bar mustaches she'd ever seen. He was dressed
entirely in black, from the Stetson hat that sat on his black mane
of hair, down to his highly polished cowboy boots. His entire
appearance was decidedly sinister and icy fingers of fear tickled
her spine.

"Can I help you?" she stammered.

"Sandy about anywhere," he said in a low
rumble, taking in the room and its occupants. He nodded to Jesse,
who grinned back at him.

"She's away for a while. I'm looking after
things for her."

He grunted, pulled out a kitchen chair and
joined the other two at the table. The man was huge, dwarfing Jesse
and Kyle.

Frightened, Diane stepped back and said, "I'm
sorry, but we won't be accepting any guests until after the end of
the month."

He nodded and pulled off the Stetson. "Not a
paying guest. Name is Woodruff. Come for the music mostly. Sandy
knows we come Saturdays, leastways, when we've got good
weather."

"Well, I'm not aware of anything," her voice
trailed away.

"Mornin', Woodruff," said Jesse.

"Mornin'." The big man looked around for a
place to rest his hat as Kyle handed him a mug of coffee."

"You eat yet?" Jesse asked. Diane here just
made us some fine griddlecakes. I haven't had the like since my
wife passed."

"I could eat somethin'," said Woodruff.

"Diane will bring you a plate. We're about to
help her out with that downed tree."

"I guess that's my cue," she muttered,
heading back to work. Irritated, she spooned eight circles of
batter onto the hot griddle. Another guy for breakfast? When do I
get to eat?

Woodruff was at her elbow as soon as they
were ready, so she piled a stack of four on his plate and waited
for him to sit down. He stood there staring, until, reluctantly,
she added another stack beside the first.

The next stack is mine! Eight more circles on
the griddle. I'm hungry and I'm running out of batter. She heard
the sound of an engine. Fuming she stepped into the hall to see if
Chris had returned. Another pickup and a van turning into her
driveway, and more men climbed out to join the crowd. They all had
big white mugs of coffee, just like the ones the B & B had.
Where did they buy coffee way out here?

Back in the kitchen, she was just in time to
flip the batch on the griddle and stack them on her plate. Finally.
Now where can I hide these?

The big creepy guy in black looked up from
his coffee, scowled at her, and then stared at her pancakes. His
plate was clean. Sighing, she extended her arm, and he slid her
breakfast onto his plate. That's when she noticed Kyle.

He grinned at her from the other side of the
room where he was serving coffee from a party sized coffee urn.
"Didn't think you'd mind darlin', if I put the big pot on. It'll
make things easier on you than making lots of those little bitty
pots. Don't want you to go to no trouble on our account."

"I see," she murmured as the empty package
from the expensive special grind coffee flew across the room, hit
the side of the trash can, and rolled away. Outside, more vehicle
doors slammed and several chain saws began to growl.

"We best get a move on, son. Looks like the
boys out there got a head start on us. We'll get that wood stacked
once we get 'er cut up," said Jesse as he drained his coffee, set
the cup down with a decisive thunk, and headed for the door.

"They're crawling over that tree like ants on
a sugar cube," said Kyle watching the growing chainsaw gang.

Dismayed, Diane tried to grasp what was
happening. "What are they all doing here?" she asked, leaning over
his shoulder to watch. A few men were slicing through the old tree
and hauling the brush away, but most of the men were sipping coffee
and gesturing to the others. Obviously, they were pointing out how
they thought the job should be done.