Night Scents (16 page)

The only customers, gathered at a round table, were the Macintosh men, Tuck, and Clate. They looked as if they'd been devising ways to purge a local witch and her cohort from their midst.

"Piper!" Her father rose, sounding delighted, as always, to see her. "Come, sit and have a drink with us."

Their work finished for the day, he and his two sons were sharing a pitcher of beer. Tuck had his own beer, Clate a tall glass of iced tea. As she leaned over and kissed her father on the cheek, Piper was aware of Clate's eyes on her, and Andrew's and Benjamin's eyes on
him.
She'd changed from her teaching outfit into bike shorts and her Red Sox shirt for her bike ride into town and had pulled her hair back in a hasty ponytail that was already coming undone.

"I'm on a bike ride," she said before any comments were forthcoming about her ragged appearance. "I saw all the trucks parked outside and figured I'd better stop in, make sure you boys weren't up to no good."

Andrew leaned back, his hands folded on his middle. He had on a dusty work shirt and jeans, his standard outfit for as long as Piper could remember. "Such as?"

Such as persuading Clate to repeat every word she'd told him last night and rat out her and Hannah. Such as making sure he had no designs on his new neighbor. Such as generally meddling in her life. But she manufactured a bright smile, just in case her foreboding was misplaced this once. "I never know with you guys. Hey, Tuck, how're you doing?"

"Not bad. You?"

She wondered if he or her father and brothers noticed the dark circles under her eyes that had made her scream at her own reflection when she'd rolled out of bed at nine. She'd slept fitfully, dreaming dreams her brothers would not want to hear about and Clate Jackson just might delight in. She was sure
he'd
noticed the dark circles.

"I'm fine," she said breezily, not too phonily. "Busy. I have a few summer students who are looking for a property manager. Can I give them your name or are you too tight right now?"

He gripped his beer bottle with a huge, stained hand. "Sure, go ahead."

He was beefier than the other men at the table, dressed in work clothes that were close enough to presentable; Clate's attire was canvas and denim and unquestionably presentable. He did nothing to call attention to his wealth or away from it. She wondered if he knew she'd dated Tuck way back when. Her brothers claimed they'd never said a word to him, which—if true— in no way exonerated them. A look, a gesture, just their mere presence in the same town were enough to scare off someone like Tuck. It never bothered her, but the men in her life just didn't like the prospect of going up against her brothers.

"Clate, nice to see you." She acknowledged him with a polite nod, knowing she had to get it over with. She felt all eyes on her, and it wasn't just her imagination.

He smiled and said in that slow, liquid drawl, "Nice to see you, too."

Andrew sat forward a fraction, just enough to alert Piper that he'd noticed the electricity between her and Clate. According to the article in the Nashville magazine and every rumor anyone in Frye's Cove had ever repeated or heard about him, Clate Jackson was exactly the sort of man her brothers had warned her about for years.

"Haven't seen you around much, Piper," Benjamin said.

"Summer's my busy season."

She was avoiding Clate's eye, probably being so obviously nonchalant that her brothers would know for sure something was up. Ordinarily she wouldn't have given a damn—or not much of one. But this time she really did have something to hide, not only her tumble of feelings about her Tennessean neighbor but also Hannah's treasure, the disturbing phone calls, more trespassing. Her life was out of control enough without her father and brothers diving into her problems and lecturing her on how she could have avoided them in the first place.

"We made bread this morning in my open-hearth cooking class," she said. "I have a couple of extra loaves. I can bring them out later."

Benjamin smiled. "I'll save you the trip to town and stop by. I haven't been out to your place in a while. Liddy and the boys love your bread."

Piper wasn't fooled. He was coming out to her place to spy on her, just as Andrew had yesterday when he'd delivered the Nashville magazine. "Well, I should be back in a couple hours. Bring the boys by if you want, Liddy, too." There, that'd prove she had nothing to hide. "I should get going. See you guys around."

"You won't stay and have a drink with us?" her father asked.

Not a chance. They'd notice the signs of fatigue and trouble, the way her pulse jumped when she was around Clate. It wasn't that she didn't trust her family or generally lied to them. She simply knew they'd demand explanations where she couldn't give any and offer help where she didn't want to be tempted to take any. This time, she preferred to do without her father or her brothers' advice, interference, opinions on Hannah's mental health or her own, or even their loving support. If they found out about the threatening phone calls, she was doomed. There'd be no peace, no room to maneuver. For Hannah's sake if not her own, she needed that room.

She retreated before she could arouse their suspicions further. Her head was spinning, her pulse racing, her mind a jumble of crazy thoughts and conflicting emotions. A good, long bike ride would help her get a fresh perspective.

She was all the way out to the front porch before she realized someone was behind her. She spun around, almost landing against Clate's rock-hard chest. "Geez, you're light on your feet," she said.

"Not really. You're just preoccupied."

"I admit I'm jumpy."

He frowned, blue eyes narrowed, suspicious. The man definitely had a different view of the world from hers. "You didn't get another phone call, did you?"

She shushed him and whispered, "I don't want my father and brothers to know about the calls. No, I didn't get another one."

"Your father and brothers strike me as solid allies, men I'd want on my side."

"They are on my side. They don't need to know details to be on my side."

He thought that one over with a frown. "I guess there's a certain logic at work there. Not that you asked for my opinion, but I think they have your best interests at heart."

"Of course they do. That's half the problem. Look, I just need to do this thing my way. They don't understand Hannah the way I do."

"They're not attached to her in the same way."

His tone was mild, observational, not critical, but Piper felt herself go on the defensive. "When they're eighty-seven, I hope they have someone who'll put up with their whims instead of a couple of cranks who'll doubt their sanity at every turn." She tightened her hands into fists, became aware of the rocking chairs that Paul and Sally had put out, the flower boxes, the cheerful atmosphere of their inn. Tourist traffic was picking up, the summer season closing in. She glanced at Clate, calmer. "You know, you're not helping matters by following me out."

"Bit protective of you, are the Macintosh men?"

"I'm glad you find my life so entertaining."

"Piper." He leaned toward her, a gleam of amusement in his very blue eyes. "I'm not afraid of them. Or you. Or Hannah and her witchy ways, for that matter. I had a drink with Tuck and your father and brothers. Nothing more."

"You didn't pump them for information?"

"No."

"Did they pump you?"

He grinned. "Of course. And I cooperated, to a degree." At her look of panic, he added, "About my background, not about what you and I did last night."

"Benjamin will probably check for footprints between my house and yours when he stops by, you know. Don't think an afternoon drink has won them over. They're as curious about what brings you to Frye's Cove as anyone. Probably more so."

A cool distance came into his eyes. "I gather few believe my stated reason."

"Correct. A man with your money and reputation—" She shook her head and trotted down the front steps to where she'd left her bicycle, unlocked. Come July and August, she'd be more cautious. "Not a chance. People still insist on thinking you'll tear down the Frye house and put in a ritzy resort just as soon as you can sneak it by the review boards."

He'd followed her down the steps into the shade of a huge old maple, a rarity on Cape Cod since many of the early settlers had denuded the forests. "What about you? What do you believe?"

"I tend to believe what people tell me until I have reason to do otherwise." She pulled on her helmet, hooked it under her chin. "But my brothers think I'm too trusting."

"I operate the same way," he said softly, moving from the shade, "and nobody's ever said I'm too trusting."

She grinned. "That's because you have more scars than I do."

"The life of a construction worker with a bad temper." But he didn't smile, a seriousness coming over him. "I wanted to tell you, I went to see your aunt this afternoon."

"Alone? Why?"

"To talk to her. She offered me tea, which I declined, and wc had a nice chat on her back deck." He drew a finger along the handlebar of her bike. "Piper, I don't think she's told you everything she knows. I think she's holding back something."

"What? Why would she hold back? I'm doing her a favor."

"I don't know why, I just believe she is. It wasn't anything concrete, but I came away with the distinct impression that if she's not exactly playing us for fools, she's at least slipped a few cards up her sleeve."

"You told her I'd confided in you?"

He dropped his hand to his side. "She already knew."

"Did she know as in you think I told her, or did she know as in.. .well, as in she just knew."

He bit off a sigh. "The latter."

"That's silly."

"Then you told her?"

"No, but she probably just took one look at your face and leaped to the conclusion that I'd told you about the treasure. You're not that hard to read, you know, especially when you're on a tear." At his amused look, she climbed onto her bicycle. "Not that I know you that well, of course. But you don't know my aunt."

"She's not telling you everything, Piper."

She waved a hand in dismissal. "So, what else is new? Look, you caught me at a vulnerable moment last night. I don't think well on that little sleep." Or after kissing a man in the starlight. "I should have been more circumspect. Please don't go tearing uptown and pestering people on my account. I don't need this thing to get any more out of hand than it already is. Right now, I can handle Hannah's treasure and the calls—which for all I know have ended, I might add—on my own."

He settled back on his heels, unperturbed. "And what are you doing to handle everything besides baking bread and teaching open-hearth cooking?"

She eyed him. "Making strawberry-rhubarb jam."

Before she could let his growl of impatience get to her, she eased off on her bicycle, pedaling hard, trying not to wonder if he was standing there on the sidewalk appraising her behind.

Chapter 8

Tempted to head straight to Hannah's townhouse to find out what else she and Clate might have discussed outside her presence, Piper instead wound her way to her favorite road along the water, where it was cool and beautiful and where Frye's Cove's few summer people were out enjoying the scenery. She passed other cyclists, in-line skaters, walkers, cars with out-of-state plates. Tourists tended to cluster near the town's limited beaches, bypassing the village to stay in more popular nearby towns that better catered to their needs.