Authors: Linda Grimes
Quick Fix (36 page)
Mark was off on yet another assignment—God knew where—which was too bad, because I did love watching that man play football. Especially when it was warm enough for him to take off his shirt. (What? Sure, Billy and I were officially an item now, but that didn’t mean I’d gone blind.)
Once the doctors were done patching me up, and Mark knew I was going to be all right, he’d lit into me, hitting me with the steel-hard eyes and letting me know exactly how dumb it had been not to call him immediately after I’d gotten the call from the fake Billy. I’d taken it meekly (because, yeah, he had a point), even though “meek” goes against my grain under any circumstances. As soon as I’d said the magic words (“you’re right”), he’d dropped the steel, donned the dove, and gathered me close in a careful hug.
“Jesus, Ciel, you have to stop doing this to me,” he’d whispered, his words squeezing my heart. I wasn’t sure if he meant scaring him, or possibly something else. Honestly? I was afraid to ask.
Laura handed me another can of iced tea. “He loves you, you know,” she said.
Startled, I almost dropped the can. Had she been reading my thoughts? “What? Who…?” I said.
“Billy,” she said. “Oh, Mark does, too, of course, but he’s married to his job. Clichéd, but true.”
I felt my cheeks redden. That didn’t stop her from continuing. “But Billy—you can see it erupt from his eyes when he looks at you. That’s special, Ciel.” She was looking at Thomas as she said that last part, and added, in her soft Southern drawl, “Don’t fuck it up, sugar.”
Good advice, I figured, from one who knew whereof she spoke.
Billy had, of course, forgiven me for bashing up his car even before he knew I’d been drugged—which spoke volumes about how much he cared for me—but I felt better about our chances for a successful relationship now that we both knew I wasn’t batshit crazy.
The game was winding down. After one last throw to Molly, they all trooped over to the blankets spread out in front of us, Thomas sitting beside Laura and Billy dropping down next to me. Everyone grabbed a drink, and all the guys wiped the sweat from their faces with their shirts. I handed Molly a napkin before she followed suit. Somebody had to be a good role model for her.
“What did you guys pack for us to eat?” Billy asked, digging into one of the picnic baskets Laura and I had provided for the whole gang. “I’m starving.” The rest of the guys joined in, each claiming to be more ravenous than the next, sending Molly into fits of giggles with their hyperbole.
When Billy got to the fresh, late-season raspberries he must have added when I wasn’t watching, he gave me a knowing look, the devil peeking out from behind those lush lashes as he opened the bag.
But I was ready for him. From the basket closest to me, I pulled out a big jar of kosher dills—slowly—giving him my sweetest smile. And then I licked my lips.
He started throwing raspberries at me, a huge grin on his face.
“Hey, don’t waste those—I want some!” Thomas said, which of course sent me into gales of laughter as I tried hard not to look at Laura’s chest.
“You should definitely try some,” Billy said, tossing a few his way. “I highly recommend them.”
“Food fight!” Molly yelled, ripping open a bag of chips and flinging them randomly at everyone.
The lid of the pickle jar was stuck, so I shoved it at Brian while dodging more flying berries. “Here—open this. Fast!” He gave it a quick twist and handed it back to me. I dug in, and held one high. “Aha! I gotcha now,” I cried, pointing it at Billy.
“What?” James said, looking perplexed. “Pickles trump berries?”
Billy raised a brow, winking at me before answering him. “Well, I suppose you might think so.”
I was laughing so much I could barely catch my breath. “Stuh-hhhop. Please. Just stop.” I sat hard on the blanket, then fell over backward. Damn, it felt great to let loose. Laughing that hard is almost as good as sex, with the added benefit that you usually won’t get arrested for doing it in public.
Billy plopped down beside me, leaned over, and kissed me lightly. Thomas didn’t even flinch—another benefit of his relationship with Laura. When I’d finally told him about Billy and me, all he’d done was take Billy aside and explain seventeen different ways he could legally kill him if he ever hurt me.
Molly looked on in glee. “Mom and Auntie Ro are going to be so excited when they find out about you guys!”
I shuddered. God, I was
so
not ready to have my new relationship exposed to
that
double whammy of maternal scrutiny. I liked things just fine the way they were. “Mol-ly … remember your promise. Billy and I get to decide when to tell them, nobody else.” I included the rest of them in my stern look.
“I have no problem with that,” Thomas said, taking Laura’s hand.
“Ha! Of course you don’t. You still haven’t told them about Laura yet, you big chicken,” I said. (I know. But it’s okay—my brothers are used to my hypocrisy. I’m sure they think of it as a charming quirk.)
“It’s purely out of concern for Laura. I think she should be stronger before she’s subjected to more of my relatives. Why, one of Mom’s casseroles alone could set her recovery back by weeks.”
“And if Mommo felt compelled to crochet her an afghan…” Billy started, and the rest of us finished with a groan.
“Hey,” Laura said, verbally elbowing her way into the conversation, “I happen to adore your mother’s afghans. Ciel told me one of them saved my life.”
We all sobered at the memory of how close we came to losing her.
Thomas kissed her hand. “For that reason alone they’ll be forever beautiful to me.”
Brian sprang to his feet. “Later, gators. I’m outta here.” He took off at a jog.
“Wait a minute,” I hollered after him. “Where are you going?”
“To find a girl!”
I smiled. “Heeee’s baaack.”
* * *
We ran all the way up the stairs to Billy’s place, in a hurry to further explore raspberry and pickle possibilities now that we were alone. Thomas had whisked Laura off to the hotel that was her temporary residence until she was able to return to work. (
If
she returned to work. Thomas could be persuasive. And persistent. On the other hand, Laura had that
Steel Magnolias
backbone. I’d have to give them even odds.)
James had promised Molly a carousel ride after lunch, and would drop her off at home afterward. Billy and I were still chortling about our narrow escape from the park—if James had forgotten about Molly’s propensity for motion sickness, he would likely be reminded of it soon. Really, you’d think such a brilliant man would have a better memory.
Billy took the last few steps backward, hauling me up with him. At the top, he swung me around and set me on the floor in front of him. Smiling, I tilted my face up for a kiss—I couldn’t get enough of his kisses—and was knocked out of the moment by the look on his face.
I turned to see what could stop Billy in his tracks like that, expecting, at the least, obscene graffiti spray painted on his door. Or maybe more crime-scene tape. Possibly another body.
Turned out to be worse.
“Sweethearts!” Mom said at the same time that Auntie Mo sang out “Darlings!”
They reached down and lifted a giant basket between them. “We brought champagne and caviar,” Auntie Mo said. “Let’s celebrate!”
I threw a panicked look at Billy. The shock in his eyes was retreating, replaced by rapidly advancing amusement.
“Who’s the rat?” he said, a lot more calmly than I felt. “Wait, let me guess. Molly?”
Auntie Mo shrugged.
“How’d you get her to spill?” he asked. I couldn’t seem to find my voice.
“I’m her mother. I asked. She answered.”
Billy raised one eyebrow and quirked his mouth, wordlessly expressing his skepticism.
Auntie Mo’s eyes crinkled at the edges in a gotcha smile she didn’t allow to reach her lips. “I ungrounded her. And bought her a Wii.”
Mom smiled brightly. “And
I
gave her something called ‘Rock Band’—don’t look at me like that, Mo. It was for a good cause.”
“Yes, but did you really have to include the drum set with it?”
Okay, chalk one up for maternal ingenuity. Molly could hardly be expected to hold out against bribery like that. And it
was
impressive how well she’d kept her lapse contained during our picnic. Still, I was going to have a little talk with her about generational loyalty. I mean, she hadn’t even given us the opportunity to outbid them.
“Never mind that,” Mom said, her eyes alight. “Now, let’s go in and
plan
.”
Auntie Mo nodded, a matching determined gleam in her own eyes.
Oh, God. Oh, no. No, no, no … I definitely wasn’t ready for this. I snaked my hand into the front pocket of Billy’s jeans and grabbed his keys. Turned and raced back down the stairs, Billy hot on my heels.
“Ciel Colleen Halligan, you march yourself right back here!” my mother yelled down the stairwell.
“That goes for you, too, William Seamus Declan Doyle!” Auntie Mo hollered. Huh. Both middle names—she meant business.
Billy grinned when he caught up with me just outside the building. Grabbed my hand, and said, “Come on. I know a place they’ll never find us.”
I smiled back, grateful he understood. Maybe I really could fall in love with this guy.
Acknowledgments
This is where I get to blame everyone I interacted with while writing this book for anything that’s wrong with it, right?
Wait, that’s probably not nice. Downright rude, really, and definitely not fair. I mean, most of them had no idea I was using them as research material, so they can hardly be held responsible for what I pilfered from their existence and threw into my book.
By the way, if you think you—yes, I mean
you
—recognize yourself in this book, you’re wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. That’s
not
you. (Okay, maybe
parts
of it are you—only the good parts, I swear!—but it’s all mixed up with a lot of parts from other people, too. It’s like …
Franken
-you! And no, I won’t say which one of you is the ass.)
Well,
that
was an awkward start. Maybe I’d better begin again.
Ahem
. I’d like to thank my brothers for providing insight into sibling relationships, as well as years of practical experience in that arena. If Ciel’s interactions with her brothers come across as authentic, it’s because I know brothers.
(Not that my brothers are anything like Ciel’s, let me hasten to add. While it’s possible that
some
of my brothers have a
few
of the characteristics of her brothers, those characteristics are all shuffled up and in no way reflect any one real person. Well, except the “good-looking” part, of course. That applies to all my brothers. But, as far as I know, none of them are adaptors.)
I’d also like to thank the rest of my family, blood relatives and in-laws, for their support of my writing, and for being all-around good people. Plus, they don’t expect me to cook much. I like that about them.
My critique partners and beta readers deserve way more than a mere mention in the acknowledgments, both for their genuinely helpful feedback and for putting up with my writing-related neuroticism. But for what it’s worth, here goes: Susan Adrian, Tawna Fenske, Emily Hainsworth, Julie Kentner, Kris Reekie, Elise Skidmore, and Tiffany Schmidt, you guys rock!
A big thank-you goes to my editor, Melissa Frain, for her special brand of magic. She has a knack for recognizing what a manuscript needs most and conveying it intelligently. A good editor’s contributions are largely invisible to the reading public (or should be), yet so very indispensable.
To Michelle Wolfson, agent extraordinaire and leader of the howlingly fun Wolf Pack, I give my continued gratitude … and my apologies for those e-mails that started with “Ack!” Thanks for keeping me sane throughout this whole crazy publishing process.
Finally, to my husband, Bob, I give my unending love. Couldn’t do it without you, sweet cheeks.
Tor Books by Linda Grimes
In a Fix
Quick Fix
About the Author
Linda Grimes grew up in Texas, where she rode horses, embarrassed herself onstage a lot, and taught teenagers they’d have to learn the rules of English before they could get away with breaking them for creativity’s sake. She currently resides in Virginia with her theater-god husband, whom she snagged after he saw her in a musical number at the now-defunct Melodrama Theater in San Antonio. There’s nothing like a rousing chorus of “If You Wanna Catch a Fish You Gotta Wiggle Your Bait” to hook a man for a lifetime. Grimes is the author of
In a Fix
.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
QUICK FIX
Copyright © 2013 by Linda Grimes
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Craig White
A Tor Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates, LLC
175 Fifth Avenue
New York, NY 10010
Tor® is a registered trademark of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-0-7653-3181-6 (trade paperback)
ISBN 978-1-4299-5645-1 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781429956451
First Edition: August 2013
