Seeing is Believing (4 page)

“She supposedly died of an overdose.”

“That wouldn’t be surprising. They dosed those people into comas back in those days. There was no such thing as mental health counseling.” Brady frowned at the papers. “I can’t believe it. I have the same name as a dead guy.”

“A lot of people have the same name as a dead guy.” If you thought about it, there probably weren’t a lot of truly 100 percent unique names left anymore.

“No one has your name, I bet. There can’t be a ton of Piper Tuckers running around.”

“Not that I’m aware of.” And technically her name was Piper Danielle Schwartz Tucker, because the Tucker part hadn’t belonged to her until she was almost nine, when her father had gotten legal custody. The Schwartz was her mother’s name, and sometimes Piper was sorry that it wasn’t more in the forefront because it made her feel guilty, like she no longer was acknowledging the woman who gave birth to her.

“I didn’t think there were any Brady Stritmeyers either. But apparently one was a man whore who got his head bashed in. It makes me feel very ordinary in comparison. He’s notorious. I’m just another cog in the wheel. It kind of sucks.”

That was a feeling Piper would never understand. She wanted to be ordinary, normal. She had always craved it. “Yeah, but your head isn’t squashed like a post-Halloween pumpkin.”

“Good point.”

“When I was a kid, I would have done anything to have a name like Emily or Nicole. I didn’t want to be a Piper.”

He cocked his head at her, feet swinging again. “How did you get that name? Do you know? But it suits you, in my opinion. I can’t picture you with something as common as a name like Sara.”

“I have no idea. My mom—my biological mom—was really young when she had me. Maybe she saw it on TV or read it in a book or something.”

“Do you remember her?”

“Yeah.” Usually Piper kept those memories tucked away, cherished and warm, like a loaf of bread in a brick oven. She didn’t talk about them unless someone asked. “She laughed and smiled a lot, when she wasn’t fighting with my stepdad. She liked to sing to me and to paint my nails. I think of her as a woman-child, you know? She really loved me, but she wasn’t completely grown-up herself.”

“And now you’re the woman-child.” He gave her a low, sensual smile.

The words were a bucket of ice water thrown over her desire. That was how he saw her. Still not his peer. Here he was sitting across the room from her and he was asking questions about her childhood, not her adulthood, not who she was now. It was disappointing and frustrating to think that no matter how thick her hair grew, people still saw the odd little duck of a kid she had been.

“I like to think more woman than child,” she told him. “I am a teacher with a car payment.”

“You do seem quite well-adjusted.”

He even managed to make that sound like an insult. Piper gave a snort, sitting up straighter in her chair and crossing her legs on the chair so she sat on her feet. “You mean, despite everything? Yes, I would say I’m fairly well-adjusted. I don’t have an imaginary friend anymore.” Except for the ghosts.

“Maybe ‘well-adjusted’ isn’t the word I was looking for. Content—that’s what you seem. Happy.”

“I am,” she told him simply. It was the truth. She may have longings, desires, for things she couldn’t have like anyone else did, but on the whole, she was a very content person. She had been given a second life at eight, and she was immensely grateful. “I have a great job, a home, a family who loves me.” Hair. “What more could I need?”

“A man,” he told her with a grin. “Isn’t that what every girl wants?”

“No, every girl wants to eat whatever she wants without gaining weight.”

Brady laughed. “Fair enough.”

Piper gripped her ankles and leaned forward a little. “But I’m a woman-child, according to you . . . so what would I do with a man?”

She knew it would get a reaction. She had been counting on it. It did. His eyes darkened. His feet stilled. Maybe she had learned something about flirting, after all.

“Oh, I can think of a thing or two.”

“So can I.” Piper moistened her lips.

That Piper could sit there in the bright kitchen, her legs crossed so that he could see almost entirely up her shorts, and say that so innocently made Brady hard. He couldn’t control it. He looked at her, she spoke, he had a boner. It had happened more than once already and he’d only been in the house an hour. But there was something so damn hot about a woman who had no idea how gorgeous she was. Who was clearly kind and generous and caring and yet so sensual.

His woman-child comment had offended her. Maybe he had said it on purpose to get this reaction, he wasn’t sure. To nudge her into admitting that she was attracted to him, because she was. He could read it in the tilt of her head, the toss of her hair, the way her tongue slipped out to slide along her plump pink lip. If he dipped a finger into her panties, either he would find her damp or he would be able to stroke her into it within seconds.

But she didn’t want to go there with him. Not really. Or at least she shouldn’t. He had been making out with girls in this very kitchen when Piper was still playing with Barbies. She belonged in the bed of some local yokel who would fill her table with food and her belly with babies.

Not a restless townie who’d failed at his attempts to storm the big city. He’d just muddy her sheets.

So he tried to put a halt to the sexual tension that had strung across the kitchen like the laundry line in Gran’s backyard. “You should be getting married to a nice guy, building a house on your dad’s farm, and having a baby. That’s what you should be doing with a man.”

Piper made a face. “Thanks for planning my future for me. Would you like to be my matchmaker, too? After all, you did babysit me once upon a time.”

“I did?” He didn’t even remember that.

The slight lick of anger across her words softened. “Yes. When my parents went to an appointment with their lawyer over my custody. It was for an hour or two.”

Maybe he remembered that, vaguely. But he’d been a self-absorbed teenager and his thoughts had run mostly around sex and how he could get it.

Clearly so much had changed in the past fifteen years. “They must have been desperate for a sitter. And I don’t imagine you need my help matchmaking.”

“No, I don’t suppose I do.”

Brady couldn’t read her tone. She didn’t sound amused, or flirty in return. She sounded annoyed, dropping her feet to the floor without waiting for his response. He had the distinct feeling he’d lost points with Piper, and he didn’t like that. At all. He wanted to be . . . what? What the hell did he want to be to her?

He had no clue.

Maybe just someone she thought highly of, which proved that he was an idiot whose ego had taken more than a few hits over the last couple of years.

“I’m going to let Snoopy out then I’m going to bed,” Piper told him as she crossed the kitchen and bent over to absently scratch behind the ears of a black Lab who looked old and irritated at having been roused from his blanket by the back door.

“I take it this is Snoopy?” he asked. Shelby might have mentioned a dog a time or two, but not having been back to Cuttersville in twelve years, Brady realized how much of the daily in and out of his family’s life he was not a part of anymore. It was a disquieting thought.

“Yes. He doesn’t like to go outside when it’s raining.” She tugged on the dog’s collar, all the while giving him coaxing words of encouragement. “Come on, sweetie. You can do it. Just real quick—then I’ll let you sleep with me.”

Unfortunately, that promise was not for Brady. He’d roll over and shake if it would get him a night snug up against Piper. For a brief second, he considered getting a hotel room. It would certainly be less likely to get him in trouble, but it would require a drive out back by the highway and eighty bucks he didn’t particularly have. He could control himself, and Piper looked none too pleased with him anyway, so the moment of danger had most likely passed.

“Wasn’t Snoopy the cartoon a beagle?” he asked. It seemed an odd name choice for a Lab, in his opinion.

Piper didn’t answer. She just dragged the dog outside, the door slamming behind her automatically. Brady stood there, feeling stupid and useless. He should have offered to take the dog out. What the hell was the matter with him? That was what men in Cuttersville did—they offered to be the one inconvenienced. They didn’t let women drag dogs out into rainstorms. It was a politeness that he had found annoying and sexist when he was a kid. Now he thought there was something to be said for taking care of a woman. He felt like he’d been trying to do that in Chicago for years, and no woman he’d met had wanted that infringement on her independence. Or they felt he fell short when it came to financially caring for them. But money didn’t factor into the equation in his hometown, and given that he was unemployed, there was something refreshing about that.

It made him a douche bag though, for standing in the kitchen, so he pulled open the door and scanned the backyard for Piper and the dog. He had expected her to be right on the back stoop, but she was in the middle of the yard, her cotton pajamas glowing in the dark. He could hear her muttering.

“What’s going on?” he asked, wincing when the cool rain hit his bare chest. “Where’s the dog?”

“He found a mole or something and he’s digging.” Piper turned to him as he approached, shoving a hank of wet hair off her forehead. “First he won’t go out, now he won’t come in. My mom says dogs are as contrary as men, and I’m inclined to think she’s right.”

“Considering your mother is married to the least contrary man I’ve ever met, I don’t think she has any business complaining.” Brady saw Snoopy’s rump raised by the fence, his head burrowed as he pursued something clearly important.

“You’re right. My dad is the best.”

The soft sincerity in her voice gave Brady yet one more reason to steer clear of her. He could never compare to her father. Ever. Suddenly annoyed, he moved past her, the rain pelting him in the face.

“Snoopy!” He clapped his hands twice and used a commanding voice. “Get over here!”

The dog lifted his muzzle and glanced at Brady. He gave a look of longing to the hole he’d been digging.

“In the house! Now!” Brady pointed to the back door, which he’d left ajar. The dog took off running, bounding up the steps and back into the kitchen.

“How did you do that?” Piper asked. “He never listens to me.”

“I have a way with dogs.” More so than women, at the moment, it seemed. “Come on inside before you get soaked through.”

“I think it’s too late,” Piper said. When she stepped into the kitchen and stopped under the circle of light the old schoolhouse lamp created over her, Brady almost had a heart attack.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, before he could clamp his jaw shut. The front of her tank top had taken the brunt of the rain and was clinging to her like a pale pink second skin. Her nipples were clearly visible, the rounded curve of her breasts obvious and delectable. The shorts were damp, too, hugging her hips and giving him a view of her panty line as it came to a V between her legs. Raindrops trailed down her legs to her bare ankles, and down her neck across her curved shoulders. He wanted to lick every last drop off of her with his tongue. He wanted to peel those wet clothes from her and see the goose bumps raise on her pink flesh. He wanted to bite that lower lip, so plump and juicy, her skin dewy and fresh from the night shower. He wanted to run his fingers through that luxurious hair and tip her head back so he could taste every single inch of her until she cried out his name in ecstasy.

“What?” She glanced down bewildered, then blushed. “Oh!” Her arms crossed over her chest, which only served to push them up higher, two perky mounds of temptation.

“I’m going upstairs,” he told her roughly, trying to wrench his eyes off her breasts, but not quite capable of it. “I suggest you change.” Before he did things to her that she would regret. He was sure he wouldn’t regret them, but she might.

He just about ran for the stairs. He was strong, but there was only so much a man could be expected to resist.

She followed him, damn her. “Brady!”

With a sigh, he stopped at the bottom of the stairs and pivoted. “Yeah?”

“Please don’t tell anyone that . . .” She hesitated, running her fingers through her hair in a gesture that tugged her tank top up to expose her skin.

He didn’t think she had any idea how close she was to being taken against the nearest wall. “That what?” That he was about to explode from lust?

“About the, you know, ghost thing. I don’t want people to know.”

He studied her. She looked very uncomfortable. “This town bills itself as Ohio’s Most Haunted Town. I don’t think anyone is going to think it’s odd. In fact, you’d probably be a celebrity.”

“I don’t want to be a celebrity. I don’t want to be anything.” Then she flinched.

He followed her gaze, which had shifted over his shoulder. There was nothing behind him, yet she clearly saw something. “What is it?”

“A killer clown,” she said, deadpan.

So Piper Tucker had a sense of humor, after all. Brady cracked a laugh. “That’s a good one. Okay, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks.”

His damp skin was starting to itch. The rest of him had been itching for an hour. “Damn, it’s a good thing I’m not staying here long.”

“Why is that?”

He shook his head. “Because I have a feeling your daddy just might shoot me for the thoughts I’m having.”

Her mouth formed an “O” and her eyebrows shot up. Her eyes darkened and her breathing deepened. “My daddy doesn’t need to know.”

Brady almost groaned. She was a foot away from him, damp and delicious, her nipples still straining against the wet top, her cheeks stained with a pretty blush of desire. This was what he got for playing with fire. The burn of temptation to take what was being offered him, however subtly.

He felt like a total dirtbag. Like the serpent offering Eve the apple. In fact, Piper kind of even looked like Eve with that creamy skin and long, wavy hair.

“I haven’t always done the right thing in my life, but I’m going to do the right thing now and go to sleep in Zach’s bed alone.” He took a step backwards in retreat, which wasn’t easy. His fingers were itching to tweak her nipple. Then he ruined the force of his statement by adding, “But if you come in and join me, I don’t think I could say no.”