Your Eyes Don't Lie (2 page)

“That does sound awesome.” Makay let him go as he pulled away.

“Next year when I’m in second grade, we get to make a volcano! It’s going to be even cooler. I’m going to ask the teacher if you can come see it.”

“Great idea.” Makay tried to inject enthusiasm into her voice. She suspected most of Nate’s teachers thought she was too young and too unmarried to be a fit parent, and interactions with them always felt awkward.

“I’m going to get my backpack, okay?” Nate said. “I left it in the house.” He turned to Tessa, who had picked up the dark-haired Jonny so he could pet Serenity over the stall gate. “Can Jonny come with me? He’s my best friend.”

“Sure.” Tessa set Jonny down. “You should let him come here more often,” she told Makay as the children ran from the barn. “Neither of the boys remember when you lived here, but they seem to have taken up right where they left off. Even better now that Jonny’s older. For three and six they play well together.”

“Nate doesn’t get out to play much after school.” Makay came slowly to her feet. Frankly, the neighborhood they lived in didn’t make her feel comfortable enough to allow him outside without supervision, and the neighbors she did trust in her building were old and retired. Not really interested in playing with a little kid. “Thanks for picking him up from school.”

Tessa met her eyes. “No big deal. It was on my way home from the office anyway. How’d your test go?”

Makay blinked. “Oh, uh, fine.”

“You didn’t have a test, did you?”

“Of course I did. Why else would I have asked you to pick him up?” Makay studied Tessa. She was thin, with an upturned nose, myriad freckles, and strawberry blond hair that curled gently to her shoulders. Makay had heard her say her hair looked like someone had upended a bucket of orange paint over her head, but Makay didn’t agree. Whatever Tessa thought, it suited her.

“I’m a therapist. I can tell when someone’s lying.”

Makay snorted. “You wish.”

“Fine. But remember we’re here for you.”

They had been. First Lily, who Makay had met during her first failed attempt at college, and then Tessa, who’d practiced psychoanalyzing her after going back to college to work on a degree in psychology, which she hadn’t quite finished yet but would eventually—probably long before Makay finished her accounting degree.

“I know. Thanks.” Makay reached to stroke Serenity’s nose. The horse pushed closer, stretching out her neck.

“She likes you,” Tessa said.

For some ridiculous reason the comment made Makay smile. “She’s so warm.”

“Yeah. That’s one of my favorite things about her. Sometimes I just come out here to snuggle.” At the sound of her voice, Serenity moved her head toward Tessa.

“She’s really having a baby?”

“Yep. Should be coming in April. She’s only about four months now and they take eleven months, sometimes more.”

“Yikes. Poor thing.” Makay took a step back. “Well, guess I’d better go. I have a ton of things to do tonight. Thanks again.”

“You need me to pick Nate up tomorrow?”

“No. I’ll be there.”

“Wait, I have some coupons for you.” Tessa gave a last pat to Serenity’s nose and walked with Makay out of the barn and over the field. “I left them in my car. I think I’ve finally trained people in the office building to pull them out and put them in the sack before shoving the rest of their newspapers into the recycling bin.”

“I appreciate it.” It was better than trying to fish them out of the various bins at night. Makay used to deliver morning papers, which sometimes resulted in extra coupon inserts, but it wasn’t always reliable and it was just too hard to drag a sleepy Nate with her. She couldn’t leave him home alone.

By the time Tessa retrieved the grocery sack of coupons from her Mazda, the boys had come out of the house. Nate insisted on carrying the coupons and giving Makay his slime. Tessa stifled a laugh as she walked away with Jonny.

“Boy, this stuff is really slimy,” Makay said, letting the blue gook ooze between her fingers on its way back into the plastic container.

“I know, right?” Nate swung the grocery sack. “Hey, are there any coupons for candy? Because I’m really hungry for a chocolate bar.”

“Me, too. Good thing we’re stopping at Albertsons on the way home.”

That caught Nate’s attention. “Can we get dog food? I think Snoop’s really tired of that chili. And he smells bad when he eats it. Do we have enough money?”

“Yeah. I think we can swing it.” Sad when the coupons made people food cheaper to give the dog than real dog food, at least the kind Snoop would eat. The dog was far more finicky than either of them and ate a lot more. Owning him also meant they had to stay in an apartment building whose stairways and corridors stank like urine. But she couldn’t bear to get rid of Snoop and break Nate’s heart. The animal was all he had left from his time with his mother. Makay was on the lookout for a better place for them and Snoop, but so far nothing had presented itself.

“Look on the third page of that top insert for a chocolate coupon,” she told Nate. “Albertsons is having a double coupon sale, so we can definitely buy some.”

“Cool.” He climbed into the front seat and reached for the glove box where they kept a pair of scissors.

Eight candy bar coupons later, they walked into Albertsons. Makay felt physically chilled because Nate had begged to have the convertible top down and since it was a warm day, she hadn’t wanted to disappoint him. Worse was the inner chill that came because she didn’t see Lenny Pagolino hanging around outside the store as he usually did after a payoff. She didn’t know if she should be relieved there was no chance Nate would spot him, or irritated that she’d left her car open for him for no reason—but maybe Lenny would show up while she was inside the store.

One of the clerks eyed her coupon binder knowingly as they passed him in an aisle, but Makay ignored his disgusted sneer. She’d stopped feeling embarrassed about using coupons a long time ago. If product manufacturers and retail stores were dumb enough to put out coupons that allowed her to double up and even get items for free, well, that was their problem.

Eighteen minutes later, they walked out with four full grocery sacks for twenty dollars. She had peanut butter, jam, pizza, breakfast cereal, milk, cheese, frozen vegetables, tuna, more chili, microwaveable meals, and toilet paper. Nate was dancing because his eight candy bars had actually earned him forty cents. Better yet, the clerk hadn’t asked them to make their purchases in two transactions, though the limit was clearly four of the same coupon per purchase. “I’m going to save one for Jonny, one for Tessa, and one for Lily,” he said, swinging his little sack. “And you, of course.”

Makay didn’t have the heart to tell him not to eat one before dinner. “Why, thank you. You know how I love chocolate.”

He grinned and skipped ahead toward the Sebring as she followed more slowly, the handles of the plastics sacks digging into her palms. They’d nearly reached the convertible when one of the bags gave out, spreading chili and tuna cans everywhere. One skidded in front of a passing car, which screeched to a stop.

“Sorry,” she said to the man who peered at her through his open window.

His grin was easy. “No problem. Happens to me all the time.” He opened the door and unfolded himself from the white sedan.

“People throw cans at your car?” Makay asked, arching a brow. He was over six feet, which was tall compared to her five foot four inch frame, and his face beneath the dark blond hair was attractive and rugged looking with several days’ worth of beard growth. He wore jeans and a T-shirt like hers, though his were considerably newer. He couldn’t be older than late twenties, definitely not someone who would drive such a boring, sedate car.

He laughed as he fished out a can from under the sedan. “No, the bag breaking.” He handed her the chili, meeting her gaze. He had startling blue eyes that seemed to peer into the depths of her soul.

“Thank you.” She looked away, pretending to search for more cans. The problem was that she was so busy trying to survive that she didn’t get out much. She’d rather study for a test than have to figure out what to say to a gorgeous guy who was probably not flirting but just being kind.

“No problem. Here, I’ll help you get the rest.” He waved a car that had come up behind him to go around and bent for another can. “You from around here?”

“No. Or not Phoenix anyway. I live in Mesa. You?” She glanced around to check on Nate, who was coming back their way.

“I’m from here originally—well, I grew up in Scottsdale—but more recently I’m from Los Angeles.”

“So, you’re visiting.” Why did she feel so disappointed?

His eyes again locked on hers. “Actually, I moved back here to Phoenix a few weeks ago to be closer to my family. My two sisters are married and having children, and I want to be here for all that.” He smiled again and it did something to Makay’s heart, something she wasn’t at all sure that she liked. “Besides, I kind of miss the desert. There’s such a thing, at least for me, as too much ocean.”

Makay laughed. “I grew up in Tucson, and too much ocean sounds rather good.”

“Well, you could always move to LA for a while.” He held up two cans. “Where are you going to put these? Any more room?” His eyes went to the sacks she’d placed on the ground.

“I have room!” Nate ran up to them. “We can put them in my sack.”

The stranger looked at Nate and then back to Makay. Was it her imagination, or was his smile a little less bright? “It might bust that one, too,” said the man. “It’s a little small. But I have something in the car that will work.” He opened his trunk, pulled out a reusable cloth grocery bag, and began placing the cans inside. “The bag’s not mine, but it won’t be missed. I’m borrowing this car because mine is getting new brakes. Where’s your car? I’ll carry it there.” He hefted two of the plastic sacks as well.

“Your car is in the middle of the road,” Makay pointed out. “I can do it, but thanks for your help.”

“It’s not a road, it’s a parking lot. Plenty of room for people to get around. Won’t take but a minute.”

“Our car’s over there.” Nate pointed to the Sebring.

“What?” The stranger’s smile was back in all its vibrancy. “The blue convertible? No way. It’s in great condition. I was noticing it when you started throwing cans at me.”

He’d been noticing the Sebring? The thought of Blaine Cooper, the man at the park, came unbidden to Makay’s mind. Had he called someone to follow her? Who was this supposedly helpful stranger really? Maybe not the Good Samaritan she thought he was. Maybe he worked for Cooper. She stifled a shiver.

“I have a Sebring, too,” the stranger continued. “A bit newer model and sort of a steel gray. I bought it the last year they made the cars, so the body’s somewhat different, but I’ve always loved the look of the older models.”

Makay relaxed slightly. She also noticed other Sebrings, so maybe he wasn’t following her. “Guess you can’t live in LA and not have a convertible.” She bet his car cost him ten times what she’d paid for hers, but her Sebring was in its thirteenth year, ancient really in car terms. Still, it had low miles. She’d bought it while living at Lily’s House from a college student who was heading home. Three thousand bucks, a deal too good to pass up. Back then, she’d still been optimistic enough to believe there would come a time when they wouldn’t be struggling on a daily basis. Occasionally she considered selling it, but when she researched the current resale price, it wasn’t worth giving up the dependable ride.

“It leaks a bit of oil,” she said, “but besides that, it’s very reliable.”

“Good to hear. I plan to drive mine till it falls apart. So far it hasn’t given me a bit of trouble. Well, except for needing new brakes, but you have that with any car.”

They arrived at the car and Makay set her sack inside the trunk before reaching for those he carried. Her hand brushed against his and a current of something passed between them. Instinctively, her gaze flicked upward. His grin was still on his face, but it looked different somehow. Was she imagining it?

“There you go.” His eyes wandered slowly over her face—or was that also in her imagination? “It was nice meeting you. Love your car.” With that he was gone, striding away to once again fold himself into the white sedan before Makay could give him back his cloth bag. She sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Nate asked through a mouthful of chocolate bar.

“Nothing.” She slammed the trunk. “Let’s get home.”

At their apartment in Mesa, Snoop met them with a waggle of his whole backside and several deep barks. He was a mix of so many dogs that his mottled fur looked like nothing else Makay had ever seen, and he weighed more than she did. He shoved his nose against the sack in Nate’s hand.

“Stop snooping, Snoop!” Nate giggled. “Get out of the way, we want to come in.”

Most people thought Snoop was short for Snoopy, though the animal bore no resemblance to the fictional cartoon dog. The real reason for his name was because not only did he sniff at everything, but he had an uncanny ability for finding anything edible that wasn’t in the fridge or too high for him to reach. Including food in cans or in boxes he couldn’t easily rip open.

She put away the groceries while Nate wrestled with the dog. Exhaustion weighed so heavily that she had forgotten to be hungry. A pizza would have to do for dinner, with milk and carrot sticks as a concession to health. She eyed the couch longingly before forcing herself into the tiny kitchen space. It was supposed to be an upgraded apartment, but upgraded here meant cheap counters with deep knife gouges, no room for a table, and a tiny balcony that was so close to the ground Makay didn’t dare put anything out there for fear the item wouldn’t be around in the morning.

When both Nate and the dog were eating, she slumped to the couch cushion, forgetting to avoid the side that no longer had any working springs. She was too tired to even care.

“Makay, don’t you want some?” Nate called from his stool at the counter, lifting a slice of pizza in her direction.

At that moment he looked so much like their father that she froze. Or rather, their father
before
she was five when her mother was alive and he didn’t drink. The betrayal she still felt almost paralyzed her when she let herself think about it. Over the years she’d told herself it didn’t matter that he had abandoned her emotionally when her mother died. He wasn’t her “real” father so it was understandable. Yet her parents had adopted her at two days old, so if that wasn’t “real” what was? She’d thought her father would straighten out after he’d married Fern, but her stepmother was as addicted to drugs as he was to alcohol, and Makay’s life had gone from bad to unlivable.