brother, about his being a horse trainer. “Did Dylan know Julia before the kidnapping? Before he’d rescued her?”
“No. He’s done a few clinics at Brentwood Stables, but not while Julia was boarding there.”
“Why isn’t Dylan interviewing me?” she asked.
“Because he’s traveling, checking out the places where Julia and Miriam used to live.” Thunder paused. “I’d like to interview your parents, too.”
“They’re out of town.”
“For how long?”
“Until Sunday.”
“That’s fine. I’ll be around until then.” He finished his coffee. “Where’d your parents go?”
“Las Vegas.” To play the slot machines, she thought. To try their luck at blackjack. Only her folks didn’t have a gambling problem. They weren’t like Julia’s mother. “I’m taking a vacation when they get back.”
He stood up, towering over the table, over her. “Where are you going?”
“Nowhere.” She got to her feet, troubled by his questions, by the way he was prying into her life. “I’m just going to get some things done around the house.”
“Sounds boring.”
Carrie shrugged. At times her life was dull. But it was safe, too. She didn’t take chances. Her first and only risk had been marrying Thunder.
And she’d learned her lesson.
She looked at her ex-husband, at his take-charge posture, at his break-a-woman’s-heart demeanor.
She’d learned it well.
Two
Afew days later, Carrie manned the front desk at the Lipton Lodge Motel while Thunder interviewed her parents in the backroom office. They’d been holed up for what seemed like hours.
Edgy, she glanced at her watch. The interview had been only forty-five minutes, but that was long enough. She doubted that they were talking about Julia Alcott the entire time. Carrie’s parents hadn’t known her that well. Of course after Julia had been kidnapped, Daisy and Paul Lipton had been glued to the TV, worrying and wondering about the young woman who used to work for them. Carrie had been fretful, too. Things like that weren’t supposed to happen in Cactus Wren County.
She glanced out the floor-to-ceiling windows, her mind wandering. Cactus Wren had been named after the state bird, a little creature that built a variety of nests, living in one and using the others as decoys.
Ironically, Carrie knew all about phony shelters, about keeping herself safe, at least in an emotional sense. She was notorious for dating men like Kevin, for using them as decoys. Only her relationship with Kevin had just blown up in her face.
Why?
Because Kevin didn’t challenge her. He didn’t ignite her blood. He didn’t make her long for more.
But Thunder did, damn him. So she’d confided in Kevin, admitting how Thunder affected her, even after all these years.
And what did Kevin do?
He’d remained true to character, letting her go without a fight. Of course he’d offered to stay friends with her, to lend an ear if she ever needed to talk. But that didn’t ease her frustration or make her any less angry at Thunder. Just like that, he’d spun back into her life, creating chaos like the human tornado he was.
And despite her better judgment, she wanted to have a knockdown, drag-out affair with her former spouse, then boot him straight out of her bed.
Only knowing Thunder, he wouldn’t give a damn. He wouldn’t care if she cleansed her soul with sex, as long as he was getting his rocks off, too.
No, she thought. She wouldn’t sleep with him.
The office door opened and voices emerged. Carrie turned around and saw her parents with Thunder. The familiarity made her ache.
Daisy and Paul had loved Thunder like a son.
Carrie’s mom had her arm looped through his. She was a medium-boned, slightly plump, pretty brunette who wore stylish clothes and chattered incessantly. Carrie’s dad stood tall and trim and quiet. His dark, thinning hair was laced with gray, and the desert sun had bronzed his skin. Although he was one-quarter Cherokee, he didn’t have a CDIB card, a Certificate of Degree of Indian Blood, to prove it.
Thunder glanced up and caught Carrie’s gaze. Daisy released his arm and gave it a maternal pat. He didn’t seem to mind, but his mother was the sort of woman who fussed and fawned over grown men, too.
“Do you have a minute?” he asked Carrie.
“Of course she does,” Daisy said. “She’s due for a break.”
Carrie wanted to give her mother a swift kick in the rear. Her dad, too. He remained much too silent.
“We can go outside.” Carrie headed to the glass door that led to the front of the building, and Thunder opened it for her. She knew her parents were watching.
Once she and Thunder were standing on the walkway that led to the motel rooms, he squinted at her. Although the spring weather was comfortable, the sun was bright.
“How about a soda?” he asked.
“That sounds good.” Her throat was suddenly parched. Being this close to him was giving her that knee-jerk reaction she’d stupidly told Kevin about.
They strolled to the nearest vending machine, and he fed it the appropriate amount of coins, choosing a grape drink for her and a lemon-lime for himself.
Carrie glared at him.
“What?” he said.
“You didn’t even ask me what I wanted.”
“I know what you like.”
“Maybe my tastes have changed.”
“Then take this one.” He thrust his can at her.
She accepted the lemon-lime and stiffed him with the grape, knowing that it was his least favorite, that it reminded him of cough syrup.
He popped the top and took a swig. He didn’t make a face. He drank it as though it quenched his thirst just the same.
She followed suit, waiting for him to speak. He finished his soda first, crushing the can and chucking it in the recycle bin.
“I invited your parents to dinner,” he said.
She glared at him all over again. “What for?”
“Because my mom asked me to. She wants my family to entertain yours.”
Good grief. “When? And where?”
“Tomorrow
