Break On Through Page 2

  He also thought, thanks to those early mentors, that by then he’d been pretty darn good with a woman’s body. What a twenty-something might hesitate to request of a man of her own age, a beautiful female felt free to demand of the sixteen-year-old she was diddling in his dad’s pool.

  Yeah, tawdry. But educational.

  Now that he’d hit thirty, though, he hesitated over casual hook-ups. People could get hurt. He didn’t want some woman to land in his bed and expect he could offer more than a guy who could hold off her orgasms until she was ready to scream. Despite the fact that Ren and Cilla, as well as another member of the Rock Royalty, Cilla’s brother Bing Maddox, had decided their laissez-faire—at best—and licentious—at worst—childhoods didn’t preclude them from fulfilling pair-bonding, Reed remained unconvinced.

  In regards to himself, he knew there was an entire other layer of dark stuff that stained his soul.

  “Reed?” Payne prodded. “Look, I know this pair of twins…”

  Reed shook his head. “It’s always a pair of twins with you.”

  “Not true.” Payne’s mouth widened in a grin, his teeth wolf-white against the golden whiskers of his short beard. “Remember the Berry triplets? We could give them a call.”

  Suppressing a shudder, he tried not to think of their vice-like thighs and unceasing prattle about their favorite reality TV shows. They wouldn’t know an eggcorn if one bit them on their buns of steel. “A mature recluse like me can’t keep up with the Berry triplets.”

  “That’s what I’m telling you, Reed. You’re getting old and odd.”

  “I ran into Lily the other day.”

  Payne’s smile died as if it he’d been shot with a cyanide-soaked arrow and Reed instantly regretted his remark. “Old and odd” might have stung, but that pain was clearly nothing compared to what Payne felt about the girl who’d gotten away. They’d all gone to high school together and Reed didn’t know what had broken up the two, but Payne still carried some kind of residual wound, obviously.

  “I’m going to dump this beer in the house,” Payne said, rising so abruptly from his chair that it rocked on the grass.

  Watching him go, Reed addressed his back, trying to make up for being an asshole. “Maybe you’re right. I need to go out if I want to get my normal on. Next week?”

  The other man didn’t answer.

  Reed took another swallow of his juice, then contemplated the half-glass of red liquid as he suppressed a yawn. It looked more alive than he did. This change in schedule was killing him, though he’d not been bothered by neighbor Cleo during his new hours. He was working mostly in his house, but when he went to his office he wore headphones now and burned this weird-scented candle that one of his readers had sent him.

  It was black, which went with his mood.

  Lulled by the warm sun filtering through the large sycamore tree, he closed his eyes. His mind returned to Jesse, who had been left in the play yard of the military school, during the forty minutes of “free” exercise the students were allowed a day. In actuality, that period allowed for the kind of petty bullying that occurred in any gathering of children, but that had more ominous overtones at The School.

  The young male voices that he heard could have come from that world. “Do you have them?” one boy asked.

  A zipping sound, like a backpack was being opened. A second voice. “It was gross, but I went through the garbage and found every slimy apple core and old banana peel I could. The lunch duty even gave me a grocery bag when I told her I was bringing them home for the compost pile.”

  “Good. Dump ’em here and when they near the corner we’ll pelt ’em.”

  “What if they throw them back?”

  “Those two babies? Bet they throw like pussies. They’ll never hit us.”

  Reed’s eyes opened. That wasn’t his imagination. There was a pair of kids on the sidewalk just on the other side of his hedge.

  “Yeah. Bet they go home crying to their mommy.”

  “Bet that really weird one, Obie, pees his pants.”

  Their laughter held the universal edge of bullies everywhere. Pussies. Mommy. Pees his pants. Reed’s teeth gritted and he mentally dug in his heels so he wouldn’t be sucked into memories of Oceanview Army-Navy, that den of vipers where he’d endured a year of his life…and that had given him a lifetime of nightmares.

  “Do you see them? Keep your eyes open.”

  Reed debated what he should do. He remembered trying to tell his grandfather about the hazing and worse that was happening at Oceanview during the first Parents’ Weekend. Of course his father had been on tour—and would have given a shit anyway—but retired navy captain Vernon Martin had been there, with his military bearing and his unsympathetic ear. Boys will be boys. It bonds you together. A little pain, a little humiliation never hurt anybody.

  Reed knew that was fucking wrong, but he also didn’t know shit about this neighborhood’s childhood politics—he was usually sleeping when the kids were about. Maybe today it was a food fight. Tomorrow, a gleeful, two-way water-balloon battle, fast friends forever.

  Even the Rock Royalty, with their unorthodox upbringings that hadn’t fostered closeness, were now becoming as thick as thieves.

  The conspirators were whispering to each other, their words too low for him to catch, their sniggers revealing the plan was still on. Wavering about what—if any—action to take, Reed swung his feet to the ground. Maybe if he showed up on the sidewalk they’d move along and take their battle someplace else.

  But for all he knew, the kids they were hoping to ambush deserved their comeuppance. He couldn’t discern the real villains of the piece since he hadn’t written it himself, after all.

  “Here they come!” The words slithered through the hedge. “Go for Obie first!”

  “Yeah, he’ll cry for sure.”

  “Or pee!”

  More sniggering.

  Reed stood, still holding his glass of juice. Maybe he could peer through the shrubbery leaves and get the lay of the land. But the greenery was too dense. In the distance, he heard new voices. A little kid, chattering loudly about the class hamster as he passed the long front line of Reed’s property. Around the corner were the boys in wait. “He stuffs his cheeks, Eli! He shoves the Cheerios inside!”

  “I’ve seen a hamster,” Eli said, in a long-suffering tone.

  “Do you think Mom will let us get a hamster? Roy, he’s this boy in my class, he has a pet rat and a pet spider.”

  “Get real,” Eli said.

  Reed found himself grinning at the world weary voice of experience. “Mom would never let us have a rodent or an insect.”

  “A spider is not an insect,” Obie said, superior. “It’s an arachnid.”

  “Fine, Mr. Know Everything. You’re not getting one of those either.”

  “I don’t know why—” His sentence cut off with a squeal. “Eww!”

  What followed was the sound of a flurry of projectiles hitting bodies, sidewalk, street.

  “Knock it off,” Eli yelled. “You leave my brother alone.”

  “They hit you, too, Eli,” his brother pointed out. “You have a smear of apple on your face.”

  “Obie Dopie,” one of the first voices taunted. “I got a banana peel for the little monkey.”

  “Run, Opie,” Eli said, his tone harsh.

  “But I have to go past them to get home.” The niggle of fear in the child’s voice galvanized Reed. He knew that sound. Had heard it in muffled tears against a pillow at Oceanview. Nearly every night in his ugly dreams.

  Rushing forward, toward the front gate, he forgot about his tomato juice. The stuff splashed all over his hand and arm and he dropped the glass to the lawn then wiped the red liquid against the front of his chest.

  The one-sided fight was still going on as he thrust open the sturdy gate. The hinges shrieked like a carnivorous bat on the hunt. In his hurry, he almost tripped over his own feet and to regain his balance, he lurched onto the sidewalk, taking
in the situation at a glance. On his left, the throwers, blocking the corner turn. To his right, Eli and Obie, red-faced and tense, smeared and stained with lunch garbage.

  The littlest boy’s big blue eyes pierced Reed to the bone. “What’s going on?” he bellowed, turning to bear down on the little shits with the fruit with a long stride and a burning gaze. The duo gaped at him for one frozen second, then on matching screams of pure terror, took off down the street.

  Eli, with Obie in hand, was also on the run. He made a silent, wide skirt around Reed and towed his brother around the corner as fast as their kid-legs could carry them.

  A hard palm clapped him on the shoulder. “So this is how you’re entertaining yourself these days? Scaring the bejesus out of small children?”

  Reed looked over at Payne, then followed the other man’s gaze. The tomato juice he’d wiped on his shirt looked for all the world like spilled blood. He thought of his too-long hair, the way he’d staggered onto the sidewalk, the raw note in his voice as he’d yelled.

  “Shit,” he said.

  Payne gave him another of his it’s-a-beautiful-day-at-the-beach smiles. “How’s that normal working out for ya?”

  Chapter Two

  Cleo Anderson marched along the sidewalk, Obie’s hand firmly in hers. Eli trailed behind, like he was embarrassed to be seen with his mother. Since he was only eight, this made her surmise the teenage years were going to be hell.

  Her younger son, at seven, was still affectionate and he squeezed her fingers even now. She squeezed back reassuringly. “It’s going to be fine, Obe. I just want to talk to this person you saw.”

  “I don’t know if it is a person,” Obie said, his blue eyes anxious. “It might be a bear. He came out of some bushes.”

  Behind her, Eli snorted.

  “In any case,” Cleo said, “I want to show you there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Her boys had been scared enough in their young lives and she wasn’t going to allow that ever again.

  Turning the corner, Obie dug his sneakers into the cement. “Mommy…”

  “It will be fine,” Cleo repeated firmly, pulling him forward. “Elias, where did this happen exactly?”

  He came abreast of them and pointed ahead, to a sturdy gate set in a tall, wide hedge. “Oh.” Cleo hesitated. She knew that gate. Beside it was mounted a large metal mailbox, deep and wide enough for a package of baked goods.

  Nervousness fluttered in her belly, which was silly, because the occupant of that house was someone she…well, not knew, exactly, but with whom she had an acquaintance of sorts. Though she hadn’t spoken with him for several days now. Perhaps he’d been sick? On a trip?

  No matter. She stepped up to the gate, Obie fidgeting beside her, Eli hanging back again. With a crisp movement, she pressed the lighted button on the gatepost. She couldn’t see the house because of the hedge, but she assumed it was set back aways, which meant wires must deliver the sound of the bell. She didn’t hear it, even in the distance.

  As she waited for a response, that twitchy feeling started up again. She ignored it. A mother did what she had to when it came to her kids. Her ears picked up the sound of a door opening and shutting, then measured footsteps against a hard surface coming their way. Cleo blew out a silent breath and cast a quick glance at Eli who wore a ghost of that fearful expression she’d promised herself she’d never see on his face again. “Hey, E,” she whispered. “I’ve got this, buddy.”

  Then her attention was diverted back to the gate as it swung open with a rusty creak to reveal a tall, broad figure.

  “Mommy,” Obie said. “It is a man!”

  Oh, wow, Cleo thought. What a man. He was well over six feet tall, with muscular shoulders, and arms ropey with muscle beneath the sleeves of his black T-shirt. His hair was dark brown, and disordered in a bedhead-and-I-don’t-give-a-damn kind of way. His face was all chiseled, elegant bones and at odds with that bruiser of a body…which only served to make each more notable. There was a touch of sulky fullness to his lower lip, which she glanced away from quickly, only to be captured by the searing blueness of his eyes. They were taking her in, as if he might be called upon later to give a complete and vivid description.

  Which was only fair, she supposed, since she’d been staring.

  Clearing her throat, she half-lifted her right hand, then thought better of it. “Um, hello. I’m Cleo Anderson. This is my son Eli,” she caught the boy’s arm and drew him closer to her side, “and this is Obie.”

  Obie, bless his funny little heart, wiggled the fingers not held by hers.

  “I’m Reed,” the man said, in a voice she knew from those dark hours of the early morning.

  Mr. Reed? Or Reed Something? “Yes, well,” Cleo continued. “We’re here because I understand an incident happened this afternoon…”

  “Some boys ambushed your kids and threw old fruit at them.”

  “I told you, Mom,” Eli said. “Can we go home now?”

  Cleo tightened her hold on him. “Would you happen to know those boys’ names, um, Reed? I’d like to talk to their mothers—”

  “Mom!” Eli said, his voice strident. “That will only make it worse.”

  “I don’t know them,” Reed said. “Sorry.”

  Obie slipped his hand free of hers and darted past the man into his front yard. “Oh, boy. A treehouse!”

  “Obie!” Cleo called. “Get back here.”

  Her younger son ignored her. “Eli, you’ve got to come see. A treehouse!”

  Wearing a bemused expression, Reed half-turned and lifted a hand toward the yard. “Eli, I guess you have to come see.”

  “Oh, we shouldn’t bother you…” Cleo began, but Eli had already taken up the invitation.

  She glanced back at the homeowner. “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “You should probably come in as well.”

  Suddenly, she didn’t want to. But the boys were out of her sight and she couldn’t have that. Stepping forward, she tried not to jump when that creaky gate slammed shut behind her. Her gaze went straight to her boys, both halfway up the wooden ladder of a sturdy-looking treehouse nestled in the branches of a massive oak near the front corner of the house. “Is it safe?” she asked.

  “Perfectly. I made my brother test it out just recently.”

  She glanced over at him.

  “He’s an engineer-type. Makes a much better inspector than me.”

  “You didn’t build it?”

  He shook his head. “Came with the house. Can’t deny its existence wasn’t one of the place’s charms, though.”

  Wandering closer to her boys, she took in the surroundings. The landscaping was established and lush. The home large, yet relaxed-looking. The entry was a Dutch door, the top half open, but she couldn’t see more than shadows inside. Eli whooped and Cleo shifted her gaze. Her older son was at a window in the treehouse and waved to her, a huge, exuberant grin splitting his face. Her heart lifting, she waved back.

  It was the most boyish he’d looked in months.

  Their neighbor was staring up at the tree too.

  “We won’t stay long,” she assured him. “I’ll get them down in just a minute.”

  “Let them take their time,” he said, then transferred those mesmerizing eyes to her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  That nervous flutter was back in the pit of her belly. “Um, well…”

  “Payback for all the baked goods,” he said, starting to walk toward the front door.

  It was the first time he’d let on they knew each other from over the fence. She started trailing him. “I don’t want to put you out.”

  He paused, a hand on the knob. “It’s no trouble.” One of his brows rode up to hide behind his messy hair. “Come inside?”

  When she glanced back at her boys, he said, “We’ll leave the door open so we can hear them.”

  Okay, call her curious. But she did want to see the interior of the comfortable-looking house which sprawled on the corner plot of land
like it was stretching out for an afternoon nap. A couple of steps into the foyer, she paused. The sight lines were good. She could see a large living area on her right, a dining room off that. Down the hallway, what was probably a family room.

  As if sensing her hesitation, Reed glanced back. Then he looked around, as if seeing his home through her eyes. “There’s no furniture,” he announced, like it was a surprise to him as well.

  Cleo’s lips twitched. “I’ve noticed that.”

  The hint of a rueful smile caused the corners of his mouth to tick up. “I’ve been meaning to do something about it.” He continued down the hall and she followed him into the kitchen.

  “Oh,” she said. It had gleaming countertops, state-of-the-art appliances, a table and six chairs. Best of all, a brick fireplace, set at waist level.

  Cleo was instantly drawn to it. “My grandmother had one of these at her house,” she said, running her hand along the rough-hewn surface of the used red bricks.

  “She still around?” Reed asked as he opened the refrigerator.

  “No.” Cleo sighed, remembering her grandmother’s red-painted fingernails, bright lipstick, and flowered aprons.

  “That’s right,” Reed said. “You told me you didn’t have family.”

  The night they’d shared the most about themselves. She felt a little guilty that she hadn’t mentioned her sons then. “I have my boys, of course.”

  “Obie and Eli. Unusual names.”

  “Obadiah and Elias,” she said. Her mother-in-law had picked them and Cleo, missing her own mom so very much, had gone along with her choices. She’d felt lucky that the Anderson family had taken her into their home, their son’s very young orphan-bride, while he was deployed.

  “They’re in a new school?” Reed asked.

  “Last month.”

  He carried glasses of iced tea in both hands. One he set by her elbow on the counter. Then he leaned a hip against it, studying her.