A Creed in Stone Creek - Linda Lael Miller [86]
With anyone else, Melissa might have fibbed, and with a lot of protestation, too. But lying to her sister was just plain useless; they knew each other too well. “He has his nerve,” she said, hedging. That didn’t usually work, either, but sometimes she could pull it off.
Maybe Ashley was jet-lagged.
No such luck. “Is it true?” she asked.
Melissa double-checked to make sure Katie was sleeping and the white-haired guests were still tangoing to the music only they could hear before she answered, “Not in the ongoing sense, however Tom might have made it sound.”
Again, Ashley giggled. She would have looked like a Victorian lady, standing there in front of the cupboard, waiting for the tea to steep, if it hadn’t been for the shorts and top. “The ‘ongoing sense’? What the heck does that mean, sister mine?”
Melissa sank back into her chair at the table again. She felt weirdly agitated and, at the same time, crazy-happy. “It means it happened once,” she said, in a whisper. “Last night. We’ve known each other for all of five days. He’s a lawyer and his name is Steven Creed. Do you have any other questions?”
“Only about a million,” Ashley said.
Outside, voices rose on the warm summer air, and a plaintive meow rang out. Jack was back, with Mrs. Wiggins.
“Guess they’ll have to wait for a while,” Melissa said.
“Guess so,” Ashley agreed, pouring tea.
Jack opened the screen door and came inside, the family cat a fluff of white inside its plastic carrier, and Ashley put one index finger to her lips and pointed toward the sleeping toddler with the other.
The man’s face fairly glowed with love for his wife and daughter, it seemed to Melissa. He nodded, kissed Ashley smartly on the mouth and carefully released Mrs. Wiggins from the carrier.
With all that, he still managed a brotherly wink for Melissa. He mouthed the word hi.
Ashley, an animal lover, stooped to pet the cat.
Mrs. Wiggins, no doubt indignant over her people’s long absence, twitched her tail, gave one petulant meow and vanished through the dining room door.
Melissa sneezed.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Ashley said. “You’re not allergic.”
Melissa sneezed again.
Jack, a dark-haired, outdoorsy type, agile and fit, cocked a thumb over one shoulder, evidently indicating the backyard. “Mamie Crockett just waylaid me in the driveway,” he told Ashley in a be-quiet-the-baby’s-sleeping voice. “She said our guests have been raising three kinds of hell ever since they got here.”
“Mamie,” Ashley said, “is a sweet old thing, but she’s also a curmudgeon.”
“It’s true,” Melissa said.
Jack grinned admiringly and shook his head. “I sure hope I’m still getting into that much trouble when I hit my nineties,” he said. “If somebody calls the cops because the tango music is too loud, I’ll count that as a real accomplishment.”
“Not to mention just making it to that age,” Ashley added, slapping Jack’s hand when he reached for the brownies and grabbed three of them in one swoop.
“I wonder if they skydive,” Jack teased. “And ride mechanical bulls.”
“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised,” Melissa replied.
Just then, Katie awakened, hauled herself upright by gripping the rails of her playpen, and let out a wail. “Potty!” she yelled.
“Your turn,” Ashley told Jack, helping herself to a brownie before carrying the plate to the table and setting it down in the middle.
Jack swept the toddler up and kissed her on the cheek. “Too late,” he said, after patting Katie’s diaper-cushioned bottom.
With that, he and Katie disappeared through the dining room doorway, headed upstairs.
It was hard to believe that Jack McKenzie, able diaper-changer, had so recently headed up a top-notch security company, personally rescuing men, women and children from South American jungles and other politically volatile environments. Although he still owned the firm, and occasionally met with clients and with his key employees, always somewhere far from his wife and child, he seemed content to live in Stone Creek. Riding the range with Brad and Tanner, Olivia’s husband, seemed to be all