Still Lake - Anne Stuart [68]
For a moment Doc’s eyes met his. And then he simply shook his head. “Only a request. She’s got a tough row to hoe, with her mother and sister and trying to make a go of the inn. She doesn’t need complications. I’m sure you don’t, either.”
“You’re right about that,” Griffin said easily. “At heart I’m a simple man.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, Mr. Smith. I don’t think so at all.”
They walked down the hill to the road in a companionable-enough silence. Doc had issued his warning like a protective father, and Griffin had received the message. Whether or not he had any intention of listening was another matter entirely.
He’d have to come back. Doc was already getting too suspicious, and if he figured out who Griffin was it might very well put an end to any answers he might find. Hell, he might even end up at the wrong end of that lynch mob he’d avoided twenty years ago, if the good citizens of Colby were really convinced he’d gotten away with murder.
So he walked back to his car with Doc by his side. Keeping his secrets.
“I think my sister had sex last night.”
Patrick looked up from the chain saw he was sharpening. “And I care because…?”
“I don’t know if she’s ever had sex before,” Marty said, swinging her long legs. She had nice legs, she knew, and she wanted to make sure Patrick knew it, too.
So far he’d seemed remarkably unimpressed, but then, she was trying to get used to his laconic Vermont ways. She couldn’t figure out whether he was interested or not. Her instincts told her yes, his behavior made it more murky.
Patrick said nothing, concentrating on the chain saw. “Even if she has,” Marty went on, “I doubt she’s as experienced as I am.”
He didn’t bother to look up. “That’s something to brag about?”
“Sure,” she said, nonplussed. “I’ve had lots of boyfriends. I don’t even remember how many lovers I’ve had.” Which wasn’t strictly true. There had only been Jeff, who’d been fast and messy and rough, and Nate, who really didn’t care who he stuck it into. Sooner or later she’d find the kind of lover she deserved. Looking at the care Patrick was giving to the stupid chain saw, she suspected he was a good candidate.
He was certainly gorgeous enough. All lean muscle, tanned skin, big, strong hands. So gorgeous, in fact, that he probably already had a girlfriend. Not necessarily a problem—she’d stolen Jeff from her best friend, Sally, only to find it wasn’t worth it. This time she wouldn’t be betraying anyone she knew.
Patrick grunted, unimpressed. “Don’t you like sex?” she persisted, swinging her long legs. She was sitting on the stone fence beside the chain saw, but he seemed more interested in filing the damned thing than in talking to her.
He looked up. “I like sex well enough,” he said evenly. “If I care about someone. If I don’t, I can do without it.”
“So how many lovers have you had?” she persisted. For a second she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but eventually he spoke.
“Just my girlfriend, Abby,” he said.
Damn. “What is she? A childhood sweetheart? You going to marry her when you graduate from college?”
“She died.”
That shut her up, at least for a moment. It was hard to compete with a dead girl. On the other hand, she was here and the girlfriend was gone. Advantage, Marty.
First, though, she’d better figure out how strong her dead competition was. “How’d she die? Unless you’d rather not talk about it.”
“I don’t mind talking about it,” he said evenly. “She died in a car accident three years ago.”
“Were you driving?”
He shot her a sharp glance. “No. She was with someone else.”
“Another boy?”
“Yes.” He shrugged. “We were breaking up. She was going to California to college, I was going to UVM. She wanted to get away from here, I wanted to stay. She got away for good.”
A stray shiver crossed Marty’s exposed spine. There were too many dead girls in Colby, that was for sure. And she didn’t want to talk about death anymore—sex was a lot more interesting.