Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [69]
And it had cost him.
More than he could ever imagine.
She roused and yawned. “You said something?”
“We’re here.”
Squinting, she looked out the window. “Where exactly is ‘here?’”
“My place.”
“Your place?” She was starting to awaken, her mind clicking into gear—he saw it in the change of her expression, an adjustment from slumberous acceptance to clarified understanding. “You mean in Wyoming?”
“It’s as close as we can get right now.”
“But—”
“Look, Maggie, one of us has got to sleep and piss—not necessarily in that order.” He cut the engine and shoved on the door. Wind, as cold as an arctic blast, filled the interior. He didn’t have time for arguments and had to escape the warm confines of the truck.
“I thought we had to get to Denver. ASAP.”
“We are.” He yanked out some of his gear, and she, shooting him a glance that called him all sorts of foul things from a liar to a murdering bastard, grabbed a small bag and her purse. Together they trudged through the knee-deep snow to the porch. “Make yourself at home.” He unlocked the door, then held it open for her. “There’s a bathroom and extra bedroom upstairs, where you can crash if ya want.” He tossed her a look, and she saw the weary lines around his eyes. “I need a few hours, that’s all. Then we’re outta here.” He walked to the hallway and fiddled with the thermostat.
“Fair enough,” she said, though she didn’t like being in Thane’s house for a second. It was too personal, too close. And though warmer than the outside, it seemed cold and unwelcoming.
“The kitchen is that direction,” he said, pointing down a short hallway as he mounted wooden stairs that led to a landing before curving up to the second story. As his bootheels rang on the steps, she dropped her bag and walked to the kitchen. Small. Sparse. Just the essentials. Butcher-block countertops, cracked linoleum floor, the necessary appliances, and a table with two chairs pushed under a window that looked out across the parking yard to the barn and outbuildings.
The rest of the lower floor consisted of a living room decorated in what appeared to be cast-off or garage-sale furniture; a bedroom that had been converted into a den now equipped with a computer, modem, fax machine, floor-to-ceiling bookcases; and a bathroom.
She heard the toilet flush upstairs and the shower begin to run as she noticed the telephone/answering machine, its red light blinking. With only a slight qualm she pressed the PLAY button and heard three messages from Detective Henderson demanding that Thane phone the Denver police, another folksy greeting from someone named Howard Bailey, giving him a report on the livestock and what had happened on the ranch in the past couple of days, and one from a woman named Carrie, a friendly female voice who just asked Thane to call her back.
Maggie wondered about the woman, but shoved all thoughts of her aside as she made her way back to the kitchen. She heard the sounds of pipes and water running and decided Thane was still in the shower. Good. She needed a break from him. He was too intense, too good-looking, too much a part of her past.
Rummaging in the cupboards, she found a can of coffee on a shelf, located a much-abused coffeemaker on the counter, and set to work. While the coffee perked, she scrounged through the contents of the refrigerator, found eggs, a half loaf of bread that had seen better days, part of an onion, a couple of crisp apples, and a brick of cheddar cheese. Nothing fancy, but it would have to do.
Grating cheese and cracking eggs, she thought of Mary Theresa and her life in Denver. What did Maggie really know about her sister? She’d visited only a few times, once when Mary Theresa had married Syd Gillette, an older man who owned a string of hotels and treated his third wife as if she were one of his possessions. Mary Theresa had been younger than Gillette’s son, his only offspring, a boy who had been conceived in Syd’s first stab at wedded bliss.
Mary Theresa and Syd’s marriage hadn’t lasted a year. Since then Mary Theresa had avoided walking down the aisle.