Ticket To Ride (Passing Through Series Book 2), page 3
“What?” Damn the defensiveness in her voice. “I’m a little what?”
“Highly strung.” He grinned at her.
Too shocked to produce a comeback, Claire glared at him. He didn’t even know her. Certainly not enough to make assumptions about her. That Greg had said much the same thing before she left didn’t help. Right before he’d proposed they take a break. “You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t have to know you that well to notice that about you.” He raised a brow in silent challenge.
She’d accepted the criticism from Greg. He was her boyfriend, or something like that. They hadn’t left things on clear terms. But Finn, who had only met her today, had no right. No right at all. “You know nothing about me.”
“But I’d like to,” he said.
As if she would believe that after he’d called her highly strung. “All you need to know is that I’m planning to get back what is mine, and I won’t let anybody stand in my way.”
He cocked his head and studied her.
Resisting the urge to fidget, Claire held his gaze. Those eyes looked like they saw way too much.
He set his beer on the floor. “Can I give you some advice?”
“No, you can’t.”
“Before you come in here guns blazing, take a moment.” He shrugged as if he didn’t care if she wanted to hear it or not. “Poppy is not who you think she is. Take some time and get to know her before you climb into the ring with her.”
“Poppy will be fine. If she doesn’t get in my way.” Claire kept her tough-girl face in place. She’d perfected it over years, and she could rely on it. Nobody saw beyond the mask to the girl beneath, and Claire liked it that way. “You have no idea what this house cost me and my mother. I’m not going to stand aside and let it be taken away from me.”
“I hear you.” Finn picked up his bottle and straightened. “But I still think you’re going about this the wrong way.”
“Yeah?” She raised a brow at him and kept her expression stony and blank. “Only problem is, I really don’t care what you think.”
Finn chuckled and strolled off the porch.
Why had he thought to come out there in the first place? God that man had gotten under her skin, which she really shouldn’t have allowed because he meant nothing to her. That was the only reason she wasn’t going to chase after him and demand he stop laughing at her.
Ciara stepped on to the porch and gave her a shy smile.
Claire nodded a greeting.
Clambering onto the porch swing beside her, Ciara peered up at Claire. “I’m Ciara.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“People sometimes mistake me for my sister.” Ciara heaved a huge sigh. “It’s because I’m the quieter twin. People remember Brinn, but me…” She shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
“No?”
“Nope.” She shook her head snaking her long, dark braid down her spine. “While Brinn is talking, talking, talking, I’m doing the watching.”
The wisdom of that staggered Claire. “I was quiet too.”
“Did you also watch?” Ciara cocked her head.
Had she? “No.” Claire recalled herself at Ciara’s age. “I think most of the time, I didn’t want people to see me.”
“Hmm.” Ciara gave a Yoda-like nod.
Claire had to ask. “What?”
“I understand now.” Her dark eyes brimmed with empathy. “Cecily said you were sad.”
Something ice-cold slithered down Claire’s spine. The name struck a chord inside her. “Cecily?”
Ciara gave her another enigmatic smile. “She said you would know her when you’re ready.”
Chapter Three
Claire didn’t sleep well and woke the next morning with gritty eyes and a pounding headache. She’d known before she had gotten on the plane that the trip would be difficult.
Seems that had been an understatement, and she hadn’t accounted for Finn and the children. Less than twenty-four hours, and she wanted to tuck her tail between her legs and run. She had skipped dinner and cowered in her bed the night before, and despite her growling belly she stayed put.
Above her in the nursery Ciara and Brinn clomped across the floor like they were playing Whack-A-Mole.
The motion and noise escalated fast. Taps got turned on and off. Pipes squealed and groaned. Poppy’s voice stayed calm and gentle as she woke the children and chivvied them through their morning routine.
“Ryan?” A deep bass voice that didn’t belong to Finn joined Poppy’s. “Find your shoes, and let’s get to breakfast.”
“Someone stole them,” Ryan said. “You’re the police. You should open a case file.”
“Nobody stole your shoes,” Chief Ben Crowe replied, it had to be him. “And I’m not wasting police time looking for the same shoes you lose every morning.”
“Maybe we need the FBI?” Ryan sounded hugely hopeful.
Ben chuckled. “We don’t need the FBI.”
Their voices faded as they descended the stairs.
In the kitchen, Claire pictured Poppy making breakfast. Probably Horace would join them and Finn.
“Girls,” Finn called. “Brinn? Ciara? Come on, or you’ll miss breakfast.”
Damn Finn and his assumptions about her. Those had kept her awake along with everything else last night. He was messing with her composure when she needed to stay focused. Even though they lived in the same house it would be best if she stayed away from him.
Twin footsteps clattered down the stairs from the nursery.
“Where’s Claire?” One of the girls asked. They even sounded the same.
“Still sleeping,” Finn said.
“Will she be at breakfast?”
“Probably not.” Finn’s voice faded as his footsteps moved away.
“But breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” said the twin.
Finn laughed, a warm, male sound that skittered down Claire’s spine and made her want to laugh with him.
And that needed to stop. Right now.
She intended to avoid Finn and stay well out of the way of his charm and even more devastating opinions. Snuggling deeper into her comforter, she waited. She needed coffee, but she couldn’t brave the family breakfast to get it.
Only once the house fell silent, and stayed that way for ten minutes, did she risk going downstairs.
She almost took a shower and got dressed before she went, but it was her house, dammit! If anyone had issues with her or the way she dressed, they could move out. Bravado aside though, she did concede to tossing a robe over her tank top and boy shorts.
Sneaking into the kitchen she grabbed the full coffee pot before it could become a mirage and disappear on her. Breakfast dishes still littered the table, along with food debris that hadn’t made it into mouths.
Surely Poppy could have cleaned up?
She was being a bitch, and an intolerant one at that. Poppy got four kids and three adult males through breakfast every morning. From the condition of the rest of the house, Poppy did a good job keeping it clean.
Sipping her black coffee, Claire cleared dishes and put them in the dishwasher. It wasn’t like she was doing anything else anyway.
A knock at the door startled her. Tying her robe around her waist she went to answer it.
“Bitch!” Tara Parsons nee Crowe stood on her doorstep. Dressed in skintight jeans and an off the shoulder sweater beneath an artfully open cashmere coat, she looked like she’d taken the wrong exit off the interstate. “Why didn’t you tell me you were in town?”
“Hi.” At last someone who didn’t look at her as if she stank up the place. Claire raised one cheek and then another for a kiss. “I only got here yesterday. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing.”
As in, losing her job and her boyfriend, and then getting the enormous bill for Mom’s care all in one week.
“I, for one, am thrilled to see you.” Tara pushed her sunglasses into her honey blonde silk curtain of hair. Stilettos clacking on the wood, she brushed past Claire and into the kitchen. “We’ve wasted enough time already.”
Feeling at a distinct disadvantage with her bare feet and pjs, Claire trailed Tara.
“Thank you, Jesus.” Tara reached for the coffee pot in a crash of gold bracelets at her wrist.
Claire handed her a cup.
“Thank you, darling.” Tara gave her a grateful smile. “I haven’t had nearly enough caffeine to deal with today.”
She took a sip and put the mug down on the counter with a shudder. “Ugh! Ben made that. God love the man, but he couldn’t make a decent roast to save his life. It all tasted like police drama sludge.”
“Well, he is a cop.” Claire was enjoying Ben’s coffee to be honest. Not that she’d dare say that to Tara. Tara got a mite territorial where Ben was concerned. If, say, a mama grizzly could be considered a mite territorial.
Tara shrugged out of her coat and stood with it in her hand as she surveyed the messy kitchen. “What happened in here?”
“Breakfast.” Claire toyed with refilling her cup, but that would be tantamount to admitting she liked Ben’s coffee, and it was far too early in the day for that sort of furor.
“Ugh!” Tara made a face. “God, I get that the woman dresses like a slob, but couldn’t she clean in here before she left?”
Ignoring the conscience twinge that reminded her she’d had a similar thought, Claire said, “I’m sure she’ll get to it when she gets back.”
“Where is she anyway?” Eyes glittering Tara peered about the kitchen, looking for her prey.
“Taking her children to school.” Claire didn’t want to see what Tara would do if Poppy showed up now. “Why don’t I throw myself in a shower, and we can get coffee somewhere?”
“Fabulous idea.” With evident relief, Tara shrugged back into her pale blush coat. “We can go to Kelly’s little dive.”
“Great.” Claire liked Kelly’s coffee shop, despite the fact Kelly always served up a sneer and a dollop of disdain with her coffee. Kelly was a firm member of Team Horace and Poppy.
Actually, other than Tara, the entire town was on Team Horace and Poppy.
Claire put her cup in the dishwasher. “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time.” Tara wiggled her fingers. She dug her phone out of her bag. “I have like a hundred messages I need to respond to anyway.”
After a lightning-fast shower, Claire stood in front of her open suitcase. Time demanded she throw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and be done with it. But going out with Tara dressed like that invited unfavorable comparison. Then again, why should she care? Sighing, she conceded that she did care. Hanging out with gorgeous, glamorous Tara could be hell on the ego.
God, being a girl came with drawbacks.
She settled somewhere in the middle for a cashmere sweater paired with jeans and heeled boots. Yes to basic makeup and no to straightening her hair.
Entering the kitchen about thirty minutes later she crashed headlong into an atmosphere tense enough to turn the air to jelly. The same atmosphere she’d hoped to avoid by getting Tara out of the house.
Poppy looked up from where she was wiping the table. “Good morning.” Her tight smile spoke volumes about how she felt about Tara in the kitchen and Claire with her. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you.” She didn’t want to get into the truth in front of Tara. Tara had a way of cobbling random bits of information together and drawing her own picture, a picture that had a fast and loose relationship with the truth.
Poppy nodded. “Good. Did you have breakfast?”
“Always the concerned little mother.” Tara didn’t bother to look up from her screen.
With a deep breath, Poppy dropped the cloth on the table and took handfuls of glasses to the dishwasher. “I am a mother,” she said in that quiet, dignified way of hers. “I was just being polite.”
“You know she’s not a guest in this house.” Tara looked up from her phone. Loathing beamed across the kitchen at Poppy.
“It’s really fine.” Claire jumped in. Tara spoke the truth, but Claire didn’t feel it was Tara’s argument to get into. “I’ll get something at Kelly’s.”
“Oh.” Poppy looked relieved, and Claire didn’t blame her. Even though Tara was the only friend she had in Two Elks, the woman could be a total bitch. Claire wouldn’t want Tara and her axe grinding in her kitchen first thing in the morning any more than Poppy did.
Wait a minute! It was her kitchen Tara was in, and it was first thing in the morning.
“Try the carrot and walnut muffin,” Poppy said. “Kelly is trying out a new baker.”
“Muffins!” Tara made it sound like pond slime. “Claire doesn’t eat carbs. How do you think she stays that size?”
“Genetics.” Poppy shrugged Tara’s antipathy off. “Horace has stayed slim all these years.”
Claire had spent her life trying to forget her genetic connection with Horace. “I am nothing like my father.”
“So true.” Tara put her phone away. “Shall we?”
Poppy gave Claire a long look.
The sympathy in Poppy’s dark eyes made her uncomfortable, so Claire turned and strode for the door.
Tara clippity-clopped behind her.
Once they reached the front walk, Tara let out a groan of exasperation. “I can’t stand that woman.”
“Poppy?” Poppy had committed the cardinal sin in Tara’s book of taking Ben’s attention away from her. Claire had her own axe to grind with Poppy, but she didn’t share Tara’s anger.
Shouldn’t she though? The woman was here to steal her inheritance from her. Claire should dislike her even more than Tara did. But it was hard to dislike Poppy. So far, the reality of Poppy had refused to comply with the money-grubbing, gold-digging opportunist that existed in Claire’s imagination.
Tara bleeped the locks on her car parked at the curb.
Being divorced from a local police chief wouldn’t buy that set of wheels. Tara must have someone, or a group of someones, taking care of her finances for her.
Curiosity got the better of her as Claire slid into the smooth leather seat. “So? You seeing anyone new?”
“Bitch!” Tara gave her an exaggerated eyeroll. “This is me we’re talking about. I’m always seeing someone new.”
For as long as Claire had known Tara, that had been true. Even when Tara was married to Ben, there had been new someones lurking in the shadows. It didn’t make any sense that Tara still clung to Ben like he belonged to her.
Tara recycled one man for another without a pause in between. Claire didn’t know how Tara did it. Before Greg, there had been long dry spells, and it looked like Claire was entering another of those dry spells.
The look of unadulterated approval Finn had given her yesterday popped into her mind. She kicked it right out again. She needed to get it into her head that there would be no breaking bread with the enemy, and no fraternizing either. Although the idea of fraternizing with Finn left her a bit breathless.
Tara started the car, and something popular blared from the surround sound system. Claire had heard it on the radio, but she didn’t really listen to modern stuff. She liked to keep it old school.
She envied Tara her ability to find men. For a girl who had been twenty-one before she’d had her first boyfriend, it didn’t seem possible. Claire never had one man lined up while she got rid of another.
Exhibit: right now. If she’d had someone in her life, she wouldn’t be there dealing with things on her own.
*
Kelly’s Koffee Klatch had opened about three years ago and had quickly become the place to gather in Twin Elks. Along with great coffee, Kelly served fresh baked goods and a dose of cheerful sass. Except, not to her, or Tara.
Silence descended as they stepped into the coffee shop. All gazes swung in their direction, and the natives did not look friendly. Claire caught her thumb worrying the edge of her other nails and shoved her hands in her pockets.
“Tara.” Kelly’s wide, smiling mouth tightened. “Claire. How are you?”
“Yo, Kelly!” A man called from the other side of the shop.
Kelly glared in that direction. “Slow your roll, Vince, I’m getting there.”
“But where exactly is it that you’re getting? Ecuador, so you can pick, roast and grind the beans yourself?”
Claire giggled but quelled it under Tara’s furious look. What the hell? Vince was a funny guy.
Spinning on her heel, Tara looked down her nose at Vince. “Ink dry on the divorce yet, Vince?”
“You should know.” A tall, dark-haired guy with clean-cut good looks, Vince sunk his chin to his chest and crossed his arms. “You always did spend more time with my ex than me.”
Chelsea had cut Vince loose? Claire found that hard to believe. More Tara’s friend than Claire’s, Chelsea had her hooks sunk deep into her husband and liked to drag him along behind her.
Not anymore. Claire nodded to Vince. “I’m sorry to hear you’re divorced.”
“Thanks.” Vince’s dark eyes softened, and he almost smiled at her. “But we’re both moving on.”
“What will you have?” Kelly gave her a hard stare, clearly communicating she was not happy Claire was there and didn’t give a crap if she knew it.
“Coffee. Black, please.” Nobody in the coffee shop looked glad to see her. Some looked openly hostile. Twin Elks was always like that. The weight of it pressed down on her. She should have suggested she and Tara go out of town.
Except that felt like running away. Because it was running away. She didn’t owe Twin Elks anything. They had treated her mother like an outsider, barely tolerating her and making her miserable. It had been partly because of their hostility that life in Twin Elks had grown unbearable for Mom. Trapped in that house by Horace and with nobody to reach out to, was it any wonder she’d run away in the end?
