I'll Be Watching You Page 17

  Kim was at once grateful and uncomfortable with his help. And curious. “Why are you doing this?”

  “So they can get a game in.” If there was more to it, he wasn’t saying. He left her in limbo, making her want to like him when she should be remembering all the things he’d lied about on the witness stand. “Start sanding down the wood channel behind me.” He worked the pieces of broken glass out of the grooves with a deft hand.

  “Shouldn’t you wear gloves?”

  “Can’t work as fast with them. Too bulky. But I will lose this.” He shrugged out of his shirt, leaving only a white, sleeveless undershirt that clung to the contours of his body.

  She grabbed up a piece of sandpaper and ran it along the grooves, finding herself leaning way too close to him in the process. He smelled good, all soap and clean man. He looked all kinds of good, too, with his muscles flexing as he worked.

  “So, why are you a bad guy?” she asked when her thoughts were getting too wrapped up in his physical presence. “The call you were on.”

  “The state environmental agencies call me a biostute. Biological prostitute. They think I sell out nature for money because I believe man and nature can co-exist. They told this landowner that he could only use two out of his fifty acres because of the red-cockaded woodpeckers and tortoises. I’m going to show them how he can use forty acres and still give the creatures a safe habitat in which to live.”

  “You do all kinds of things, don’t you?”

  “If I could survey alligators full-time, I’d do it.” He was nearly done with his part of the window.

  She sped up the sanding and shook her head. “I still don’t understand how you can be so into those creatures.”

  He looked at her. “I don’t know how anyone couldn’t be impressed by them.” He walked over to the panes of glass. “Are these cut to fit?”

  “Yes.”

  “First we have to coat the bare wood with sealer.”

  Kim popped open the small can and came over with a brush. He took it from her and ran it over the wood. “You’ve done this before, I take it,” she said.

  “A time or two. Between helping friends and building my own house, I got handy with this kind of thing.”

  When Kim glanced over at Tullie and Smitty, the girl was watching them. She quickly averted her gaze to the game. What had she seen in her vision? Kim didn’t really believe in that kind of thing anyway, so why think about it? She was thinking about it, though, and realized something: Tullie had been right about Kim seeking the truth, before she even knew she was seeking it.

  “I brought my hairdryer,” she said, pulling it out of the bag she’d brought from the house. “Ed at the hardware store said it would help the drying process.”

  “Plumb Crazy Ed?” He watched her run the dryer over the wet surfaces. “Maybe that’s not a bad idea after all.”

  “Would you like something to drink? It’s the least I can do.”

  “I’ll get it. You want something?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  He poured a root beer into a glass of ice, checked Tullie’s and Smitty’s game, and scratched Oscar’s back on his way back. Zell removed the iPod and set it on a nearby table. George Thorogood belted out, “Bad to the Bone.” Not her type of music.

  Zell touched the sealer. “It’s dry enough.” He grabbed the putty knife and glazing compound and started pressing it into the grooves. She was glad he hadn’t put on gloves. He had great hands, long fingers. She was starting to have dangerous feelings about him. Zell might be hard to get to know, but she sensed a deep well of passion beneath his easy-going surface. She preferred her men to be easy-going all the way down, so why was she drawn to him?

  As though even God Himself were warning her, the sky rumbled in the near distance. Kim decided to explore one of the other reasons why having any kind of feeling for Zell was a bad idea.

  “Heard you have an alligator test for potential girlfriends,” she said as she wiped away a bit of excess glazing. When he looked at her, she quickly added, “I’m not vying for a spot, just curious.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked. Did he think the possibility of her vying for a spot was ludicrous? She, who hated alligators, who was hated by the Macgregors. It was ludicrous.

  “Yep, there’s an oral quiz and a tactile part.”

  She shivered at the mere thought of cuddling up to one of those things. “Has anyone ever passed the test?”

  “Nope.” He seemed pretty pleased about that. “But I feel honored that some of them study up.”

  “You are so full of yourself.”

  “I prefer to say that I’m comfortable with myself and where I am in life.” He finished. “We’re ready for the glass. Give me your gloves a minute and I’ll bring one of the pieces in.”

  “I can do it,” she said even as he slid the gloves from her hands.

  “Let me do it. Makes me feel like I’m a gentleman once in a while.” A minute later, he carried one of the pieces over. “You got glazing points?”

  “Right here.”

  When J. Geil’s Band’s Love Stinks blared from the iPod, she said, “I think you’re afraid of commitment. That’s why you have the alligator test.”

  He chuckled as he pressed the glass into position. “Put those glazing points flat against the glass surface about ten inches apart. You think because I have a song called Love Stinks I’m afraid of commitment?”

  “And Love Hurts and Love Bites.”

  He followed her as she pushed the points in with the putty knife. “You forgot Ain’t Love a Bitch. Rod Stewart,” he added at her questioning look. “It’s a reprisal of the Maggie May story.”

  “I don’t remember that one being on there.”

  “I just added it.”

  She finished with the points, then chose the song on the iPod. Rod Stewart started singing about his experiences with love, ending each one with ‘Ain’t Love a Bitch.’

  “I threw Tainted Love by Soft Cell on there, and Somebody that I Used to Know by Gotye, too, just to be sure.”

  “Sure of what?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked again. “Just sure.”

  She rolled her eyes at him, but he was busy applying a bead of the glazing compound along the edge of the glass. He ran his finger along the bead to smooth it in. After he wiped his finger on the newspaper, he caught her watching him.

  She crossed her arms in front of her. “Why, Zell, between the gator test and the music, I think someone broke your heart along the way.”

  He smiled and then started singing a song about everybody having the blues someday. Dammit, he could even sing well, which particularly rankled because she couldn’t. When he was finished with the chorus, he stepped back. “The glazing has to skin over before you can paint it.”

  “So, who was she?”

  “Huh?”

  “The girl who broke your heart. Come on, there had to be one.” It was becoming a challenge, getting him to answer a personal question.

  When he saw that she was waiting, he said in his southern accent, “Wail now, there was a gal I had a particular likin’ for, but she couldn’t pass the gator test. It was a sad day in Zellville when I had to let her go.” He even patted his heart for effect and looked for all the world like a man with a broken heart.

  Yeah, right.

  She was on one side of the table and he was on the other. She leaned forward and said in her best challenging voice, “I don’t think you’ve ever been in love with anyone. Except maybe yourself.”

  He put his hand on his heart again, this time pretending to be wounded by her words. Just as quickly, he dropped it. “All right, you got me. It is a lot easier to keep track of me and me alone. I can control how much trouble I get into. Most of the time,” he muttered.

  Though he was being a smart-ass, she picked up something else in those words. “Loving someone doesn’t mean you have to take responsibility for them and their behavior.”

  All humor had left hi
s face when he said, “Oh yeah, it does.”

  Thunder cracked across the sky, and he walked to the window and looked out as the afternoon torrent of rain started. The cool breeze ruffled his hair and chilled her damp skin. She was too caught up in his words to take advantage of it, though. Throughout most of his life, Zell had had to take care of his father. After his mother’s death, he’d probably had to take care of Charlotte, too. No wonder he didn’t want any responsibility. No wonder he didn’t want to love any woman who might become another burden. Heck, he didn’t love her and she’d become a burden anyway. He’d watched Oscar, taken care of the orchids, gotten beaten up, and was now helping her with her windows. No doubt his family wasn’t happy about any of it.

  She was surprised to hear the romantic “Angel,” by Aerosmith on Zell’s player. She walked up behind him, resisting the urge to slide her arms around him and rest against his back, to offer some bit of comfort in return. Keeping her distance was best for both of them. She’d already caused him enough trouble, and she was bound to cause more when she started nosing around the circumstances of Elva’s death.

  She felt her body lean into his and caught herself. Smitty and Tullie were probably watching them, and she didn’t need to hear any more accusations of flirting. She wasn’t flirting; she only needed…what did she need from Zell? His forgiveness, his acceptance…something more visceral than that?

  She was so caught up in her thoughts and the line of his shoulders flecked with freckles and carved with lean muscle, he took her by surprise when he turned around. For an instant, he took in her eyes and then her mouth, and something primal lit in his blue-green eyes.

  “Someone pulled up,” he said, only then making her aware of the car that had parked right outside the window they’d been standing at. She’d been so caught up in the moment, it took her more than another few seconds to realize she recognized the car: it was Simon’s.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Hey, JoGene, you gonna buy those binoculars or become a winder display?”

  He gave Evan a sneer and returned to what he’d been doing: watching Southern Comfort. It was across the street, a short distance away. She was fixing the windows. It was the same thing as thumbing her nose at him. Or giving him another rude gesture. She was serious about this staying thing then. His fingers tightened on the glasses. Damn her. Why couldn’t she have stayed where she was up in north Florida?

  The worse part was Zell helping her, that traitorous son-of-a-bitch. What was he up to, anyway? Could be he was gaining her trust on the outside and seeing what it would take to make her leave on the inside. Owen had said Winn was giving Zell a hard time about helping Kim; looked like he was going to get more of it, but apparently, he didn’t care.

  JoGene had wanted to be the one to help her. That would help him wiggle right into her good graces, and maybe even her tight jeans. Cold sweat popped out his face. Could Zell be after the same things? The guy who had everything he wanted, could do whatever he wanted, and sure enough, he probably wanted the bar, too. He wouldn’t even have to borrow the money to buy it either, he bet.

  He was glad Billy Bob and Clem beat the crap out of Zell. JoGene couldn’t help smiling at that thought, but his glee was short-lived. Zell had the upper hand, as usual. Look at them getting all cozy. He frowned and set the glasses on the display counter.

  Had one word of the graffiti offended her, or had she marched right over here and bought paint and brushes? He’d wanted to help her paint, too, but Buck had gotten in the way that time, ordering him to weed around the cabins. Criticizing him for not keeping up the grounds.

  His mouth tightened into a hard line. It was time to do something more drastic.

  Charlotte double-checked her figures on the eggs as she counted them in their incubating boxes. Inside the boxes was the same material alligators used to make their nests: leaves, twigs, and decaying matter. She liked seeing her dazzling nails against the backdrop of those eggs. She checked the temperature before closing the lid on the box. Nice and toasty, like this room. She brushed at the fine hairs stuck to the base of her neck.

  Thanks to Zell’s diligence, ninety-five percent of these eggs would hatch. The best part was watching the babies pop out of the shells. Their grunts were like music to her ears as they called for their mama. She was their mama. In fact, she’d do more for these babies than their real mama would have. She’d feed them at least, as well as keep them from danger and ill health. They’d grow fast and strong and eventually get moved to the big gator tanks in the next building. Sometime after that, they’d get slaughtered and become meat and purses and souvenirs. It wasn’t like they got attached to her. All gators cared about was eating and having space. They’d eat her without remorse if it came to that. That’s how it was in the gator world.

  “Hey, Shar,” Owen said, peeking his head in the incubating room.

  She closed her notebook and opened the door. “I was just finishing up.”

  She loved watching the young ones in the tanks. Most women she knew fawned over baby chicks or bunnies, but Shar, she loved baby gators. Just watching them scramble around the pen taking in the world with their bright yellow eyes filled her heart with joy and pride.

  Owen leaned on the railing next to her. “JoGene called. Zell’s over there helping Kim fix the windows. I told Zell he orta leave that Kim alone, but he didn’t listen to me.”

  She lifted her eyebrow at that. “You told Zell?”

  His shoulders stiffened. “Yeah, I did.”

  One of the things she liked about Owen was his easy-going nature. She called the shots, in the business, their marriage, and in the bedroom. Zell had his alligator test with women; she’d had her testosterone test back in high school. If she told a guy to finish his plate of fried chicken and mashed tators and he did, she stuck around to see if he was just being nice. After growing up with a brother telling her what to do, she didn’t want any husband taking over the role. No way. Owen passed the test—or should she say failed it? He’d been so in love with her—and her family’s money and prestige; she wasn’t blind—that he’d swallow crickets if she asked him to. Made life easier, even if it was boring at times.

  “You told him not to see a woman?” This was a departure, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.

  Two young gators got into a tangle by the pile of salt that sat at one end of the beach. As it seeped into the water, it helped the young hides heal from occasional scraps.

  “I told him to be careful about that gal. I remember what it was like when she turned on us.”

  She nodded, touched by his bravado. “It did rip us all apart, didn’t it?” She slid him a look. “So, what did Zell say?”

  “He said to mind my own business, but I’m not going to let him hurt this family by listening to his pecker.”

  She couldn’t help it; she grabbed him right through his jeans. “What are you going to do, Owen, if he keeps seeing her?” Her voice sounded breathy.

  He’d jumped when she’d grabbed him, but now he was growing hard beneath her hands. She hadn’t given him any in a while. She’d been bored silly for so long now, but this side of Owen was exciting. Maybe he had a hidden aggressive side. “I’ll have me another talking with Zell first. I’ll push him down in a chair and make him listen.”

  She tightened her hold. “What if he tells you to mind your business again?”

  His voice was getting stronger in direct proportion to his pecker getting harder. “I’ll tell him that this family is my business, dammit!”

  Normally she would have chastised him for raising his voice in the alligator house. Since the only sound the gators ever heard was the scrape of the food barrow, noise stirred them up. Right now, she didn’t care. She unzipped his pants. His breath caught as her fingers slid around him. “Then what?”

  He ripped open her blouse, sending buttons skidding across the concrete walkway. He mashed her breasts and ravaged her with his mouth. His voice was muffled now so the gators wouldn’t be disturb
ed. She was the only one getting disturbed.

  “I’ll tell him that he ought to damn well settle down and start contributing to this family in a gene pool kind of way. Find himself a nice, compliant gal who’ll help out, or maybe one that’ll stop him from doing exactly what he pleases. But he doesn’t need any trouble like Kim’ll give him—give all of us. I’ll shove my finger in his chest and tell him what’s on my mind and make him see.”

  “And if that don’t work?”

  “I’m already working on it, darlin’.”

  She whispered in his ear. “What are you doing?”

  “Just let me take care of things for once.”

  Hm, intriguing. Mysterious. He had been out late at night recently. She’d shoved his pants down and then her own as he was talking. “Owen, you beast. Give me some of that passion and anger and brut force.”

  He shoved into her as she braced herself against the railing. It was so hot in there that even her eyes were sweating. She closed them and focused on her mild husband slamming himself into her, crushing her buttocks against the railing. In some dim portion of her mind, she heard the door open at the end of the hallway. She cracked open one eye and saw Dewey with a bucket in his hand. She closed her eye. Owen was sliding into the final zone, and she wasn’t about to do a thing to disrupt him. Dewey probably didn’t even know what sex was.

  She checked on him once more. He was still standing there watching. Oh, yeah, he knew what sex was. Sometimes she suspected he wasn’t nearly as dumb as he pretended to be. Shar had much better things to do than be modest. She held Owen tighter and felt him rocket to the moon.

  Could it possibly be Simon? Kim watched him run through the rain with an umbrella. He’d gotten more soaked opening the car door and fumbling with the umbrella than if he’d just made the dash. People in Cypress rarely reached for an umbrella. They either waited it out or got wet. Simon shook out the umbrella and set it by the door. He brushed the water from his brown hair and only then did he look at her. She thought it appropriate that Matchbox 20’s “Bent” was playing just then.