be
about to jump the fence.
"Hey, you guys." That sounded casual enough.
"What's up?"
"Uh, Poppy saw a mouse in her cabin," Tom
said. "I'm going to set a trap."
Right. He believed that. But if the excuse
worked for Tom, it would work even better for him. "I can do that.
I'll walk up with you and get it right now, in fact. If you're all
done here." He all but shouldered Tom off the porch. "Back in a
minute," he said over his shoulder, and hauled Tom up the path.
"After dinner," she called after him. "I'm
starving. It's been a busy day."
She sure had been busy, what with taking off
her clothes and all. He set a scorching pace up the path, too mad
at Tom for getting between him and his thoughts of Poppy to
talk.
"Mind telling me what's got your tail in such
a twist?" Tom said.
Mac's anger fizzed up and he swung around to
block the path. "You stupid so-and-so."
"Possibly. But it's not illegal, and you've
never objected before."
"Cute. Real cute. I'm talking about Poppy,
you miserable jerk. Poppy, who is so not your wife."
"Well, I know that."
"Since when do you hit on paying guests?"
"I'm not."
"Get real. I've seen you."
"You don't understand."
"I understand you've got Alice tied in knots
and—"
"And she went running to Big Brother to keep
me in line." Tom grimaced. "Perfect. Just perfect." He socked one
fist into the other hand. "Butt out, MacLean. Butt the hell
out."
"I'm not going to stand by and watch
you—"
"You're going to stand by and watch me do
whatever I do. Alice may be your sister, but she's my wife, and
what's between us is private. Even from you. Even if my dear wife
goes whining to you. Although God knows what she's got to whine
about—" He broke off and pushed past Mac, his great plunging
strides eating the distance and anger hovering over him in an
almost visible haze.
Well, shoot. That hadn't gone according to
plan. Mac rubbed a hand across his face and trudged toward the
house to suggest once more that Alice deal with this problem
herself.
Much as he hated to admit it, Tom had a
point.
He forced himself to face Alice on the way to
the dining room and gave her a carefully edited version of his
encounter with Tom. When her face went white, he put an arm around
her. "He's right, you know. It's not my business. The two of you
have to work this out."
"I know." She blinked away tears. "I know
it's not her fault, either. It's my fault." Her face contorted and
she bolted from the room, leaving him wondering what had happened
to his calm, sensible sister.
He went in to the dining room prepared for
her absence, and for Tom's, or for anything from frosty politeness
to open warfare if they both showed up. To his surprise, Alice
apparently had chosen to believe the mouse story. And hell, maybe
it was even the truth.
Choosing to believe it sounded like a good
way to go.
He let his mind fill with Poppy. The way
she'd looked on that rock swam through his mind for the ten
thousandth time since that afternoon, and his heart rate bumped
up.
After dinner, Tom caught his eye and gestured
toward the office. Resigned to more emotional scenes, he
followed.
"Owe you an apology," Tom said. "Should have
known Alice didn't go running to you. She's a little sensitive
about Poppy. Damned if I know why." The lie hovered in his eyes and
he shifted his gaze to the corner of the desk.
A guilty look if Mac had ever seen one. "I'd
say that the way you look at Poppy gives her some reason."
"Her own fault."
He sighed and wished it were easier to tell
where helping stopped and meddling began. "I can't stand by and let
you hurt Alice," he said.
"Any hurt that's getting dealt, I'm not the
dealer. Your sister—"
"Maybe you didn't start it, but you're giving
back some pretty heavy stuff. Like the way you looked at Poppy when
you met. And the way you keep cozying up to her. I'd say maybe
you're just escalating things."
"Yeah, well, that's the way it's going to be
until Alice—"
Mac waited, but Tom didn't continue.