A Simple Twist of Fate Page 5

  A peek in the peephole and her heartbeat turned to a wild bounce. The kind that promised a heart attack.

  He stood out there, bracing his hands on either side of the door and staring forward as if he could see her from that side. He looked at home and in control. Strong and just-out-of-bed sexy.

  She stood up on tiptoe and smashed her forehead against the door. From this angle she could . . . yep, Beck wore pants. She guessed that was a plus, though she wasn’t sure how.

  After a rushed finger comb through her hair and a few puffing breaths to get her heart rate back in the normal range, she opened the door. Since her stomach bounced all around at the sight of him standing there she tried treating him to cool disinterest. “How do you know where I live?”

  He pushed away from the doorframe and showed off all six feet of his total hotness. “Not the warmest welcome I’ve ever gotten.”

  Pushing him down the stairs was not an option, even though it might snap the gooey spell that wrapped around her whenever he showed up. The same one she fought back against with sarcasm and more than a bit of dodging whenever he walked into a room.

  “I’m serious, Beck.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “May I come in first?”

  On the list of bad ideas this was way up there, but between the mist of rain and the dimple he kept flashing, she didn’t stand a chance. She wasn’t heartless, but the immunity she hoped to acquire against him hadn’t sparked to life yet. “For a minute.”

  “You don’t have to make it sound like I’m giving you a quiz.” He wiped his feet on the mat and stepped inside.

  “Is that the plan?” Because he seemed like the type to have one ready.

  “No.”

  Water drops clung to his navy blue jacket, highlighting those impressive shoulders. His damp hair brought the memories rushing back. Rip his clothes off and this would be a rerun of this morning.

  As if she needed a reminder.

  She backed up until her butt hit the side of the sofa. When she stumbled her gaze went to the bed and the white sheets and . . . yeah, he needed to leave before she tackled him and did something really stupid.

  “You were going to explain how you found me,” she said, ignoring the way her voice broke like a boy going through puberty.

  Beck stopped in the middle of taking off the damp jacket. “About a thousand people live in Sweetwater and most everyone knows everyone’s business, so it wasn’t hard to track you down.”

  “I know your family. That’s about it.” And that was only a slight exaggeration.

  “You shop at Schneider’s Grocery.”

  She balanced her hands on the couch behind her, digging her fingers into the cotton upholstery. “You’re asking about me around town?”

  She didn’t know whether to be thrilled or furious. The pinging in her chest suggested the former but she knew anything that tied them together would end badly. Them as a “them” was a very bad idea. She had to find her aunt’s property and get out of town. That meant deceiving Beck and his brothers and lying . . . and she hated all of it. There sure was no way to combine the deception with sex. No matter how much she wanted Beck.

  He sighed, putting a load of male attitude behind it. “You think I’m hanging out at bars and on street corners talking about you?”

  Well, not when he put it that way. “Um . . .”

  He scoffed. Even gave her a women-are-so-tiresome half eye roll. “Yeah, because the Hanovers are so welcome around here that it’s easy for me to walk up to people and start talking.”

  The man had a point. The town’s hatred had died down to a whispered simmer, but there were those who hated the brothers just based on their name. Add in a mysterious woman coming in and out of town searching for Callen—Kristin something—and an FBI agent who kept asking questions, and some days the vibe at Shadow Hill bordered on cautious rather than comfortable.

  Still, Beck did pop up on her doorstep and wasn’t exactly offering a logical explanation. “But you said—”

  “I was guessing about the groceries.” He glanced to the right and did a double take. His gaze traveled over the bed and lingered there.

  “Uh, Beck?” She waved a hand in front of his face.

  He shook his head. Wiped his mouth. Did the whole guy-stuttering thing before he choked out a real sentence. “You gave Declan your contact information in case of emergencies. I used the expert detective skill of looking at the note he pinned to the bulletin board in the library.”

  Before Sophie could respond or even silently berate Declan, movement behind Beck’s shoulder grabbed her attention. She’d somehow gone from alone to a room full of partially rained-on men. That should be a good thing, but not really. “Tom?”

  Beck lowered his head and stared at her. “What the hell? You’ve forgotten my name in the last two seconds?”

  Tom stepped inside, holding an oversized pizza box and smiling like a loon. “I think she means me.”

  More company.

  Fantastic.

  Beck’s mouth dropped open as he spun around. Tension thrummed off of him, spilling through the room. “Who the hell are you?”

  Her eyes widened at the sharp crack of his voice. So much for the guy who always had a reasonable, even if long-winded, temperament.

  She touched his arm and tried to drag him back around to face her. When that didn’t work, she shifted until she stood between them with a hand on both men.

  Her gaze stayed on the less rational one, and with some surprise she realized that was Beck. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Tom being Tom, he smiled, taking it all in and staying calm. “Tom Erikson.”

  Beck’s arms crossed over his chest. “And that means?”

  Testosterone pounded on her from every angle. Much more of this and they would all suffocate.

  “I answered your question,” Tom said.

  Tom, tall with silver-tinged blond hair and a rough voice that made her feel safe. They bonded the second he agreed to give her a month-to-month rental for almost nothing. He functioned as sounding board and mentor. He’d become a friend. He looked years younger than he was and he should be on a date with the hostess from the restaurant they went to last weekend, which made Sophie wonder why he was standing in her house holding food.

  Beck shifted. It was as if his body swelled to twice its size. She knew that was some sort of optical illusion or result of the madness chewing away at her brain, but still.

  “Are you her father, uncle or just a guy passing by with a pizza?” he asked.

  Tom’s amused expression slipped that time. “Did you say father?”

  Okay, enough of this. “He’s my landlord.”

  Beck blinked. “What?”

  “I pay him rent.” Barely, but telling Beck that part would only lead to a long list of questions she didn’t want to answer.

  His eyes narrowed and his head snapped back as if she’d smacked him, which was starting to be a distinct possibility. “Really?”

  “Yes, Beck. Really.”

  His gaze went to the box then Tom before returning to her. “And he brings you dinner.”

  Not ever. “Apparently.”

  This—whatever “this” was—made her stomach clench. She wasn’t expecting either man tonight and had a very different reaction to seeing each. But right now, a little alone time wouldn’t be a terrible thing. Not for the headache thumping in her brain, but maybe to help her figure out why Tom showed up and why Beck cared so much when he usually spent his time scowling at her.

  “For the record, he brings food when he’s worried she’s going to eat another frozen dinner.” Tom pivoted around them and headed for the kitchen.

  He acted as if he hung out there all the time, which wasn’t true. But he did own the place. He’d built it out from a storage area into a rentable space. And thank goodnes
s he did or she’d be living in her car. Her aunt sent her to San Diego, then Chicago, before Sweetwater, in search of the jewelry, but she wasn’t exactly paying expenses. That left Sophie to handle the extra burden in addition to being on unpaid leave from her job now that she’d run through all her paid leave.

  She looked up at Beck, trying to think of something intelligent to say. Her brain cells continued to ping as she scrambled to deal with the turn her expected quiet night had taken.

  Before she could put a coherent sentence together, Beck nodded at her. “Clearly I should have called first.”

  “You can stay. There’s plenty.” The laughter returned to Tom’s voice as he opened the box.

  “I’ll pass.” Beck didn’t look at her as he grabbed his coat and reached for the doorknob. “Have a good night.”

  The words, delivered in a flat tone, sliced through her. Whatever he came to say, whatever he wanted, he walked out without it. She didn’t know what it meant but she did know the cause. All six-feet-three of him. She gathered the last wisps of energy inside her and readied for the showdown.

  Slamming the door, she faced Tom. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  He poured a glass of water. “So, that’s Beck Hanover.”

  Family friend or not, Tom was two seconds from getting his dinner dumped over his head. Didn’t matter the food with the mix of melted cheese and toasted onions smelled so good her mouth watered. She needed answers.

  “You know it is.” She walked over and stopped across the counter from Tom. “Any reason in particular you were poking at Beck?”

  “I promised your aunt I’d watch over you.”

  “I’m twenty-four.”

  “And I’m forty-seven, but I still promised. My friendship with your aunt goes back a long way.” Tom searched opened cabinet doors and let them bang shut again. He slid two plates on the counter. “We managed to shock him, which from the town reports is not easy to do to a Hanover.”

  She wanted to fight but she settled for sliding onto one of the bar stools. “Don’t tell me you’re in the camp that thinks Beck is a con man like his dad.”

  She grabbed a piece of pizza. Amazing what a round of verbal sparring could do for her energy levels. Made her wide-awake and hungry.

  “I don’t have a position either way,” Tom said.

  “Come on.”

  “I don’t know the sons.” Tom eyed Sophie over the top of his glass. “Except for the way you talk about them.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Sophie mumbled around the piece of pizza in her mouth.

  “Take it however you want.”

  Her hunger vanished again. She dropped the slice and shoved the plate away to make room for her elbows on the counter. “You’re being cryptic.”

  And it made her nervous. Tom wrestled with bouts of guilt over Aunt Angela and her relationship with Charlie Hanover, but Tom wasn’t playing hide-and-seek games now. This felt much more like chaperoning a date, though she didn’t think that was possible. Not with his protective streak. Heck, she wouldn’t have been surprised to find out Tom saw Beck coming up the apartment steps and faked a joint pizza dinner to check Beck out.

  “You talk about the Hanovers, this young one especially.” Tom slipped a second piece out of the box and stacked it on his plate. “A lot.”

  “I work for them.”

  “I was being subtle, but let me be clearer.” Tom took his time wiping his hands on a napkin. “I’m referring to Beck, and you talk about him almost non-stop. Beck did this and that.”

  “You’re exaggerating.” And scaring her a little. The idea of being that transparent had her stomach spinning and her wishing she hadn’t taken even those few bites of pizza.

  “With the running commentary on the guy’s life, it didn’t take a great amount of investigative work to figure out you had feelings for him.”

  “That’s not true.” Other than a normal any-woman-with-a-pulse-would-notice-his-hotness thing, it couldn’t be true.

  Sure, she thought about Beck all the time. Had since the first minute she’d met him. He stood there being annoying and judgmental and questioning her about her right to be at Shadow Hill, which was fair but she couldn’t admit that, and with every word he uttered her stomach tumbled. His voice, that face, those shoulders, even the tendency to argue about everything made her body do a little dance.

  Tom shrugged. “If you say you don’t care about him, I’ll believe you.”

  Yeah, that was annoying. “What’s with the pizza dinner?”

  “I was walking up the driveway, saw the door open and thought I’d share.”

  “But you had a date tonight.”

  His smile fell. “Paulette decided to go back to her ex.”

  Guilt crashed over her. She remembered being in that restaurant and watching Tom sneak peeks at the pretty brunette at the hostess station. And now this. “Sorry.”

  “I’m the one who should apologize. Looks to me like Beck was finally making a play and I came in and broke it up.”

  Her heart did this ka-chunking thing. She had no idea how Tom missed it since the sound ricocheted inside of her. “It’s not like that.”

  Tom shot her a get-real look. “Honey, I know when a man is moving in.”

  Words rushed up her throat so quickly she verbally tripped over them. It took a long inhale and a pause before she could get the words out. “He’s. My. Boss.”

  Tom shook his head. “You keep telling yourself that.”

  Chapter Six

  Beck heard the laughter as soon as he stepped onto the back porch of Shadow Hill. Even with the three stories and thick-walled construction, sound traveled and bounced. Plus Leah possessed a very distinctive laugh. Warm and infectious. Declan got downright stupid when he heard it. Then again, everything about Leah made Declan, former military and usually serious, act as if his brain were made of mush.

  The dumb-ass.

  Beck dropped his hand from the doorknob, thinking to circle around to the front and jog upstairs before anyone saw him. Leah blew his chance when she glanced over and waved to him through the window. The smile came next, followed by the sound of Callen’s chuckle. Clearly Declan wasn’t the only Hanover brother with a weakness for Leah, although Callen’s was the non-romantic type.

  “Come sit with us,” she said.

  Busted. Beck opened the door and braced for a string of smart-ass comments.

  Callen swiveled in his chair and then watched as Beck walked over to the sink. “Tough evening?”

  Beck was so not in the mood for this. “Shut up.”

  “I think that’s a yes,” Cal said.

  Leah nodded. “I’m guessing it’s Sophie.”

  Beck dropped the glass he was holding, letting it clank and jangle as it rolled around in the sink. With a deep inhale for patience, he turned around and faced Leah. “Not you, too.”

  Her smile never broke. “Just throwing the possible explanation out there.”

  The chair scraped against the floor as Callen sat back with his legs stretched out in front of him and his arms balanced behind his head. “Where have you been?”

  Beck seriously considered tipping the chair over. “Nowhere.”

  “Come on, Beck. There’s no way Leah is going to let you get away with that lame-ass crap. Spill it or we’ll be here for hours while she grills you.”

  Beck thought about letting out a cleansing string of profanity, including some clever combination of dammit and motherfucker, but swallowed the comments when Leah kept staring at him as if daring him to get all fired up. Not that she was afraid of a bit of profane talk. She could let loose, which was one of the many reasons she fit in so well in the male household.

  He settled for grumbling under his breath. “The lack of privacy around here is—”

  “Not going away.” The front legs hit the t
ile floor with a crack as Cal’s arms went back to the table. “Talk.”

  Clearly this conversation was happening. Beck couldn’t see a way to dodge or ignore it. The joint nosiness of Callen and Leah wouldn’t allow for one second of peace until he spit out at least a minimum of clues.

  “Tom.” Beck wrapped his fingers around the counter behind him and tightened until the edge dug into his palms.

  Callen’s eyes narrowed. He glanced over at Leah. “Do you know what that means?”

  She was busy staring at Beck. “Possibly.”

  Knowing he’d lost an argument he didn’t even want to engage in, Beck pushed away from the counter and came around to sit in the empty chair across from Leah. “Sophie is with some guy named Tom.”

  There. He said it. Every lousy fucking word.

  Leah patted Beck’s forearm while he tapped a spoon end over end against the wood table. “Do you mean Tom Erikson?”

  For the second time in one evening Beck had to hear this dude’s name. Beck didn’t like it any better this time. “You know him?”

  “Everyone does.”

  Leah’s smile was so wide Beck wondered if it hurt to do that.

  Cal’s blank stare mirrored the dull ache pulsing inside Beck.

  “You need a tighter definition of everyone, since I don’t,” Beck pointed out.

  “Tom is Sophie’s landlord.” Leah tapped her palm against Beck’s arm one last time then sat back again. Her expression could only be called smug.

  Beck didn’t care if she got up and performed a song-and-dance number so long as she spilled whatever information she’d stored up in that head about this Tom guy. Maybe she had some intel in those files she liked to keep. “What do you know about their relationship?”

  Leah took a long drink of tea. Even made a career out of ripping open a sugar packet and stirring it in.

  Beck was two seconds away from lunging across the table. He leaned forward trying to gain eye contact instead. “Uh, Leah?”

  “That’s quite a show you’re putting on there,” Callen said over a laugh.

  Beck was happy someone found this funny. He careened toward head-banging frustration.