Busted

For some reason, the idea of a puppy beating up his uncle Travis struck Clayton as hilarious and he went into a fit of giggles—which made him oblivious to the fact that Ressa had slid under the water and swam up behind him. She caught him around the waist and came up out of the water, twisting and plunging them both under. Clayton’s screech of delight was cut short and he came up sputtering.

“That was sneaky,” he said, swiping the water out of his eyes.

“Next time a woman tells you she doesn’t want to get wet,” she advised. “Listen.”

Then she winked at him and swam over to the far side, hoisting herself out and sitting on the edge to watch.

Losing one of his playmates had Clayton swimming back to Travis.

Looking down into a pair of blue eyes that were almost a mirror of his own, Travis lifted a brow. The kid was up to something, he knew it.

“You gotta come in now.” Clayton propped his arms on the brick and gazed at him soulfully.

Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Travis gave him a game smile, but shook his head. “Your dad’s right, kid. I’m dragging so bad a puppy could kick my tail. I’ve been sick. Don’t think I’m up to a swim.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw his twin’s gaze narrow on him, and he felt the intensity of Trey’s gaze as well. Oooohhh, yeah. He was going to get it. If it wasn’t for the stitches, he would have just gone in.

But he couldn’t get them wet and he wasn’t going to explain them either. No way to hide the injury if he took off his shirt, and that was a talk that just couldn’t happen right now—or ever, if he had his way.

“Oh, come on.” Clayton pouted.

“Leave him alone, Clay,” Trey advised. “Look, you two can tag up on me. We’ll do sharks and mi

Clayton stared at Travis for another few seconds and then turned away, his shoulders drooping. “You gotta be the shark. The whole time. It’s only fair cuz you’re so big, Dad.”

*   *   *

It only took thirty minutes of that to wipe them out.

Ressa had to give them credit.

She helped Neeci change out of her suit in the cute little outbuilding Trey had offered them, and then, after dodging behind the door her cousin had left wide open, she rolled her eyes and changed into her clothes, a pair of denim capris and a shirt with cutout sleeves that left most of her arms bare and dipped down low on her back.

Her hair had moved into disaster territory and there wasn’t much hope for it right now. She’d have to wash it tonight. For now, she tidied up the braid she’d twisted it into—she’d figured she’d end up getting wet anyway—and then she gathered up the clothes.

Heading out the door, she promptly crashed into Trey, hitting him with an oomph.

His hands came up to steady her.

“Sorry,” she said, gri

His arm banded around her waist, pressing their lower bodies together. “Sorry . . . for what?”

“Pervert.” She wrinkled her nose at him and glanced around for the kids, but they weren’t outside.

“They went inside, hounding Travis to get them a snack since he didn’t have to change. Might as well make himself useful since he’s going to be a layabout for a while.” He glanced down at the bag of wet swimsuits and towels she held. “They might even be distracted for five minutes.”

“Not long enough,” she said loftily. Twisting out of his reach, she started up the brick walkway. “So . . . is he on vacation or something?”

“Or something.” Trey sounded resigned and took up pace next to her. “He’s got a weird job. Travels a lot. Lately, it’s wearing him out.”

Stay out of it. That was what her common sense said. Well, mostly. But in her gut, she knew that man wasn’t an accountant. Ru

“A forensic accountant.” Something that might have been pride crept into his voice. “We all razz him about it, but he does important work. It’s mostly white-collar stuff—he doesn’t talk about it, but I’ve researched that kind of thing. He always had a megabrain. He went and put it to use—has something to do with white-collar crime and that kind of thing.”

White-collar, huh? She thought of the grim look she’d caught on the other twin’s face a time or two, the knowledge. She didn’t think he’d caught that from doing a lot of white-collar shit. He looked like a man who’d carried some weight.

But she wasn’t going to point any of that out.

“I have to tell you this, I don’t really see you as wasting your brain.” She caught his hand, laced their fingers. “The books you write, what you do . . . it makes a difference. Books made a big impact on my life. You have to know that you do something important.”

“Well, I’m not saying it’s nothing. I went into it because books made a difference to me, too.” A faint grin curved his lips as he lifted her fingers to his lips. “Seems like the two of us have a lot in common there.”

“Don’t we just?”

*   *   *

Travis had a bad feeling.

He tried to ignore it, told himself it was because he was still on edge because of the fight with Trey last night.

But it wasn’t and he knew it.

It was the way Ressa watched him.

When he managed to pin her alone in the library, her hands behind her back as she studied the books lining Trey’s shelves, that feeling only intensified. He hadn’t made any noise but within seconds, she grew aware of him and her body went tense. Slowly, she turned her head and although she had a smile set firmly in place, her eyes were guarded.

“Hello.”

He inclined his head, kept his expression easy. “You should have seen this place before Mom got her hands on it in the spring. It was kind of scary.”

She just arched a brow.

“Trey’s a pack rat,” he offered helpfully.

“Is he now?”

“Yeah.” He came inside and paused in front of a shelf that held Trey’s favorites. He’d been sitting in the window seat with a beer when Mom came in here, armed with boxes and bags and a feather duster. Trey had been grim and accepting, until she’d turned on that shelf. It was the one time he’d ever seen his brother refuse Mom anything.

She wasn’t allowed to touch that shelf, and no, it did not matter that half the copies on that shelf were held together with tape.

But she’d cleared out a box that held duplicate copies—Trey hadn’t realized he’d bought that many doubles. She’d also found probably a thousand dollars in receipts he’d forgotten to turn over to his accountant, three checks he hadn’t cashed, and Travis had forgotten the rest of it.

She’d also convinced Trey to turn one of his empty rooms upstairs into a storage area for business stuff. Instead of author copies lining the floor in here, and bookmarks spilling out of boxes, they were neatly organized in that spare room.

“It used to look like a disaster zone.”

“I can imagine it did.” She shrugged and went back to studying the shelves. “He’s got interesting taste.”

As she pulled down a romantic suspense, a grin lit her face.

“Well, he overheard Mom talking to her friends about all the s-e-x in those. We were in high school . . . naturally, we weren’t allowed to read them. There wasn’t more you had to say to get him curious.” Travis shrugged.

“I see.” She glanced at him. “Did you read it?”

“Only the good parts.” He studied his nails. “I was too cool for the mushy shit, you know.”

“I bet.” Amusement lurked in her voice as she put the book back on the shelf. “So . . . you’re an accountant.”

He heard it in her voice.

Looking up at her, he saw it in her eyes, too.

“Forensic accountant,” he corrected. “It’s not exactly the same thing. So don’t go asking me to help on your taxes.”