Chapter Three
I stood on the steps and waved as my dad pulled down the driveway. My smile stayed put until he was out of sight. As soon as he disappeared, so did it. He'd stayed the two days, but he hadn't found a car for me or relented to move me somewhere near my mom's family. When he'd asked why it was so important to me that I meet my mom's family, I'd stopped talking. I couldn't tell him. So instead, I stayed where I was—in the middle of nowhere—and watched him leave.
I was now at the mercy of my crabby, very unrelated neighbor who, according to Dad, had happily agreed to take me anywhere I needed. Imagining Racer "happily" doing anything was a stretch for me. Each time we had run into each other, he'd been abrupt. Not in an overly rude way, more of an I'm-not-here-to-chat way.
Sighing, I turned and went back inside. After arriving in the cold rain, yesterday and today had remained mild. I opened my windows and booted up my laptop.
Hours later, I closed the lid in agitation. I liked learning. I liked reading. I even liked the quiet. But at the moment, all three were annoying the heck out of me. How was I going to finish my classes like this? Stupid Chuck. Darn overprotective, misleading Dad.
I changed into jogging clothes and pulled on a light windbreaker. My problem wasn't school or people. I was annoyed and had too much energy. After all the cleaning yesterday, I wasn't sure how having too much energy was even possible. I jogged down the steps and sat on the last one to lace up my runners.
"Going somewhere?"
Racer's voice startled me, but I managed not to react and kept tying my shoe.
"Yep. I thought I'd go for a run."
He heaved a sigh. "Fine. Just give me a minute."
His door closed before I could look up. Did he want to go, too? Finishing, I stood and stared at his door. Was I really supposed to wait for him? The door opened before I could decide what to do.
"Come on," he said as he closed his door. He wore loose nylon pants and a tight long sleeve shirt.
"Racer, I didn't mean you should come with me."
"I said come on." Annoyance laced his words. He held the door and watched me impatiently. I fought to hide my reaction to his openly rude attitude.
"I'd prefer to go alone. I just need to burn off some energy. No big deal."
"I promised your dad I'd keep an eye on you. No wandering around alone."
This time I didn't manage to prevent the slight narrowing of my eyes. Dad. He'd be getting a call from me tomorrow when he got home from work.
"Look," Racer said. "If your heart's not set on running, you can use some of my equipment and have all the alone time you want. Either way, you have to step out the door." His tone oozed impatience and arrogance.
Holy heck, I wanted to strangle him. I stepped outside and followed him around the house to a pole shed. It was set back from the house by about ten feet. Enough room to fit a vehicle between the two buildings.
He opened the door and motioned me in. I looked around the twenty by thirty space filled with exercise equipment.
"Wipe your feet to keep the floor clean," he said, pointedly looking at the floor mat that lay just inside the door. "I'll be on the other side. If you need anything, yell."
He headed for the wide, double-hung doors that partitioned the part of the shed we'd stepped into from the rest of the shed. He closed himself into that side, leaving me alone. Mats covered the majority of the cement floor. Out of habit, I took off my shoes and left them on the mat. Warmth seeped through my socks. A heated floor. Unreal.
I walked around and looked at the weight machine, free weights, stair climber, treadmill, and the punching bag hung from the ceiling. It'd be cool to come out here in winter to work out. But today I really wanted to run outside. I slipped my shoes back on and quietly left.
Outside, I breathed deeply. Fresh air filled me, the sun warmed me, and the birds talked to me. I quickly stretched then set out, enjoying the crunch under my feet.
When we'd pulled into the driveway late Friday night, I'd noted that the road was gravel, too. I liked the sound of it, the thump of my shoe and the crunch of gravel. Then, I heard it. The echo of my step. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Racer keeping pace twenty steps behind me and calculated how long it would take Dad to get home. My call might not wait until tomorrow night.
I stopped running and waited for him. My breathing wasn't steady but I wasn't gasping either. He seemed unaffected when he stopped by me.
"So what exactly did my dad say?"
"He asked that I keep an eye on you."
"Did he say not to let me out of your sight or are you just being an overachiever here?"
He remained quiet. Interesting.
"Did he say why he wanted you to keep an eye on me?"
"Some guy isn't leaving you alone. It worried your dad enough he was willing to move his just turned eighteen daughter out of state. He said you're his life and if anything happened to you..." He didn't finish. He didn't need to. Some of the anger and resentment I'd harbored toward Dad left me.
"So, I run, and you unhappily follow out of obligation. I stay put, and you can happily ignore me. Got it."
He didn't say anything but the frown finally disappeared from his mouth as he studied me.
"All right. Let's go back. I don't feel like running anymore, anyway." I turned and began the walk back. He quietly followed.
When I veered toward the house, he moved toward the pole shed. At least I'd have quiet time in the house. At the door, I kicked off my shoes before bounding up the stairs.
I called Dad and left a brief message saying I was still safe and that Racer was definitely keeping an eye on me as he asked. I also told him I loved him. The first part would let him know I was still annoyed with him, but the second would tell him I was getting over it.
After that, I dug out a movie and vegged out for the rest of the night. Though I wasn't holding onto my grudge, I didn't mean to accept my isolation meekly.
For three days, I plotted. I did schoolwork during the day, cleaned more than I needed to, and watched movies. All the while, I listened for Racer's daily routine. He either didn't have a job or didn't need to leave his home for work. Even if he did by some miracle leave, I needed a car to go anywhere fun. I used the internet to scope the nearest town. It wasn't much of a spec on the map but at least I could jog there. If I could get away from my babysitter.
On the forth morning of my self-imposed seclusion, I didn't get out of bed at eight like I usually did. Instead, I rolled over. I'd watched my small cache of movies, there wasn't any more homework to do until the professor provided new assignments, and I didn't want to be followed like a parolee. So I stayed in bed, dozing until the pounding on my door woke me.
I'd just thrown back my covers when I heard the kitchen door open. Part of me hesitated. What if it was Chuck? I wanted to smack myself for that stupid thought. Chuck wouldn't knock first. I stood as Racer appeared in my bedroom doorway.
"What's wrong?" he demanded.
"Funny, I was going to ask the same thing. The house on fire?"
He scowled at me. "Why aren't you up, yet?"
I stared at him for a moment, completely dumbfounded. "Seriously? Get out." I pointed toward the door as I turned and pulled back the covers, ready to climb back into bed.
He stepped around me and yanked them from my hand. He continued tugging until he had all of the blankets and the top sheet balled in his arms.
"Meet me in the shed in ten minutes if you want these back for tonight."
I stared after him, too stunned to speak. He was taking this keep-an-eye-on-her thing too far, and I really didn't like him. But how I felt didn't matter at the moment. I wanted my bedding back, so I needed to play nice, for now.
Ten minutes later, dressed in my workout clothes, I stepped inside the shed and looked around. No Racer. I moved to the treadmill and started it up. The program I selected had an automatic warm-up and cool-down cycle. A controller lay on the treadmill console. I picked it up and hit power. Music blasted from the corner. Metal. No thanks. I scanned through the channels and found some party rock. Smiling, I entered it as a preset and cranked it up until it echoed off the tin walls.
The exercise invigorated me. So maybe I'd been a little too lethargic lately. It wouldn't have gotten to that point if my nanny hadn't been so annoyingly crabby. After thirty minutes on the treadmill, I took pity on my ears and turned off the radio.
"About time," Racer said in the quiet. I turned toward the sound of his voice as I stepped off the treadmill. He sat on the weight bench, watching me. My pile of blankets rested on the bench next to him.
"Need something?" I asked, sitting on the floor to stretch again.
"Nope." He got up and walked out, leaving my blankets behind.
When I carried everything back up to my apartment, my cell was vibrating on the kitchen table. Chuck had called my old phone so many times Dad had insisted I get a new number which only Dad knew. I still checked the number before answering.
"Hey, Dad." I held the phone with my shoulder and headed toward the bedroom.
"Hey, sweetie. How are things going?"
"Good. Racer has an exercise room he's letting me use so I don't go stir-crazy. I just got off the treadmill." No sense in giving Dad all the details. I tossed the pile of blankets on the floor and started remaking my bed.
"Racer knows some self-defense stuff. Maybe you could—"
"Dad, I'm not asking him. He's doing enough already." Way more than enough.
"Okay, okay," he said, trying to placate me. "It's just...I want to know you're not without your own resources if something ever happened."
Making a face, I sighed. He could bark orders to some of the scariest people I knew, but the thought of me in trouble had him cajoling.
"Fine. I'll ask. But when he kicks me out in three days, you'll know it's because he's tired of having to babysit me." If only he'd kick me out.
"Why would you say that? Did he say something?"
"No, Dad. Just forget it. I'm grumpy because I slept too much. Everything's fine."
He made a non-committal noise and hurried to end the conversation before I unleashed any feminine wrath.
"I love you, sweetie. Call me if you need anything."
"I will. Love you, too."
I hung up the phone and tossed it on the floor, trading it for another layer of blankets. Grr! More Racer time when he obviously didn't want anything to do with me. Maybe I could just lie about asking him. No. Dad would know. No doubt he spoke to Racer regularly to check up on me, and he'd probably say something to see how it was going. No way around it. I, at least, had to ask.
Given how seriously Racer had taken his promise to watch over me, I doubted he'd say no. But maybe I could influence how he felt about teaching me and make it a positive thing instead of another nanny chore. The way to a man's mood was through his stomach. A batch of Texas style chili might help. Walking to the kitchen, I started gathering ingredients for dinner.
An hour later, I turned the burner on low to let the chili simmer and thicken. The kitchen had warmed considerably so I opened a window. Outside, I heard Racer talking. The words were too faint to hear clearly but he didn't sound a bit annoyed. Was there actually someone else here? I pressed closer to peer around the corner. He stood with hands in his pockets, looking down at a cat. I stared at him for a minute. Apparently, nice-Racer was only for animals. He rubbed his hand over his head, a move I saw often in exams when someone didn't know an answer. He continued to talk, but I couldn't hear what he said. A few moments later, the cat haughtily stood and turned away from Racer, going back wherever it'd come from.
Racer watched the cat walk away then turned back toward the house. I quickly moved away from the window. No need to look like a nosy neighbor. Though, I now knew what an extended period of time stuck in seclusion would do to me. I'd start talking to animals for company. I giggled.
Humming, I gathered up my dirty laundry, then flopped down on the couch to read while I waited for the chili. Not only would I need to ask about the self-defense, I'd need to ask where he did laundry.
Well before dinner, I ladled a huge helping in a deep bowl and carried it downstairs. Racer opened his apartment door before I reached the bottom step.
"Going somewhere?" Dressed in low riding jeans and another snug t-shirt, he watched me closely. I tried not to visualize the abs so clearly defined by his clothes. Grumpy guys shouldn't look good. What a waste.
"Not really," I held out the bowl. "I made a batch of chili and thought maybe you might like some." He took the bowl, not using the sides, which were cool, but with one hand supporting the bottom. "Careful, it's hot."
"Thanks," he said still holding it from the bottom. It didn't appear to bother him. "Did you need something else?"
"Where do you go to do your laundry, and do you give self-defense lessons?"
His eyebrows rose in surprise, and the perma-scowl actually lifted. "Why are you asking?"
"I've got dirty laundry." I knew what he'd meant. He didn't take the bait. "Fine, my dad called and said you knew some self-defense stuff and that he'd feel better if you taught me a few things. It's okay to say no."
He looked down at the chili and back at me. "A bribe?"
"A goodwill gesture. I get the feeling that you don't like me here." He made no move to deny it. "If I'm doing something that bothers you, just tell me. If I'm asking for too much, just say no. It's no big deal." Please say no. Please say no.
"Meet me in the shed in ten."
Dang it.
This time he didn't close the door in my face. I nodded my agreement and ran back upstairs to change.
I had mixed feelings about going to the shed with Racer. It was something to do—an actual battle against boredom—but not something I wanted to do. I pulled my shirt off and switched it for an exercise top I used for jogging. How stupid was I? Obviously, Racer wasn't very happy I was here or that he needed to keep an eye on me. And by asking him to teach me how to defend myself, I'd pretty much just given him the perfect opportunity to take his frustrations out on me. I swapped my jeans for loose yoga pants.
Changed, I jogged down the stairs, stepped outside, and approached the shed with trepidation.
Racer waited on the mat by the hanging bag. He hadn't changed clothes. His bright blue eyes followed me as I wiped my feet and closed the door.
"It's getting cooler out," I commented nervously.
"Yep. Take your shoes off. You won't need them for this."
His ominous statement didn't make it any easier to slip off my shoes and walk toward him. The heat of the floor penetrated my socks, warming my feet; and the skin on my arms prickled despite the loose hoodie over my tank top.
"If someone's coming at you, they won't be following a set of rules. So, you shouldn't either. Fight dirty if you can. But be careful. Sometimes that can piss the attacker off more. Use your head."
I nodded and stepped up onto the mat with him. About a twelve foot square with the bag to the side, it gave enough room. He crouched slightly, and I eyed him. Bring on the bruises.
Before I knew what he did, I was on my back with him pressing down on me. Nothing hurt, though.
"If I were an attacker, I wouldn't have cushioned your fall. I would have used it to stun you." His frustration and annoyance came through, making what might have been constructive criticism come out as a scolding.
He moved off me and offered a hand. My contemplation, whether just to stay on the mat, lasted only a moment before I reached up to clasp his hand. He yanked me up so hard I flew into his chest. My cheek bounced off his pectorals. His arms wrapped around me, pinning my arms.
I tried moving away but he held tight. It took a second to realize he'd done all of that on purpose.
"Now what?" he taunted.
Tilting my head, I looked up into his blue eyes. I was too short to give him a head butt to the nose but, boy, did I wish I wasn't. He said fight dirty, so he'd be expecting me to go for his privates. I turned my head and thought for a second, weighing my options. He also warned that fighting dirty might piss of my opponent. But without hands, I was only left with my legs and head. What else did he expect me to do?
The answer lay before me. I fought not to smile as I bit him...on the nipple. But lightly.
My considerate restraint didn't seem to matter to him. Again, I found myself on the mat with him on top of me. His eyes blazed, and his mouth pressed into a grim line.
As I watched, the whites of his eyes darkened. Not red, but more of a rust brown. I hid any sign of surprise, of jubilation.
Racer closed his eyes and took a slow breath.
"Use your head before you act. Try to anticipate your attacker's reactions."
When he opened his eyes, they were back to normal. Excitement coursed through me but I didn't let on that I'd just witnessed something out of the ordinary.
"I did. I anticipated you pinning me to the ground, which got me out of your arms."
"The goal is to get away."
Once again, he moved off me and offered a hand. I didn't accept.
Lightly getting to my feet, I watched him closely. He, in turn, studied me. I kept my stance loose, trying to anticipate his next move.
When he moved, he moved fast, lunging to the right and grabbing for my shoulder. I pivoted, but felt his hold tighten on my hoodie. Dropping to my knees, I raised my arms and slid out the bottom of it, leaving him holding the empty garment. He threw it to the mat and started for me. Still on my knees, I rolled to the side and tried to get to my feet. Not fast enough. He grabbed my leg. I kicked out with my free leg and connected with his face.
I froze, and so did he.
"Sorry!"
"Never apologize." Was it my imagination or did he sound way less stuffy?
He stood, still holding my ankle, his expression impassive.
Fine. No apologizing during practice. Just one more thing he was taking way too seriously. He arched a brow at me, waiting for my reaction. So I kicked at him again, aiming for his face. He dodged and dropped my ankle.
"I think we're done for today."
The five-minute scramble on the mat had my heart pumping. I nodded and rose to my feet. He grabbed my hoodie and handed it to me.
"Washer and dryer are in the basement. Help yourself to what you need."
"Thanks."
We walked to the house together. Maybe staying with Racer wouldn't be so bad after all. I wanted to start hammering him with questions right away but given how he was about following Dad's orders, he probably wouldn't answer them. I'd need to plan it out. Time my questions.
I went upstairs, grabbed my laundry, then went to the dark, damp basement. Not my favorite place. I used his soap, threw the load into the washer, and noticed he had a load of clothes in the dryer. I figured I might as well be helpful and loaded them into the empty basket he'd left. I set the basket outside his door and made my way upstairs for the night.
Sleeping in meant I wasn't tired. I vacuumed, cleaned the windows, and channel surfed. Death by boredom. Boredom did have amazing sedative properties, though. By nine, I lay in my bed curled on my side.
Mom faced Dad with her hands on her hips. "I refuse to keep this from her."
Dad wiped his hand over his face. I could read his weary frustration and his adoration. Mom always got her way.
"Diana, it wasn't supposed to be possible. We don't know what it means for her. All I'm suggesting is that we wait until we know. You said she smells like me."
I stepped around the corner, my blanket trailing behind me. "Mama?"
She turned toward me with a smile and scooped me up into her arms. "Come on, bug. You belong in bed."
She tucked me in and kissed my cheek. When she pulled away, it wasn't my mother's face but Chuck's.
"You were mine from the start."
I sat up in bed, heart hammering. A dream. I hadn't dreamt of my mom in a long time. She'd died before I'd turned six. Had it not been for Chuck's cameo, it would have made my week to recall her in such vivid detail. I'd forgotten how dark her hair had been compared to mine. I rubbed my face and glanced at the clock. Three a.m. Too early to get up, but how could I go back to sleep after that.
Flinging back the covers, I got out of bed. A snack might help. I made my way toward the kitchen and opened the fridge, but nothing looked good. I checked the cupboards, listlessly studying the contents. A jar of baby dills caught my eye. Why my father had purchased them, I had no idea. But they looked good so I pulled them out. The lid didn't budge when I tried to open it. I gave it my best effort. Even grunted a little and threw in a cuss.
"Give up already," I mumbled, trying once more. If nothing else, I'd be tired by the time I got the thing open.
My apartment door burst open without warning. I froze. The jar of pickles was under my left arm and my right hand rested limp on the lid as I stared at Racer. What the hell was he doing up here in the middle of the night? Jeez, I was in my pajama shirt. Thankfully, it fell to just above my knees.
His eyes scanned the apartment then me. "What's wrong?"
"Well, for starters, I think my door needs a lock."
"I thought I heard a struggle." His eyes fell on the jar under my arm.
A struggle? I racked my brain, going over in my head what I'd been doing. Nope, I'd been quiet. I was sure of it. Even my cussing had been quiet.
He stepped into the kitchen and closed the door behind him. He moved toward me, stopping inches away, and held out his hand. I handed over the jar, embarrassed it had defeated me. He popped it open easily and handed it back, never taking his eyes from my face. Oh sure, he had no problem opening it. I'd loosened it for him.
I reached in, picked a pickle, and popped it in my mouth. The salty tang should have tasted like sweet victory. Instead, it filled my mouth with confused speculation. I picked out another one and offered it to him. Wearing an exasperated expression, he reached for it with a shake of his head.
"So what exactly did you hear?"
"'Give up already' and some swearing and grunting."
I crunched on another pickle then closed the jar as I studied him. He took the jar from me and put it in the fridge. His expression grew slightly uncomfortable as I continued to stare.
"The walls are thin," he mumbled.
No, but the explanation was, and it almost made me smile. Maybe I wouldn't need to ask questions to get the answers I wanted.
He must have noticed a change in my speculative expression because he started backing toward the door.
"See you in the morning," he said quickly and let himself out.
I went to bed thinking of how he'd burst in. He'd been rumpled as if he'd just gotten out of bed. The t-shirt had been on inside out.
* * * *
In the morning, I was up at seven, showered and dressed. I was bored and wanted to go somewhere. My choices were limited. Should I walk around with Racer following me, or beg him to take me somewhere and have him follow me around in public? Neither choice appealed to me, so I aimlessly wandered around the apartment.
"This isn't going to work," I whispered to myself.
As much as I wanted to find out the truth behind my mom's letter, I didn't want to spend any more time wallowing in boredom. I either needed to find something I enjoyed doing or figure out how to get out without Racer knowing. He heard me every time I set foot on the stairs. How else could I leave? There were no trees near the windows. At least, nothing I could use for climbing. I'd checked. Maybe there was something on the outside of the house, a drainpipe, lattice, or something, that I couldn't see from the inside.
I glanced at the kitchen door. Up to this point, I'd been mostly pacing in the living room. Not lightly. I walked back to the bedroom and flopped on my bed. Then, with care, I eased off the mattress and slowly tiptoed to the door. Taking my time, I made my way quietly down the steps. As soon as I hit the bottom step, his door opened.
Racer casually leaned a shoulder against the jam and folded his arms across his chest.
"Going somewhere?"
Drat the man. Just how good was his hearing? It didn't really matter this time. I didn't mean to try to escape right away. I wanted to see if there was another way out of the apartment.
"Yep," I chirped and slid my feet into my shoes. As I bent to tie them, I noted he was in his socks. Good. He might just stay inside, then.
"Where?"
"Just walking around the house. Exploring the yard and getting some fresh air." I opened the door. Free at last.
"I'll throw on my shoes and be right out."
I looked back over my shoulder and tried to keep my disappointment from my face. His expression gave nothing away, but he watched me closely. I nodded and closed the door.
How fast could I walk around the house without him? Looking up at the house, I walked quickly. Nothing to use on the front. Hurrying, I walked to the back. Nothing on the side or back. I made it to the front door just as he opened it. He didn't seem surprised to see me.
"Do you know anyone selling a car? Something reasonably priced that won't leave me stranded?"
He motioned for me to walk toward the back of the house. He walked beside me. "Need to go somewhere?"
"Not really. I just want to be able to go somewhere." A gust of wind ruffled my hair, and I tried not to shiver. I should have brought a jacket but I hadn't meant to be outside for very long. I glanced over at Racer. He'd been smart enough to throw one on. He met my gaze, and I gave a small, innocent smile.
"Bored?"
"Beyond reason." He brought us to the trees at the edge of the yard. I could see a faint trail. "What's this for?"
"Walking. Mostly when I'm bored beyond reason."
So he did more than just talk to cats. I looked at him again. This time he quirked a small smile at me. It was the first time I'd seen it, and my heart skipped a beat. I quickly averted my gaze before I ruined the moment by blushing. The narrow trail only allowed single file so he led.
"Who made the trail?"
"Deer mostly."
Now that he was in front of me, I let myself shiver as I looked up at the tree canopy. I liked the sound the leaves made in the wind. If the wind blew hard enough, the rustling almost sounded like water. Racer stopped and shrugged off his jacket. Without a word, he handed it to me.
"I don't need it," I protested.
"You're shivering. Take it and we can keep walking. Keep shivering and we go back."
Reaching out, I took the jacket. He'd known I was shivering...
"Thanks," I mumbled looking away as I put it on. It was still warm. His scent wrapped around me.
"Pancakes and pine trees," I said aloud and then wanted to groan.
He turned and watched me closely. "Is that a good smell?"
"I wouldn't have thought it a good combination, but it works. Makes me wish for pancakes and a walk in the woods." I shrugged and looked around. "The walk I have. Got any pancakes on you?"
He smiled slightly again and turned to lead the way. We walked in silence for several minutes.
"Tell me about this guy who won't leave you alone."
"There's not much to tell. We had a class together, and he asked me out. We went on a date. He acted pretty normal, just a little clingy and possessive. At the end of the date, he said that he hoped he could see me again. I evaded giving him an answer by saying I had a nice time and that I would see him in class. He left and didn't seem upset by my non-answer. The next day, he seemed fine again. We talked. It was normal. Life moved on.
"Then I started to notice him popping up in the same places I was. He tried calling me, but I never answered. When I went home, he followed me. My dad spotted him parked across the street. When I saw who it was, I had to give Dad the full story." I didn't know how well Racer knew my dad so I erred on the side of caution and skirted around why he hadn't called the police. "Being over the top protective, Dad decided I needed to go into 'seclusion'. Personally, I think he invented the first ever daughter relocation program to avoid boy drama."
"And you went along with that? Most teens would have just left."
"I'm not most teens."
When I looked up, I could see the house again through the trees. We'd walked a loop. I followed him out of the woods and slipped his jacket off.
"Thanks," I said again.
"No problem."
He took the jacket and stayed there as I walked toward the front of the house. It wasn't until I was back up in my apartment that I recalled he never answered my question about a car.