The Artist's Provocateur: Serano Brothers Novel, Book 3 Page 2

  Her family. She had been blessed with wonderful, loving parents and two older sisters. Countless memories of growing up in their two-story Victorian house, in their safe and secure neighborhood, playing outside in the summers until sundown with the group of neighborhood kids. The warmth of her childhood brought a smile to her face. All the shenanigans she and her sisters had gotten up to as kids, all the bike rides and the swimming and the games they...oh wait.

  One particular game they had played popped up front and center in her mind's eye and thrilling tingles moved through her from head to toe. She remembered the old abandoned farmhouse near the edge of town with a crumbling well somewhere behind it on its 20-acre property. Admittedly, she didn't know much about it or the farmer that had once lived there and worked the land but, of course, there were rumors. The dilapidated state of the house sparked the imagination of all the neighborhood kids in town. Stories of demons and the vengeful spirit of the farmer surrounded the place. The well didn't sit too far back on the property, so they all knew it was there and thus, the game was born. To reach the well before the ghost of the old farmer caught you was a feat of bravery, speed and sheer will. Dropping a coin into the well to make a wish was the ultimate prize for battling the spirits of the house and, if you made it that far, your wish would no doubt come true.

  They had spent so many nights egging each other on, each of them trying to buoy up the courage to run onto the property. Most nights they ended up standing lamely in the middle of the private road that lead up to the place staring, waiting to see some terrible, unshakable proof of the supernatural. Marie, though, had somehow pulled together enough nerve to make it to the well one time, and one time only. Some of her friends had teased her, saying that it didn't count because it hadn't been completely dark yet. She had made it on - and back off - the property just as the sun began to set. But those kids could suck it, because none of them had accomplished even that much and the well, when she finally approached it, had been something to see.

  In the dim light of the setting sun, the ruins of the well had taken on an ethereal quality. Tall grass and vines had grown around it, creeping up and over into the mouth of its oubliette. Large, white flowers bloomed on the vines, the twinkling of lightening bugs all around against the backdrop of the pink and orange sky made the place look like something out of a fairytale. Marie remembered standing transfixed for a few moments by its beauty before throwing her coin in, wishing with all her might that a certain boy at school would finally notice her. A feeling of peace and tranquility had settled inside of her until she turned around to come back and saw – what she swore at the time – had been the dark silhouette of a man standing in the back window of the house. She couldn't recall another time that she had run so fast or hard in her life.

  She had to laugh now as she thought about that night all those years ago. More than likely, her overactive imagination had conjured the man in the window, but it had been enough for her to never step another foot on that property again. Even if images of that otherworldly well had haunted her since. The wish she'd made that night never did come true, either. Adam never paid much attention to her. Still doesn't, even though he lives right next to me, she thought with a snort.

  Now that she was all grown up, though, her silly crush on him had faded into nonexistence and her fears of the farmhouse had dissipated. She wondered if the old well was still there. Would she be able to get onto the property long enough to get a sketch of it, if it was?

  If she had such fond and vivid memories of that place, maybe the other townies who had grown up here would too. If she could get near it to refresh her memory and get an accurate picture of the well, it could be the perfect subject for her piece.

  Taking the sketch pad that she carried with her everywhere out of her bag, she grabbed a pencil and started on a rough drawing. What she could recall in her mind's eye, anyway. The crisp lines of the pencil scratched across the paper to form the beginnings of the well as she remembered it from that night. The grass and the vines followed and soon a rudimentary scene appeared before her on the page. Sitting back, she eyed her work with narrowed focus. Something was missing. Some key element that her mind had long ago lost, but the hole where it lived in her memory's picture remained, blurred and faded with the passage of time. If she could get to the well again, she knew for certain that she could fill in the gaps.

  A soft knock on the doorframe pulled her head up and her thoughts back to the here and now. Ethan, the school's physics teacher and her friend, stood just inside the room with a wry smile on his lips. His coat draped over one arm while the hand that knocked moved to his pocket, drawing her gaze to his lean waist. Quickly, she snapped her eyes back up to his face.

  "I thought I was the only one burning the midnight oil." When she frowned, he laughed. "You've lost track of time again, haven't you?"

  A glance at the clock above his head told her it was pushing 6 p.m. and she chuckled. She had gotten so caught up in her drawing that she hadn't even noticed that sunlight ceased to shine through the windows. "Yeah, I guess I have. I should get out of here, huh?"

  "Given that you and I seem to be the last ones here?" He nodded. "Might be a good idea."

  Ethan waited for her while she gathered her things and put on her coat. As they walked out into the frozen evening, a bitter February wind blew through her and she pulled the collar of her woolen peacoat close around her neck. She had a scarf but kept leaving it in her car. An excellent place for it in the dead of winter, she thought with an eyeroll.

  "I'm glad I caught you before you left for the weekend," Ethan said as he walked her to her car, one of the two left in the near empty parking lot.

  "Oh yeah? Why's that?" she asked with a smile. The warmth in his answering smile reached his eyes, turning the deep green into something moss-like and welcoming. The wind ruffled his chestnut curls making him appear boyish and a little vulnerable. It struck her then, as it had on many other occasions, how attractive he was. His single status baffled her, but she knew that he would make some woman very happy someday.

  "Yeah." He cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you had any plans this weekend. Maybe tomorrow night?"

  Slowly, the smile died on her face. She knew that he would make some woman happy, but she hadn't expected him to want her to be that woman. As handsome as she might find him, she didn't feel that undeniable pull toward him. No chemistry.

  A haunting set of dark eyes sparkling with mischief and an unruly head of long black hair flashed through her mind's eye and she immediately dispelled the image. No way in hell she'd let herself go down that road.

  "I'm sorry, I do have plans this weekend." Not a lie. She planned to make a trip out to that old farmhouse as close to that magical twilight time as she could. Now that the idea had occurred to her, she knew she would be consumed by the project until it was finished.

  "Oh." His face fell and instantly she wanted to kick herself. But it wouldn't be fair to either of them if she led him on. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and squinted one eye while looking at her out of the corner of the other. "Don't supposed you'd be free next week?"

  "Ethan, I –" she started but he cut her off with a friendly smile.

  "No worries, Marie. You don't have to explain. It'd be kind of weird dating a coworker, anyway. I just thought I'd give it a shot."

  When they reached her car, she turned toward him. "Are you sure?"

  She didn't know why she asked. Even if he came back with a 'no-I'm-not-sure', her answer wasn't going to change. But she genuinely valued him as a friend and didn't want to hurt him.

  "Yes, of course I'm sure. I respect you and certainly don't want things to get awkward between us. Besides, the kids would have a field day if they found out." He winked, and she let out a pent-up breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "I sincerely hope you have a wonderful weekend."

  "You too, Ethan," she said lamely before he turned to make his way to his own car.

  Turn
ing her car on, she cranked up the heat and turned on the radio to get some background noise while she drove. Music always helped the ideas come faster and while she made her way down the road toward home, thoughts of her project took over. She would sketch it on the canvas in charcoal first at the site and then go to oils once she got back to her studio. The glow of her headlights on the road before her begin to flicker, pulling her thoughts away from the color pallet running through her head. The radio started to go in and out until it went silent, followed shortly by the headlights shutting down. She barely got the car off the road before it died altogether.

  Well hell, now what?

  "No, no, no, don't do this to me," she chanted as she turned the key in the ignition. All she got for her effort was silence, not even the clicking of the engine trying to turn over.

  "Son of a bitch," she muttered on a defeated sigh and slouched back into her seat. She'd owned her Chevy Cavalier going on ten years and through all that time she had been lucky, it rarely gave her problems. Nothing lasted forever, though. To be honest, she had kind of been waiting for the other shoe to drop for a while now.

  Fate could have picked a better time to kill my car, though, she thought dismally taking in the snow-covered ground surrounding the Chevy.

  For long moments, she sat there staring angrily out into the darkness as if the night itself had put her in this situation rather than a faulty engine. She knew what she had to do, but dreaded doing it. Her only option at this point was to call the lone garage in this small-ass town. Pete's Auto and Towing.

  Pete Serano.

  Fleetingly, she entertained the notion of calling Ethan to help her, but squashed that idea as quickly as it occurred to her. Ethan, by his own admission, didn't know much about cars so he would end up calling Pete's anyway. Which landed her right back at the beginning. No, she thought taking out her cell phone, she had to put her big girl pants on and call herself.

  Taking a deep breath, she dialed. Adam didn't even work for his uncle and Adam was the only Serano she had a problem with. The others, in her brief dealings with them, hadn't been anything other than nice to her. Still, this of course had to happen the night after she had traded insults with one of Pete's beloved nephews. There was no way Pete could possibly know that, though, so she couldn't account for the hitch in her throat or the hint of guilt that flushed her cheeks when he answered the phone.

  "Pete's Auto and Towing, Pete speaking. How can I help you?"

  "Hi," the word came out garbled, so she cleared her throat and tried again. "Hi Pete. This is Marie O'Shea. My car seems to have died on me. I can't get it to start up. It happened on my way home from work and now I'm stranded on the side of the road. Can you come help me out?"

  A rough chuckle came across the line and for some reason his good humor calmed her. "Of all the nights for your car to go kaput, when it's getting down into negative temperatures. That's some hard luck there. Where are you?"

  "I know, right?" A small laugh escaped her, taking with it some of her nervous tension. "I had just turned onto Route 119 from Meadow Lane when it happened."

  "Okay, sit tight for a bit, sweetheart. I'll send someone out to pick you up now."

  And sit tight she did, for about ten minutes before the bitter cold of the evening started to seep into the car. She was about to reach for the blanket she kept in the backseat when she saw the bright headlights of the massive truck coming around the bend to stop by her car. Her relief at being rescued lasted for all of a split second before she clocked the man climbing out of the truck.

  "Oh, you have got to be kidding me," she grumbled under her breath. That was it. It was official. The universe hated her. Well, best to get out of the car and meet him head on.

  "Hey there, darlin'," Adam drawled with a cheery smile. When her only response was to cross her arms over her chest, he laughed. "Don't look so happy to see me. I am here to save you."

  "Why is it you, though? You don't work for Pete."

  "What can I say? Here I am." He spread his arms out. "You want my help or not?"

  Shoulders slumping on a sigh she said, "I guess I don't really have a choice, do I?"

  "That's the spirit." He rolled his eyes. "Get in the truck and get warm while I hook your car up."

  "You sure you know what you're doing?" She couldn't resist throwing the jab at him. Something about him brought out her inner bitch. Maybe it was all the hurtful things he'd said to her last night. Or she could blame her irritability on the situation. The fact that her car had left her stranded on the side of the road and the fact that, even in a heavy work coat and scuffed boots, the man still radiated sex appeal. That last part alone annoyed her to no end.

  The question stopped him as he moved to the front of her car. Turning, he gave her a slow once over. "Don't you worry your pretty little head. Unlike you, I know exactly what I'm doing. Now, get in the truck."

  A nun couldn't miss the double entendre in those words.

  With a sigh that she wished sounded a little more disgusted than it did, she climbed into the warmth of the cab, the vibrations of the rumbling engine under her a small comfort. She watched as he quickly and efficiently hitched her poor car up to the tow truck. Now that the feeling had started to slowly come back into her frozen extremities, she realized that it had probably been unfair of her to get so snippy with him. He had come to help her, after all, so she could at least act grateful. And she genuinely was. Besides, her barbs seemed to bounce right off him, and he always had some caustic comment to hurl back at her. She didn't want the ride back to the shop to be like that, so she made the decision to be civil, at the very least, when he opened the door and climbed in behind the wheel.

  "I can't believe you've been driving around in that piece of shit. Fucking thing's older than dirt. It's a miracle it hasn't fallen apart before now."

  And just like that her hackles rose, all her good intentions flying right out the window. "For your information, I haven't had any issues with that car. It's been purring like a dream up until tonight."

  He threw her a sideways glance. "Darlin', I've been working on cars for the better part of my life. Yours is one bad transmission away from going on life-support." He smirked. "I know how to make neglected parts purr and yours is getting to be beyond all help."

  Again, with the double entendre. She didn't know how it happened, but suddenly he wasn't talking about her car anymore. She rolled her eyes. "No doubt you've taken almost every neglected part in this town for a test drive. It's a wonder your part hasn't rotted off by now."

  To her surprise he chuckled and shook his head, but said nothing as he put the truck in gear and began the drive back to the garage. She took that silence as a temporary truce and reaffirmed her previous decision to be civil. In keeping with that decision, she let it drop.

  It unnerved her a little to sit next to him in the small confines of the truck cab. During their encounters over the last twenty-four hours, he had been her nemesis of sorts so the silence stretching between them felt uncomfortable. Or at least she thought so, anyway. He appeared, as usual, completely comfortable in his own skin and un-fazed by the situation.

  Nevertheless, she felt the need to fill the conversational void. Surely, they could palaver like two rational adults for the next five minutes until they got to the garage.

  "How long have you been working for your uncle?"

  He shook his head. "I don't work for him. I help him out from time to time when he's short staffed." His gaze flicked to hers for a moment before returning to the road. "Why? You thinking of taking your beater of a car to a garage out of town the next time it breaks down to avoid me?"

  The growl of frustration came out of her of its own volition. "No, I'm just surprised you're actually doing something productive with your time, like helping Pete out, rather than being off somewhere catching a venereal disease from a stranger."

  So much for civil.

  "Damn. When you have a point to make you really like to drive it home, don't
you? At least I have a sex life to speak of. Better than having cobwebs growing between my legs." He turned to her and dropped his gaze to her lap. "That what you got going on down there?"

  For a second she could only gape at him. Had he really just gone there? The man was insufferable. "Yeah, you and pretty much every woman in the tri-state area have something to do with your sex life. And who the hell knows what you've got growing in your pants."

  The minute that last sentence left her lips, she instantly regretted it. And a second later, he proved her self-reproach valid. The corner of his mouth twisted upward as he said, "Wanna find out?"

  "Not if my life depended on it," she deadpanned, desperately hoping that the darkness in the truck would camouflage the blush she could feel heating her cheeks. Her sharp reply also served to remind her nether regions that she absolutely did not want to find out.

  "Yup, spoken like a true spinster."

  Her exasperation left her in an undignified huff. "Spinsterhood is not in my future. But I bet you any money syphilis and a few baby mommas are in yours."

  "You sure about that? 'Cause from where I'm sitting, you're well on your way to five cats and a rocking chair. And I always use protection."

  "Good, you're doing a public service." She wasn't even going to address that cat comment. Thankfully, anything he might have been going to say got cut off when he pulled into the parking lot of Pete's garage. As soon as he put the truck in park, she opened the door and bolted out, heading toward the office without checking to see if he was behind her.

  Before she got to the door, it swung open and Pete filled the doorway. No two ways about it, Pete couldn't deny being part of the Serano clan. A little shorter and thinner, he still possessed the same dark, rugged good looks as the rest of them. The lines around his eyes and mouth and the bit of gray at his temples advertised him as an older version and thankfully, right now, he wore a friendly smile on his face.