Daniel squinted into the new shadows as he parked before the barn, sitting for a moment to gather his courage. The lights were on in the house and her car was parked at the front steps beside her worn farm truck. Music drifted out of the windows, opened wide to take advantage of the pleasant October night, the steady pop beat and vocals rising over the air heavy with sunset. The Zombies, he thought, and with a resolute sigh, he took the stained lilies and got out. They were all the rage, one of the many British rock bands storming the nation and pulling the hemlines higher.
Steps slow and methodical, he rose up the wide slate stairs to the expansive wraparound porch. “Well no one told me about her, the way she lied,” drifted out in time with his steps. Big wooden doors facing him, he halted to tug his shirt straight, hesitating as the bright lights of an approaching car passed over him.
“Kal,” he whispered, and eyes narrowed, he dropped back, ducking behind a corner of the house and out of sight. What am I doing? he thought as he gripped his flowers tighter, wishing he’d never brought them. But he cared, maybe more than if she had shown even a hint of interest. A lover he could find, but someone who understood him and his work, someone bright and engaging . . . that was worth risking embarrassment to protect.
His pulse quickened as a black Camaro came to a halt beside Trisk’s car, the engine revving aggressively before it was turned off. But it wasn’t Kal who got out. The man didn’t see him in the shadow of the building as he strode up the walk with an eager confidence. His slacks were tight in the latest style, and his white shirt almost glowed in the dim light. Though he wasn’t especially tall, his tightly muscular build made him stand out. A suit coat was draped over his arm, and he had a hat in his hand. His steps were eerily silent.
“Quen!” Trisk shouted as the music clicked off, and even before the man had a chance to knock, she’d flung open the door, clearly expecting him. “Right on time. How do you do it?”
“I skulk in alleys a lot,” the man said, his voice markedly low and resonant for such a small frame. Clearly delighted to see her, Quen gave her a long hug, Trisk’s long hair mingling with Quen’s much shorter, softly curling version. Brother, Daniel thought, seeing the same dark hair and athletic build, though admittedly Quen’s shoulders were wider and he stood a good six inches over Trisk. It was the hug that said sibling, though; there had been no kiss.
“I saw you on TV this afternoon,” Quen said, then pushed her back to arm’s length, his head cocked and a smile on his face as he looked her up and down in the light spilling out onto the porch. “You did great.”
“I was nervous,” she said as she touched her helix necklace, still around her neck. Beaming, she led him in. “Thank you for the necklace. It went perfect with the outfit. It came yesterday, just in time.”
“Yesterday? I sent it three weeks ago. I should have just brought it in my suitcase.”
“You want some iced tea?” she said, voice going distant. “I baked yesterday. I’ve gotten pretty good at cookies, if nothing else. Is that jacket leather? I like it.”
The door shut, muffling Quen’s response.
Daniel slumped, the flowers in his grip now looking banal even as his resolution to give them to her strengthened. He’d give the two a moment, then knock, telling them he’d been in the barn looking for her. That it wasn’t Kal was a relief.
“You look good.” Quen’s voice came out the kitchen window along with the familiar sounds of ice knocking into glass. “Not just outside, but inside. Have you met someone?”
“No,” Trisk said, much to Daniel’s surprise, but what sister tells her brother everything? “Daniel is starting to become a problem, though,” she added, and Daniel froze. She’d talked to her brother about him? “He’s wickedly smart. Quirky sense of humor. He respects me.”
And that’s a problem? Daniel mused, confused.
“He’d better,” Quen muttered, the tinkle of something spilling over ice loud.
“I haven’t encouraged him,” Trisk said quickly. “But he’s nice and—”
“The man you were sent to spy on,” Quen interrupted dryly. “That is so classic.”
Spy? Daniel eased deeper into the shadows, his flowers drooping to touch the porch.
“Stop it,” Trisk protested, and Daniel could almost see her frown. “I’m not doting on him, but he’s a good man, and I don’t want to hurt him.” The sliding sound of a plate scraped out into the night, then Trisk’s voice, softer. “He thinks Kal is taking advantage of me.”
“So do I,” Quen said, ice clinking as he presumably took a drink. “How is that going? Your last letter wasn’t very forthcoming.”
“Because I don’t trust Kal not to read my mail,” Trisk said, and Daniel heard a chair being pulled out from under the counter between the kitchen and living room. “I had lunch with him this afternoon, and we already set up lunch tomorrow. The doofus thinks I’m eating out of his hand. If nothing else, dating him has helped with Daniel. Try one of the cookies. Good?”