Bouquet of Lies Part 6

Darla pulled away and placed her arms behind her back where Lacey couldn't get at them. "That was two years ago."

"Not quite."

"It was before I knew better. Before I realized she was alive. Mom is coming to see me again. She is! She came before."

"You were a child and it was a dream."

"I was wide awake and so were you. I don't know why you deny it."

"Darla, stop. She's dead."

They were both silent while Lacey calmed down.

Darla looked as delicate as a pale, pastel flower. Blond-white hair. Fair skin. Ice-green eyes. She was five feet five inches tall and probably weighed all of a hundred pounds. She'd been born too delicate for the world, too fragile for a grandparent like Edward. Was it any wonder she wanted so desperately to believe their mother was alive?

"I'm sorry," Lacey said. "Of course, I've dreamed about Mom too. But I don't mix fact with fiction."

"Neither do I." Darla crossed her arms in front of her.

"Have you ever thought of this? If Mom is alive, that means she abandoned us and maybe that's worse?"

Darla was quiet for a long moment and then she murmured, "If Mother's alive then it isn't my fault."

"Nothing's your fault."

"Grandfather says it is."

"Edward's an a.s.s."

Darla stared at the bedspread.

Lacey patted her sister's hands. "I just came in to check on you. Jake said you were pretty upset."

"Is he your boyfriend now?"

"What? No!"

"You're always talking to him."

"He just got here and I've talked to him twice. He'd talk to you if you'd go say hi."

Darla's body stiffened and she reddened again. "I will when I get a chance."

"What are you scared of? He's a friend. Go talk to him."

Darla raised her eyes, a steeliness in her gaze that was new. "Don't tell me what to do."

Lacey stood up. "I wasn't. Do what you want."

"You're always telling me what to do. But you don't do it for me. You do it for you."

"Explain that to me."

"I don't have to."

Lacey nodded and moved to the door. As sisters they'd disagreed, but not like this. How long had this resentment been brewing in her mixed-up head?

Darla narrowed her eyes. "And I'm not moving out of the house with you either."

That had always been iffy. But to hear her say it with such resentment gave Lacey pause. Maybe Darla was right. Maybe she did want Darla to move with her for her good and not Darla's. She hated living under the same roof as Edward and it was torture to be around Harper. Darla might be haunted by a dead mother, but Lacey was haunted by a father who was alive and didn't care. She stared at her sister. She couldn't move out and leave Darla behind. At least Edward retracted his fangs a little bit when she was around to defend her sister. What would he do to Darla's fragile psyche if Lacey wasn't there? A new place to live would have to wait.

"You can go now," Darla said.

Lacey took hold of the doork.n.o.b. Darla's new att.i.tude made her eyes sting. She cracked the door open and spoke softly. "I won't make you come to my party. I won't order that costume I was going to get you."

"No! I want to come."

Lacey turned around. "What? You hate parties."

Darla twisted her hair. "I feel like going. That's all."

"Really?" Lacey stared and Darla looked away. "Then I'll order the costume."

Seven.

WELL, THIS WAS one way to see Dan-the-Man again. Not the best way, not one she'd planned. But it was a way.

Lacey quickly checked her face and hair in the Spyder's rearview mirror. Then she turned to the side mirror and watched his perfect gym-body approach the driver's side door. She did love a man in uniform. Or rather, she liked this man in this uniform. Much s.e.xier than what he wore at the Roxy that night, oh so long ago. Well, two weeks ago. He'd never called. She frowned just as he appeared at the window.

"Miss Bouquet." He removed his sun gla.s.ses.

She looked at him and her heart unexpectedly stopped for a moment. Those eyes.

"Mr. Dan-the-Man."

She kept the frown. She was mad, right? No phone call. No kiss on the dance floor. She bit the inside corner of her mouth to stop the smile that wanted to form. She was a busy gal. She had a party coming up. She'd just left practicing with the magician. She had finally managed to stop this cop-guy from creeping into her thoughts every chance he got . . .

She took a deep breath and let it out. He shouldn't be so s.e.xy if he wanted nothing to do with her. And now, here he was again, ticket book- Oh. He didn't have his ticket book out. Could this possibly be a social call?

"I've been meaning to call you," he said with no expression.

Her smile escaped. "Oh, yeah? Couldn't tell it by the way my phone didn't ring." She picked up her cell and jokingly checked for messages. "Nope. No missed calls."

"I said meaning to."

"It's actions that count in my book." She stopped smiling and tried to look stern. Let him squirm a little for making her wait to see him again.

"I've been busy and, uh. No time." He shrugged. "Here's the thing. How about lunch next week?"

"Lunch. With you?"

"Well. Yeah." He put a hand on his wrist and twisted it back and forth.

Adorable. He actually looked nervous. "So this would be a date?"

He dropped the jittery gesture. "You could say that. Should I pick you up?"

"Ah, duh, if it's a date. You got a car?"

"Yes. I've got a car."

"A nice one with racing stripes?"

"Uh, no. How about Wednesday? Next week."

"Why not this week?"

His mouth opened, but he didn't say anything. Finally he shrugged. "I, um. Next week's better."

"I'm having a costume party Sat.u.r.day night. You should come. It could be a post-Roxy, pre-lunch thingy."

"No, I um." He shook his head. "I can't make that. Look." He stiffened and his face hardened. "I stopped you for a couple of reasons. You were driving like a maniac. And when you made that left turn I thought you'd bought the farm. I'm sure the driver who almost hit you saw his life flash before his eyes. You've got to slow down or you're going to mess up this pretty car of yours, not to mention kill yourself and anybody else who gets in your way."

He sounded kind of mad. Well, not kind of. He was mad. Just because the horn of the other driver had blared like a son of a gun didn't actually mean she was in the wrong. There had been no screeching tires and no collision. No harm, no foul. Right? Guess not.

"There are more than five million car accidents in this country every year."

"They give you that statistic in cop school?"

"I'm serious."

"I know. You're always serious."

"Look. Too many people die because of excessive speed."

"Okay. Sorry. I get it."

"I don't think you do. I gave you a ticket last time and a warning about your expired tags."

Right. The tags. She'd forgotten about the tags.

"Six months overdue. You have to be more responsible. I'm not sure another ticket will do it. I'm going to impound the car."

"What?" He had to be kidding. "You're taking my Spyder? You're joking, right?"

"Out of the car please." He opened the door and she stepped out, still waiting for him to say, Not! Just wanted to get your full attention. No more speeding now. I'm really a fun kind of guy.

He didn't say any of those things. Dan-the-Man, Mr. Cutie-Pie, was Mr. All-Business. "You'll have to call for a ride," he said.

She watched him return to his motorcycle and get on the radio. She wasn't angry exactly. Miffed was a better word. She'd get her car back. For sure she was mystified. What sort of person asks you out on a date and then steals your car? Yes. Steals. To teach her responsibility? She was responsible. She'd forgotten about the tags. An easy thing to do when you had a life. Well. She'd take care of the tags right now. She took out her smart phone and a credit card. She pulled up the Internet and found the site for the DMV. With the push of several b.u.t.tons, she registered the car and paid the fees. She put the credit card away.

A moment later, Dan walked back to her. "Anything in the Spyder you need to remove? The tow company won't take responsibility for anything that goes missing."

"I travel light." She wiggled the phone in front of him. "I'm registered now. Everything's up to date, peachy-keen. So can we skip the drama? Just give me a ticket or something?"

"I know you don't believe me, but I'm doing this for your own good."

She looked him in the eye. He didn't flinch. He believed it even if she didn't. She suddenly wondered, if she offered him a bribe, would he throw her a.s.s in jail? Probably.

She flashed on an image of Dan placing her in handcuffs. Then the setting of where he might do that changed from the street to a candle-lit bedroom.

She tried not to grin and Dan's expression told her he wondered what the h.e.l.l she was thinking about. Guess most people's reaction to their cars being towed wasn't a cryptic, amused smile.

The tow truck arrived almost immediately.

Lacey heaved a sigh as the Spyder was loaded onto a flatbed truck. She eyed the small group of lookie-loos standing about and spotted a bald biker sporting a handlebar mustache. He looked like a tough guy, but when he glanced over at her, he shook his head as if to say he felt her pain.

Dan started to explain what she had to do to retrieve the car. "The sooner you do it, the less it will cost you. You say you've already registered it."

"That's me. Miss Responsible when it counts."

He didn't smile. "You find that ride yet?" he asked.

"Ah." She held up a finger and then speed-dialed a number.

"Talk to me," Jake said upon answering.

"Hi. I need a ride. My car . . ."

She watched the tow truck roll away with the Spyder strapped to its back. Her heart fell. Finally, a flash of anger jolted through her body. This was ridiculous.

"So, you're taken care of," Dan said. She a.s.sumed he meant she had a ride.

"I'm taken care of all right." Lacey scowled.

"Okay, then." Dan walked to his motorcycle.

"Lacey," Jake barked.

"My car just got towed."

"What! What happened?"