Life Rewritten Read online

  “I’ll carry them to the truck for you.”

  She looked as if she wanted to argue about it, so he turned and started walking. Her truck was an older model, dark blue Ford, dented in a couple places and sporting several rust spots. He was surprised. With the money she’d made with the Redheaded Stepsisters, she could afford any car or truck she wanted.

  He started to lift the bag into the bed of the truck, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Not there. In the cab.”

  She snatched her hand away too quickly, and he glanced at her. She fumbled in a large leather pouch slung over her shoulder. When she pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the truck door, her fingers were trembling.

  “Are you okay to drive?”

  “I’m fine.” She grabbed for the door handle. “Thank you for your help, Mr. McCabe.”

  “Sam,” he said without thinking.

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, brushed a trace of snow off the seat of her jeans and climbed into the driver’s seat, wincing. “Have a safe trip,” she said.

  She slammed the door closed before he could tell her he wasn’t going anywhere. He edged away from the truck as the engine cranked listlessly, then fell silent. Through the back window of the cab, he saw her bow her head, as if she was staring at the dashboard. She must have turned the key again, because the engine coughed a couple of times, then caught. When he got into his Jeep, she was revving the sputtering engine.

  She was still in the parking lot when he drove out, headed for the other side of town, where he’d seen an all-night fast food outlet. He’d swing through it before picking up the kids and going back to his motel. He needed fuel.

  Turned out redemption was harder than it looked.

  SAM MCCABE’S TAILLIGHTS disappeared around the corner. With any luck, he was on his way out of town.

  Delaney gave the truck a little more gas and listened to it sputter. Had he really thought he could wait for her in the pub and she’d go off with him? A stranger? What kind of an idiot was he?Chantal would have considered it.

  She slammed the truck into gear. Chantal had been an idiot, too.

  The heater hadn’t kicked in, but the truck was running a little more smoothly. She pulled out of the Harp’s lot, the cold burning into her hands, even through her gloves.

  The headlights were so dim they barely illuminated the road in front of her. Murmuring soothing words to the truck, she cautiously pressed on the gas. The lights got a little brighter. She should have replaced the battery long ago.

  Snow swirled around the windows, but it was tapering off. It would stop soon. In her two and a half years up here, she’d become an expert at reading snow.

  County M was plowed, but the surface was still slippery. She crept along, watching carefully for the kind of ice slick that had ambushed her in the parking lot. She rubbed the spot on her hip. She wouldn’t have fallen if Sam hadn’t distracted her.

  A dark shape scurried across the road in front of her truck, and she pumped her brakes. Damn it. Fluffy. She heard a yelp— Oh, God. She’d hit him.

  As she pulled onto the shoulder, the dog struggled to his feet and hobbled toward the other side of the road. She scrambled out the door, the wind biting at her face. Ignoring the pain, she ran toward the injured animal.

  “Fluffy! Fluffy, come.”

  The dog looked over his shoulder at her and began to trot, favoring his right rear leg. She’d scared him. Delaney crouched in the road and held out her hand. “Here, Fluffy. Come here, boy.”

  He paused, poised for flight, and watched her. His owners had moved out a couple weeks earlier and left him behind. She’d been trying to catch him ever since.

  No dog should be abandoned, let alone in this kind of weather.

  “Here, Fluffy,” she crooned. “I have treats. You want treats, baby?” She’d find something for him to eat. Maybe she’d keep him. It might be nice to have a dog for company.

  He took a step toward her just as headlights illuminated the road behind her. The vehicle turned into the parking lot of the Bide-a-Wee Motel, but it was too late. The dog was spooked.

  Fluffy scrambled down the ditch on the opposite side of the road, then limped into the woods. Delaney ran after him.

  Her feet and ankles sank into the snow, and cold water from the ditch seeped into her canvas Chuck Taylors. “Damn it! Fluffy! Treats, boy. Treats?”

  She pushed into the forest, feeling her way past the trees, stumbling over logs buried by snow. She stopped after twenty feet or so and listened. Nothing.

  She continued through the snow-laden underbrush for a while, but it was too dark to follow the dog’s tracks. Finally, aching from the cold, she tramped back toward the road.

  As she crossed in front of the truck, she noticed a few dark dots on the icy pavement. Oh, God. Fluffy was bleeding.

  She turned back to the forest again, listening hard. But all she heard was the wind rustling the dried leaves on the trees.

  She couldn’t just leave him. He was hurt.

  Another set of headlights appeared from the direction of town. She moved back to the shelter of her truck, her toes numb. The vehicle began to turn into the Bide-a-Wee, then swung back onto the road and headed toward her.

  She waited for it to pass, but instead it slowed and stopped beside her. A black Jeep. McCabe.

  Great. The perfect capper to the night.

  The window came down. “Delaney? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, Mr. McCabe. But thanks for stopping.”

  “Are you sure? You look pretty cold.”

  Her hands were fisted in her jacket pockets and her shoulders hunched against the wind. She forced herself to relax. “I’m fine. I was trying to catch a dog, but he ran into the woods.”

  Sam glanced into the backseat, then back at her. “Need some help?”

  “No. He’s gone.” She turned and got into her truck, waving at him.

  She turned the key and heard only a muffled click. The battery was dead.

  She waved at McCabe again, hoping he’d leave. But he got out of the Jeep and walked around to her door.

  “If you have cables, I could give you a jump.”

  “Thanks, but I need a new battery. I’ll call my service guy.”

  She rolled up the window, pulled out her cell phone, punched a button and waited.

  “Wilborn,” Jase Wilborn barked into the phone.

  “Hey, Jase, this is Delaney Spencer. My car died on M, about two miles out of town. I know it’s late, but could you come and put a new battery in for me?”

  “Hey, Delaney.” He sounded exhausted. “I can do it, but it might be a while. I’m at an accident scene, waiting to haul the cars away.”

  “Okay, Jase. I’ll leave it here and call you in the morning.” She snapped the phone closed, aware of Sam waiting in the Jeep next to her. She’d call either Maddie or Jen, her other good friend, to come pick her up.

  As her finger hovered over the phone, Sam got out and walked to her window again. Reluctantly, she rolled it down.

  “Do you want a lift home?” he asked.

  She could walk, but it was at least another mile to her house. Her toes curled in her wet, cold shoes. “I’ll give one of my friends a call,” she said.

  He cupped his hands over his ears. “Are you sure? My car is already warm.”

  No way was she getting into a car with a stranger. Especially one who’d tried to pick her up earlier. “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”

  “We won’t be alone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  The windows of the Jeep were tinted and she couldn’t see inside. “You were alone at the pub.”

  “There are two kids in the backseat.”

  She leaned closer to the window, but couldn’t see anything in the darkness. She shivered again. How could she drag her friends out at this time of night? “Fine. I appreciate it.”

  She touched her instrument case. The cold wasn’t good for her drums, but she c
ouldn’t do anything about it. Sliding down onto the pavement, she closed her door.

  Snow crunched beneath her shoes as she walked toward Sam, the sound as loud as gunshots in the complete quiet of the forest. She hunched into her jacket, her hands buried in the pockets, reminding Sam how damn cold it was. The sooner he was out of here and back in Miami, the happier he would be.

  As she walked past him to the Jeep, he noticed for the first time how slender she was. Delicate, almost. And she was shorter than he’d expected. He’d always thought of Chantal as larger than life. Tonight, she was just a tired woman.

  “Don’t you want your drums?” he asked.

  “Do you have room?”

  “As long as you don’t mind putting them in the back.”

  “Then yes, I do. Thank you.” As she returned to get them, she said, “How did you know I didn’t want to leave them?”

  “You fell on your ass rather than let them hit the ground. I figured there was no way you’d want to leave them behind.”

  “No, I don’t. The cold isn’t good for them.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you. This is thoughtful of you.”

  “No big deal.” He opened the back hatch of the Jeep, and she set the large vinyl bag on the carpet. She hesitated for a moment, then pulled a small cylinder out of her purse and lifted the drums again.

  “You said you had kids in the car.” She backed away as she spoke.

  “They’re sleeping.” He peered in the window of the backseat, reassured when neither of them moved. The two small forms were slumped over, held in place by seat belts. Both of them were huddled into their jackets, hats pulled low over their heads. They didn’t like the cold, either.

  She set the drums down again, straightened and dropped the cylinder back into her purse. Pepper spray? Mace? Had she thought he was a threat?

  As she turned toward him, the light from the back of the Jeep illuminated her face, and he got a good look at her eyes for the first time. They were a clear, bright blue-green, with a black rim around the iris—like the water in the Caribbean, clean and translucent all the way to the bottom.

  He’d read about her incredible eyes, but he figured the articles were exaggerating. They weren’t.

  She must wear colored contact lenses. No one could really have eyes that shade.

  “Mr. McCabe? Are you ready to go?” She was edging away, watching him.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Just making sure the kids are okay.”

  She slid into the passenger seat and twisted to view the two children. She didn’t say a thing, but she watched them for a beat too long.

  Finally, she said, “I thought you were just passing through town.”

  “I am, I hope.”

  “So where did you leave your kids while you were at the pub?”

  He’d been relieved when he found Millie. Thank God for the internet. “There’s a woman in town who does overnight day care for the people who work at the canning factory in Sturgeon Falls. She watched them.”

  Delaney turned back toward him. “You left your kids with a stranger so you could go to a pub?”

  The implied criticism made him bristle. “I had business there,” he said, turning on the ignition. “Not that the kids are any concern of yours.”

  “It’s cold and late.” She didn’t say anything else, but she didn’t have to—her expression was easy to read. He’d had a beer and watched the band. That didn’t sound like business.

  “They were perfectly happy with Millie.”

  “I’m sure they were.”

  His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. “You must have several of your own kids to know so much about them.”

  “You don’t need to be a parent. All you need is a little common sense.” She pressed her lips together. “Sorry, Mr. McCabe. It’s none of my business. My only excuse is that it’s late and I’m tired.”

  She was right. He shouldn’t be Leo and Rennie’s guardian. He didn’t want the job and he wasn’t any good at it. But there was no one else. He was stuck with them. Their father was dead and their mother was a drunken drug addict.

  The sooner this woman—Delaney…Chantal—gave him the tapes, the sooner he could pack Leo and Rennie off to the private school and get back to his own life.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE CAR WAS QUIET as Sam put on his seat belt. He shifted gears and stared out the window at the pasture on the other side of the road. It was covered by a smooth blanket of snow, broken only by the occasional dead weed poking through the white. Snow had collected in the squares of the wire fence, making them look like tiny windowpanes decorated for Christmas.

  He hated Christmas.The last time he’d seen Diesel alive had been Christmas Day.

  “Where am I taking you?” He needed to get Chantal out of his car before he said something he’d regret. He wanted her on his side. He wanted those tapes.

  “I live about a mile down the road.”

  The car had cooled quickly when he’d opened the rear hatch to load the drums, and he turned the heat to high as he eased onto the road. Delaney bent down to take off her wet shoes, then put her feet in front of the heater vent. Her socks were green, blue and yellow stripes. He hadn’t expected her to have a whimsical side.

  “You don’t seem too fond of our weather,” she said. “Where are you from?”

  “Florida, where I’ve never had to worry about freezing my ass off. How about you? Were you born and raised up here?”

  “No, I moved here a few years ago.”

  “Because you love the weather?”

  A small smile flashed across her face. “I’ve learned to tolerate the cold. I moved here for a job.”

  “Playing the drums?”

  The smile disappeared, and she rubbed her hands down her thighs, tightening the slightly baggy denim over her legs. “No, that’s a sideline. Just for fun.”

  “You’re good at it. Ever think about joining a bigger band? Getting more exposure?”

  “I’m very happy in Otter Tail.” She stared out the window, and he couldn’t see her face. Was she lying? Did she miss the spotlight? Maybe getting those CDs would be easier than he expected.

  “How long have you been playing the drums?” he asked.

  “A long time.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I started in my grade school band.”

  He knew she was twenty-seven, but he asked, anyway. “How long ago was that?”

  “Don’t you know better than to ask a woman her age?” Her voice was light and teasing, but tension hummed beneath the words.

  “Okay, mystery woman. You came from nowhere and you’re ageless.”

  “Exactly.” Her gaze was uncomfortably intimate in the confines of the car. “You’ve asked me a lot of questions about myself. What about you? What kind of business brings you to Otter Tail?”

  “Too long to go into right now. I’ll tell you about it next time I see you.”

  “Next time?” She sounded surprised. “I doubt we’ll see each other again.”

  “I’ll be at the Harp tomorrow night.” He glanced at his watch. “Tonight.”

  “Really? More business?” She looked over her shoulder at the sleeping children. “Will they be in overnight child care again?”

  “I’d…” He caught himself before he admitted he’d forgotten about the kids. “I’ll see what they thought of the place. If they liked it, I guess that’s where they’ll be.”

  “And if they didn’t?”

  “Maybe the woman who owns the motel will watch them.”

  “Myrtle Sanders? You better think twice about her. She’s trying to quit smoking, and it’s made her a little edgy.”

  There was no mistaking the contempt in Chantal’s voice. “Thanks for the tip,” he said.

  “Why did you bring them on a business trip, anyway?”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” he said curtly. He felt her watching him, but continued to stare out the windshield.

  “That’s too bad,” she said. Clearly
, all her sympathy was for the kids.

  “Their mother is in the hospital.”

  “I’m sorry.” She looked back at them again. “Poor babies.”

  Her words made him tighten his grip on the steering wheel. He’d assumed Leo and Rennie would be happy to be away from their mother, from her alternating neglect and smothering, her irrational rages. But maybe they were just as unhappy to be with him as he was to have them.

  “They haven’t had an easy time of it.”

  “Sounds like it.” She reached between the seats and tugged Leo’s hat more tightly over his ears. Her shoulder was inches away from Sam’s. He’d barely have to move to touch her.

  This was Chantal. A woman he despised. One small gesture toward a child wasn’t going to change his opinion of her.

  He drove slowly, and the only sound was the tires crunching on the snow.

  Her scent drifted across to him, a mix of cinnamon and orange and spices, with a hint of fresh wood. It didn’t match her blonde, wholesome appearance but it was dark and mysterious. Complex. Like Chantal.

  Seductress. Siren. When she’d been onstage with the Redheads, no one looked at anyone but her. The rest of the band, including his brother, had just been props for her charisma.

  It had been the same tonight at the Harp and Halo. She’d mesmerized the audience effortlessly. The pub had stilled every time she’d sung. Every eye in the place had been focused on her.

  She didn’t look like Chantal, but there was no doubt in his mind that she was one and the same. The woman so many men had fantasized about. Tonight even without the low-cut black leather tops and skintight jeans, she’d been the sexual temptress who’d played the drums like she was making love.

  She couldn’t enthrall him, though. He knew who she really was.

  “My driveway is up here on the right.”

  Her low voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “All I see are trees.”

  “Slow down. More. Right here.”

  There was a small opening through the trees that led to a narrow driveway, but no reflectors or signs to indicate someone lived there. There wasn’t even a mailbox along the road.