“Mace, the man asked you a question!’’ Mama swatted my folded hands. “I didn’t teach you to ignore people when they speak to you.’’
I jerked out of her reach. “Stop slapping on me, Mama. I’m a grown woman!’’
“Then start acting like one!’’
“Ring, ring … Kettle, it’s the pot.’’ I offered her a pretend phone. “Who’s the one simpering around the set, pretending to be a movie star? Who’s the one playing dress-up, like she’s in her second childhood?”
Sal slammed one of his bear-paw-sized hands on the table. “Enough, Mace! Don’t talk like that about your mudder. She earned a speaking part, and she’s good. She’s going to steal the whole movie!’’
He beamed with pride at Mama, who planted a kiss on his cheek. “At least I know how to keep my man happy, don’t I, Sally?’’
Sal nodded, grinning like a fat man at an all-you-can-eat buffet.
I heard Marty’s quiet voice. “Mace can’t help it if she doesn’t express her feelings well. Not everybody wears their heart on their sleeve.’’ She looked pointedly at Mama, and then turned to my estranged boyfriend. “She cares so much about you, Carlos. We’ve never seen her like this with anyone she’s ever dated.’’
“That’s right,’’ Mama chimed in. “Mace loves you.’’
My cheeks burned. I must have been blushing, which was totally embarrassing. I didn’t dare raise my eyes to see Carlos’s reaction to my family trying to patch up our romance. But I was listening to every word; including the next ones, when Maddie managed to put her foot in it.
“She was crazy about Jeb Ennis, of course. But Mace only thought that was love.’’ Maddie leaned to grab at both shins. “Ouch!’’
“Jeb is history, Maddie. I was a kid. I tried to tell Carlos that, but he didn’t want to listen. Now, if y’all are through dissecting my sorry love life, I need to go check on the horses.’’
I propelled myself away from the table, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder to see if Carlos would come after me. I could almost feel my skin scorching where five pairs of eyes were aimed at my back. I was debating whether to swallow my pride and return to get Carlos, when I saw Greg Tilton watching me from another table, a plastic-wrapped sandwich in his hand. Maybe he lacked the Hollywood obsession with calories, because I’d already seen him eating lunch, and this was his second extra sandwich of the day. Dropping it on the table, he fell into step beside me.
“Hey, want some company?’’
“Not really.’’
A look of surprise flitted across his face. “I thought we could talk about what’s been happening around here. Somebody mentioned you’re really smart. They say you’re some kind of super amateur detective when it comes to solving murders.’’
He had me at “smart.’’
“I’m not much in the mood for talking,’’ I said, “but you can tag along with me to the corral.’’
As we made our way through the woods, Tilton must have caught on to my black mood. I was pleasantly surprised that he didn’t yammer at me, or insist I turn my frown upside down to a smile. I hate when people say that. I saw him watching a cardinal as it flitted from branch to branch. “Pretty redbird, huh?’’
“ ‘Cardinalis cardinalis,’ ’’ Greg answered.
You could have knocked me over with a cardinalis feather. He gave me his patented movie-star smirk.
“I was quite the birdwatcher when I was a kid,’’ he said. “Guess that makes me a dork.’’
“Not at all,’’ I said. “I wish more people were aware of the natural world around them.’’
“When I was a boy, I used to escape to the woods for hours. I felt safe there.’’
“Me, too.’’ I raised my head to take in the green canopy of trees above us. “Still do.’’
We were silent for a while, just standing together on the path, enjoying the sights and sounds of the woods. Something small scurried through the undergrowth, and we both turned to follow the noise. It was probably a squirrel, or maybe a snake. He spotted a hawk in a tall pine, and pointed it out to me without a word. I showed him the resurrection ferns growing on an oak’s branches, green and lush now after yesterday’s rain. It felt good, companionable, to share my love of nature with somebody who appreciated the outdoors like I did.
I was scanning the ground, still searching for any little critters moving through the brush, when I realized Tilton had gone motionless beside me. He wasn’t checking out the trees or the undergrowth or the birds anymore. He was checking out me.
“You know, the way that dappled sunlight hits your face is really stunning. And you have this serene expression as you look at the woods. You’re a beautiful woman, Mace. It makes you even more desirable that you don’t seem to realize it.’’
Uh-oh.
I started to protest that he shouldn’t get the wrong idea, that I was involved with somebody, but he put a finger to my lips.
“Shhhh, don’t speak.’’’ He’d lowered the tone of his voice into the seduction register. “Just accept the compliment.’’
I felt like Sandra Bullock in a plain-Jane role, at the moment the dashing hero shows an interest.
He rubbed his finger suggestively over my lips. That sandwich must have been tuna fish, because I could smell it on his hand. I jerked back my head, and shook it with force. “No.’’
“No?’’ He raised his brows, surprised. Then his face contorted with anger, and he grabbed my wrist. “I know you’re attracted to me. What’s your problem?’’
An image of Carlos’s face appeared in my mind. “For one thing, I’m seeing somebody. For another, I’m not attracted to you.’’
He gave a snort of laughter at the very idea of that. “Yeah, right. Anyway, I’m not asking you to marry me. Wouldn’t you like to be able to say you got it on with the great Greg Tilton?’’
He still had a bruising grip on my wrist. He pulled my hand to the fly of his jeans, forcing me to stroke him through the fabric. Apparently, he was ready. But I was far from willing.
I struck as fast as a Florida panther, using my free hand to grab his ear. I twisted it, hard. At the same time, I brought my knee up with a solid shot to his groin. Dropping my wrist, he doubled over. He clutched one hand to his ear. The other cupped his crotch, as he gasped for breath.
He stepped backward, stumbled over a marlberry shrub, and landed on the ground. “Bitch!’’ His face was crimson, either from groin pain or rage.
“You asked for it.’’
“Nobody treats Greg Tilton like that, especially not some country mouse from Hicksville, Florida.’’
“Well, I guess you’re wrong about that, because this country mouse just kicked Greg Tilton’s ass.’’
Grimacing, he tried to get up. I put my boot to his shoulder and sat him back down.
“Touch me again,’’ I said, “and I’ll knock your teeth down your throat just to watch you spit ’em out, single-file.’’
What happened wasn’t funny. Still, I was grinning as I walked away because of the last sight I’d had of him. The “great Greg Tilton’’ was sprawled on his ass, smack dab in a patch of poison ivy.
I was still shaking, not from fear but from anger. Hicksville? Who the hell did Greg Tilton think he was?
I was on my way back to base camp, to warn Mama and my sisters about him. I didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if he’d tried the same thing on Marty, who is as sweet, and about as fragile, as a child’s heirloom doll. Passing by where Tilton had been sitting, I noticed a raccoon had jumped onto the table. He’d gotten past the plastic wrap on the sandwich Tilton left, and was feasting on half of it. I must have been right about the tuna fish. Raccoons can’t resist the strong smell.
Paul’s wife, Savannah, was talking with my family. She was animated, gesturing with those graceful hands. Sal had left, probably to have that word that Carlos wanted. But my sisters and Mama leaned forward, listening eagerly. Savannah noticed me first, and waved me over. As I got closer, her smile changed into a worried frown.