The Street Where She Lives Read online

  “Love you, too,” Rachel whispered to no one, not even sure which of them she was talking to.

  NIGHT FELL with shocking swiftness. No simple dusk for this place. One moment the sun slowly sank in golds and yellows and reds behind the rocks, and then the next, utter and still blackness.

  Rachel crossed her arms in front of her, watching as Ben resurrected the fire she’d managed to kill. On his knees, he poked at the embers with a stick and the flames leaped to life for him. He glanced at her and she rolled her eyes.

  At that, he laughed. The sound made her stomach tingle.

  They’d met their neighboring campers—Joe, Matt, Liz and Shel, a group of four twenty-somethings claiming to be camping their way across the States before settling down to “real” life. The two couples had seemed a little wary of them until Ben had introduced himself, and within five minutes had made everyone feel quite at home.

  Later, when Emily expressed worry at their new friends’ lack of a home, lack of things and family, Ben told her that he suspected they were happy with the life they’d chosen, and could always change it if they wanted. Not everyone had to have a home or things. Or even family.

  Rachel had watched him explain this to Emily and had to swallow hard. He was like that, happy without a home, things. Family.

  She might have brooded over that, but Emily pulled out a deck of cards and challenged them to a gin rummy tournament. They played next to the fire, surrounded by wide-open vast space and a blanket of stars, with only their own laughter for company.

  It was perfect. Rachel looked at Ben. Oh, yes, so perfect. She knew she should be sad, regretful, even resentful, that this would be it, their only foray into the whole family dynamic, the three of them, but suddenly she felt something else as well. Grateful.

  Ben looked up, caught her looking at him. His hair had been long when he came, but it was longer now, and fell across his forehead. He shoved his fingers through it, shoving it out of his way. He looked tall, lean…beautiful. When he looked at her, she had to close her eyes.

  He was leaving. Tuesday. Couldn’t wait to leave.

  “Let’s hit the sack,” he said abruptly, putting the cards aside, as if his thoughts had turned as troubled as hers.

  “Dad—”

  “Storm’s blowing in.” He pointed to the dark cloud mass coming in from the north, slowly blotting out the stars. “Let’s get warm and cozy inside before it hits.”

  Five minutes later Rachel was kneeling in the center of the miniscule tent, staring at the three overlapping sleeping bags.

  “I want the door,” Emily said, having a good time whipping the beam from her flashlight over everything.

  “I got the door, sweetness,” Ben said.

  Rachel waited for the inevitable argument, as Emily never accepted anything less than her own way, but at Ben’s no-nonsense tone, she simply grabbed her sleeping bag. “Well, then I get the far wall beneath the window.”

  “Fine,” Ben said.

  Fine? That wasn’t fine. Emily by the wall would put her in the middle, where Ben’s hard, warm strength would be against her all night long. She couldn’t handle it, she—

  “Get in, Mom.” Emily pointed to the bag that overlapped Ben’s by a good third. “Tonight, I tuck you in.”

  Kneeling on his bag, Ben pulled off his flannel shirt, leaving just the T-shirt, and slid into his sleeping bag. He looked at Rachel, his brow raised in a silent, amused dare.

  Rachel lay down, pulled the bag up to her chin. She shifted her body around, expecting rocks beneath her. “Hey, this is…soft.”

  “Dad put a mat down for you.” Emily grinned. “Didn’t want you complaining.” She kissed Rachel’s cheek, then turned over, facing away from her and Ben with obvious delight. “I could sleep in the car, you know.”

  “No,” Ben said in that dad tone, and once again Rachel was shocked when her daughter turned off the flashlight and stayed silent. Her breathing evened out, faked or otherwise.

  In the dark Rachel could feel Ben looking at her, could feel the warmth of his body. Hard to miss it when they were practically pinned side to side.

  “You doing okay?” he whispered.

  Depended on his definition of okay. “I’m…good.”

  “Warm enough?”

  Hard not to be with his body acting as her personal furnace. “I’m good,” she repeated, and listened to his soft, sexy laugh.

  “Then why are you holding your breath?”

  Yes. Yes, she was. She let it out slowly. Outside, the storm moved in, the wind howled, the tent walls flapped noisily. Inside was like their own personal cocoon. A sinewy arm snaked out, gripped her waist and tugged her against a hard chest. “You’re awfully quiet,” he murmured, his mouth to her ear. “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m…” His fingers were playing lightly over her ribs, stealing her thoughts.

  “Good?” he tested softly. “You’re good?”

  Lord, she was trying to be. “Go to sleep, Ben.”

  Another soft laugh escaped him, and he snuggled his face close to hers. “I will if you will, babe.”

  Babe. “Ben—”

  “Dream of me.”

  Not surprisingly, she did.

  From: Emily Wellers

  To: Alicia Jones

  Subject: We’re back!

  Camping was so cool! A storm came in the middle of the night and knocked our tent down, LOL. And then when we crawled out from beneath it, it started to snow. Snow! In May, can you believe it? And then while my dad helped my mom and I into the car, the tent blew away, just went rolling across the desert like a toy. You should have seen my mom’s face, it was pretty funny. Dad laughed like crazy when he saw her.

  Then, before we left, my dad gave all our leftovers to these two couples we met. I think they were homeless. I thought that was so cool of him. Mom did, too, though she didn’t say so. She just looked at him with a sort of mushy look.

  And oh! The best part of the weekend! I got an e-mail from Van, that cute guy from my history class I told you about? He said he wants to keep in touch over the summer! scream!

  Anyway, I got your letter. I’d love to meet you this week. If Mom will let me get a bus into Los Angeles, it’s on. I’ll let you know which day.

  Emily.

  From: Alicia Jones

  To: Emily Wellers

  Subject: Best friends forever

  Dear Emily,

  Your camping trip sounded like fun, maybe next time your parents would let you bring a friend. Like me!

  Cool about Van, but don’t forget me, okay?

  Beg your mom to let you take the bus to LA. Can’t wait to see you.

  Your best friend,

  Alicia.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MELANIE HIT the freeway, enjoying the sun and wind in her face courtesy of eighty miles an hour in the Miata, a car she could no longer afford since she’d lost her job this morning.

  Talk about lousy Monday mornings. Worries started to creep in past the numbness, so she sped up.

  A girl had to do what a girl had to do. And what she had to do was ignore the fact that she had no job, no rich husband and her thirty-fourth birthday looming around the corner.

  How had she gotten so damn old? Craning her neck, she stared at her face in the rearview mirror. Great hair, artfully wild. Makeup emphasizing her still fab mouth and eyes. Clothes designed to make a grown man stand up and beg. She looked downright amazing, if she said so herself.

  And she would have stayed home and proven that, if she’d had anywhere to go or someone to do it with, but the sorry truth was, most of her friends had long ago settled down, and the few that hadn’t were going barhopping, “slumming” as they called it, and quite frankly, she’d felt exhausted at the thought.

  “Oh, God,” she muttered, gripping the wheel. “I am old!” Maybe she should turn around and do the barhopping thing, just to show she could still flaunt it. Maybe…ah, hell, she was already here.

  Getti