Home > Runaway : Wolfes of Manhattan Three(12)

Runaway : Wolfes of Manhattan Three(12)
Author: Helen Hardt

Motherfucker.

More accurate—daughterfucker.

Such a complete sicko.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

There weren’t enough nails in Matt’s truck to do all the damage I wanted to do.

“Easy.” He eased the hammer out of my hand. “That one’s in, Riley. Time to start another.”

I grabbed the tool back. “I’m done when I say I’m done.”

“Hey.” He cupped both my cheeks and looked into my eyes. “We’ve got plenty of pickets. Once the head of the nail is all that’s visible, you’re done. Okay?”

I nodded.

Fine. I’d hammered that one into my father’s skull.

Time to start again.

 

 

By noon, we were done. And boy, was I beat. But wow, it felt good to pound those nails with a hammer. My father’s corpse was full of a thousand holes.

A job well done.

“Mrs. Carson usually gives us lunch,” Matt said, “but if you’d rather, we can go into town. I know how you feel about carbs and fat.”

“Believe it or not, I’m starving,” I said.

“Of course you are. You just worked your cute little butt off for five and a half hours.”

“We should probably stay. I don’t want to hurt Mrs. Carson’s feelings.”

“Carnitas and cheese enchiladas,” Matt said. “That’s what she always fixes for Lucas and me.”

“What are carnitas?”

“Slow-cooked pork with onions and spices. It’s to die for.”

Pork, huh? I never ate pork. Beef and poultry only on occasion. I existed on fish and seafood, vegetables and brown rice. I wasn’t sure what pork would do to my stomach. But I didn’t want to be rude. Maybe if I just took a small portion.

“Does she serve any vegetables or anything?”

“Usually some rice.”

Okay, I could work with that. A very small portion of pork and a big plate of rice.

I followed Matt to the doorway and entered the small house. My mouth watered when I inhaled. Something smelled utterly delicious. This wasn’t any kind of pork I’d ever smelled.

“Come on into the kitchen,” Mrs. Carson called.

At least I assumed it was Mrs. Carson. I hadn’t actually seen her yet.

“Mrs. C,” Matt said, “this is Riley Mansfield. She’s renting my place for the week, and she helped us out today.”

“Oh, my.” Mrs. Carson trotted up to me. She was a spry old woman, and she reached up and patted my cheeks. “You sure are pretty.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Mattie, this one might be a keeper.”

Matt blushed. Seriously, he actually blushed. I held back a laugh.

“She’s only here for a week, Mrs. C,” Lucas offered.

“Only a week? Where are you from, dear?”

“Pittsburgh,” I said.

“Steelers fan, are you?”

“I don’t really follow football.”

“Neither do these two guys,” she said. “I’m always looking for someone to come over and watch the games with me.”

“Hey, we watch the games with you,” Lucas said.

“Only because I fix you nachos,” Mrs. Carson said.

“Why do you think we fixed your fence today?” Matt laughed.

“It smells terrific,” I said. No lie.

Contrary to what had been written about me in tabloid magazines, I was not anorexic or bulimic. I ate eleven hundred calories a day to keep my model body. I never threw up. My agent, Fredricka, blew a gasket whenever I put on so much as an ounce.

A sliver of guilt slid through me. In two days, I was supposed to fly to Paris for Dominique Cosmetics. I’d be calling Fredricka to have her smooth things over. She was a whiz with words. So the shoot would be postponed a week or two. I was distraught, after all. My father had just passed away. Not only that. He’d been murdered!

As far as the public knew, I was his little princess. So sad about his demise.

Yeah… I had to call her. I’d do it this afternoon. Right now, I planned to enjoy this delicious-smelling lunch.

And yeah, Fredricka, I’m going to gain a few pounds this week.

After all, I’m dealing with my daddy’s death!

Ugh. The thoughts were beginning to nauseate me, and I really wanted to enjoy this lunch.

“Everything’s set out,” Mrs. Carson said. “Can I get you men a beer?”

“You bet,” Lucas said.

“And for you, dear?” she asked me.

“I don’t drink beer. Just some of the marvelous tap water would be great,” I said. “I’ve never tasted such delicious water.”

“We do have the best water. I don’t suppose they have such good-tasting water in Pittsburgh.”

“I should say they don’t.”

Not that I would know, but it sounded good. I never drank tap water at home. Always Evian straight out of a bottle. My brother Reid preferred Pellegrino.

The thought of my brother saddened me. They were worried about me, I knew. This wasn’t the first time I’d taken off without any notice. Of course, it was the first time I’d taken off on my own and not gone into hiding at my father’s request. Request? More like command. My brothers were used to me taking off for no apparent reason. This was on brand for Riley Wolfe.

I sat down at the table with Lucas and Matt, and Mrs. Carson slid a plate heaped full of meaty and cheesy delights in front of me. The initial plan had been to eat a little bit of pork and a big plateful of rice. I held back a chuckle. The rice on my plate was about the size of a golf ball. The rest of the plate was enchiladas and what looked like pot roast made of pork. That must be the carnitas. I couldn’t help myself. I inhaled and closed my eyes.

How could anything truly smell this delicious?

A far cry from the nonexistent aroma of grilled tilapia and brown rice.

“Dig in,” Mrs. Carson said.

I waited until Lucas and Matt each took a bite, and then I speared a piece of pork on my fork and slowly brought it to my lips.

Oh. My. God.

It was so tender and delicious. I had no idea what kind of spices she had used other than the onions. Probably some chili powder of some sort, maybe a little coriander? I wasn’t a big cook, so I truly was only guessing.

“What do you think, dear?” she asked.

“It’s delicious,” I said after I swallowed. “You should be running a restaurant around here.”

Lucas and Matt burst into laughter.

Had I said something funny?

“Everyone says that the first time they eat Mrs. C’s goodies,” Matt said. “It’s like a ritual, you know? Every time I bring someone over here, they say the same thing.”

He brought other people over here before? Just friends, maybe?

Or other women?

Did it matter? I’d just met the man, and I was leaving in six days. Still, it pierced my heart just a little. After all, Mrs. Carson had said I might be a keeper. That seemed to imply that Matt had brought other women here.

Why let it bother me? Right now, I was starving, and I had a plate of the most delicious food I’d ever eaten in front of me. I tried a bit of the enchilada next. It was a cheesy, corny, creamy delight topped with a red sauce that I’d thought might be tomato, but it wasn’t. It was a mild blend of some kind of peppers.

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