Skygods (Hydraulic #2) Read Free

friend. She stooped her towering ponderosa frame and returned my hug, her frizzy wet hair tickling my neck. “So, what have you been doing outside the office?” I asked. “I’ve heard nothing from you at all since the wedding!”
    Her eyes sparked. “Shouldn’t you be asking who —”
    “Never mind, I set myself up for that one.” I shuffled to the kitchen to make popcorn.
    Molly mooned like a schmaltzy schoolgirl, sprawled on my sofa. “Oh, Kaye, Cassady is…argh! He’s such a gentleman, and he’s smart, and reads a lot and only has documentaries in his Netflix queue, and his pecs! Oh, and he says he’s had it so bad for me, he was ‘as useless as gooseshit on a pumphandle,’” Molly prattled on. “He would have acted sooner, but he wasn’t sure how long he’d stay in Lyons…”
    I poured three glasses of wine as Molly listed Cassady’s virtues. Cassady was something of a hippie rover who’d found employment as an outdoor adventure guide in Lyons a few years back, and settled nicely into our circle of friends. He wouldn’t tell us where he was from, but I suspected Minnesota. Molly’d been panting after him since he first spoke that glorious “ya, you betcha,” and “nice weather, eh?” Jaime turned a little green and downed half her glass the instant I placed it in her fingers. I had a feeling she wouldn’t be joining us for many more girls’ nights. She smacked her lips appreciatively.
    “Good stuff, Trilby. Local?”
    I nodded, anxiously shifting as she leered.
    “You know, if the talk in Lyons about you and Cabral hooking up again is true, you’ll have to kiss your boozing days good-bye.”
    I twirled the stem of my wine glass between my fingers. “I’ve thought of that. If we decide to hook up again.”
    “Just think…no more of that mouth-watering, heady drink of the gods. Never again will you press it to your lips and let it slide down your throat, warming every beautiful pipe and gullet of your body. Mmmm.”
    “Wow,” Molly whispered.
    I shrugged, refusing to let Jaime get to me. “It’s a small price to pay to help him stay on the wagon.”
    She sighed. “You’re a lovesick, cherub-cheeked Kewpie doll, you know that?”
    Eleven o’clock rolled around and still no call from Samuel. Now I was worried. What if there was trouble with his plane? What if someone mugged him? Anything could happen in New York. For all I knew, he was slouched against a grimy wall of the subway system—
    And, providentially, my phone rang.
    “Oh thank God!” I mumbled, diving for it. Molly and Jaime stared at me strangely as my fingers fumbled to answer. “Hello?”
    “Kaye, it’s Samuel.”
    “Hi!” I shoved down the anxiety. “You got back to New York all right?”
    “Yes, several hours ago.”
    “Oh. Why didn’t you call?” I frowned, glancing at the clock again. “And for that matter, why are you still awake at one fifteen in the morning?”
    “Kaye.” Uh oh, not good. “I got my note in the mail today—the one I wrote to you.”
    I couldn’t miss that he’d said “ my note” and “ I wrote.” I moved our conversation to my bedroom and closed the door. “And?”
    “It’s my handwriting.” I also couldn’t miss the tremble in his voice.
    No. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s such a short note, anyone could have written it.”
    “I’m sure.”
    “And just a couple weeks ago, you were positive you couldn’t have written it.”
    “Kaye,” he persisted, “I’m sure. It’s my handwriting. A little more slanted and swoopy than normal, but without a doubt, it’s mine.”
    “But what if—”
    “Think about it. I obviously wanted you gone, as efficiently as possible. In normal circumstances, I would have reasoned with you. But I was high off my butt with no inhibition and frankly, little care for whom I was hurting. It makes sense. Who else would know how much a stupid note would affect you? You made me promise a long time ago never to send you packing with a tree