Michael's Little League pin. Mom had given it to him to wear to the funeral in his twin's memory. Sam slid down the desk and sat surrounded by the papers scattered around the floor and surrendered to the pain.
The cloying scent of lilies, thick in the small church, had nearly choked him. His father sat on Sam's left side, ramrod straight and perfectly still except for the shake in his hands that wouldn't stop. His mother sat on his right side, crying silent tears and squeezing his hand tight as if to keep him from leaving too. A sunburn still chapped his nose and cheeks from his failed attempt to find Rebecca's Bounty and brand-new stitches held together the gash across his cheek, caused by a tumble down one of McPherson's Bluff's steep inclines. Dirt caked under his nails, embedded during fruitless digging after he'd flung the shovel off the bluff in frustration. He hadn't spoken in three days and couldn't imagine ever wanting to again.
He'd denied for so long that his twin was really dying that when it had actually happened, he'd gone into a kind of shock. When he emerged a year later, some part of him had remained trapped in stone—until Josie had shaken it loose.
The woman in question hunkered down beside him, brushed aside the papers and settled next to him. She rested her head on his shoulder and her amber scent tugged him away from his dark memories.
He should shake her off, but her warm flesh pressed against him helped anchor him to the here and now.
“After L.A., I was lost. Usually, I'm the one taking care of everyone, but I couldn't even remember to brush my teeth on a daily basis. Cy came for me, helped me set myself to rights. He's my twin. I can't imagine what it would be like to lose him. I'm so sorry.”
The news she had a twin didn't shock him. Intrigued him, maybe, but didn't surprise. That dormant twin part of him must have sensed it and latched on with all its might. Of all the people who knew about Michael, she'd understand most of all.
“The pain, it never goes away. You just get used to it.” He relaxed back against the desk. “After Michael died, I was so angry. I didn't speak for a year after he died. And everyone was always staring, whispering when I walked by, calling me 'that poor boy’. They weren't trying to be mean, but I hated being the center of attention, a hook for the town to hang all their pity on. I hated Michael and myself.
“Then, I came across Rebecca's diary. You've read it; you know what her life was like. Her story of giving everything up and starting all over inspired me. I started going out to the bluff again, but it didn't take long until I realized I needed more information. My first words after Michael died were to ask my mother for our family tree. She was taking a tray of baked macaroni and cheese out of the oven at the time and dropped it. The glass pan shattered on the floor, sending shards of glass and pasta flying everywhere. Then she was holding me tight and we were both crying.”
He stopped to inhale her scent and brush his cheek against her platinum curls while he regained his iron control over his emotions. God, he'd miss her, but she was an aberration, a wild flower sprouting in the hayfield. Just as the farmer yanked out the trespassing weed, he'd have to remove her from his life. The only true thing he had left was his sense of order and Josie was chaos personified.
Still, he couldn't stop himself from taking one last whiff of her perfume. “I haven't stopped looking for Rebecca's Bounty since that day, but it's time I admit it. There is no treasure.”
Josie's stomach tumbled at the hard look in his eyes. He wasn't just talking, he really believed it. The realization struck her as hard as a fist. She'd never be able to save her parents without that treasure.
“I think you need to go.” Sam stood and walked to the window, not bothering to turn and look at her. “Go back to Vegas.”
Pushing past the prick of his words, she strode to his side, stopping next to him as if to dare him to try to ignore her. “I'm not leaving Dry Creek without the treasure. It's out there and we're going to find it.”
His jaw hardened. “Then you're an even bigger fool than that old man. There's nothing for you here.”
The words sucker-punched the air right out of Josie's lungs. It took her a minute but eventually she dragged in a ragged breath. “You would think so, but you're wrong.”
She swept out of the room, unsure of what hurt more, Sam's dismissal or the fact that leaving him hurt like she was stabbing herself in the eye with a cocktail umbrella. She stuffed her legs into her jeans, slipped on her shoes, swiped her shirt off the floor and considered switching out of Sam's T-shirt before deciding it wasn't worth the bother.
Josie slammed the front door shut behind her and grabbed her keys out of the front pocket of her backpack as she stomped over to her crappy car. She’d figure out a way to get Sam to come around. Her parents’ lives depended on it. And dammit, she needed him.
The car door creaked open on rusty hinges. Like her, it was barely holding it together.
Chapter Eleven
Josie scanned the crowd outside of the small house in the middle of nowhere for Sam's auburn-streaked hair. Nearly everyone wore ski caps or these weird hats with earflaps, frustrating her efforts to find him.
The idea had seemed perfect this morning when she’d read about the auction of Beth Martinez's house in the Dry Creek Gazette. The article had been accompanied by a photo of Beth and her fiancé, Sheriff Hank Layton. Josie figured Sam would have to show up to his soon-to-be sister-in-law's big event.
She hadn't expected it to be so crowded. There must have been a hundred people milling around in the freezing temperatures. Though her fingers felt like skinny blocks of ice, she'd rolled the dice on finding Sam here and she wasn't ready to give up yet. Perseverance seemed to be her word of the week here in Dry Creek.
Check that. The word of the week had to be desperation. She had to persuade Sam to work with her to find Rebecca's Bounty. Her secret hope was that he’d welcome her into his arms again too, but after she made her confession, there was no way that would be happening. But Sam was a good man. He’d help her save her parents. He had to, time was running out and she didn't expect Snips to offer her an extension.
Josie rubbed her gloved hands together to ward off the arctic-level cold as she hung out at the edge of the crowd at the Martinez auction.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” Sam hissed in h
er ear.
Heat flooded her body and she was transported to the tropics. “Looking for you, of course.”
“Well, you found me. Now go away.”
How did he make it through a day without someone clobbering him? “Did anyone ever tell you that you can be a real ass?”