Elizabeth Harbison - Taming of the Two

Then he tapped on the receiver button.

Kate watched with growing trepidation. “What’s wrong?”

“Phone’s dead.”

“I just used it.”

“Well, now it’s dead.”

“Do you have a cell phone?”

“No.”

This pushed her panic buttons. “What do you mean, no? How can you not have a cell phone?”

“I notice you don’t, either.”

“Yes, but I did.”

He looked at her too patiently. “Then where is it?”

“It must have fallen out of my pocket. Or something.” At this point she was sure Bianca was behind this somehow.

“Whatever. Let’s stop talking about what we can’t do and figure out what we can.” He frowned and looked around. “First thing is, we should look for keys.”

“Okay. Good.” Hope surged in Kate. Surely, Bianca hadn’t been that thorough. They began riffling under the counter and in the cash register, looking for a key.

At one point they both put their hands in the same cubbyhole at the same time and Kate pulled her hand back as though she’d touched a snake.

Ben looked at her for a moment. “Something wrong?”

“No, I—” What could she say? How could she explain what looked like such a distasteful reflex? “I was startled.”

He kept feeling around the cubby before pronouncing, “And for nothing. There’s nothing here.” He stepped back and folded his arms in front of him. “We’ll have to figure something else out.”

“We could break the window,” Kate suggested, gesturing toward what she thought was obviously the only thing left they could do.

“Kate, it’s a racetrack. They plan for security breaches. That’s not glass. It’s thick Lucite. You couldn’t break it if you tried. Not without a power tool.”

“Do they sell power tools in here?” she asked halfheartedly.

“Afraid not.”

They both looked at the inventory of horse-themed T-shirts and sweatshirts, key chains and the like.

“If it wouldn’t appeal to a thirteen-year-old girl, I don’t think they sell it here,” Ben concluded.

Panic began to rise in Kate’s chest. “So, wait a minute, you’re saying that we actually can’t get out of here? We’re stuck?”

He looked as if he was ready to give some smart-aleck answer until he looked into Kate’s eyes. Then his expression softened and he said, “I didn’t say that. We haven’t exhausted all the possibilities yet. Not by a long shot.” But he looked doubtful.

She didn’t care, she’d take it. “I have a Swiss army knife, do you think we can do something with that?”

“Hand it over. Let’s see.”

She reached into her pocket, thinking what a good thing it was that she’d gotten a splinter earlier because she’d ended up pocketing the knife after using the tweezers in it.

But when she handed it to him, he looked at it dubiously.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Well.” He turned the knife over in his hand and opened the small blade. “I was sort of picturing something a little bigger. But this might do.”

He went to the door and started working at the lock.

Kate went up behind him and watched over his shoulder. “Guess those years of juvenile delinquency might just be coming in handy, huh?”

He shot a look at her. “I’d hardly say I was a juvenile delinquent.” He worked more on the knob and said, without looking back, “But yeah, I guess you could say so.”

There was a click and for a moment they both sucked in their breath in anticipation. But when he tried the knob, it was still unmovable.

He closed the knife and started to hand it back to her.

“You can’t give up,” she said.

“I’ve got to. This place is built with security in mind. They designed it exactly so that people couldn’t do what we’re trying to do now.”

“So that’s it? You’re just…quitting?”

He laughed softly. “Well, it’s not like we’re going to die here. They open the shop a couple of hours before post time. Someone will be here soon.”

Kate looked at her watch. “It’s six-thirty in the morning,” she said, her breath feeling tight. “Post time isn’t until seven o’clock tonight.”

He looked pained. “That’s right. I was thinking 1:00 p.m.”

“Only on Sundays.” She began to knead her hands in front of her, noticing her palms were growing damp.

He sighed and leaned back against the counter. “Well, this bites the big one, that’s for sure.”

To Kate, it felt as if the walls were closing in. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“We can’t,” he said absently. “God, you have always been such a bundle of nerves.”

“I have not!”

He met her eyes. “Sure you have. Always.”

Anger rose in her, temporarily obscuring her growing claustrophobia. “How dare you say something like that to me. You, of all people, who did everything you could to make me a bundle of nerves.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t do anything any kid my age wouldn’t have done.”

“You did everything that no other kid your age was doing. We all watched, amazed, as you put glue on the teachers’ chairs and gum on the chalkboard and—”

“Nothing scary about that.”

“Well, no, not about that—”

“So what’re you blaming me for?”

She gave a humorless spike of a laugh. “Plenty. Believe me.”

He waved the notion away with his hand. “That’s bull. But it’s totally consistent bull. You always made a bigger deal of things than you had to.”

“So I was nervous and hysterical, is that what you’re saying?”

He looked her up and down. “That’s about the size of it.”

“Meanwhile, you were perfect.”

“Not perfect.” He cocked his head fractionally and very obviously tried to keep from smiling. “Just normal.”

She made a sound of disgust and threw her hands into the air. “You are amazing.” She walked back to the door to try to figure out some way to work it open. “Absolutely amazing.”

“Thanks,” he said behind her. “I’ve heard that, but I never thought I’d hear it from you.”

She glanced back at him. “It wasn’t a compliment.”

This time he did smile. “I know.”

She gave him the evil eye as best she could. “Please tell me you’re not staying long.”

He shook his head. “Just until about seven tonight.”

“Wha—” She frowned. “You know I mean in town, not in this shop.”

“Ah, in town. Well, now. That depends how quickly I can get the farm back into shape.”

“Oh, good Lord, that could take forever,” she said before she realized what she was saying. She quickly added, “You’ve been in the business long enough to know that every time you think you’ve got it figured out, fate throws you another curve ball.”

He studied her for a moment before giving a single nod. “I’m not looking to hit the ball out of the park.”

He didn’t offer any more information and even though Kate wanted to know more about what he’d done in the ten years he’d been away, she got the distinct impression that she shouldn’t ask for more.

In fact, she decided her time would probably be much better spent praying vehemently that someone would come to let them out of here, so she didn’t have to spend any more time at all making awkward small talk with Ben.

But at least he’d distracted her from her feeling of claustrophobia. There was something to be said for that, because for a moment there she’d actually thought she might totally lose it.

Why, she couldn’t say. She’d never been claustrophobic before. Those close to her might say she was a little high-strung at times, but never irrational.

Looking at Ben now, she almost wondered if he’d picked up on her panic and tried to help her by purposely getting her mad instead of scared.

For the briefest moment, her heart softened toward him. But then she remembered that Ben Devere didn’t make selfless gestures for anyone, least of all for Kate Gregory.

Three hours later they were still stuck in the shop and they had exhausted absolutely every possibility, and more than a few long shots, to free themselves.

“I saw this TV show once,” Kate said, “where they held a lit match up to the smoke detectors to set off the alarm.”

“I saw that one. The sprinklers went off and they got soaked.”

“But they got saved.”

“We’re not in danger, Kate. We don’t actually need to go to extraordinary lengths to get out of here before we run out of air, or die of dehydration or anything.” He went to the fridge and took out a cola and held it up in offer.

Kate shook her head, so he closed the door and opened the cola for himself, before sitting back down to drink it along with the bag of cheese snacks he’d pilfered from the register stand.

“That stuff’ll kill you,” Kate commented, watching him eat the junk food. “That’s probably more dangerous than being stuck in here.”

He laughed out loud. “Doing laundry is more dangerous than being stuck in here.”

She shrugged and returned her attention to the gossip magazine she’d found on the stand with the racing forms.

“What about you? Reading that garbage probably isn’t good for you.”

She set the magazine down and looked at him patiently. “It’s better than listening to you.”

“Maybe.”

She returned her attention to the magazine.

“Then again, at least I tell the truth.”

She set the magazine down again. “As opposed to who? Me or this magazine?”

He popped a cheese snack in his mouth and raised his eyebrows. “Guilty conscience?”

“Not at all. It just sounded as if you were accusing me of something and I was wondering what it was.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t hmm me, what were you getting at? I never lie!”

“Never?”

She shook her head. “Absolutely never.”

“So if your sister asks if she looks fat in a certain pair of jeans—and you think she does—you tell her the truth, even if you think she does.”

Jeez, that situation had come up just last week. How did he know? “My sister isn’t fat.”

“I didn’t say she was. I only asked if you would tell her the truth if she wanted to know something like that.”

Kate sighed. “I said I was honest, I didn’t say I was mean.”

“Which is it? Are you honest all the time or not? If you’re honest all the time, then it’s inevitable that sometimes you’re going to have to be mean.”

“I think a person can be honest and tactful.”

He took a swig of his cola. “Most people aren’t.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. She couldn’t honestly say she’d never told a little white lie. Who could? But if she admitted that to him, he’d pounce on her.

So instead she decided to put the heat on him. “What about you? Do you lie?”

“Me?” He wasn’t biting. “Sure. All the time.”

She couldn’t believe he was admitting it. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.” He gave a nod. “Ask me if you look fat in those jeans.”

She felt the blood rush to her face. “No, thanks,” she said, then had to wonder if she could believe an admitted liar when he said he was telling the truth.

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“I will.”

“But you don’t.”

“What?”

“You don’t look fat. You look amazing in those jeans. I noticed it as soon as I saw you this morning.”

Her face flushed again, only this time with foolish pride. Then she remembered the context of their conversation. “Oh, I see, this is one of your lies, right? You got me.”