Out of Control
Chapter 5

“Cart patrol! Gram, what have you gotten me into now?” Libby rushed out with mild irritation, forgetting to lower her voice. The plate she was washing slipped from her fingers, crashing back into the sink and soaking the front of her flowered dress all the way through to the heavy padding beneath. “Darn it!”

“Hush your voice, honey,” Margaret cautioned from the rocking chair she was sitting in, just outside on the enclosed porch. “The neighbors might hear you.”

Libby rolled her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping something back. Especially when she could hear the smile in her grandmother’s voice and knew she was teasing her. She loved the old woman dearly but the heat was starting to get the best of her. She could feel the sweat rolling down between her breasts. For some strange reason being hot made her think of Logan.

“You’re very quiet in there, Reba, cat got your tongue?” Margaret chuckled.

Libby’s eyes automatically searched out Rufus, who was lying like a beached whale on the small rug in front of the stove. “I was just wondering why you can’t go with Vincent tonight,” Libby lied, letting the water down the drain after washing the last glass. “After all, you’re the one who signed up for it.”

Margaret made an impatient sound that carried to the kitchen. “I told you, I’m getting one of my headaches. By the time eight o’clock rolls around I’ll be in bed.”

Libby knew when her grandmother started in with one of her migraines she could be bedridden for days. “I’m sorry,” she began, instantly sympathetic. She stepped out onto the porch, drying her hands on a towel. “Do you want one of your pills?”

Margaret smiled up at her. “No, thank you, dear, I already took one.” Her smile quickly disappeared. “Will you go for me tonight? We’re not supposed to go out alone and I’d hate to let Vincent down.”

“Of course.” Libby glanced in the direction of Vincent’s house, wondering where Logan had gone. His motorcycle wasn’t in the driveway next to Vincent’s small sedan. If he were home she imagined he could go in her place. She released a sigh, unwillingly recalling what happened between them the other night. If they hadn’t been interrupted she had no doubt they would have made love.

“What exactly will we be doing tonight, anyway?”

“Neighborhood watch, dear. I’ve told you about it. Pairs of us take turns riding around the neighborhood in a golf cart for a couple hours after dark, protecting the residents. If we spot anything suspicious we’re supposed to call the police. There’s a canvas bag on the cart with all kinds of supplies in it like bug spray, a cell phone, flashlights.”

Libby supposed she and Logan were lucky the police hadn’t been called when they’d been discovered at the pool after hours. Had it only been a week ago? And he’d been gone ever since. Not that she cared. Liar! For the first time in her life she’d been reckless, and it had felt good. He had felt good. Pleasant warmth pooled between her thighs when she thought about his fingers there. Teasing her with bits of heaven and hell.

“I’m surprised you’re willing to let me drive around with Vincent by myself after dark, since you’re convinced he’s after me,” Libby joked. “What happens if he gets fresh?”

“Bah, the old fool’s full of hot air and that’s all,” Margaret responded, surprising Libby. “If he puts the move on you push him out and make him walk back.”

Libby thought about it for a moment, not at all worried about Vincent. But going on cart patrol would certainly break up the monotony of just one evening in a row of many to come.

She wasn’t the type to sit in front of the TV, and could only stomach so many reruns of The Golden Girls. But then, she’d known what it was going to be like when she made the decision to become Reba and move in with her grandmother. Besides, she was doing it for love.

It was that exact reason that prompted her to say, “Maybe I shouldn’t leave you alone tonight.”

“No, no, I’ll be fine. You go get ready. Once my pills kick in I won’t feel a thing for hours. All I need is rest.” To prove her point she leaned her head back against her chair and closed her eyes, effectively dismissing Libby.

Smiling, Libby hurried to her bedroom to get ready. She was just putting the finishing touches on her makeup when she heard a rap on the door, indicating Vincent had arrived. She knew she was overdressed for the hot July evening but could do nothing about it. Even a dig through her grandmother’s closet hadn’t produced anything useful. As she walked to the door, she chuckled at her reflection in the large mirror over the sofa. Hopefully Vincent’s eyes weren’t that great, and under the cover of darkness he wouldn’t pick up on the fact that she wasn’t wearing a slip beneath her dress. She’d eliminated some of the padding too, in exchange for comfort.

“I’m coming!” Libby called out when there was a second knock. “Gram’s in bed,” she continued, hoping Vincent toned down his eagerness.

The front door was still open but it was too dark to see Vincent through the screen door. Reluctantly slipping into a lightweight sweater, Libby flipped on the light switch just as she reached the door. “Oh!” She stopped short, meeting the seriousness in Logan’s eyes and wondering the cause of it. “What are you doing here? Where’s

Vincent?”

“At home in bed, with a stomach ache,” Logan replied respectfully. Then before Libby could catch her breath from his unexpected appearance he asked, “What did you say a moment ago?”

“What did I say a moment ago?” she repeated as though in a daze. He was as handsome as ever, and she couldn’t help but notice the new tan beneath the gloom of the porch light. His white tank top outlined the sculptured muscles of his chest and emphasized his powerful arms. Her gaze halted at his belt because Libby knew if she looked any further south he’d see an old lady swoon at his feet.

“You said Gram was in bed,” he reminded her with suspicion in his tone. His eyes moved over her appearance, making her uncomfortable. Praying that he couldn’t see through her skirt, she had the sudden urge to turn off the light, but that would be obvious.

“I did, when?” she asked innocently, swallowing with difficulty.

“Just after I knocked on the door.

Her voice cracked. “Are you sure?”

“I know what I heard, ma’am.”

Libby had to think fast. “Then maybe you’d better have your ears checked because what I said was, ‘Gret’s in bed.’ Short for Margaret, get it?”

Libby could tell by Logan’s expression that he wasn’t completely buying it. She decided to take control of the situation by opening the door and brushing past him. Pretending the whole thing was no big deal. “Come along, there are people counting on us to protect them.” She purposely sharpened her tone, knowing she could get away with it.

Libby didn’t wait for Logan to acknowledge her. She continued down the porch steps toward the golf cart, her heart pounding out of control. It took conscious effort to remember she was supposed to be an old woman. How was she ever going to make it through the next two hours with him sitting there next to her? Lord, she was already hot! By the end of the evening she’d be a puddle of makeup and nerves on the vinyl seat beside him.

She climbed into the cart, watching Logan approach in that sexy saunter of his. He was overly quiet and Libby guessed he was mulling over what just happened. Did he think she was a cranky old bitch? She turned her face to hide a smile, thankful for the cover of darkness. But the golf cart rocked briefly when he climbed in, prompting her to glance his way again. He tossed her a quick look as he turned the key, and then backed up.

“Have you ever done cart patrol?” Libby inquired in a crackling tone that reeked with authority.

“Yes, ma’am, a couple times with Granddad.”

“Good, then I don’t have to waste my breath explaining what the process is,” she practically snapped. It occurred to Libby that she didn’t exactly know what the process was. Except for what little her grandmother had told her. She supposed the men knew what to do and the women just went along for the company.

“No, ma’am,” was his polite response. He barely gave Libby a glance, pushing his foot on the pedal and taking off down Grant Street. It amused her to see there was a small lamppost at the end of each driveway, all of them lit in accordance to the rules.

Next to them were glossy brown mailboxes, some of which were adorned with colorful mailbox covers. Once again Libby wondered how she was going to get through the evening with a hunk like Logan next to her. Why did she have to replace him so attractive? She caught the scent of his aftershave, something warm and spicy, and definitely stimulating her senses. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with his sexy scent. Images of them at the pool, when his fingers had teased her, flooded her senses.

“Allergies, ma’am?”

He must have heard her sniffing. Libby was thankful for his assumption, feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up her neck. “Ah, yes. Something in the air is getting to me.” Oh Lord! She might as well have come right out and told him it was his aftershave. She sensed him looking her way but ignored him, focusing instead on the scenery they passed. Not that she could see all that much.

Libby soon found out that cart patrol consisted of driving up and down each road at a snail’s pace, much to her dismay. Once in a while, just to make things a little more exciting, she aimed her flashlight between the darkened spaces between each house as if searching for anything suspicious. Almost wishing the small ray of light would land on something to get excited about. Only nothing moved, and the monstrous shadows were nothing more than trees or lawn adornments.

“Would you like me to take you home? I think I can handle this by myself.” Logan’s warm voice broke into Libby’s quiet thoughts. She didn’t doubt he could handle anything on his own.

“We’re not supposed to do it alone,” she responded, appreciating the concern in his tone. “In case something happens.”

She was thankful for the silence that followed. It amazed her how many people left their curtains open with the lights on, but then, what did they have to be frightened of? She was able to see couples in their kitchens making dinner, groups of people sitting at their dining room tables, playing cards or some other kind of game. Once, she even caught glimpses of a couple making out, for lack of a better term. Unfortunately kissing reminded her of the man sitting next to her.

She self-consciously glanced at Logan, surprised to see the white of his teeth as he too had observed the scene. She made a disgusted sound with her tongue. “You’d think people their age would know better than to leave the curtains open.”

A hearty laugh escaped Logan as he turned a corner. “Never had a k**s stolen at an inopportune time?”

Of course she had! “Many times,” she admitted, turning away when she realized she’d used her natural voice. “I mean, in my younger days, of course.”

“I’ll bet the men beat a path to your door,” Logan surprised her by saying. “If you don’t mind my asking, how long have you been a widow?”

Libby caught her bottom l*p, trying to recall the story her grandmother was passing around. They’d come up with a couple different scenarios before deciding on one, but darned if she could remember which one. Was she the longtime friend who’d starting grade school with Margaret and kept in touch over the years, recently losing her husband to a heart attack? Or the distant relative on Margaret’s husband’s side of the family who was left a widow with no insurance and nowhere to go?

Releasing a sigh, she decided to play it safe. “Too long,” she responded vaguely, hoping he didn’t press her for more. “What about you? Anyone special in your life?”

Logan remained silent for so long that Libby was about to give up hope of getting an answer, until he said, “There was someone special, once, but not right now, ma’am.”

Oh, what could she say to that? Thoughts of her failed relationship came to mind. Scott had been Libby’s prince charming. A rising young lawyer with a steady job, handsome, from a wealthy family, everything a girl could ask for in a man. Or perhaps she’d only felt that way because he’d been her first true love. Now she was sorry she’d given him her virginity.

All at once a shadow detached itself from one of the houses, running away and drawing Libby’s attention. “Logan, wait!” She whipped the flashlight up and took aim in the direction they’d disappeared, almost losing her seat when Logan slammed on the brakes.

“I saw him too,” he stated, sliding from behind the wheel before the vehicle came to a full stop.

“What are you doing; where you going?” Libby whispered sharply, flashing her light in his face and causing him to squint. “We shouldn’t do anything but call the police!”

“I’m sure it’s a neighbor. I’m just going to check it out.”

“But…” Libby slipped from the golf cart too, and hurried to catch up with him. “What if it’s not? What if it’s a burglar? There have been a few break-ins lately or what if it’s—”

Logan whipped around and took Libby gently by the shoulders, drawing her to a halt. “Reba, calm down or you’re going to hyperventilate. I think it’s best if you stay here, where the cell phone is. If I don’t come back in five minutes then you can call the police.”

“You might need me,” Libby said without thinking, drawing a gentle smile from Logan.

“Ma’am, what I need right now is to know you’re safe, by remaining here.”

His hands were still on her shoulders and Libby’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head when he gave her what was supposed to be a reassuring squeeze. Her heart literally stopped beating and she held her breath, watching his expression for any sign that he thought it was odd she was wearing shoulder pads. But all Logan did was remove his hands and turn away sprinting in the direction they saw the silhouette.

Libby watched him disappear around the corner of the house before realizing she was holding her breath. Lord, what if it was a burglar? So far no one had been hurt. But several residents had returned home to replace that someone had broken in and stolen their prescriptions, a common problem in retirement communities, according to the police. And no telling what could happen if they were caught by surprise.

What if they were violent?

She went back to the golf cart and began searching the supply bag for something that could be used as a weapon, just in case. The phone, maybe it could double as a gun. It was dark and would be impossible to make out that it wasn’t the real deal. But then her hand encircled a can, and she whipped out the bug spray. That could certainly be substituted for mace. The can was rusty and looked like it had been in the bag a long time, so she took off the cap and tested it to make sure that it worked.

Without hesitation she hitched up her skirt and dashed in the direction she saw Logan run. The homes on either side of her were pitching black, which wasn’t an unusual occurrence for this time of year. A lot of the homes were used as vacation or winter homes for retirees who lived up north. As Libby dashed between the two houses she could definitely hear the sound of voices. Her eyes riveted to the house in the distance with the lights on, realizing their windows were open and it was the TV she was hearing.

Relaxing slightly, she narrowed her eyes, searching the area for any sign of Logan. Where had he gone? She heard the snap of a twig, followed by a ruckus, and let out a small sound of alarm. She was definitely not cut out for this! Spinning around, she nearly lost her balance, and shined her flashlight wildly to see if someone was there.

“Let me go!” she heard a youthful voice demand.

“I will as soon as the police arrive,” Logan responded. “I think they might be interested in why you were snooping around these vacant houses.”

“I wasn’t doing anything wrong! My grandparents live here and I’m just visiting,” the kid snapped.

“Yeah? Who are your grandparents?”

Libby remained where she was when she realized they were heading her way. Finally Logan stepped into view, dragging a young teenager by the back of his collar. The kid couldn’t have been more than thirteen, tall and lanky, his features hidden behind a curtain of stringy hair.

“What are you lookin’ at, old lady?” he hissed when his gaze landed on Libby. He shook his head until the hair was out of his glaring eyes, every bit the defiant teen.

“Mind your manners!” Logan barked, giving the kid a shake. “Reba, I asked you to stay back at the golf cart,” he chastised in a kind voice laced with impatience.

Told was more like it but Libby wasn’t going to remind him of that.

She focused her gaze on the kid instead, taking in his baggy jeans and stained shirt. Deciding to call his bluff she said, “Tell us where your grandparents live and we’ll take you home.” He only snorted and glanced away. Libby looked at Logan and shrugged. “I guess we’re left with no choice but to phone the police.” She turned to head back to the cart to retrieve the phone.

“No!” She swung back around and watched as the kid hung his head low before saying in a barely audible voice, “My grandparents are the Buckleys on Carter Street. And…and I’m sorry for calling you an old lady.” He sounded thoroughly whipped, and surprisingly sincere.

Her gaze went to Logan. “I know Joan Buckley, from coffee in the mornings. He must be telling the truth.”

Logan gave a curt nod. “I know Carl, he plays poker with Gramps.” He gave the kid a jerk to get his attention. “We’re going to let you go this time but don’t think you’re off the hook. We’ll be calling your grandparents.”

“Yes, sir.”

He took off running the second Logan released him. For a moment they stood watching him until the quiet became too much for Libby. She chuckled nervously. “I’ll bet we don’t see him out after dark again.”

“Not if he’s smart,” Logan agreed with a flash of teeth.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this cart patrol thing, too much excitement for me.” She started walking briskly back to the cart, remembering at the last minute to alter her pace.

Maybe she should just tell Logan to take her home. If he didn’t figure out who she was before ten o’clock came it would be a miracle. His presence unnerved her, causing Libby to

forget who she was supposed to be half the time. “What time is it anyway?” she asked, fanning her face. Surely it was almost ten.

Logan waited until they reached the front of the house where the lamppost was, then angled his wrist to check the time. “Nine, why, do you need to take a pill or something?”

Yes, her birth control pills. “Thanks for reminding me,” she murmured under her breath.

“Ma’am? Did you say something?”

“Nothing.” To her mortification Libby felt one of her support stockings fall down around her ankle. She quickly bent to yank it back up, moaning with pleasure at the slight breeze that sneaked up the back of her skirt.

The next hour was the longest one of Libby’s life.