Read Online Mariner's Compass by Earlene Fowler - Free Book Online

Spanish word for stepmother, ”but you look like crap.”
    I looked down at my rumpled clothes and ran a hand through my wild, curly hair. “Don’t tell anyone, but I was too creeped out last night to sleep in the bedroom so I slept with Scout on the sofa.” Between the coffee and the maple bar, within five minutes I was on the way to feeling human again.
    “This is so cool,” Sam said, twisting his head to inspect the whole room. “You have all the luck. Getting a house left to you. And a dog, too. Did this guy have any money? Hey, do you need someone to house-sit for you until you sell it? I’m cheap. Or maybe you should just keep it and let me live here. It’d be a good investment, and I’d be a great tenant. Only one wild party a month, I swear.” He grinned at me with the smile that had already captured way more than its share of hearts at Cal Poly, where he’d been attending classes since January.
    He was living with Dove and Daddy out at the ranch and had been since last September. As I knew would eventually happen, he was chomping at the bit to escape Dove’s watchful eye. I was sympathetic, but not enough to turn my house over to a bunch of college students.
    I couldn’t bear to wipe away the hopeful look on his face. “I don’t even know what I’m going to be doing five minutes from now, Sam, but when the time comes, I’ll keep your proposal in mind.” I finished up my maple bar and took another few gulps of coffee. “Look, your dad’s going to be coming by soon, and we’re going to breakfast. You’re more than welcome to join us, but right now I need to take a shower.”
    “Sounds cool,” he said, nodding. “You know me, I never turn down a free meal. Actually I already talked to Dad, and he said to tell you he’s probably going to be late, maybe noon or so. I’ll hang around until then.”
    I instantly grew suspicious. “Why’s he going to be late?”
    He shrugged and tried to look innocent. Unfortunately for him, he was about as proficient at hiding his feelings as me.
    “How was the surfing this morning?” I asked, testing him.
    “It was okay.”
    I grabbed his arm and brought it up to my nose.
    “Hey, what are you doing?” He jerked his arm back.
    “You didn’t go surfing this morning.”
    “Did too.”
    “Your hair’s not wet, and you don’t smell salty. Your father told you to come over and baby-sit me, didn’t he?”
    He looked as guilty as a two-year-old with a lapful of unrolled toilet paper. “Man, I’ll never make it as a spy, will I? Don’t tell Dad, okay? He really trusted me to pull this off.”
    “Where is your dad?” I asked.
    The intense struggle of conflicting loyalties on his face was both painful and amusing to watch.
    “Stepson, who are you most afraid of here?”
    His dark brown eyes widened. “No contest. Dad by a mile.”
    I scowled at him. That wasn’t the answer I wanted. “Okay, let me rephrase the question. Who slips you money when you’re broke and hungry? Who ran interference when you decided to get your other ear pierced? Who talked your father into buying that Chevelle for you? And who—”
    He held up his hands. “I give up. He’s home sleeping.”
    “Sleeping? Why . . . ?” Then it dawned on me. “I’m going to smack him silly. He staked out this house last night, didn’t he?”
    He sipped at his Styrofoam cup of coffee and didn’t answer, but his eyes revealed the truth.
    “Never mind, I’ll take care of your father. So, since your assignment is morning watch, we might as well catch up. How’s school?”
    He spent the next hour complaining about his classes, teachers, and the finals he had coming up. “I’m meeting my mom in Santa Barbara for Mother’s Day. I even made reservations at a fancy restaurant.”
    “She’ll be very impressed,” I said. “And thanks for reminding me. I have to get something for Dove and order some flowers for my mom’s grave.”
    His young face grew curious. “You go there