A Promise to Keep

by Susan Gable

  “You haven’t ever wanted one of your own?”

  He leaned over to pick up one of the balls. “Let’s make this interesting, huh?”

  “Way to change the subject.” She tilted her head, one eyebrow quirking.

  “Okay, the short answer, which is all you’re getting. I’ve never thought about having a kid of my own, or a family of my own, until recently.” He hefted the wooden sphere in his hand. “Now, about that bet...”

  “Until recently? Biological clock finally start ticking?”

  Crap, she was like a terrier with a bone. “If I win, I get to kiss you. Time, place and duration of my choosing.”

  Mouth slightly agape, cheeks turning pink, she stared at him. “Uh...”

  Perfect. Mission accomplished. “Just kidding.”

  Finally regaining the power of speech, she said, “Oh, no. Bet’s on the table, buddy. And if I win?”

  “Seriously?” Again she was totally surprising him.

  “Yes.”

  A lesser man would have squirmed under her now-frank appraisal. He just flashed a cocky grin. “Whatever you want.”

  “Whatever I want?” Innuendo laced her voice, and her eyes twinkled again.

  Flirting. His element. “Anything goes, babe.”

  “You may regret giving me a free pass.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “So if I decide you’re cooking for me?”

  He laughed. “You’ll be the one who regrets it.”

  And so they started. Part of him considered losing on purpose, just to see what she’d do with her “power.” On the other hand, she might actually decide to make him cook. And the ability to claim a kiss from her, anytime, anyplace...

  Then two of her balls swooped up and into the fifty-point basket.

  “Oh, game on. You didn’t tell me you were a ringer.” Hayden’s next throw, an overzealous one, resulted in the ball bouncing around and ending up in the zero slot.

  She beat him by twenty points. The machine spit out yellow tickets that could be redeemed for prizes. She held her strip up, compared it to his. “Hmm...my tickets are longer. I win.”

  “By one ticket. How about best two out of three?”

  The music of her laughter stirred something deep in his chest. A primal ache that had nothing to do with sex.

  Round two went to him.

  During round three, Ronni distracted him. On purpose, he suspected. With a lot of butt wiggling. And the low-riding jeans she wore cupped her cheeks in a way that made his hands long to explore those curves. Every time she leaned over to roll a ball up the sloped alley, the powder-pink, short-sleeved tuxedo shirt pulled up, exposing a patch of creamy-white skin.

  He wanted to press his lips there.

  And everyplace else, from her forehead to her toes.

  “That settles it,” she said, dangling another string of tickets. “I win.”

  “You do. And I accept my defeat gracefully. What do you claim as your prize?”

  “I’m going to have to think about it.”

  “What should we do with all these tickets?”

  “I’m not exactly in the market for some cheesy stuffed animal.” Ronni ripped one off, held it up, then tucked it into the front pocket of her jeans. “That’s to remind us that you owe me.” She added his to the collection in her hand and walked to the far alleys, where two girls played Skee-Ball under the watchful eyes of their parents. “Here you go, girls. Have fun.”

  “Thanks!”

  Hayden offered Ronni his elbow. She hesitated only a moment, then threaded her arm through his as they headed out of the arcade building.

  Dark clouds filled an ominously gray sky, casting a pallor over the amusement park. Worried parents glanced heavenward while their children, oblivious to the weather, scampered ahead of them.

  “Uh-oh. Looks like rain. Sorry, Ronni, but we’d better get the bike home before the sky opens up.”

  “You made of sugar? Afraid you might melt?”

  “No, I’m afraid of dumping us both onto wet pavement. I can ride in the rain, but I’d rather not. Especially with you on the back.” He’d never forgive himself if he did something to hurt her.

  Which was why, despite his flirting, he’d been restraining his impulses to touch, taste...love her.

  As they wandered the blacktop paths back toward the park’s entrance, she jerked to a halt in front of a refreshment stand. “Think we have time for a funnel cake?”

  The scent of ozone hung heavy in the air, competing with the fried dough and hot oil smells coming from the small shack. “Much as I’m a fan of feeding you, I think we’d better pass for now. We can come back.”

  “Nah. We’ll find something else.”

  In the parking lot, he revved up the bike, waited for her to climb on behind him.

  An all-too-short ride later, he parked in front of his neighbor’s garage just as scattered raindrops began to fall. “Timing’s everything.”

  Already standing alongside him, Ronni held her hand out. “Give me the keys to your car. I’ll move it out so you can put the bike in.”

  He shook his head. “It’s a stick shift.”

  “I can drive a stick.”

  “Yeah, right. I remember when Ian tried to teach you to drive the pickup. I like my gears the way they are.”

  Another fat raindrop spattered the bike’s gas tank.

  “You’re wasting time. I can do it.”

  The determined set to her jaw made him reluctantly pull the keys from his front pocket and hand them over. “That unlocks the garage’s man-door, and this is the car key. Just back it out and pull over there.” He indicated the space in front of the neighboring condo.

  “Okay.” Keys dangling from her finger, she dashed to the door, unlocked it and went inside. A moment later the overhead eased up. The Camaro’s motor rumbled to life.

  Hayden’s shoulders tensed. He waited for the sound of grinding gears. But she smoothly zipped past him in reverse. Nothing happened when she put it into first and pulled into the space he’d indicated, either.

  He eased the bike into the garage. After shelving his gloves and their helmets, he went back outside through the overhead. Rounding the car to the driver’s side as the rain took the form of an annoying mist, he yanked on the handle.

  The door was locked.

  Ronni grinned at him through the window. “Get in, pal, I’m driving.”

  “No, you’re not.” He rapped his knuckles on the glass. “Quit screwing around, Do-Ron-Ron. Unlock the door and switch over.”

  “Nope. I wanna drive it. Come on, Hayden, let me play with your toy.”

  “You want a toy? I’ve got better toys for you. Put the car back in the garage and I’ll show you.”

  She sat quietly for a second or two—considering what he’d said? And unnerving the hell out of him. It had been a typical response for him, and though he wanted her in his bed, he hadn’t expected her to take it seriously. “Fine. You can drive,” he told her.

  He ran around the hood of the car. Just as he reached the passenger door, the locks clicked open, and he slid into the seat. “The first time I hear even the hint of gears grinding, you’re done. You understand?”

  She saluted him. “Aye, sir. No gears.”

  True to her word, she didn’t grind them at all. She headed for the other side of town, toward Fairview. The rain picked up to a gentle patter, just enough to need the wipers on the first setting.

  “So who finally taught you how to drive a standard?” So much he still didn’t know about her.

  “Scott.”

  “How’d he manage what Ian couldn’t?”

  “Patience. Scott insisted everyone should be able to drive a stick. He didn’t freak out the first time I ground the gears.”

  “Oh. Well, good. Glad to hear he had some redeeming qualities.”

  She shot Hayden a look. “Don’t be mean. I wouldn’t have married him if he was a total dick.”

  “No, it just turned out
he couldn’t keep his dick where it belonged.”

  When she flinched, his stomach twisted. “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “That’s as true as what I said.”

  “Maybe. But it hurt you. And for that...I am sorry.”

  She scoffed. “He hurt me a hell of a lot more.” Her face hardened.

  The urge to pummel Scott had Hayden fisting his hands. Why would a man who had a woman like this at home feel the need to go elsewhere? If you were going to commit to one woman, then it meant forever. Not just until someone else caught your eye. Or some other part of your anatomy.

  Semper Fi. Too bad Scott hadn’t been a Marine. One who’d truly embraced the Corps’ motto, Always Faithful.

  She turned the car right at the light at West Lake and Manchester.

  “Walnut Creek?” he asked, happy for a diversion. “Most people go there to either fish or watch the sunset. We don’t have poles, and even if it were time for sunset, it’s raining.”

  “Yeah. I like to watch the rain over the lake, too. What’s with you and the rain? Seriously, you’d think you were made of cotton candy.”

  “Rainy season in Panama with my unit provided enough rain to last a lifetime. Keeping your feet dry is one of the most important things they teach you in boot camp. In Panama during rainy season, that’s damn near impossible. But that makes this look like a sunny Erie summer day. This isn’t rain. It’s a touch of humidity by their standards.”

  “Without rain, we wouldn’t appreciate the beautiful sunny days.”

  “Quite the optimist, aren’t you?” Which explained why she’d given Mangano a second chance. That second chance had come back to bite her in the tail.

  “Something I’ve learned over the years. Dunno if it’s optimism, though, or pragmatism. There’s always rain. Just get an umbrella and keep going.”

  At Walnut Creek access, where the creek flowed into Lake Erie, she veered off into the old parking lot on the right, away from the marina. The place was practically deserted. A few cars were parked near the main building, a few more down near the dock area, but over here, where she’d decided to pull in, there was nobody. She parked facing the lake and shut off the engine.

  “See, made it here with no grinding.”

  “Good thing.”

  She popped off her seat belt, shifting to get more comfortable. He did the same. The rain pattered softly against the windshield. Out on the lake, small waves kicked up near shore.

  “Show me your tat,” he suddenly ordered, uncomfortable with the stretch of silence.

  “What?” She turned partially toward him.

  “Your tat. The one on your left leg. Show it to me and tell me the story behind it.”

  “You know about it?”

  “Yeah. The day of the Memorial picnic, when I took you home, I took off your sandals. Nice work.”

  She lifted her foot, crossing her left leg onto the right. Raising the hem of her jeans, she exposed a purple object strapped to the inside of her ankle.

  “What the heck is that?”

  “It’s a purse. Perfect for bike riding.” She showed him the pouch holding her cell phone.

  “Compared to that huge thing you drag around most of the time, that’s like nothing.”

  She laughed. “Tell me about it. I feel naked without my purse, but at least I can have some essentials this way. Cell phone, license, money, credit card, lipstick.”

  “Right. The essentials.”

  Velcro ripped as she unfastened it. She draped the purse across the gauges in front of the center console, then shoved down her raspberry sock, exposing the tattoo.

  Hayden leaned in for a closer look at the Liberty Bell with the broken heart. Using one finger, he rubbed at the lines the sock had made in her skin. “Now tell me the story.”

  “One of Tam’s friends did it for me, the day my lawyer finished the paperwork for the divorce. The day before we were going to file it. The day before I Skyped Scott in Iraq. Brokenhearted, but representing freedom, as well.”

  “Wow.” Hayden traced the crack in the heart. Then he looked up at her, letting his finger linger on her flesh. “You ever reconsider filing that paperwork? Going through with the divorce? I mean, now that Nick and Vera know about what happened.”

  She opened her mouth to answer, then shut it again without saying anything.

  “Truth, Ronni.”

  She lifted one shoulder. “I’ve thought about it.”

  A glimmer of hope speared through him. “What stops you?”

  “Guilt. Fear. Responsibility.”

  The guilt, he’d known about. “What are you afraid of, babe?” He caressed her ankle.

  “Doing something wrong. Again. Like I did with Ian.”

  “Totally different circumstances. What else?”

  “Being judged by everyone. Hell, now that the media’s on my story, can you even imagine what might happen if I filed those papers?”

  The media interest had waned, but not died completely. She didn’t have a mob of photographers stalking her anymore, but she still got regular requests for interviews.

  “You can’t spend your whole life miserable because you’re worried about what other people will think.”

  “Sure I can.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t.” He let his fingers drift up the silky skin of her calf. “You deserve so much more. I don’t think a little happiness is too much to ask for. You’ve had enough rain. You should have sunshine.”

  The patterns he traced on her skin drove her crazy. If she didn’t do something drastic, quickly, she’d be begging him to move those fingers to more intimate places on her body. Bring her some happiness, indeed.

  “You’re right. And today is supposed to be about happiness, and living—enjoying life to its fullest. That’s what Ian and I did on his last birthday. We did crazy, fun things. And you’re bringing me down with this conversation.” She jumped out of the car, into the summer drizzle. The car rocked as she slammed the door. She ran around the back of the car, into the wide, empty space of the parking lot.

  She crooked her finger at Hayden.

  He shook his head.

  Tucking her hands into her armpits, she flapped her “wings” at him, clucking.

  He raised both shoulders.

  “Okay, your loss.” She held her arms straight out, tilted her head back, closed her eyes. Warm raindrops dotted her face, caressing her skin. Waves lapped against the shoreline. Gulls cried overhead.

  She let the rain wash over her, wash away another year of existing. Of intermittent pain. Worse, of brutal numbness that so often took the place of the pain.

  At least when she hurt she knew she still could feel something.

  Life was a gift. That was what Ian’s final birthday had been all about. Milking the most out of every single second they’d shared that day. Every day.

  Until he’d run out of days.

  Tears leaked from the corners of her tightly closed eyes. He’d be so disappointed in her this year.

  For selling herself short. For not embracing life.

  For accepting less than she should.

  She sensed a presence in front of her, and opened her eyes to find Hayden looking down at her. She hadn’t heard him open the car door or approach.

  “There’s no crying on Ian’s birthday,” he said gently.

  She swiped at her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “Just rain.”

  “My ass.”

  A chuckle collided with the lump in her throat and came out a sob. “And a very nice ass it is, too,” she finally managed to say.

  “Really? You think? These pants don’t make it look fat?” He turned, gave a shimmy.

  “No. You might want to avoid spandex, though.”

  He laughed, turning back toward her. “That’s no lie.”

  Actually, it was a total lie. Spandex only made his rock-hard butt even more drool-worthy. But he had a healthy enough ego without knowing that.

  He extended his left han
d. “Well...since we’re here. In the rain. With nobody around... Shall we dance? I hear dancing in the rain is the latest thing.”

  “Dance? With you?”

  “Don’t see anyone else around for you to partner with.”

  Damn. He’d danced competitively as a kid with Judy. Jordan had posted video footage of the pair dancing at Greg and Shannon’s wedding last year. Stomping all over his feet would only make Ronni feel worse. “I’ll just grind the gears. Remember you tried to teach me to waltz years ago? Right after Ian and I started dating?”

  “Yes.” Hayden’s eyes darkened. Not with anger, more like with...desire? The rain flattened his spiked front hair. “I remember it pissed Ian off.”

  “You made him jealous.”

  “He had good reason to be. He knew how I felt about you then.”

  “W-what? How?”

  Hayden clasped her right hand in his left, placed her left hand on his shoulder. The damp cotton of his turquoise T-shirt clung to his body, accentuating the definition of his muscles. “Stand up straight. I lead, you follow. We’ll take it really slow.”

  Before she could protest again, he’d started counting. Too focused on her feet to think straight, she did her damnedest to follow him. And keep her klutzy feet to herself. She skidded on some gravel.

  He steadied her without missing a beat. His hand on her waist drew her closer, so near that heat radiated between them. “Eyes up. Look at me, not your feet. One, two, three, one, two, three... That’s it.”

  After a few more basic steps, he started guiding her down the parking lot as gracefully as a couple in a ballroom. Before long, they were twirling in circles.

  “Oh, my God, I’m doing it.”

  He smiled. “You are.” A spark smoldered in his eyes as he drew her even closer. “At first the waltz was considered highly scandalous, because of the partners’ proximity to one another.”

  “The original dirty dancing, huh?”

  “Exactly. Though they didn’t dare dance as close as this.”

  Joy bubbled up in her. Though Hayden detested the rain, here he was, waltzing her around a deserted parking lot, getting more soaked by the minute. Desire, sudden, hot and heavy, coursed through every cell of her body.

  “How do you like dancing with the devil?” He grinned at her. “Remember at Nick’s probation hearing?”