Sam broke the silence and stood. “Where’s your car? I’ll load these for you.” As he called back over his shoulder, he strolled toward her cart. Kirin’s white 4Runner was parked two spaces down. She dug in her purse and pulled out her keys, and tossed them to Sam. He caught them mid-stride and pushed the button but was already steering the cart toward it.
Sipping her water, she nodded her silent thanks. He loaded her groceries with ease, while she ogled thick muscles in his back contracting under his T-shirt. She shook her head and concentrated on the water bottle. After returning the cart, he walked back to his tailgate and cleared his throat.
“Want me to follow you home?” He tucked his hands in his pockets.
“Nah, I’ll be fine. More stories to tell the girls at the hospital tomorrow.”
“Which one?”
“St. Mary’s downtown. Labor and delivery. I’m a nurse.”
“Ew.” Sam’s face scrunched, half-smiling.
“What do you mean, ew?”
“Screaming women in pain? Nope. Not for me.”
“Hold on, you carry a gun and save complete strangers in a dark parking lot, but you’re afraid of a baby?”
“Well, first, you’re not a stranger. You tried to kill me with tomatoes.”
His single dimple surfaced when he grinned wide, like now. Scratching at his blondish brown stubble, his gorgeous eyes lit with laughter. “And secondly, it’s not the baby part that scares me, it’s the woman writhing in pain, I can’t take.”
Absurd. That this confident, handsome man would fear anything. A silent strength surrounded him like a bubble. Her body relaxed. She’d felt protected and safe sitting next to him. He’d walk in front of a bus to save someone, even her. And she knew it. He shuffled from one foot to the other, as if conflicted.
Ignoring it, she smiled. “It’s not that bad, and we do offer painkillers.”
“A drug dealer? And I thought I’d helped someone nice.”
She laughed. “I am nice! I help make this world better by bringing babies into it.”
“I save women in parking lots. That’s gotta earn something for me in heaven, right?” His tone sounded light, but the look on his face made his question seem serious.
She cocked her head sideways and slid him a grin. “Probably not. Besides, I’m pretty sure one good deed doesn’t erase all the bad.”
“You’re assuming I’m all bad?” his eyes lit with humor and heat.
“Bad for me…yes.”
He grinned wide, eyebrows up and nodded as if to say she was entirely correct. She hadn’t meant it that way. Lord. After a few seconds, she looked down at her hands and caught sight of her watch. It was late, and Rosa would worry.
Kirin slid off his tailgate. They stood a foot apart, toe to toe.
“Thanks again, Sam.” She reached out and touched his arm. She wanted to hug him, but that was too personal, and she didn’t want to scare him off. She opted instead to brush past him toward her vehicle and give him an elbow in the stomach. He grunted and chuckled. She glanced back. Arms crossed and stance wide, he watched her as she walked away.
“You’re welcome.” Sam paused, “Hey, Kirin?”
“Yeah?” She spun back around and stopped.
“Try not to get into any more trouble today, okay?”
Kirin shook her head. “Not making any promises.”
A smile crept up the corners of his mouth. She opened her car door and climbed inside. Sam stood next to his truck, waiting and watching as she backed it out of the spot.
~*~
God, he was a moron. She’d gotten a damn good look at his face and his truck. There was no going back now. His plan was shot to hell. Like the rest of his life, he’d have to wing it.
He’d thought she was attractive from a distance, but up close…Jesus. She was stunning. Her bright eyes mixed with a sexy smile and creamy skin. And she had spunk too. That was something he couldn’t know from watching from afar. Get a grip, Sam. She’s way outta your league.
He followed her home at a safe distance. Could’ve led her there, he’d done it so many times in the last two years. But he was far enough back, she couldn’t see him.
His mind automatically began listing out a new disguise. Old habit from years of training. 1. Sell his truck and buy a new one, 2. shave the itchy stubble and 3. darken his hair. Or he could just sport a hat and workout clothes instead of jeans and work boots. That’d worked in the past too.
But something stopped him. He glanced around at the clean floorboards and Armor-all’d dash. This was a good-looking truck. Best he’d ever had and it fit him. It’d saved his ass enough times that it felt like the best friend he never had. And he’d owned it longer than any other vehicle. Besides, at forty wasn’t it time to be himself for a while? So what if she saw him.
It didn’t matter anyway. He knew what he was and what he’d done. A woman like that would never be with someone like him. Plus, she hadn’t noticed him before so maybe she’d be just as oblivious now.
Sam scrubbed one hand across his forehead. One thing was sure, with Sonny gone, he’d need to be on his toes. His orders would come in soon enough.
~*~
A few blocks from the store, the gravity of the encounter with the robber hit her. What if she never held her boys again? What if Sam hadn’t been there or she hadn’t knocked over the tomatoes? And what if the meth head had hurt her or worse…abducted her in the parking lot?
But she was safe. Kirin prayed a heartfelt thanks to God, then switched the radio station from love songs to old eighties’ rock, cranked it up and rolled the windows down. She had to clear her mind before going home. She turned off the main highway on to the two-lane county road leading to her house and slowed, staring in her rearview mirror. A red truck, like Sam’s, had followed a few cars behind her the whole way home.
Being followed should have creeped her out, but it didn’t. Instead, she felt protected and safe, giddy even. Somehow, somewhere she wanted to bump into that man again.
Arriving home, she parked her car, shut it off, and laid her forehead on the steering wheel. Another silent prayer of thanks.
Unloading the groceries, she relayed the night’s events to Rosa.
“What did the man with the gun look like?” Rosa barked.
The tiny woman asked questions as if she’d been an interrogator in a former life. While waiting for Kirin’s answer, Rosa heaved open the panel in the pantry floor that led to Jack’s panic room, then tossed a twelve pack of paper towels down the short steps and into the inky black below. The familiar musty smell of warm dirt rose and filled Kirin’s nose as she stared into the darkness after it. Batman’s lair, they’d called it, for the first time gave her a renewed sense of peace.
It’d been Jack’s domain and she’d habitually made fun of him about it. She hadn’t ventured down there but a handful of times since he’d died. Rickety old stairs led into the spider webbed dark. Old metal shelves lined the walls of the tiny room except one, where his desk and computer slept. Creepy. She made a mental note to boot that old computer up soon. She hadn’t done that in months. She glanced up and met Rosa’s questioning gaze. Rosa closed the lid and waited for her answer.
“I guess he was about five-eleven, brown wavy hair with matching stubble. But the way he rubbed it, unshaven didn’t seem to be his norm. And he had eyes…nice, green ones. And a dimple on one cheek…” Kirin trailed off, caught herself then cleared her throat.
“He had eyes?” Rosa’s voice was filled with laughter. “Well, that’s a relief. And a dimple?” Kirin’s cheeks flushed warm under her nanny’s gaze.
“Shut up. He was a regular-looking guy, I guess.” Kirin turned to hoist the milk on the top shelf in the fridge. When she turned, Rosa stood with her hands on her hips and eyebrows up as if to say she needed more.
“Why do you ask?” Kirin skirted the subject.
She ignored Kirin’s question and continued, “What type of truck did he drive?”
“Toyota. Why?”
“Just wondering,” Rosa mumbled, squinting as if she struggled to figure out a math problem.
The sound of Will and Little Jack squabbling over who’d get to be banker in Monopoly echoed through the pantry. Rosa stood in the doorway with hands still on her petite hips and stock still.
“So?”
“So, what?” Kirin bent over and spoke into rows of cans she rearranged to make room for more.
After a moment of deliberate silence, Kirin rose and locked eyes with her nanny. Rosa was a damn master at staring people down for information. She should’ve been the head of the CIA or the Mexican mafia.
Kirin wasn’t. She’d always break. Sticking her tongue out, she smirked. Undaunted, Rosa continued, “What happened earlier? You acted like somebody shot your dog.”
“You got me, my invisible dog died.” Kirin reached around Rosa to grab more cans from the bags on the floor.
Rosa huffed. “Why the sadness and don’t tell me ‘nothing.’ I saw it in your eyes, and I know you.”
Kirin stood and let out a long breath, sizing up her nanny. For someone so small, Rosa always had a way of being the witty, sarcastic mother figure in their relationship.
“My father died. I didn’t even know he was sick, but the facility called early this morning saying he’d died. I haven’t spoken to him since my mom passed, gosh, thirty years ago.”
Had it been thirty years since her mom died? That didn’t seem possible. Rosa studied her for a moment, then exhaled. Her shoulders deflated as she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me? When are you flying out? My sister and I can stay here with the boys while you’re gone.”
“That’s nice, thank you, but I’m not sure if I’ll go yet. I haven’t made up my mind.”
Rosa’s body became rigid. She stood taller and pulled her shoulders back. Chin high, she announced matter-of-factly, “You’re going—you have to go.” Rosa spun on her heels and stomped out of the pantry. Kirin shook her head and finished putting the groceries away as Rosa grabbed her purse and left without another word.
~*~
Competitive like his mama, Will’s world would end if he lost to his little brother at Monopoly. Little Jack on the other end of the spectrum, giggled, cheated, and took nothing seriously. After the second game, Little Jack struggled to keep his eyes open, and Will yawned at least six times.
With baths finished and pajamas on, both boys raced toward their bunkbed. Kirin turned out the light and the nightlights flickered on. When she was Little Jack’s age, her father prayed with her every night before bed, back when they’d been a normal family. A tradition she continued with her boys. Not because of him of course, but because she’d liked the idea. He’d acted so different back then. Loving and fatherly.
Both boys knelt next to their bed. Little Jack knelt but then stood and clambered onto the bottom bunk, sidetracked by an out of place teddy bear. Kirin dropped to her knees and eyeballed him. He took one look at his mama’s face, tossed the bear and climbed back down next to her.
Will started the prayer, “Dear God, thank you for this day…”
“Mama?” Little Jack interrupted. Will exhaled impatiently. “Who was your daddy?”
Will raised an eyebrow and nodded as if to say, good question, kid.
Kirin’s heart sank. Of course. They’d never asked this question before. With no living or willing grandparents, neither wondered until now. They’d been more awake when the call came in than she’d thought.
“My father’s name was Sonny. He lived in California.”
“Why?” Little Jack swiped his nose on his arm.
Great question, boy. She had no idea. “Well, because…it’s where he lived.”
“Did we ever meet him?”
“No, baby, he never met you.” She guided a wayward curl off his forehead and swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She’d tried. The battle between hating him for leaving and wanting him to want her, had always raged. She’d had a moment of weakness right after Little Jack was born. Sent a few letters and some pictures, but always with the same result. Zilch.
“Mom,” Will began, “why can’t we fly to California?”
Kirin bit her lip. She didn’t want to tell them. It’d open a whole other host of questions, but she’d prided herself on answering anything they were brave enough to ask. Even if it was difficult.
“Boys, he died today. That was the phone call this morning. One day soon, I’ll drag out some old pictures, okay?”
Will stared in the distance. A sadness crossed his face. Little Jack stared at his hands.
What that darn little kid did next, broke her heart, made her even angrier with her father, and made her heart swell, all simultaneously.
“Dear God,” Little Jack said, “please watch over my Grandpa Sonny in heaven.”
~*~
As soon as they fell asleep, Kirin dragged her tired body into a hot shower before slipping into bed. Sam’s strong jaw and green eyes ran through her mind. After he’d saved her, his eyes had changed. They’d become kinder and lighter. The echo of his comforting voice was etched into her memory. His kind way of wrapping a strong, warm arm around her, even now, made her shiver. He’d saved a stranger in a parking lot and been compassionate and caring, like any human would be, she told herself.
Oh, but he had a snarky side, all right. His hesitation to stand near her was no doubt because of a girlfriend. Or an ex-girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend sounded better. Or maybe he hadn’t been attracted to her. He’d done his duty as a concerned citizen. That idea made her heart drop a little.
But the way he’d flirted and smiled at her felt personal. Green-flecked eyes had bored into hers. And he smelled like a campfire mixed with spice. Manly. His green shirt stretched across his muscular chest. His smooth, low voice filled with his flirty way of bantering—
“Stop.” She scolded herself in the dark.
Careful as always not to cross the invisible line onto Jack’s side of the bed, Kirin flopped around. She wouldn’t think about Sam or his cute dimple. Lying still in the darkness, the idea of letting a man into her life caused a shudder to run down her spine. Tugging the covers tighter, she closed her eyes.
Tomorrow, she’d book a flight to LA to make funeral arrangements for a stranger.
Chapter Two
A week later, after an endless plane ride and quite possibly the worst night’s sleep in a California hotel, Kirin trudged up the terra-cotta steps of the funeral home in the rain. She smoothed her already stick straight hair. Jesus, why was she so nervous?
The rustling sound of her long, black skirt matched the click-clack of her uncomfortable heels. In no hurry to get inside, she slowed. Time had sped to this dreadful moment.
A man stood under the awning beside a large stucco-arched door at the top of the steps. He smiled. His nose had a familiar shape to it. Recognition crossed her face and her Uncle Shane’s simultaneously. It’d been too long since she’d seen him but walking toward him and seeing the tears in his eyes almost undid her.
Each step closer to the door brought an angry tightness in her chest and a longing for a relationship with her father that would never be.
He was here.
Dead of course, but here.
She’d already talked herself out of her brilliant plan which was to get spectacularly drunk on the plane. She’d fantasized about getting off the plane at LAX, walking straight to the ticket counter and buying an immediate return flight home, for spite. Skip the whole damn thing. But in the end, she was here because of her mama. She’d have been disappointed in her.
The irony wasn’t lost on her. He didn’t care enough about her to be a part of her world in life but wanted her to be a part of his world in death.
When she reached the top of the steps, her dad’s little brother smiled and wrapped her in a warm hug. “Little britches, it’s been way too long. How ya’ holding up?”
“I’m okay.” She squeez
ed him back. Her only living relative left on her dad’s side. Back when her parents were alive, he’d visited and played board games with her on the floor.
He opened the heavy door leading to the main part of the funeral home and ushered her inside. The sickly sweet smell of fresh flowers invaded her senses immediately causing memories of her mama’s funeral to flood in. Back then, she’d been a broken, freckle-faced little girl sitting on the front pew of the church while her father greeted everyone in line. She’d worn the red and green plaid dress she and mama had picked out for Christmas Eve mass. She never much cared for the smell of fresh flowers after that.
Shaking the memory, she forced herself to focus. She’d never make it through if she got emotional. New plan. Ignore the anger.
High ceilings, arched doorways, and large crosses stared at her from every corner. Each room was decorated in a contrasting hue of muted reds and oranges. The funeral home’s Spanish influences were apparent on every wall.
Graceful high-back chairs, warm lamps, and inviting couches sat every few feet. Tissues lay on each table, free for the taking. She wouldn’t need those, thank you. A quiet calm attempted to overtake her senses, but her nerves were much too powerful for it.
A lanky, white-haired man in a navy suit sauntered up. He wore a funeral-home name tag and spoke in a whisper. “Terhune funeral?”
Her mind went blank, like a fresh-cleaned whiteboard. She couldn’t remember what he’d asked, let alone how to answer him. She glanced down at her fingers, while her uncle spoke.
“Mr. Williams, this is Kirin, Sonny’s daughter.”
Kirin glanced up as Mr. Williams’s face paled, then rebounded with a fake smile. “Your father spoke of you. I’m glad you made it. Follow me and I’ll show you where to go.”
Kirin’s jaw clenched tight. Glaring at the back of his head, she followed him down the hall. Her father didn’t know her. Why would he speak of her? And who talks to an undertaker? The absentminded funeral director must say this to everyone.
Entangling: Book One of the Kirin Lane Series Page 3