Putting Out Old Flames

by Allyson Charles

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I never said my wife was dead.”

  Her chest felt tight, like the walls of the elevator were still pressing in on her. Chance’s wife checked her watch, and the maintenance guy looked like he wanted popcorn with the show. She needed to get away. “My mistake.”

  She made it ten feet before he grabbed her again. “Why are you so mad about this? You’ve met Josh, you must know I had a wife.” Running his hand through his short hair, he blew out a harsh breath.

  Like this was her problem. Like she was the one being unreasonable. Heat rocketed up her neck to her face. She knew she must look like an angry tomato. “I don’t care that you have a wife. You could be a bigamist and it wouldn’t matter to me. Why I’m ‘mad’”—she was too ticked to be embarrassed about using rabbit fingers around that word—“is that I thought you might have changed in ten years.”

  His eyebrows slammed together. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re never honest,” she hissed, leaning into him and poking his chest. “You should have just told me you were still married, like you should have told me you had another future planned out. One that didn’t include me.” She didn’t know which was worse. That she was dredging up decade-old hurts like some pathetic woman clinging to her high school glory years, or that it felt so good to let him have it. She finally had her target in front of her.

  “Jane.” His voice held regret. And a tinge of pity.

  She was surprised she didn’t spontaneously combust. Heat and anger rolled off of her in waves. Time to pull it back from her hangups to his screwups. “You might not have outright said it, but you sure as hell implied that you were a widower. Are you even divorced?”

  He hesitated. “Almost. Just waiting for the judge’s signature.”

  She snorted.

  Chance dipped his head, lowered his voice. “I was eighteen, and you’re right. I acted like a jerk. This is a different situation. I wasn’t hiding my wife, I just didn’t want to talk about her. It hasn’t been an easy divorce.”

  The pain in his eyes deflated her righteous indignation, like a nail to a tire causing a slow leak. He sounded so reasonable. She might have read more into his comment about his wife being gone than she should have. Maybe.

  “Besides.” Chance crossed his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes. “I’m not the one who almost cheated on her boyfriend by kissing me in the elevator. My relationship with Annette is over. Yours with bailiff-boy still seems on.”

  And just like that her understanding evaporated. “Leon’s and my relationship is none of your business. And I wasn’t about to kiss you.” Mimicking his position, she crossed her arms across her chest. The aggressive stance didn’t look as tough on her as it did on Chance. “I was feeling a little light-headed from the lack of oxygen.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Look.” She dug in her purse, pulled out her spiral notebook, and made some notations. “You deal with your wife. I’ll deal with the hotel.” With a vicious yank, she tore her to-do list off, shoved it into his chest. “You wanted to be brought up-to-date? Here’s what you have to do. You handle those, I’ll handle the rest, and we don’t have to talk to each other about it.”

  “Fine,” he bit out.

  “Good.” Turning on her heel, she stalked off, his glare searing her the entire walk down the hallway. At the door to the ballroom, she forced herself not to look back. She didn’t want him to see that he had the power to hurt her yet again.

  The manager was waiting for her inside, and came toward her, hand outstretched. She put on a smile and made herself a promise. She’d get through this fundraiser with Chance. It was too important to let hurt feelings get in the way.

  But once it was over, she’d make sure that her errands didn’t take her past Firehouse 10 ever again.

  * * *

  Annette led Chance back to her room. Following her inside, he slammed the door behind them. Or he tried to. The damned thing was on some sort of hydraulics. It lazily hissed its way across the carpet, mocking his angry gesture.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing just showing up here like this?” Picking her purse up off the desk, he tossed it on the bed and cocked a hip onto the empty space.

  “I came to see Josh.” She sat on the thin tan bedspread and crossed one slim leg over the other. “He’s my son, too.”

  “Yes. And when I’m granted permanent full custody, I don’t intend to cut you out of his life.” He narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be in rehab?”

  Smoothing the skirt of her dress, she said, “It wasn’t mandatory. I checked myself out.”

  “Of course you did.” He didn’t bother trying to keep the disgust out of his voice. A gambling addiction might be considered an illness, but he couldn’t forget, or forgive, her actions.

  “I was there for two weeks. I learned plenty and I’m doing better.” Standing, Annette strode to the minibar, pulled out a tiny bottle of white wine. “Want anything?”

  “Not from you.”

  Rolling her eyes, she poured herself a glass. Eyeing him over the rim, Annette said, “I met someone.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “We’re getting married.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, not liking where this was going. “Seems awfully sudden considering we only separated eight months ago. Were you having an affair?” He hoped she was. It might be one more piece of ammunition in his case to keep full custody of Josh.

  Annette took a deep breath and walked to the window. “No. I met Edward after.” Flicking the curtain open, she looked out. “God, how can you live here? When I drove in from the airport I thought I was in Mayberry.”

  “They had a job opening and it was two thousand miles away from you,” Chance said. “Any resemblance to fictional towns is just a bonus.”

  “I’m suing for full custody of Josh.” She turned from the window, her expression as cool as though she’d just said she wanted chicken for dinner. “My lawyer says that since I’ll be married and able to provide a stable two-parent home for Josh, I have a good shot.”

  Rage flooded his veins, his muscles trembling with the effort it took not to throttle the woman. He took a deep breath, kept his voice even. “Stable? A bookie who was threatening your life came to our house. Spoke to Josh while he was playing in the front yard. You’re not even safe for our son, much less stable.”

  She sighed. “Don’t be so dramatic. And besides, I don’t owe any bookies, and I’ve been to counseling. I’m not gambling anymore.”

  Yeah, she didn’t owe bookies anymore because Chance had borrowed against his pension to pay off her debts. It had pissed him off, writing that check, cleaning up after the mistakes of a woman he’d stopped loving years ago. But it had been the best way to keep his son safe.

  He fisted his hands so tightly, the knuckles on his right hand cracked. “I don’t care what your lawyer says. You’re not taking Josh.”

  “Edward said you’d say that.” Her bright pink lips twisted. It was a mystery that he’d ever wanted to kiss that scheming mouth.

  “I would say he’s a smart man, but he’s marrying you.” He pushed off the desk. “I know Josh would like to see you while you’re in town. When do you want to come over?”

  “I thought I’d take him out to dinner,” she said. “There’s got to be some sort of pizza place that he’d like.”

  “No.”

  She cocked her head. “This pathetic town doesn’t even have a pizza parlor?”

  Moving to this small town had been a bit of a culture shock for him, too, but Annette’s bitchy attitude was one more nail scraping down the chalkboard of his patience. “Yes, there’s a pizza parlor, but there’s no way in hell you’re taking Josh out by yourself. If you want to see him tonight, you can have dinner at our house.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “What exactly do you think I’m going to do? Kidnap him?”

  Chance remain
ed silent.

  “Christ,” she muttered. “Fine. Dinner at your house. Remember, I don’t eat red meat anymore.”

  “Got it.” Steaks on the grill tonight. “How long are you planning on staying in town?”

  “As long as I want to.” She jutted out her chin. “He’s my son, too.”

  Yes, unfortunately he was. And Chance understood her need to spend time with Josh. Respected it. But the way Annette was now, she could hurt their son more by spending time with him. Put him in danger.

  Maybe it was a good thing she was marrying that Edward character. It might anchor her to the West Coast, keep her far away from Josh.

  With a curt goodbye, and directions to his house, he left. Striding down the hallway, Chance kneaded the back of his neck. Now to find Jane. From one angry woman to another. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

  He punched the elevator call button, considered the metal doors in front of him, and turned for the stairwell. Jogging down the stairs, Chance knew the comparison between Jane and his ex wasn’t fair. Jane might have a reason to be a bit pissed off. Technically, he hadn’t lied. But he hadn’t been eager to share the information that he was still married, either. He’d had too much fun flirting with Jane.

  He pushed open the door to the hallway and followed the signs to the ballroom, quickening his step. It was strange, hurrying to see Jane again. Planning this fundraiser with her was causing déjà vu to crash upon him in waves. He used to trip all over his feet just to reach her side, a physical ache gripping his chest if he spent too long away from her.

  As a teenager, everything had been life or death, a roller coaster of emotion from who’d win the Friday-night football game to what college he was going to apply to. But he wasn’t a boy anymore, and he wouldn’t die if he didn’t see his girlfriend.

  He hurried down the hall just the same.

  And found an empty ballroom.

  Frowning, he made his way back to reception. “Do you know where the manager is? He was supposed to be showing my friend and me the ballroom.”

  She smiled brightly. “Oh, they finished with that. Your friend left about five minutes ago.”

  “Left?” His voice rose above the soft classical music playing in the lobby.

  The blinding smile dimmed. “Yes. Uh . . . maybe she’s waiting for you in the parking lot?”

  Nodding tersely, Chance strode to the spot where Jane had parked.

  The empty spot.

  Chance cursed, dug in his pocket for his phone. Scrolling through his contacts, his thumb hovered over Jane’s picture. He’d snapped it without her knowledge, and it only captured about three-quarters of her face. The smile that had struck him as so sweet now looked devilish. Evil danced in those eyes.

  He smacked his finger down on her smiling face.

  The call went straight to voicemail, and Chance hung up, dialed another number.

  “What can I do you for?” Chief Finnegan’s hint of Irish met Chance’s ear.

  “Can you give me the name of a taxi service?” Chance asked. “I’m stranded at the Regency.”

  One quality Chance had come to appreciate from his new chief was that the man didn’t ask unnecessary questions. “I’ll come get you. I only live about ten minutes away.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Chance said.

  “I’m off today. Got nothing better to do.” Keys jingled over the line, a door shut. “Be there in a bit.”

  Chance ended the call and leaned against a minivan, settling in for the wait. Striking red cardinals flitted among the trees dotting the parking lot, but Chance couldn’t appreciate their beauty. He was still too pissed off. Jane had no right to be that angry, to leave him without a ride simply because he hadn’t mentioned his wife. His very soon to be ex-wife.

  Jane always had been prone to overreacting.

  Chance’s shoulders were marginally less tense by the time the chief rolled into the lot. It was hard to stay angry when the sun was shining and a cool breeze was blowing. Chance thought about Jane ditching him again. Nope. Still ticked off.

  “Thanks,” Chance said, climbing into the passenger seat.

  Finnegan grunted. “Where to?”

  “My SUV’s downtown at the Pantry, but Josh is at Edith Willoughby’s apartment. Can you drop me there? Josh and I will walk to where I’m parked.” If Josh wasn’t going to be in the vehicle with him, he’d have tracked Jane down, expressing to her just how juvenile her actions had been. Demanded an apology.

  Even his fantasy-self laughed at that. She wouldn’t be apologizing anytime soon.

  The chief pulled to the curb in front of the Apothic Gardens, climbed out with Chance. Chance raised an eyebrow.

  “Thought I’d say hi to Josh,” Finnegan said.

  Chance shrugged. The chief hadn’t seemed like he was a big fan of kids, but whatever. Finnegan’s motives could remain his own. Chance had bigger fish to fry.

  The door to the store was locked, and a little faux-clock in the window said the store would reopen at four. Chance and the chief took the staircase in the small alley next to the building, and knocked on the upstairs door.

  Pans crashed, the sound muffled through the wall, followed by silence. Chance and Finnegan eyed each other.

  Chance raised his hand again to knock, but stopped when Edith’s voice called out, “Just one moment.”

  Some shuffling, a couple of bumps, and hushed whispers made Chance frown. He knew the sounds of trouble being covered up.

  The door swung open, and Edith’s long tunic billowed in the breeze. “Oh. Hello, Chance. Chief.”

  The smell of something sweet floated out the open door. “Baking something?” Chance asked.

  “Just some granola.” She tucked a lock of hair behind one ear. “And I’m burning a candle.”

  “Good.” Chance moved inside, Finnegan a step behind him. “Because Josh can get really hyper with sweets, and his dinner’s not far away.”

  “Of course.” Smiling, Edith led them down a narrow hall. “I remember you telling me that.” She raised her voice. “Josh. Your father’s here.”

  The sound of running water cut off. Josh raced out of the bathroom, sliding to a stop in front of Chance. “Hiya, Dad. You done with your chores already?”

  Edith stepped between the two, her back to Josh. Reaching back with her arm, she swiped at Josh’s face, never taking her eyes off Chance. “Josh was a doll to watch. Anytime you need a babysitter, just let me know. If you and Jane want to go out, I’m available.”

  “That’s mighty generous of you,” Finnegan said, his voice low, aggressive. “I didn’t know you had so much free time.”

  Edith narrowed her eyes. “I always have time for those who are important to me.”

  Chance gave Edith a weary smile. It would be nice to have a backup for when Katie was busy, although Chance had no illusions about needing a babysitter in order to date Jane. But she wasn’t the only woman in Pineville. He might need a babysitter for a date with another woman.

  He rubbed his chest. “Thanks.” Reaching around Edith, he snagged his son by his shoulder. “By the way, you missed a spot.” Chance wiped a smear of chocolate off Josh’s cheek. “Frosting?”

  “We made brownies.” Josh jumped up and down and squealed.

  “Oh boy.” It was going to be one heck of a night.

  Chapter Six

  Katie popped a tablespoon of sugar-free vanilla ice cream into her mouth. “I can’t believe anyone would want to marry that train wreck,” she mumbled around her mouthful. Pushing the ice cream carton away, she wrinkled her nose. “This tastes like ass.”

  “Nice language.” Chance looked over at his son. Josh was snapping plastic blocks together at the kitchen table, oblivious to their hushed conversation about his mother.

  She leaned over from her perch on a barstool at the kitchen counter, darted a glance at her nephew. “I’m just saying, what kind of man decides to marry that W-I-T-C-H?” she asked.

  He paused from stirrin
g his marinara sauce, spoon raised. “You’ll spell out that word but say ‘ass’?” Shaking his head, he leveled the spoon at his sister. “She should be here in about half an hour, and you need to play nice. I don’t want Josh sensing trouble between us.”

  “I know.” She poked at her ice cream, then looked up at him with a hopeful smile. “It will be easier for me to keep my mouth shut if you put real food in front of me.”

  “Spaghetti and meatballs is real food.” He had backed down from steaks in the interests of keeping the peace, but no way was he giving up his meatballs. Annette could just push them off her plate.

  She shrugged. “Yeah, that’s okay. But I’m tired of those funky-tasting shakes you keep buying and this fake-dessert crap you keep pushing at me.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Adding chopped garlic to his sauce, he leveled his sister with his sternest big-brother look. “You got out of the hospital just yesterday because you screwed up managing your sugar levels. You’re already complaining about the diabetic-friendly food I’m serving?”

  Shoulders rounding in on each other, Katie’s lower lip trembled in a way that made him feel like the biggest jerk in town. But he wasn’t going to back down on this. “I think we should come up with a food plan, maybe plan meals a week in advance.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You and your plans. I just need some time to adjust. I’ll be fine.”

  “And when I’m on a three-day shift? What are you going to cook for yourself?”

  Digging her spoon into the carton, she flicked a glob at him. “Can we stop talking about what I eat?” He stared at her until she glanced away. “I’ll look at those recipes you printed out, okay?”

  Tearing off a paper towel, he bent and wiped the mess off the floor, brushed at the stain on his apron. “I’m so happy I have a child watching over my son. And good.”

  “You know I’m grateful that you’re letting me live with you guys, right?” Katie pushed a wedge of brown hair behind her ear. “If I had to live with Mom and Dad while I took my online courses, I think I’d lose my mind.”

  Chance snorted. “I hear that.”