Reid turned off the TV and sprang to his feet. He paced the length of the room and swore. He didn’t need this in his life. He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t that horrible a person, was he? He should get a break.
Only no one seemed willing to give him one.
He continued to pace back and forth, but the room was too small. He had an excess of energy and no way to burn it off. He had to get out of here, but there wasn’t anywhere to go.
He headed downstairs for the one person guaranteed to distract him.
Talk about idiotic, he thought as he walked into the kitchen. Lori had made it very clear what she thought of him. Did he need to be beat up more?
Except as definitive as she’d been about not wanting him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he got to her. If he did, she would hate that. Which, in a twisted way, made him happy. At least annoying her was interesting.
But she wasn’t in the kitchen or the living room. He headed for Gloria’s temporary bedroom.
“Where’s Lori?” he asked when he saw the nurse wasn’t there. “She’s not avoiding me, is she?”
His grandmother slipped off her glasses, put down her book and stared at him. “Amazingly enough, the whole world doesn’t revolve around you, Reid. Lori’s sister is sick and Lori took her to the doctor. She’ll be back in an hour or so. Can you survive on your own until then, or should I call 9-1-1 for emergency assistance?”
Chapter Five
LORI ARRIVED back at Gloria’s house shortly before two in the afternoon. She walked inside only to find Reid waiting for her.
Her first thought was to turn around and hide in her car. She felt self-conscious about both their last conversation where she’d claimed she didn’t want him—a big fat lie if ever there was one—and the fact that she wasn’t wearing scrubs. Jeans and a sweater might be totally casual, but there was also the chance that he might interpret them as a pitiful attempt to attract him.
Or not, she thought honestly. Chances were Reid never thought of her at all. He was too busy posing for porn.
She briefly closed her eyes. No. That wasn’t fair. Her stupid crush wasn’t his fault. Maybe she should rethink the whole self-help book issue. It was more than obvious she needed something to get her back to her normal self. Her last trip to Seattle Chocolate, while delicious, hadn’t totally cured her.
“You were gone,” Reid said as she tucked her purse on an empty shelf in the massive and mostly unused pantry.
“Yes, I was and now I’m back.”
She straightened and stared at him. Why did he have to look so good? Why couldn’t he be ugly or even normal-looking? Why did his eyes make her want to get lost in whatever he was saying and why did his mouth make her long for some sexual acts that might still be illegal in the more conservative red states?
She tried to push past him. When he didn’t move, she said, “I have to check on Gloria.”
“I just did. She’s asleep. I want to talk to you.”
Panic seized her. This was not a conversation she wanted to have.
“I’m busy. Let’s reschedule.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Busy doing what?”
“Stuff. Important stuff.” She groaned silently. Talk about pathetically lame.
She couldn’t handle him today. Not when she was still fighting the embarrassment of their last encounter and she was feeling emotionally vulnerable because of what was going on with Madeline.
Just thinking about her sister drained the last of the fight out of her. Her shoulders slumped and she stared at Reid.
“Fine. What do you want to talk about?”
“You can’t just give in like that,” he said. “It’s not right.”
“You’re complaining because I let you win? You might want to rethink your priorities.”
“Something’s wrong,” he said. “What is it?”
She turned away. “Nothing.”
“I know enough about women to know that really means there’s something but I’m going to have to work to get at it.” He grabbed her arm. “Tell me.”
She didn’t plan to tell him anything. That was the hell of her situation. There was no one to talk to. Certainly not Madeline, who had enough to deal with herself, and not their mother who was a pretty useless kind of person.
She hated that she was tempted. Even more she hated that despite everything, she was hyper-aware of his fingers on her arm. Even through her sweater, she felt heat and need and a whole list of other desires that would go seriously unfulfilled.
“Go away,” she said, able to appreciate that she was starting to sound like Gloria.
“Maybe I can help.”
“Like you’ve helped all those kids who wrote you?” she asked, twisting free and glaring at him. “I don’t think so. But, hey, if you’re so big on knowing, here’s the thing. My sister’s dying. Okay? Are you happy now that you’re well informed? She has a bad case of Hepatitis C she got from a transfusion years ago. A liver transplant could save her, but she has a rare blood type so the odds aren’t good. So I’m thinking you’re not going to be much help at all unless you happen to be AB negative and want to give up your liver to a really good cause.”
She started out of the kitchen, but before she’d gone more than a few feet, she was swamped with feelings. Maybe Reid was a jerk, but he’d never been jerky directly to her. She had no right to lash out at him. In his own shallow way, he probably had been trying to help.
She glanced back at him, taking in the stunned expression darkening his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have said that. The doctor didn’t have good news and that kind of pushed me over the edge.”
Then she shocked herself and probably him by bursting into tears.
Even as the tears poured down her face, she struggled for control. She didn’t cry—not ever. It wasn’t allowed. She was practical and logical and take-charge. She didn’t allow weakness in herself and she didn’t respect it in other people.
But she couldn’t seem to stop crying.
Suddenly Reid was there in front of her. He pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her.
As she couldn’t seem to stop crying, she let herself lean on him for a few minutes. She let herself be comforted and held.
He was tall and strong, she thought as she held on to him. For once her thoughts where he was concerned weren’t about sex. She had the oddest sense that he could be someone she could trust. Which was totally insane. He was as stable as quicksand.
Still, being held felt really nice. She gave in to weakness until the tears dried up, then she sniffed, took a step back and wiped her face on her sleeve.
“Sorry,” she said, staring at the hardwood floor. It was really shiny. Maybe she should put new floors in her place.
“What happened at the doctor’s appointment?” he asked quietly.
She risked looking at him and saw only sympathy in his eyes. She shrugged.
“I’ve known since the diagnosis that it wasn’t going to be good. I mean, I’m a nurse. I can figure out the steps. But I guess it wasn’t real to me before. I guess I thought nothing bad could happen to my sister. Until this, she’s lived a pretty perfect life.”
She sucked in a breath.
“Her doctor talked about how long she had and how we needed to think about hospice care. That really got to me. Talking about the end.”
Reid reached out and took her hand in his. “What’s the time frame?”
“About a year. She moved in with me a few months ago. She’s starting to have bad days. She’s working part-time, but that won’t last long. I took this job because the hours allow me to spend more time with her and the money is great. I’m saving as much as I can so I can take off the last couple of months to be with her.”
She squeezed his hand and fought tears. “She wanted to talk about that today. On the drive home, she said I shouldn’t put my life on hold for her. That she was fine going into a hospice. But I don’t want that for her. I ca
n take care of her.”
She had to be there for Madeline.
“Is a liver transplant the only way to save her?” he asked.
She nodded. “Unless they find a miracle cure and that’s not likely to happen in time. I’ve been tested and I’m not a match.”
He frowned. “You can’t give up your liver.”
Despite the pain and threat of tears, she smiled. “They use living donors now. They would take a piece of my liver. But it’s a nonissue. I can’t. My mom could except she drank so much for years that there isn’t much of her liver left.”
Lori released his hand and took a step back. “It’s just like Madeline to have a weird blood type. She’s totally perfect in every other way. Why can’t she be O positive like the majority of the population?”
It was easier to joke than admit the real problem. There were no easy solutions for her problem or Madeline’s. Lori never knew how to act or what to say. She just lived in guilt. Because as much as she loved her sister, she’d also resented her in equal measure. Which made her a pretty horrible person.
“I’m sorry,” Reid told her. “I know that doesn’t help, but I don’t know what else to say.”
He sounded sincere, she thought as she stared into his eyes. So they were both clueless. An interesting thing to have in common. “Thank you. I’m sorry I fell apart. It’s not like me. Usually I can hold it together.”
“It’s okay. Under the circumstances anyone would.”
She swallowed and forced herself to tell the truth. “You helped.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “Then that’s a first for this month.”
He walked out of the kitchen, leaving her staring after him. Had they just had a moment that included sensitivity? She didn’t want him to be more than just a pretty face. That made him far too dangerous for her fragile peace of mind. But it seemed she didn’t have a choice in the matter.
REID WALKED INTO the small den he’d turned into a temporary office. Lori’s problems put his into perspective. People thinking he was lousy in bed was nothing when compared with a sister dying. Of course there were the kids who’d been disappointed, ignored and abandoned by someone who was supposed to be a hero. Telling himself it wasn’t his fault wasn’t cutting it anymore.
He glanced at the stack of letters. Okay, so things had gone wrong. Could he fix the problems after the fact? He grimaced as he remembered Frankie’s sobbing mother. If only…
No, he couldn’t fix the problems, but he could stop new ones from happening. He could do better. He could get involved and make sure the right people got what they needed.
He sat in front of the letters and saw the folder from those kids he’d tried to send to the state finals. The ones who hadn’t gotten return tickets.
He read the hostile, accusing letters and felt his gut tighten. Dammit, it wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t had anything to do with the travel arrangements, but that didn’t matter. The offer had been made in his name.
He scanned the bitter letters and found one from the coach. Not sure what he was going to say, he picked up the phone and dialed.
It took a couple of transfers, but he finally got hold of Coach Roberts. After introducing himself he said, “I’m sorry about the mess with the return tickets. I didn’t know anything about the problem until a couple of days ago. The travel agency my manager hired dropped the ball. I, ah, had him send a check reimbursing everyone for their expenses. Did you get it?”
“Oh, we got it,” the coach said. “It was great. It didn’t cover shit, but, hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?”
Reid straightened. “What are you talking about?”
“Do you really think a thousand dollars covers seventeen kids and their families?”
A thousand dollars? “No. There’s been a mistake. It was supposed to cover everything.”
“I don’t know what the hell kind of game you think this is, Buchanan. You’re the worst kind of asshole. This is a poor town in a poor part of the state. These kids come from working class families. They can’t afford tickets, even on the bus. One family’s car got repossessed because they had to make a choice—make the car payment or get their kids home. They picked the kids. Now you send a check for a thousand dollars like that means anything?”
“It was supposed to be more,” Reid mumbled, feeling like crap. Why had Seth done it? Why such a small amount?
“Those kids looked up to you,” Coach Roberts continued. “They idolized you. You made their dreams come true and then you crushed them into dust.”
“I’m sorry,” Reid repeated.
“You sure as hell are. A sorry kind of man. You’re everything I don’t want these kids to be.”
He felt numb. “I want to make it up to them. Do something. Can I send them all to Disney World or something?”
“Oh, right. That would be great. Like anyone can afford a trip home from Florida. I’d tell you to stick with what you know—screwing women—but apparently you can’t even do that right. Go away. No one here wants anything to do with you. We can’t afford your type of charity.”
And the phone went dead.
THE OUTSIDE OF THE upscale Asian restaurant was elegant. Subtle colors, a sparse but very Zen-looking garden and a patio off to the right that could be used for summer outdoor dining.
Dani parked close to the front door and walked inside. Her interview was with Jim Brace, the owner.
The décor was sparse, but beautiful. Lots of glass with accents of brightly colored fabric. The huge dining room was double the size of The Waterfront and spread out in all directions.
As it was a couple of hours before opening, there weren’t many people around. She flagged a busboy who was setting tables and asked for Jim.
The man stared at her. “Does he know you’re here?”
It wasn’t the question that startled her as much as the worry in his eyes.
“I have an appointment with him.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll go get him.” He started to leave, then turned back to her. “Stay here and don’t touch anything.”
“Promise,” Dani said, wondering what it was she was supposed to not be touching.
She returned to the reception desk in the foyer and drew in a deep breath. This was her first interview and it was a big one. Jim Brace’s restaurant was one of the best in Seattle. Restaurant critics argued about which was more exquisite—the food or the service. Starting here was like making a film debut in a summer blockbuster.
She reminded herself she had more than enough experience and that obviously Jim had been impressed by her résumé. If she didn’t get the job, at least she would have the interview experience for the next time.
A tall, slim man walked toward her. She recognized Jim from seeing his picture in the paper and smiled at him.
“Mr. Brace, I’m Dani Buchanan.”
“Call me Jim, please, and I’ll call you Dani.” He shook hands with her and led her toward the back of the restaurant. “Have you eaten here before?”
“A couple of times. The food is incredible.”
“Secret recipes,” he joked. “My mother is half Chinese and my father’s brother spent years in Japan. I grew up in both places, learning the language, but more importantly, studying the food. I summered here in Seattle, so I have American sensibilities. The combination has allowed me to be incredibly successful.”
He paused as a young woman in a kitchen uniform approached with a large tray.
Instead of thanking her, Jim looked over the tray, took it, then said, “You can go.”
The woman bowed slightly and left.
He began putting dishes on the table. “I know you’ll want to get another taste of the food. It’s excellent. Our executive chef, Park, has been with us about six months. I didn’t like all the changes he wanted to make, but I’ve let him do a few things.”
“The Waterfront went through the same sort of thing when it reopened,” Dani said with a smile. “Penny Jackson was determined t
o get her way. But who can argue with brilliance?”
“I can and do,” Jim told her. “It’s my place. What I say goes.” Without bothering to ask what she liked, he dished up the food onto two plates.
Dani took hers and studied the eclectic offering. There were several kinds of dumplings, tempura vegetables, a casserole that smelled heavenly.
Jim poured her tea, then added a small amount of sugar. Okay, maybe it was just her, but this was a guy who enjoyed taking charge just a little too much. She would be lucky if he didn’t cut up her food and put it on her fork for her.
“I’ve been looking for a manager for a while,” he said. “I need someone who can respect my vision. This restaurant is me.” He shrugged. “I’ve been called difficult.”
Dani thought about all Gloria had done, letting her work her ass off and think she had a chance with the company only to finally admit Dani would never do better than Burger Heaven.
“I can handle difficult,” Dani said. “As long as there are clearly defined goals and targets.”
“Hey, that I can provide.” Jim dug into his food and urged her to do the same. “Isn’t it great?” he said when he’d chewed and swallowed.
She sampled the various dishes and had to agree. When they’d finished, Jim rose and invited her to tour the restaurant with him.
He explained about the specific arrangement of tables and how regulars who spent big had special seating areas. He preferred overbooking and didn’t mind sending people away.
“Won’t they be unhappy and unlikely to return?” she asked.
“Some will be, but in my experience people want what they can’t have and for a lot of them, that’s dinner at my place.”
Dani wrinkled her nose. She was more of a “please the customer at all costs” kind of manager.
They walked through the swinging doors that separated the front of the store from the back. As they stepped into the pristine, open kitchen, she braced herself for flying insults and swearing in several languages. Instead there was an unnatural silence.
She stared at the men all working hard—chopping, blanching, prepping. The tallest of the group walked toward him. The embroidered name on his white jacket identified him as the executive chef.
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