by Roni Loren
Knight, who’d graduated out of the head cone, got to his feet, his tail banging against the side of the kennel, and went from howling to whining and snuffling.
“He’s made a great recovery and can do all the normal things,” Marco reported. “But his body is still recuperating from all that healing work, so he’ll probably tire out quickly. Don’t let him get too confident.”
Marco gave Wes a pointed look.
Wes sniffed. “I think he’s ready to take on the world.”
Marco reached down and unhooked the latch on the door. But before he could loop the leash over Knight’s head, the dog barreled out of the kennel and launched himself at Rebecca. His big paws landed on her shoulders, and he knocked her right onto her butt, licking her face like she was made of bacon.
Wes jumped forward to help, but Rebecca was hugging the dog and laughing while trying to turn her head and avoid the slobbery onslaught.
Marco managed to get the collar and leash on and tugged Knight back. “Calm down, boy. Sit. Sit.”
Knight eventually yielded but didn’t look happy about it, and the high-pitched whining started again.
Wes squatted down and ruffled the fur on Knight’s fluffy head. “Yeah, man, you got to slow it down. Woo her a little first. Buy her dinner before you try to kiss her. I recommend Indian food. And fancy cheese.”
Knight barked.
Rebecca laughed. “Try Italian. That’s his favorite. He pilfered garlic bread from me the night we met.”
Knight panted and bumped Rebecca’s knee with his snout. She sighed and petted him as she looked to Wes. “I’m so done, aren’t I?”
Wes smiled, warmth sliding through him. “Absolute toast, lawyer girl.”
Or maybe that was just Wes.
* * *
Rebecca collapsed onto a stool at her kitchen counter and glanced at the clock—half past seven. She’d called Child Protective Services a little earlier while she was walking Knight and couldn’t help wondering if the authorities had headed to Steven’s place yet. Her nerves were brittle, but she tried to shove the thoughts to the back of her mind because she’d done all she could for now. The proper channels had been notified.
At least about the abuse. She hadn’t said a word about the robbery.
She let out a sigh, mentally exhausted and physically drained, her muscles sapped from the bus scrubbing, a harrowing walk with Knight, and a too-hot shower to wash off all the grime. But Wes had no idea what was going on yet, so she tried to keep her tone light. “Well, if nothing else, I’m going to be able to eat extra dessert now. Knight’s going to be like having a gym membership.”
Wes smirked from his spot in front of her stove and slid her a bottle of water. His hair was still a little damp from the shower he’d grabbed while she’d walked Knight, and he looked downright edible. She hated that she’d had to keep something from him, but his obligation to report had no gray area. If she was ever pressed for why she waited hours to report, she could claim attorney-client privilege since she’d offered to represent Steven and there wasn’t an urgent threat of substantial bodily harm. Steven was going home to an empty house. No immediate threat. But Wes was Steven’s teacher. He would’ve had to report any kind of abuse immediately, no fine print. She couldn’t have told him before the seven o’clock deadline. And now she just needed a break from it all.
“And that’s Knight in recovery mode,” Wes said. “Imagine how long he’s going to want to walk when he’s fully healed up.”
“I’m trying not to think about that.” She opened the bottle and took a grateful gulp of water. “He hates the leash. Kept trying to back out of it and shake it off. But I’ve got news for him. I’ve watched The Dog Whisperer. I’m prepared to show him who’s boss. And if nothing else, I can outlast him for now. He’s snoring in his kennel.”
Wes flipped a kitchen towel over his shoulder and grinned. “Strays aren’t used to taking orders from anyone. Just ask Ed and Carolina. I don’t know why they didn’t ship me off to military school within the first few weeks of when I arrived at their place. But smart strays also know a good gig when we see one. I have no doubt Knight will shape up and give in once he realizes how sweet he’s got it now.” He dipped a wooden spoon into the sauce he was making. “Here, taste this. I didn’t have the ingredients to do a proper spaghetti sauce, but I doctored up your jarred one.”
She leaned forward, blowing on the steaming sauce and then tasting it. The spicy, garlicky flavor made her stomach rumble for more. “Damn. That’s good. You definitely have a gift. I eat that sauce at least once a week, and it tastes nothing like that. What’s that smoky flavor?”
“You had some bacon in the freezer. I chopped up a few pieces and sautéed them with the onion and garlic before dumping the sauce in.”
“Of course you did, because you’re a genius.”
“Obviously.” He cocked his head to the side. “Want me to open a bottle of wine? That chianti you have will go good with the sauce.”
A glass of wine sounded amazing after the day she’d had, but she frowned. “No, that’s okay.”
He gave her a skeptical look. “That wasn’t very convincing, Ms. Lindt.”
She shrugged. “I feel weird drinking in front of you.”
His grip tightened on the spoon. “It doesn’t bother me, Bec.”
She eyed him. “You sure?”
“Yes, I…” His lips flattened into a line, and he set his spoon down. “No, that’s not entirely true.” He looked at her like he was trying to find the right words. “Truth is, I miss wine. Not in the jonesing-for-oblivion kind of way. Wine was never my drink of choice when things were bad. But I miss how it tastes with food, how it can enhance a meal, the experience of sharing it with friends. So it’s not that it bothers me to see someone else drink, it just pisses me off that I was stupid enough to put myself in the position to never be able to have it again.”
The honesty in his words hit her in the gut. She could tell it cost him something to admit all that. She got up and stepped around the bar. She wasn’t sure how he’d react, but he let her wrap her arms around his waist. “I’m sorry. It’s not about stupidity, but I’m sorry that you had to lose another thing.”
He set his chin atop her head and hugged her back. “Thanks. In the grand scheme of things, it’s a small price to pay in exchange for not being a complete degenerate. I get better stuff in return. No hangovers. A steady job. A beautiful woman to cook for and do unspeakable things to. There really is no contest.”
She leaned back and smiled up at him. “Oh, we’re moving into unspeakable now, huh? Maybe I should skip the wine and drink a Red Bull.”
“Good thinking.”
She pushed up on her toes and touched her lips to his, happy to be distracted from the stressful day for a few moments. But they weren’t good at keeping things at a peck. Wes cupped her jaw, she parted her lips, and he kissed her until her insides steamed like the sauce bubbling behind him. She slid her hands up his chest and let herself get lost for a moment. God, the things the man could do with his mouth.
When he finally released her, he stared down at her, something tender in his eyes. “If I haven’t said it enough already, thank you for making this project happen with the kids and for jumping in to help. I haven’t had happy days like this in years.”
Pleasure diffused through her, the simple words making her belly dip. “Wes…”
“I’m serious,” he said softly, his thumb tracing over her cheekbone. “I’ve been trying to be cool about it because I don’t want to freak you out, but everything about this afternoon felt…perfect. Working on the bus, seeing the kids so jazzed, and you…there with me, looking messy and cute and into it all. This summer is going to be a blast.”
Her throat tightened, the words seeping into a guilty place and making her heart beat fast.
“I loved every part of
it,” he continued. “And it wouldn’t have been anywhere near what it was if you hadn’t been there to share it with me.”
She searched for her voice. “I enjoyed it, too.”
And that was the truth. Her conversation with Steven had dominated her thoughts, but the afternoon with the kids had felt oddly natural. Working with the group. Being with Wes. Having a project she cared about.
She hated like hell that she was going to have to let it go.
“I wanted to talk to you about something.” He gave her a tentative smile, as if sensing he was treading into waters they could both drown in.
“Okay,” she said carefully.
“You’ve told me from the beginning I’m not your type.”
“I—”
He pressed his fingers over her lips. “I know I’m not. It’s okay. I also know that I have a truckload of baggage I’m dragging behind me.” He lowered his hand. “I’m starting over in my life and have all the trappings that come along with climbing up from the bottom again. On paper, I’m high-risk. But today I couldn’t stop myself from thinking it anyway.”
She eyed him warily. “Thinking what?”
He pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear. “That maybe we’re capable of more than distracting each other.”
Her blood rushed loud in her ears. “What are you saying?”
His gaze traced over her face. “I’m saying that I like being here and cooking you dinner. I liked helping you pick up your new dog. I like that tonight we’ll hang out and share a meal and get naked and all the stuff in between.” He lifted a shoulder. “I guess I’m saying that I’d like to make this more official. A relationship. The commitment thing. Which, frankly, is kind of terrifying to say out loud because I swore I would never have one of those again. But…there it is. This feels different. You feel different.”
Her heart was thump-thump-thumping. He was saying things that prodded at that long lost romantic teen she used to be, that girl who believed in fate and finding “the one” and happily-ever-afters. Wes was offering himself without caveats. Taking a risk he’d decided he wouldn’t take again. Telling her she was worth that risk.
But she couldn’t let herself fully revel in it or taste the sweetness of it. With this type of declaration came pressure, obligation. Not to mess it up. Not to damage things on Wes’s first try out of the gate after his disastrous marriage. And she couldn’t help hearing that voice in her head telling her she wasn’t worth that bet.
She was the high-risk one here. Her therapist was advising her to drop commitments, not add them. Plus, she’d worked in divorce law long enough to know that the number one relationship killer was dishonesty. Right now, she was keeping so many things from him, trying to protect this precious new connection, that she hadn’t even given him a chance to know the real person.
She’d shown him the idealized version because this thing with him existed in a temporary, fantasy-like space for her. So she’d shown him the woman who took off work on a whim and who helped animals and children. The woman who surprised him with a food truck and gave to charity. The woman who seemed to have it all together.
When he’d seen a glimpse of the real Rebecca at the brunch speech—the Rebecca with demons from the past, the one with a tense relationship with her father, the one who couldn’t get a speech out without seeing ghosts—she’d shut him out. Put on the everything’s-fine mask. Lied. Because the truth was scary and ugly. He didn’t know it, but he wasn’t seeing the real Rebecca. He was seeing who she wished she was but could never really be.
“Wes, I—”
He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Don’t say anything now. I know this is fast, and we said we weren’t going to label things. I’m not putting any pressure on you. I just felt it was important to be honest with you.”
Honesty. At least one of them had gotten the hang of that.
“So think about it,” Wes said. “I wasn’t telling you to get an answer out of you. We can eat our dinner and enjoy our night. Just know that the desire to make this a more official situation does exist on my end if you’re interested. Okay?”
She nodded, her breath catching in her throat. “Okay.”
He smiled and released her. “Good. Now let’s eat because you’re going to need all your strength for what I plan to do to you tonight.”
She managed to return his smile, but she didn’t know how she was going to eat a single bite.
chapter
TWENTY-FOUR
Wes kissed Rebecca, walking her back toward the bedroom after they’d finished dinner, wanting nothing more than to fall into bed with her and show her exactly how he was feeling. But even though Rebecca was kissing him back and responding, he sensed something was off. She’d been quiet during dinner and distracted. At first, he’d thought it was because he’d dumped the let’s-try-a-relationship bomb on her with no warning. He’d been on the other side of that kind of conversation in the past. That had usually been the point where he’d pull the rip cord on whoever it was. Nice knowing you, thanks, buh-bye now.
He’d braced for that from Rebecca, had wondered if he’d messed the whole thing up by being so honest. But he’d seen the change in her expression at his words, the yearning there. That had offered salve for the worries. Maybe she wasn’t totally ready yet, but at least some part of her wanted a relationship with him, too. So he’d decided to chalk up her quiet mood to their long day.
But now that off feeling was poking at him again. When Rebecca leaned back against her bedroom door and slid her hands up his chest, he could feel the tremble in her hands. He stopped kissing her and eased back, gazing down at her. “Hey.”
She gave him a small smile. “Hey.”
He pushed her hair away from her face. “What’s going on?”
Her brows lifted. “Uh, I’m making out with Wesley Garrett, last I checked.”
He examined her expression. Normally, when they kissed, it was like a combustion engine. Instant explosive desire, her leading as much as he did. Right now, he felt like she was only half there, going through the motions, and there was worry hovering in her eyes. “Bec, talk to me.”
She let out a breath and sagged against the door, her head tipping back. “I’m sorry. I thought I could block it out. I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin tonight.”
He frowned. “Say anything about what?”
She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I had to call and report Steven’s dad.”
Her answer took a second for him to process. “Wait, what?”
She sighed and looked at him, weariness there. “Come on, let’s sit down for a minute.”
She opened her bedroom door and took his hand, leading him to her bed. Unlike the first night he’d been in here, nothing was out of place. The bed was made, the bedside books stacked neatly, the floor clear except for a stuffed rooster toy she’d bought for Knight. He walked past the spot where she’d jumped into his arms and panicked. That had been weeks ago, but it already seemed like those were two different people, just a movie he’d seen about strangers. So much had changed in such a short span of time.
Rebecca guided him to sit next to her and rubbed her hands on her thighs, as if bracing herself for what she had to say.
“Bec, talk to me. Is Steven okay?”
“Not yet, but I hope he will be,” she said with an expelled breath. “Earlier today, you did walk in on a conversation when you stepped into the bus. Steven and I had a pretty serious talk. Some… A lot of things came out. Your instinct was right.” She looked over at him, tense lines around her mouth. “His father is abusive. The asshole’s managed to avoid getting in trouble because he uses his respected status as a cop to make Steven look like the problem.”
Wes’s stomach clenched.
“The bruise on Steven’s head was because he got in trouble for setting off t
he smoke alarms with that burned recipe. His father shoved him, and Steven hit his head on the cabinet. But he’s had worse. A broken rib. And when he reported it, his father gave away or trashed all of Steven’s things, including sentimental items like pictures of his mom, as punishment and threatened him.”
Anger surged in Wes, making his teeth clench. “That fucking piece of shit. I knew he was slimy.” His fists curled. “God, poor Steven. He lost his mom and gets stuck with that man.”
“I know,” Rebecca said, shaking her head. “Steven wants out, but he’s been terrified to report anything else. He doesn’t trust the system anymore.”
“Hell, who could blame him?” Wes said, hot all over with anger. “But you reported it, right? It has to be reported.”
“Yes. While I was on my walk.”
Wes let out a breath. “Why didn’t you tell me? We have a procedure at the program. I have contacts at CPS. I could’ve handled it as soon as he told you.”
She looked down. “That’s why I haven’t been able to focus tonight. Steven asked me to wait, to give him a few hours head start so he could get what little stuff he had left and go to a friend’s house. He didn’t want CPS coming to the program. He said kids at his school made some awful comments to him the last time this happened, which ended up in a lot of fistfights. He wanted to be out of the house when the report was made. He doesn’t trust that anything’s going to change. If this report falls through like the other one, he’ll probably try to run away.”
Wes pinched his temples, his thoughts whirling. “We can’t let him run away.”
“I know. I don’t think he will yet. I told him to give me a chance to help.” She wet her lips. “But I couldn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t have a choice but to report immediately. I wanted to give him that time.”
Wes felt hot all over, his anger still simmering but not at Rebecca. Whether it was the right decision to delay or not, her intentions had been good. She was trying to protect Steven and also protect Wes at the same time. He reached out and gave her knee a squeeze. “Thank you for telling me. I’m glad Steven opened up to you. We’ll get him some help.”