by Beverly Bird
“Exactly,” she said, clipping off the syllables.
She put the car in gear. He moved around in front of it to stop her from driving off. She wouldn’t actually run over him. At least, he didn’t think so.
He was willing to risk it.
“Exactly?” he demanded. “What does that mean?”
Liv stuck her head out the window as she took her foot off the brake. The car coasted forward. Hunter jumped back. And jumped back. Again. She kept coming.
“Damn it, Livie!”
“Why did you need to know about the baby, Hunter, to want to stay with me?”
She gunned the engine. He leaped aside just in time to avoid being flattened. She’d turned out to be not an altogether bad driver after all. He watched her car smoke up the road and silently wished for a cop to nail her spiteful backside right to a speeding ticket. Hunter realized his hands were fisted.
He forced himself to relax them, then he scrubbed a palm over his mouth, still tasting her. Still wanting her.
He realized he could hate her for that alone.
Everything about him kept filling her head all the way home.
Liv veered into the garage at the back of the inn’s property and hit the brakes hard. But she didn’t do it soon enough. Her tires skidded. She drove the nose of her precious little BMW squarely into the far brick wall. She heard the metal squeal in pain.
A keening sound of frustration and helpless anger filled her throat. She turned the car off and jumped out, kicking a tire. “This is your fault, Hunter, damn it! I haven’t had an accident in almost ten years!” She slammed the door. “Do you know what it costs to fix one of these bumpers?”
“No,” Kiki’s voice said flatly. “What?”
Liv whipped around. “What are you doing here?”
Kiki folded her arms over her breasts where she stood in the open garage door. “You asked me to spend the night so someone would be with Vicky.”
Liv gritted her teeth. “Don’t you think I remember that?”
“I don’t know. Do you?” Kiki threw her hands up in a question. “Or are you just insane and beside yourself with…what? Temper? Lust? Regret?”
“None of the above.” Liv stalked toward the door and reached up to grab the panel to pull it down. “You want to move,” she warned. “I almost just ran him over, so I probably can’t be trusted with this garage door, either.”
“You need me. You won’t hurt me.” But Kiki stepped back. “What happened?”
“Were you waiting up for me?” Liv challenged without answering. She headed for the back door of the inn.
“I was sound asleep when I heard tires burning rubber in the driveway.”
“Liar. You’re a night owl.”
“Okay, I was making brownies—an extra treat for tea tomorrow.” Kiki pulled open the kitchen door and they went inside together. “I’ll get the brandy.”
Liv stopped just over the threshold of the kitchen and paused to sniff deeply. This was her life. Kiki’s cooking, aromatic in the air. Her home, her livelihood, a restored brothel, an aging whore restored to youth and civility by a virgin’s pretty clothes. This, she thought fiercely, was hers. It was what she had done, what she had made, when he’d left her.
She would not let him shatter it—her—all over again.
Liv sank down in one of the kitchen chairs, dropping her forehead to the wood of the table. She stayed that way until she heard the crack of the brandy bottle hitting the butcher block.
“Sit up and stop wallowing,” Kiki said. “If it went that badly, then we need a plan.”
Liv’s spine snapped straight again. “I’m not—”
“Wallowing? Of course, you are. You’ve been crying,” Kiki observed. She poured and pushed a snifter in her direction. “You know, when you went to Delaware, you should have simultaneously bought stock in the nearest distillery. Something tells me we’re going to be buying a lot of this before you straighten out the mess you’ve made.”
Liv felt everything inside her stiffen and she hurt with the betrayal. “You think all of this is my fault?”
“In a nutshell? Yes.” Kiki tossed back a shot and gave a delicate shiver. “Remember on the Res, when this was illegal?”
“I don’t want to remember anything about the Res.” She was still stinging from her friend’s last comment.
“You and me and Hunter would drive clear to Winslow and back that last winter there, just for a bottle of Boone’s,” Kiki reminisced. “That truck he had was horrible.”
“Yeah, well, it died when I drove it into his aunt’s barn,” Liv muttered. “And he doesn’t drink Boone’s anymore.”
Kiki sat back and sipped her next shot. “Tell me all about it.”
Liv felt the shaking start inside her again. “He wants to see her. He wants to see Vicky.”
“You couldn’t have expected anything else.”
“Why not? He left once. I was hoping to make him do it again. Tonight.”
“You’re simplifying.”
“Who’s side are you on, anyway?” Liv demanded, grabbing her own snifter.
“That’s easy. Vicky’s.” Kiki wiggled her brows to soften the impact of her words. “Hey, I’m her godmother.”
“You’re Navajo, and I had to drag you kicking and screaming into the church for her christening.”
“But God didn’t kick me out again, so it stuck.”
Damn it, she was not going to smile. “What do I do now?” she asked, her voice hollow.
Kiki thought about it. “What are the odds that he could meet her once, then just take off again?”
“I can’t let that happen.” Liv’s bones went to cement at the mere thought. Cold and heavy.
“Why not?”
“Do you know how much that would rock her world?”
“Maybe not as much as it would rock yours.” Kiki held a hand up when Liv would have protested. “Look, I’m not the enemy here. If I had had my way, you never would have gone to Delaware in the first place. But I couldn’t stop you. You’ve heard that expression about beds and lying in them?”
Liv put her head down again. It hurt, throbbed, in deep recesses. “Damn it.”
“Give him what he wants, Liv. Get it over with and stop fighting him. Any day now, he’ll catch scent of the wind again and he’ll go. He always has.”
Liv tilted her head to peek up at her friend. “And how do you think Vicky would feel about that if she knew he was going?”
For the first time, Kiki had no answer. She hesitated, then she shook her head. “That was my best advice.”
“It stunk.”
“In retrospect…yes.”
They were quiet for a long time before Kiki cleared her throat again. “Does he look the same as he does on TV these days? Kind of fierce? Drop-dead gorgeous?”
Liv sat up and let out her breath. “More or less.”
“Wow. He grew up nice, then.”
Liv’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you ever go after him?”
“Because he loved you.”
A tremor went through Liv. He hadn’t. Not enough. “I meant before I got to the Res. You had to have known him then, before I was part of the equation. You two were in school together.”
But Kiki shook her head. “He was definitely a loner before he met you.”
Why did that hurt so much? Liv took more brandy, swallowing deeper this time. Then she spit out the words. “He kissed me.”
“I know.”
Her eyes bugged. “What are you, psychic?”
“Just very wise. You two sizzled off each other back then. I couldn’t see it changing, especially with all the anger between you right now. Anger is hot. Also, your lipstick is all over your face.”
Liv scrubbed her hand over her mouth just as the oven timer buzzed.
“That’s my cue.” Kiki got to her feet again.
“You’re not going to drive back to your apartment tonight, are you?” Kiki was a loner, too, a woman with a silen
t, still soul deep inside. She liked her solitude, which was why she didn’t live at the inn, though Liv did keep a room for Kiki there. They’d revamped the attic for her.
“And come back here at five-thirty to get ready for breakfast?” Kiki asked. “Not worth the gas or the effort.” She pulled the brownies out and dropped them into a warming tray to cool them down gently. She said it made a difference, kept them from hardening up. Something about their microscopic particles, Liv thought. Which was why Kiki’s brownies were better than anyone else’s.
So she was staying, Liv thought. That was good. Because she didn’t want to be alone. “Let’s have another, then.” She reached for the bottle.
Kiki sighed. “Okay. Twist my arm. At least it’s not Boone’s. Remember when you used to do that to me?”
Liv cracked up. “What were we? All of eighteen?”
“I was eighteen. You were seventeen, and wondering why Hunter would never touch you. It was right after your grandmother died and I used to sleep over to help you ease into all that new silence. You’d keep me up all night talking about him.”
Liv nodded. There was nothing so quiet as being alone in the desert without even the sound of another human being’s breath. “I remember.”
“You stayed awake and bleated about Hunter all night.”
“I didn’t bleat.”
Kiki shrugged. “Maybe that was the lambs.” She came back to the table and sat again. “I guess Hunter has no similar qualms about touching you this time around.”
Liv felt his mouth on hers all over again. She refused to shiver visibly. “Why would he do such a crazy thing?”
“Power play? I don’t know. Anyway, it’s not going to help this situation.”
“It’s not going to have the chance to affect it one way or the other. I’m not going to see him again.”
“Sure you are. He’ll be on our doorstep in the morning.”
Liv’s whole body spasmed. “I know.”
“Well, we agree on something, then.” Kiki held her glass up in a toast. “Now all we have to do is figure out what do to about it.”
They clicked their crystal together. Neither one of them noticed the door to the center hall ease quietly shut again. Neither of them heard the soft patter of bare, little-girl feet moving back up the stairs.
Chapter 4
H unter wasn’t waiting on their doorstep in the morning. That scared Liv just a little bit more than if he had actually turned up. A silent Hunter was always more dangerous than one who was grabbing her and kissing her.
With the memory, Liv’s fingers fumbled as she wove Vicky’s hair into a braid. “Ouch!” Vicky squealed.
“Sorry, baby.”
Liv finished up, trying to pay attention, half waiting, braced, for Kiki to sound the alarm from downstairs that Hunter had shown up. But there was only the distant rustle of the guests moving about, gathering for breakfast.
Then the intercom they’d installed between the kitchen and the private rooms finally crackled with gentle static. Liv stiffened.
“The buffet table is laden with sausage, eggs, fruit, potatoes, and Hangtown fry,” Kiki said. “Come and get it.”
“Uh…we’ll be right there.” Liv got her breath back with the reprieve.
“Mom, I look like a show pony,” Vicky complained.
Liv scowled at her daughter’s reflection in the vanity mirror. Okay, so the ribbons she’d woven in to her braid stuck out a little here and there. But the end effect was charming. “You look fine.”
“I’m not leaving this room like this.”
“Live with it. Please?” When had Vicky turned eighteen? Liv was frantic, rattling in her skin. She had to get Vicky out of here in case Hunter showed up.
Vicky started to reach up to undo Liv’s whole last ten-minute toil.
“Didn’t you hear Aunt Kiki?” Liv asked quickly. “She made Hangtown fry!”
Vicky hesitated. “Oysters.”
“Oysters,” Liv said solemnly.
“For breakfast.”
Most kids lived for pizza. Hers critiqued five-star restaurants. “You’ll miss them if the guests have enough time to dig through it all before we get there.”
Vicky sighed. “Oysters…or I don’t look like a geek. Oysters…or I don’t look like a geek.” She flipped her hand back and forth with each phrase. “Tough choice.”
“Go with the oysters,” Liv advised.
Vicky finally turned away from the mirror to hunt up her book bag.
“Guitar,” Liv reminded her. “Music lessons today third period. And don’t forget your riding stuff for after school.” Vicky had lessons every Tuesday and Friday.
The little girl went to the corner of her room to grab her guitar case and a small duffel bag. Liv watched her prance to the door, laden with everything she would need for her day. I’ve done well. Maybe Vicky wasn’t normal in the conventional sense of the word, but she didn’t shoplift at five-and-dimes, either.
“I’ve done okay by her,” Liv muttered under her breath. “I did the right thing. Damn it, Hunter, leave us alone.”
“What?” Vicky asked.
Liv jolted. “Nothing. Let’s go. Swallow a few oysters, then we’ll head down the hill for the bus.”
“It’s only 7:30!”
“We’ll be early for it, then. We’ll wait in the car and share some quality time.”
“Mom, you’re acting weird.”
Liv didn’t answer that. She went out and shut the bedroom door behind them.
Only a desperate man would pair oysters with eggs, Hunter thought, putting the menu down in a restaurant he’d found on Main Street. He’d be hard-pressed to decide which was slimier.
“Two eggs over hard, pancakes and bacon,” he told the waitress.
“All on one plate?”
“Pancakes separate to allow for the syrup goo.”
She grinned. She was young, maybe all of nineteen, and she reminded him so painfully of Liv at that age, Hunter felt something inside him literally cramp. Her hair was blond, her eyes were blue. It didn’t matter. She had that same love-me-and-tip-me ferocity about her, something that said there was a lot going on behind that cheeky grin.
She picked up his menu and took off. Hunter reached for his coffee mug and drank deeply.
He really hadn’t needed to go back to the bar last night after he’d left Liv. Somewhere en route to the Connor he’d determined that another shot of cognac would take the taste of her off his tongue. It hadn’t worked, so he’d tried a few. Even that hadn’t allowed him to sleep. Now, muddleheaded, he had to decide a plan of attack for today.
He’d wanted to be in her driveway when she took the child to school. Liv would have to drive her there, he figured. The inn was way out on the edge of town. What were the odds that a school bus would go that far? But he suspected that his eyes were just bleary and bloodshot enough to scare the bejesus out of the little girl. So he decided to jolt himself with caffeine first. And he’d use the time to plan a little.
Damn you, Livie. Damn you. I had a right to know. He couldn’t get past that. He had to figure out what to do about it now that he did know.
His breakfast came, and Hunter polished it off, feeling better for it. He paid the tab and went out to his SUV. Sorry excuse for a vehicle, he thought. He needed to drive. He needed to get some of this tension out of his system. He was still ticked off at Pritch, but now, at least, he had other things to occupy his mind.
It was already 8:45 so he headed straight for the school. He parked half a block away from the entrance and watched a lot of buses roll up, but there was no sign of Liv’s BMW. Maybe she’d cracked it up last night after all. The thought offered him both a rush of satisfaction and a spasm of panic. He got out of the vehicle and stepped up to the schoolyard fence.
A pretty redheaded woman stood there, her fingers hooked into the metal mesh. She pulled one hand back to wave to one of the kids.
“Boy or girl?” Hunter asked conversationally.
/>
She looked at him, startled.
“The one you’re waving to,” he clarified.
“Oh.” She flushed, smiled. “Girl. Dandi Jane. She’s right over there. She’s eight.”
Right on target, Hunter thought, then he lied because there were things he needed to know. “My daughter is only six. I guess I have a lot to look forward to.”
The woman laughed. “That you do. Six was easy. Just wait until you get into piano and gymnastics.”
“Hmm.”
“Oh, and ponies. As soon as she turns seven, you’ll probably have to buy her a pony.”
He gave a mock shudder. “They’re expensive.”
“Right. By the way, I’m Adele Trawley.” She held out her hand.
“Joe Smith.” Hunter lied again at the last minute and almost stumbled over the name, but he shook her hand.
“Something tells me you’re not a custodial dad,” Adele said.
“A what?”
“You’re divorced and you don’t have custody, right?”
“Uh, no. I don’t.”
“Not even joint?”
“Joint?” Hunter echoed.
“I was divorced six months ago, so I’m up on the lingo,” she explained, grinning again. “That’s all the style right now.”
“Joint custody,” he repeated, to be sure.
“Four nights a week with me, three with her dad. Equal opportunity parenting. Family court judges are big on it these days, except with infants. Infants really need their moms full-time.”
“That makes sense.” His mind was buzzing. Victoria Rose wasn’t an infant.
“If you don’t have joint custody, you should find another lawyer,” Adele advised. “Go back to court.”
He would definitely think about it, Hunter decided.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” she asked suddenly. “You look familiar.”
Gig’s up, Hunter thought. NASCAR was getting entirely too popular for his comfort these days. “I think I look a lot like that stock car driver. People tell me that all the time.”
She studied his face and a light dawned in her eyes. “Sure. Hunter Hawk-Cole. Wow. You’re a dead ringer.”
“Maybe I should pretend and start handing out autographs.”