Katie Dole, the straitlaced owner of A Pair of Posies, had just made a pact with the devil of Mercy.
Chapter Four
Twenty minutes later, they’d grabbed a table for two. Matt had a new Coke, but Katie refused a second tequila sunrise and stuck to nursing her first one. She twirled her half-empty glass on the smooth laminate tabletop. “What kind of help are we talking about? Exactly?”
The pose didn’t fool him. She looked worried, even a bit scared. She’d agreed hastily, and Matt could see Katie was having second thoughts. A number of them. So far, he’d delayed telling her anything more about the “deal” they’d made until he’d figured it out for himself. He didn’t know what had pushed him to offer the arrangement, just that he wanted a way to solve her problem…and a way to keep her near him just a little longer.
“Exactly?” he parroted while he scrambled for an answer.
“Please tell me what I’ve gotten myself into.”
And then, finally, an idea came to him. Not the best idea, but one nonetheless. “I need help of the physical kind.”
She raised her hands, warding him off. “I didn’t agree to anything like that.”
“My, my, Katie Dole. You do have a one-track mind.” Although if he’d been pressed, he’d have to admit he’d just been imagining all kinds of interesting scenarios with her, him and his Harley. All without clothes. All in poses that would have made the Kama Sutra’s author blush. He may have changed his wild ways, but he hadn’t become a monk.
Her face flushed a deep red. An attractive color on her, he mused. “I mean…well…you know.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He affected a blank look.
“I don’t—”
“The help I need doesn’t involve a bed, I promise.” He touched her arm to console her. But the shock of feeling that rippled through his veins had him wishing he’d proposed a very different sort of deal. “Are you busy in the morning?”
She visibly relaxed. “No. The shop doesn’t open until ten. Sarah works until two so I have all morning free.”
He wanted to touch her again, to feel her soft skin beneath his palm, but didn’t. He corralled his thoughts into safer territory. “I’ll pick you up at six. That’s 6:00 a.m. And we’ll see if you’re as good with tools as you are with darts.”
“Tools?”
“I’m not saying another word. Wear old clothes and be ready to work.” She eyed him suspiciously but didn’t say anything more. Matt nodded toward her drink. “Sure you don’t want another one?”
“Oh, no.” She pushed the glass away. The grenadine had already settled to the bottom, turning the sunrise into a sunset. “One more and I’ll be on the bar, singing show tunes.”
He chuckled. “That I’ve got to see sometime.”
“It’s not a pretty sight. I can’t carry a tune to save my life.” She slid the cherry off the plastic sword in her drink and popped it into her mouth, veering Matt’s mind off course for a minute. “Even got kicked out of choir when I was a kid because I kept disrupting the performance with my Alfalfa impersonations.” She waggled the plastic sword at him. “Just don’t ask me to sing ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ and we’ll get along fine.”
He laughed heartily. Being with this woman was good for him. She made him forget about his past, about facing it now that he was back. He was looking forward to tomorrow as eagerly as a child waiting for the last bell of the school year. He hadn’t felt this kind of anticipation in years. Too many years.
“I’ll vouch for her singing,” said a voice over his shoulder. “She’s truly terrible.”
Matt turned and saw the blond woman who’d sold him the flowers that morning. She’d been behind the counter earlier and he hadn’t noticed that she was pregnant. But now he did.
Her belly was round, large with the child she carried, and her face was smiling, happy. When he looked at her, though, he saw another woman’s face, another birth, remembered cradling another baby in his arms.
She rubbed her belly in a circular, protective motion. Just like Olivia used to. Pain ricocheted through him, dispelling his happy, light mood like a winter nor’ easter obliterating the autumn landscape. In his mind, he saw the tiny fingers, miniature toes and trusting face of the baby who had depended on Matt to keep him safe.
And Matt had failed. Failed in the worst possible way to protect his child. Failed to be the father he’d promised he’d be when the nurse had placed his son in his arms. At the one moment when his child needed him most, he’d been drowning himself in tequila.
The baby, whom he’d stopped naming in his mind because that made the pain unbearable, had paid the ultimate price for Matt’s mistake. And every day since, Matt wished it had been him instead.
Katie’s glass was inches away from his hand. Thirst parched his throat, not for the drink, but for the numbing effect of the alcohol. He hesitated, his hand hovering near the solace, the blissful blankness the glass could give him.
He could drink that one and another and another. And then the pain would dull, leaving him at peace for the short while that alcohol controlled his mind.
The glass was so close.
Inches from his grasp.
One sip. Just one.
Katie had called him a good man. Her words had slammed into him and hit right at his heart with more accuracy than any dart she could have thrown. He wasn’t and he knew it, but her simple quiet comment had gotten under his skin. With a Herculean effort, he pushed the glass farther away and guzzled his soda instead.
Then he tucked those memories deep inside his mind and forced himself back to the present. To Katie.
“Took my advice, I see,” the woman was saying, smiling at Katie.
“Only the going out part. He,” Katie pointed a thumb at Matt, “happened to be here.”
“And who is he?” A man carrying a frothy mug of beer and a bubbling glass of ginger ale came up and stood between Sarah and Katie. Well over six feet tall, barrel-chested and with the same deep chestnut hair as Katie, the man put the drinks down and extended his hand. “Jack Dole,” he said. “Brother to Katie and husband to Sarah.”
“So you better watch out,” the two women added simultaneously, bursting into laughter.
“He’s been using that line for years,” Katie explained. “He thinks it makes him sound all menacing and protective.” Katie gave her brother a good-natured jab. “Now that he’s part of the Mercy P.D., he gets paid to act that way.”
Matt recognized Jack from high school. Jack had been quarterback of the football team; Matt had lettered in skipping school. The menacing looks Jack kept shooting his way told Matt he’d been recognized, too.
He didn’t blame Jack one bit. If the roles had been reversed, Matt wouldn’t have allowed a man with a reputation like his to share the air with his sister.
“Come on, let’s grab a bigger table.” Sarah took Matt’s arm and propelled him toward a circular table surrounded by a quartet of chairs. “You might as well join us and see if you pass inspection.”
“Inspection?”
“Jack makes it his personal mission to check out any men who get within ten feet of his baby sister,” Katie answered. “As the oldest, he thinks he’s the watchdog. Especially now that he’s the only one in Mercy. Mark and Luke live in California and own their own software company. Nate’s a Marine, so he could be anywhere.”
Matt remembered a couple of the Dole boys from high school. They’d all been football-player size. “Were they a little short on genes when they got to you?”
“Ha, ha. Very funny. I’m not short, anyway. I’m just altitudinally challenged.”
“Very P.C.,” he said, chuckling. He pulled out a chair for her and slid it into place after she sat down. “So you’re the youngest?”
“Yep. And the spoiled one, if you ask my brothers.” Katie slid one leg over the other, giving Matt a quick flash of creamy skin before he took the seat beside her. “Jack was the one who spent hours comb
ing his wiffle cut on the off chance Sarah might be stopping by to study with me. He was totally head over heels for her, but didn’t have a clue how to show it.”
The former football hero of Mercy High, who’d once scored four touchdowns in a single game, turned beet-red.
“A common male deficiency,” Sarah quipped.
Matt rested his arm along the back of Katie’s chair. He resisted the temptation to let his fingers dangle down and drift across the top of Katie’s shoulder. “When I’m interested in someone, she knows it.”
“Does that happen a lot?” Jack leaned forward. “You getting interested in someone?”
“A fair amount,” Matt answered vaguely. Jack already had his hackles up, no sense adding fuel to the fire.
Jack lowered his voice, leaned a bit closer. “I hope my sister isn’t going to be another notch on your belt.”
“Jack!” both women exclaimed.
“That’s not what I’m after.”
“Good. Katie doesn’t need another jerk. She deserves better.”
Better than me, you mean. “You’re right.”
“Glad to hear we’re on the same wavelength.” He drained his beer. “Come on, Katie. Let’s grab another round.”
Katie followed her brother to the bar, her cheeks on fire. Once they were out of earshot of Matt, she said, “I know what you’re going to say, and I want to remind you that I can make my own decisions.” He started to protest, but she put a hand over his mouth. “Stop.” He opened his mouth to speak again. “No, I mean it. Jack, you’re my brother and I love you, but I wish for once you’d realize I’m a grownup.”
“I know that, Katydid,” he said, slipping into the familiar nickname of her youth. “I just don’t want to see you hitching yourself to another guy who’s trouble. I knew Matt in high school. He’s not the kind of guy you bring home to meet Mom. I think—”
“Jack, don’t. You, Nate, Mark and Luke all have a habit of leaping into my life and offering your opinions whether I ask for them or not.” She knew he did it out of love but it was annoying all the same. “Remember Colin Parker, the boy who wanted to take me to the junior prom? Before he even asked me, you four knew everything about him, right down to his shoe size. You scared the poor guy off with all your questions, and you made me think he was some freak of nature because he wore a size-thirteen sneaker.”
Jack laughed. “We’re just looking out for our little sister.”
“Who happens to be twenty-four now,” she reminded him. “Jack, I really don’t need you to give me a report on who Matt Webster is. Let me figure that out on my own.”
“But, Katie—”
“Is my husband interfering in your life again?” Sarah slid onto the stool beside Katie. She planted a kiss on Jack’s cheek. “You have a heart of gold, honey, but you tend to be a tad overprotective.” She smiled and Katie could feel their love flow into the space between them. “Now, why don’t you go over there and get to know the new man in Katie’s life?”
Jack scowled, but took his beer and followed his wife’s request. A moment later, the two men sauntered over to the dartboard.
“I wouldn’t call Matt the new man in my life, Sarah.”
“I think you should start. Everyone else here thinks that.”
Katie glanced around and saw several people casting looks at Matt, then at her, their eyebrows raised in surprise. A few women nodded their approval of Katie’s choice when she met their gaze. Others squinted disapproval. She’d finally gotten a reaction other than pity. People weren’t feeling bad for left-at-the-altar Katie anymore.
“Matt has caught the eye of every woman in this room,” Sarah said, interrupting Katie’s thoughts, “but he still comes back to you. The guy is absolutely captivated.” She leaned forward. “So, are you going to go for it? Date him?”
“I’m not sure,” Katie answered, not mentioning the agreement she and Matt had just made. “He’s got quite the reputation.”
“Yeah, but he’s all grown up now and handsome as the devil.”
That he was, Katie had to admit, watching Matt sling another dart at the board. “And just as tempting.”
“A little temptation never hurt anyone. Besides, didn’t you resolve to live a little?”
“Yes, but he might be more living than I can handle. Jack says—”
“Jack’s a good man, but he doesn’t know beans about the kind of guy who will make you happy,” Sarah said. “I see something in this guy. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I know there’s something worth saving there, no matter what his story is.” Sarah laid a hand on her shoulder. “Give him a chance.”
Sarah was right. Katie knew firsthand that rumors could blur the truth until it was unrecognizable. The real Matt, who had suffered the loss of a marriage and a baby, might be completely different from what she’d heard. She nodded. “One chance, then.”
“It’ll be enough,” Sarah said. “He seems like a man who needs one.”
Katie’s gaze slid to Matt. Was he still the man he used to be? The rebel who had been—and still was—the talk of the town?
Or was he a man worth saving, as Sarah had said? And if so, was the new Katie strong enough to go through with their deal, no matter the consequences?
“I can’t. Really, I can’t.” The morning sun had yet to rise and the birds were still cooing in their nests when Matt showed up on Katie’s doorstep at six o’clock sharp.
To his surprise, she had been waiting for him, dressed in a pair of stonewashed jeans and a soft blue T-shirt that glided loosely over her torso. Such simple clothes, but when she wore them, they gave her a look of comfort, as if he could wrap himself around her and ease into peace.
But right now, she was backing all the way up to the top of the stoop and looking anything but relaxed. “Matt, I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.” She pointed at his Harley. She chewed on her upper lip. “I don’t think I’m the kind of person who rides a—what do you call it—a…a hog?”
Laughter burst out of him. “Yeah, that’s the bikers’ term for it. I prefer Jane.”
“You named your bike Jane?”
“Yep. Once you ride her, you’ll know exactly how Tarzan felt when he swung through the jungle. There’s nothing like it in the world. Riding a motorcycle is the closest thing to true freedom I’ve ever known.” He patted the black leather seat. “Try it.”
“I don’t know.”
“I thought you were looking for a little adventure to spice up your life.”
“How did you know that?”
“Katie, I may not know you all that well, yet,” he saw her catch her breath at his implication, “but I get the distinct feeling that you aren’t normally the type who dresses up as a banana, kisses strange men in the grocery store and then ventures out to a bar alone for a rousing game of darts.”
“Well, no, not really.”
“Then what are you doing all that for?”
She fidgeted with the porch railing. “I needed a change in my life. I’ve spent twenty-four years being predictable and conventional. Boring.”
“Is that what Steve told you in that letter?”
The look in her eyes told him he’d hit the truth. “Do you have a second career as a psychic?”
“Nope. I’ve just gotten pretty good at reading other people. When you work with a bunch of guys on a roof, you learn to spot the ones who are terrified of falling off and the hungover ones who are more likely to hammer their thumb than the nail. I need men I can trust on my crew. I had to figure out which ones those were before I hired them.”
She smiled. “Are you trying to tell me I wouldn’t be good on a roof?”
“You’d be good anywhere.”
A blush crept into her cheeks and she looked away.
He gestured to the bike and tucked a challenge into his voice. “If you’re not up to riding Jane,” he slid a hand along the seat, “then I can go back and get my c
ar instead.”
Katie lifted her chin, slipped into a sweater and headed down the stairs. “It may be my first day of living dangerously,” she said, “but I’m still wearing a helmet.”
He chuckled. “Let me introduce you. Katie, this is Jane. Jane, this is Katie,” he said, patting the bike seat. “Be nice because it’s Katie’s first time on a Harley.”
Katie slid a hand down the leather seat, imagining Matt astride that seat, picturing herself squeezed into the space behind him. The fear of falling off the bike and tumbling headlong onto the concrete disappeared. What she feared most now was how riding behind him, their bodies pressed together like two pieces of bread, would make her feel.
He unhooked a black helmet from the back and handed it to her. “Here.”
She thanked him and undid the chinstrap, trying not to focus on the seat. And Matt. And her and Matt on that seat.
“Katie Dole, is that you?”
Katie turned, the helmet halfway to her head, and saw Alice Marchand, who lived at the end of the block, heading toward her. A portly brown miniature dachshund attached to a rhinestone-beaded leash waddled alongside her mistress, an air of superiority in her upturned nose and spiked tail. Another neighbor, Colleen Tanner, was bringing up the rear, putting all her weight and sixty-plus years into keeping a tall, lean and hungry-looking Doberman from dragging her away. The Doberman strained at the leash—in the opposite direction of Miss Tanner.
Katie stifled a burst of laughter. The Misses, as they were called in the neighborhood, wouldn’t take kindly to anyone poking fun at their wayward dogs.
“Are you getting on that brain-smasher?” Miss Marchand lowered her glasses and wrinkled her nose in reproach. “You must have a few screws loose to ride that contraption.”
“We’re just going for a slow cruise through town, Mrs. M. Katie will be perfectly safe,” Matt replied. He knelt down to pet the dachshund, scratching behind her velvet ears. The little dog cuddled against his knee, lapping up the attention. Ten seconds later, the dog had settled onto the pavement, content and asleep.
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