Bittersweet: Can she rebuild her life?

by Lyz Kelley

  “Asparagus-stuffed chicken and parmesan-roasted potatoes.”

  “Sounds great.” He took a swig of beer, then twisted the bottle to look at the label. “It just hit me, I shouldn’t have brought a kid to our first date,” he muttered a little louder than a whisper.

  What? Oh no, no, no. “This isn’t a date.”

  “Right. It’s a non-date. Like we aren’t interested in each other. I keep forgetting that part.” He checked on his niece. “Hey, El? Where’s your tablet? Maybe you can watch a movie till dinner’s ready.”

  Ellie scrambled to her feet and raced toward her backpack. She nestled into a corner of the couch to unzip the pink and neon green paisley pouch, then paused and looked over at Heath. “Will you watch with me?”

  “I’m helping Leza cut vegetables. Unless you want to.”

  “Nope. It’s your turn to chop. I did it last night.” Ellie popped in her earphones and disappeared into her own little world.

  Ellie held Heath’s attention for a few more minutes. “Right.” He rubbed his hands together. “What can I help with?”

  “I don’t have any vegetables you can cut, if that’s what you’re asking.” She pointed with her paring knife toward the living room. “You’re good with her. Better than you think.”

  “There were days after I arrived stateside that I considered not going through with the adoption. I called my mom every other day, and felt guilty for intruding since she has her hands full taking care of my dad. The timing couldn’t have been worse. They were in the middle of moving to a more secure care center because dad kept escaping. He'd tell anyone who'd listen that he wanted to go home, although the drop-in nurses assured my mom he didn't remember their old house was in Kansas.”

  “Change is hard, especially the kind brought on by death.”

  He leaned closer. “What other kind of change is there?”

  The kind of changes I can’t talk about.

  Her heart picked up a pitter-patter pace. He smelled delicious, and much better than the roasted chicken smell wafting around the kitchen.

  Having him over for dinner wasn’t a good idea. She had nowhere to run. Not that she would run. History had proven she never backed down from a good cause. She fought to draw in a breath so she could think clearly enough to consider her options.

  The smart thing to do would build a gigantic wall. Hold him off. Maintain disinterest.

  But again, history had proven she’d never been good avoiding trouble.

  Heath’s remarkable self-restraint left her bewildered. His relaxed stance, the way his smoky eyes held her gaze. He waited. Patiently. For…what exactly?

  For her to spill about her past?

  Give up and let him in?

  For dinner to be served?

  She hadn’t seen this side of him before, the steady-Eddy type. She’d gotten used to the pushy side—the I-get-what-I-want type. His steady side would let her retreat. Hide. Try to be invisible. But somehow, in his stillness, she felt exposed.

  His mouth twitched and then did the little swirly-cue as if saying caught-cha. “Would you prefer to talk about the weather?”

  “Hell, no,” she huffed, with an eye roll.

  His little smile rounded the corner into a full-blown erection. Erection? Bad thought. Bad, bad, bad, thought.

  She gulped her beer to let the icy cold chill the burning intensity of desire.

  “It has been hot, or is it just me who’s getting hotter?” His grin had turned bulletproof.

  A flash of heat whooshed from her core. Seriously? What happened to her body? Her vibrators must not be doing the trick if one little word could turn her on.

  Still, the guy stood there, apparently unmoved.

  He studied her like she was a suspect. Carefully. Methodically. Except she didn’t feel like a suspect. But she wouldn’t mind playing with a pair of handcuffs. He licked his bottom lip. Her mouth became a desert, dry and cracked.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  A kiss.

  She wanted a kiss. His kiss, but she couldn’t speak the desire out loud. For heaven's sake, Ellie sat twenty feet away, although she was oblivious to the passion building in the kitchen.

  “I’m good.”

  “Oh, I know you’re good.” He ran a finger down the center of her wrist. “Your pulse is racing.”

  “That’s because you’re about to kiss me.”

  “Am I?”

  His eyes darkened.

  Her stomach quivered in anticipation. “Yes.”

  “You don’t want to be friends?”

  The sneaky joker. He waited her out, and then came back around for the gotcha. She had better guard her heart, or she'd let in big trouble.

  “Being friends would be safer.”

  He leaned in further. “When have you ever played it safe?”

  Never. She didn’t know how to play it safe. She’d always been the first person to run off the cliff. She never stopped to question if she had a parachute, or whether the safety feature would open. Look at her relationship with Sam. She’d been on assignment—about to go undercover. She had no business getting involved with a man. Yet she’d given Sam her heart.

  This attraction, however, wasn’t spontaneous, or out of some short-term need.

  She was staying.

  He was staying.

  Both were settling in. Not a good idea, since she wasn’t marriage material. Plus he had a kid to raise.

  “Maybe a kiss isn’t such a good idea,” she whispered.

  “But you want me to kiss you. I can tell.”

  That’s the truth. Very rarely did people tell her the truth. Which was why she didn’t trust people—but she trusted him. If she was in trouble, he’d have her back, just like she’d have his. Plus, he was sexy as hell. And the camaraderie? Well that was a bonus.

  Unable to return his honesty, she pulled back. “I’d better check on dinner.”

  “It’s fine. I don’t smell smoke.”

  She laughed until he lifted her wrist to his mouth and nibbled on her pulse point.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  If this kitchen was on fire, right now I wouldn’t care.

  Could she admit her fears? A former federal agent afraid of commitment? She didn’t like the frail emotion. She was invincible. Unstoppable. Indestructible. She wore emotional body armor until the early morning hours, when she couldn’t sleep, and the horror of her job suffocated her. She closed her eyes and dropped her head forward. “I’m not sure who I am when I’m around you.”

  He didn’t say a word.

  He waited.

  And she let go of the embarrassment about speaking her vulnerability aloud.

  A warm hand stroked the back of her neck. “That makes sense. You’ve been undercover. Playing a role. I can see how a person can get lost.”

  Oh, God. The caring understanding in his eyes, and the supportive steel in his voice, almost made her crumple to her knees. He listened. Just the way her father had. He heard her.

  “You can always talk to me,” he chased a smile back into place, “unless you think Truman’s a better listener.”

  Surprise over the idea of Truman listening to anything she had to say bubbled out in a laugh.

  “I’d better get dinner on the table.”

  “What about that kiss?”

  Her glance fell to his lips. His mouth curved.

  “Rain check?”

  “Any time.” He lifted his beer and took a swig.

  And she was sure he meant any time, day or night.

  She could count on him. And that’s what scared her.

  Heath wanted to nibble on Leza’s lips and neck until she stopped thinking. Always thinking. Planning. On the go. Helping at the shelter. Working at the bar. Chatting with townsfolk. She never stopped.

  He wanted to give the warm, generous, sexy woman a chance just to kick back a little. Enjoy life. But she’d backed away again.

  Ghosts haunted her. The past ensnared h
er. He could relate to waking up soaked in sweat, fighting an imaginary enemy, calling to a friend to watch his perimeter. The past could detonate a person’s future in so many little ways.

  He waited while she slid the Pyrex pan out of the oven and plated each chicken breast with precision.

  “Should I cut Ellie’s chicken into bite-sized chunks?” she inquired over her shoulder.

  He nodded. “She likes her meat cut.”

  See there? Her caring side peeked out again. Others came first. She never asked for what she wanted.

  He didn’t need her to strip down emotionally and run around bare-ass naked, but a clue to what she thought and felt would be helpful.

  His sister had always kept emotions locked inside.

  Look where bundling up all those feelings got her.

  His sister believed she had to conquer the world on her own. Zoe never slept. Even—usually—bone-deep exhausted, she’d keep going, believing she could be a mother, sister, daughter, co-worker, boss. She tried playing all the roles, but her body gave out before she perfected her five-act play.

  That’s what had killed her. Her body had given out when asthma attacked, and she couldn’t even crawl the length of the house to retrieve her inhaler.

  “Ellie can sit at the end,” Leza suggested, startling him back to the present.

  He walked into the living room and tapped El on the shoulder. “Dinner's ready. Since you’ve been touching the cat, please wash your hands.”

  “You don’t have to remind me, you know,” she huffed, then dropped her earphones on the backpack and shoved off the couch.

  She tromped past him to the kitchen sink, still grumbling as she turned on the water and squirted soap into her hand.

  “Here’s a towel to dry your hands,” he held out a cotton cloth.

  “I can do it.”

  Ellie pulled out the kitchen table chair, sat, then pushed with her tiptoes, bouncing up and scooting an inch forward at a time until her chest pressed against the table. “There’s green stuff in the chicken,” her face tightened into a puckered prune.

  “El. We talked about this. It’s asparagus, and it’s very tasty. Try it. You’ll like it.”

  “That’s what you said about school, but last week three kids went home sick. I think it was the math.” She swung her feet under the table, making her whole body rock back and forth. “Yep. It was definitely the math.”

  Leza, who’d just taken a bite of chicken, coughed and then took in a deep breath through her nose and swallowed. “Didn’t you go to school before you relocated here?” she prompted.

  “Yeah, but there were lots more kids. If you pretended to be invisible, the teachers wouldn’t call on you very often.”

  Whoa. Where did that come from? El had never mentioned feeling invisible before. He leaned closer. “You don’t like when teachers call on you?”

  “I don’t mind the questions, but I don’t like the other kids calling me a know-it-all. If I don’t answer any questions, then I don’t get teased.” El shrugged and stuffed a wad of potatoes in her mouth.

  “Yeah, I get that. I used to get teased for being better at sports than all the boys.” Leza gave El a conspiratorial wink, then picked up her water glass. “What’s your favorite memory of your mom?”

  Shit. Whoa. What are you doing?

  He glared at Leza, trying to call her off, but she just kept cutting her chicken like she hadn’t tossed a grenade on the table.

  “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, El,” she said.

  Take the hint, kid, and run!

  El stuck her fork in a piece of chicken and then nibbled on the corner, probably trying to decide if she liked the sauce or not. “You remind me of her.”

  “Oh? How so?” Leza took another bite.

  “You’re nice, and always ask me about my day or what I’m thinking, and you both worked at the same place.”

  Heath twisted the fork in his hand. “I believe she means her mom also waited tables.”

  The way Leza focused on El, like no one else existed, made him smile. When Leza looked at him with that twinkle in her eye and smug expression, he might as well be wearing a computerized exoskeleton. Nothing could touch him.

  “El, why don’t you tell Leza about your school project?”

  Her face skipped with excitement. “I’m supposed to find different kinds of leaves, then look through garden books to find the right kind of tree, then write down the tree name. There’s a lot of ass-pee trees here.”

  “Do you mean aspen?”

  “Yeah, those.”

  El stuffed a chunk of chicken in her mouth and proceeded to tell Leza about where, when, and how she collected each leaf in her collection. The story ended just after the plates were loaded in the dishwasher, and the clock over the sink signaled it was time to go home.

  “Pack your backpack, El. We need to finish your homework that’s due tomorrow.”

  He immediately counteracted El’s do-I-have-to looks with his right-now frowns as she stomped through the living room.

  “Thanks for dinner. A home-cooked meal is always appreciated. Next time maybe I can find someone to watch El.”

  In the middle of drinking the last sip of her beer, she choked and sputtered and coughed.

  “Are you okay?”

  She held out a hand. “I’m fine. Just fine.” She cleared her throat and pretended nothing had happened.

  He crossed his arms. “Leza? Are you afraid of being alone with me?”

  “Me? No.” She shook her head. “Well, maybe a little.”

  Her cheeks shaded the most delicate red.

  “Why? I’ve heard a little about you from the guys at the station. You’re one brave lady.”

  She set her beer bottle on the counter. “I told you before, I don’t like getting attached to people, and you’re the type of guy I can see myself getting attached to.”

  “And you believe if you have coffee with a guy they’ll end up dead—like the sheriff?”

  Her eyes flicked away. Then she found the label on her beer fascinating.

  “Look, I don't mean to frustrate or upset you. I'm just trying to figure out where I stand, or if I have a chance. I like you...a lot.”

  “I like you too.” Her voice had softened to a whisper, like if she admitted her feelings, fate would intervene.

  People all around her had died.

  That sucked, mostly because she didn’t believe she could take the chance. He could see the belief in the way she sat. The way she held herself at a distance, refusing to meet his gaze.

  God, he wanted to kiss her until she couldn’t breathe and then bury himself deep inside her. He wouldn’t go there without her permission, but he wanted to help her change her mind, or at least erase her false belief.

  “Ready,” El declared from the front door.

  “I’ll be just a minute.”

  She opened the door. “I’ll wait in the car so you can do your kissy-kissy thing.”

  He glared at El as she gave him an oh-so-sweet missing-tooth grin and closed the door before he could correct her poor behavior.

  “You’d better go.“ Leza settled a hesitant smile into place.

  He wanted to stay and show her she was wrong, but who the hell was he to tell her about life? Zoe died. Several of his buddies were gone. Hell, his dad wouldn’t live much longer.

  “The next time I see you, I’d like to cash in the rain check.”

  She bit her lip. He could see in her expression that parts of her hoped there wouldn’t be a next time. He hated seeing her withdraw.

  “School’s about to start again. You won’t have much time in your schedule,” she boosted the positive in her tone with false cheer.

  “I’ll make time for you.”

  “Why?”

  Her body language challenged him to admit his feelings. He bumped her clogs with his steel-toed boots. “Because I want to prove you wrong. Fate has messed with our lives enough. Pretty soon it’ll be our t
urn.”

  He slid a hand around her back and slowly pulled her closer, giving her an out if she wanted to take it.

  She shocked him by her lack of resistance, splaying her fingers on his chest. His heart drumrolled a double-time cadence. He savored the smell of her strawberry shampoo, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then cupped her jaw.

  “You’re one beautiful woman.”

  She took a step back, but bumped into the counter.

  But he didn’t want to let her off, not over a compliment. He eased closer. She latched onto his waist, and he liked her touch. A lot. He leaned in and nibbled on her lower lip briefly before letting his entire mouth consume hers. She tasted like potatoes and hops and sensual honey—the best kind of sweetness—and finally, finally her brain disengaged and she pulled him flush against her.

  She took what she wanted, and he gave her all he had. She was breathless when she ended the kiss, and he stared at her.

  “Oh, no.” Her hot breath seared his skin. “That kiss was killer.”

  “Yeah. No shit. A definite understatement.”

  She licked her lips. “You shouldn’t kiss like that. You need to take care of Ellie. Attend class. Work. You don’t have time for this distraction.”

  There she goes again, putting everyone else first. “Leza?”

  “Hmmm.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m a big boy. I’m good at juggling priorities. You don’t need to worry. We’ll make this work.”

  “This. You mean you and me?”

  “What else would I mean?”

  “No.” She slid out from between him and the counter. “Ellie comes first. You need to promise.”

  “I promise.” He tilted her chin up to study her vulnerabilities. “I promise. Okay?”

  She collapsed against his chest, and he wanted to pump a fist in victory.

  Outside the SUV horn blared.

  “I’d better go.”

  She stepped back and folded her arms across her midsection. “Yes, Ellie’s waiting.”

  He shook his head and hoped to hell he could keep his promise. El remained his priority, but there were days the loneliness landed on him like a hundred-pound mortar round.

  God, he shouldn’t be resentful. But he was.