“Beth,” her mother said sharply. “Stop.”
“No. I won’t stop.” The red mist had gone and the tears were about to show up. She wanted her voice to be cold and even. She wanted to shut down the emotion the way Evan did. But she couldn’t. Her voice was shaking when she said, “I’m done with this. I’m done with everything like this. I brought a guest tonight, and my guest deserved courtesy. Isn’t that what manners are supposed to be? They’re not an . . . an excuse to be snide, like if you do it with a smile it doesn’t count. All this is? It’s snobbery. The same kind of snobbery that’s followed Dakota all her life. It’s stupid, it’s cruel, and it’s wrong, and from now on? I’m calling it out. Maybe that’s going to get me uninvited. Maybe I’ll never join the Friends of the Lake or the Library Fund. And I’ll live with that. I don’t care.” She turned to her father, who hadn’t said anything, and asked, “Can I borrow your car for tonight, Dad? I need to go.”
It wasn’t her dad who answered, though. It was Brett. “I need to leave myself,” he said. Totally calm, but there was something behind his eyes, like a smile was trying to escape. “I’d be happy to give you a lift wherever you need to go.” He put just a little emphasis on the “wherever,” like he knew exactly where he’d be driving her.
“Oh,” Melody said. “Weren’t we planning to take that tour, so you could drive the shoreline? I could use some calm after all this drama, and I’ll bet you could, too. I’m sure none of us expected this.”
“Another time,” Brett said. He stood and shook hands with Beth’s father. “Thanks for having me.” More handshakes around the table, finishing with Beth’s mother. “Wonderful dinner,” he said. “And superb insight.” If Beth hadn’t been watching, she’d have missed the wink, the flash of a smile. “Unexpected but welcome. It’s always good to take the temperature of a place, to see the dynamics. Just as important as the location. I’d say I got a good look under the hood tonight.”
Brett Hunter had a great car. Surprise. A Porsche Cayenne SUV. Black. Sleek, powerful, and as understated as a Porsche could ever be. Kind of like the man himself.
Beth didn’t say anything when she climbed in, other than, “I appreciate the ride.” To tell the truth, she didn’t trust her voice. Now that it was over, her arms and legs were showing an alarming tendency to shake, and her teeth had actually begun to chatter.
Brett shot a look at her and flipped a switch on the console. “Seat heater,” he said with the ghost of a smile. “You can get over that, and I won’t roast.”
She laughed, wishing it didn’t have an edge of hysteria. “You’re a surprising man. You act like that’s just another day at the office.”
He pulled out onto the road and took the turn into town. “Because it is. Emotions run high when the developers come to town. Fascinating things, people.”
“Lab rats?”
Another quick, amused glance. “Maybe. Dirty secret—I majored in psychology in college. Figured it’d come in handy for law, not to mention that political career I don’t have. I hear you’re an attorney yourself.”
“My mother talking up my suitability as a potential mate for a discerning man such as yourself,” Beth said. She could do “dry” with the best of them.
“Yep.” Brett took a few more curves, then said, “Of course, that’s before I took a good look at your boyfriend and backed right off. Did I mention that I’m a smart guy? You got to know when to hold ’em and know when to fold ’em. Least that’s what the man says.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Right. And yet I think I’ll still stand over here, well out of the way. With my hands in plain view. Never seen a man who could do that without saying a word, while he’s holding a baby in a butterfly outfit. That’s a gift.”
Beth laughed. She was still agitated almost past bearing, but at least her teeth weren’t chattering. She kept the heater on, though. “The Farnsworths aren’t going to be your best friends. Did they mention that he’s president of the bank and she’s the town’s leading realtor?”
“I think you’ll discover that they can find it in their heart to forgive my early exit and let bygones be bygones. Money talks, and big money talks louder.” They hit the city limits, and he asked, “Where to? I’m using my clairvoyant powers and figuring I’m not taking you home, wherever ‘home’ is right now.”
“Your powers would be right. I’ve got some more mad to deal with.” Which she shouldn’t be sharing, but then, she’d done all kinds of things she shouldn’t tonight. “Turn left at the stop sign, then it’s the fourth street on the right.”
Brett was silent for a minute, then said, “Too bad he didn’t stick around for that. Makes me wish I’d recorded it.”
“Oh, man.” Beth scrubbed her face with her hands. “I’m going to hear about this one.”
“Yep. And it was terrific. Where to now?”
“Oh. Two more streets, then right. Terrific how? And it’s the one up here on the left, with the white van in the driveway.” She was having trouble with her breathing. And her heart.
Brett pulled over to the curb and said, “You don’t live here anymore, or if you do—you don’t live here with your parents anymore. Your life. Your rules. Will your mother be upset with you? Maybe. Your dad won’t. You didn’t see him jumping in with an argument. And I’d give your mother more credit than that, personally.”
She stared at him. “What are you?”
He laughed out loud. “I’m a developer. An observer. I make my money by guessing what people will do, and much as it pains me to admit it, I’ve made a lot of money. Don’t tell Melody.”
This time, she laughed. Her emotions were still all over the place, her legs still had an alarming tendency to shake, but she laughed. “Your secret is safe with me.” She climbed out, held the door open a moment, and said, “Thanks for the ride. Good luck with your project. Although maybe I shouldn’t say that. I love the lake.”
“But you see,” he said, “so do I.”
She slammed the door and headed up the sidewalk, and he drove away.
Evan was almost to the lake. Gracie had stopped crying at last, and he thought she’d fallen asleep in the jogging stroller. She should be in her crib, but that was too bad, because he hadn’t even been able to take her to Dakota’s. He didn’t want to see anybody. He didn’t want to know anybody. Not even himself. He finally made the lakeside path and increased his pace on the level ground until he was flying, until all he could hear was his own harsh breathing.
When the phone rang, he didn’t answer it. He didn’t care. He just kept going through ring after ring until it stopped. But then it started again.
He hesitated, and the ringing stopped. He slowed to a walk and pulled the phone out of his pocket.
Beth
2 missed calls
No. He couldn’t, not now. He wanted to run until the evening was gone. Until he couldn’t hear anything. Until he couldn’t hear his own voice. Especially that.
I’ll never run, and I’ll be there as long as you need me.
He hit the button.
She didn’t say hello, and she didn’t sound like Beth. She said, “I’m at your house. Where are you?”
“Running. At the lake.” He wanted to say something else, but he couldn’t think what.
“Then I’m running too,” she said. “Because you are talking to me.”
“You’re wearing sandals.”
“I didn’t say I was running fast. I said I was running. I’m going to the marina, and you’d better be going there too.”
Half of him wanted to laugh. The other half knew that would be extremely unwise. “I’m going there.”
“Where’s Gracie?”
“With me. Of course with me.”
“OK. I’m hanging up.”
He had a feeling this was going to be a very strange fight.
It didn’t take long. He ran more slowly back along the lakefront. It was getting a little chilly out here now that the sun was
setting. The sky had apparently decided to light it up tonight, because it was a blaze of pink, orange, and scarlet, the colors reflected in the lake until it almost hurt you to look at, it was so beautiful.
And he was a mess. Because somebody was coming down the sidewalk toward the water, there on his left. A slim figure in a full-skirted dress and high-heeled sandals, and she was running.
He ran too, and when they met, he said, “You’re crazy. What are you trying to do, sprain your ankle?”
She made some sort of noise, something like an indignant “Hah!” Like that was the worst thing she’d ever heard, when all he was doing was being concerned for her safety, which was what a man was supposed to do. “Yes,” she said, turning on one of those heels and marching up the sidewalk toward the Resort as if he’d damn well better come with her.
He wasn’t stupid. Well, he was. Sometimes. But he came with her.
“I ran to talk to you,” she said, “and I’m sorry I couldn’t change my shoes, because I didn’t run away and go home. And why didn’t I do that? Because I didn’t have a car. Because the man who took me to the party left without me. Left me standing there holding the bag. Because he didn’t trust me and didn’t have faith in me to choose him and stand up for him. And what did I do? Did I give up on him? Did I say, “Win some, lose some, so maybe I’ll just go back to the party and kiss up to a woman I can’t stand and see if I can arm-wrestle her for this multimillionaire who’s actually nice to me?”
She’d been walking faster and faster, practically jogging, and he was having to take some pretty good strides to keep up with her. Just as well, since she had to be cold in that dress. “No,” he said, “clearly you didn’t. You borrowed your mom’s car and drove to find him. Not the millionaire. The other guy. You’re strange that way.”
“See, and you’re wrong again. I got a ride with the millionaire, and he says he’s scared of you, so you can quit pretending that you lost back there and decide that next time, you could stay and fight. You could stay with me. You could let me stand up for you, and you could stand up for me. That’s the idea, isn’t it?”
“How was I supposed to know you would?”
This time, she stopped. Stopped and stared at him, and her hands were rising from her sides just like before. Rising, and then falling to her thighs again. Only now, she didn’t look sad. “Excuse me? How could you think I wouldn’t, when it’s everything I’ve done ever since I got here? When it’s everything I’m trying to do, which you’ve said you got?”
He tried to find a way he wasn’t wrong here. Unfortunately, he couldn’t come up with one. “I was going to lose my temper,” he said. “I don’t do that. I had to get out.”
“Which meant I had to stay,” she said. “And lose my temper. And news flash—the world didn’t end. At least, maybe it did according to my mother, since I’m pretty sure I failed the Lady Test, but I’m still standing here, alive to tell the tale.”
“Right.” He sighed. “Right. I can tell I’m going to get shamed here. Tell me about it.”
“I would.” She’d started walking again, but at least she wasn’t trying to break the Sandal Speed Record anymore. “But I can’t remember. I had this red thing.”
“Ah. The red mist. Yeah.”
“You get that?”
“Baby,” he said, and somehow, he was smiling. Despite everything that had happened, and despite the fact that he knew he was going to end up groveling tonight. “Everybody gets that. First time, though?”
“Yes. I thought I was having a stroke.”
Now, he laughed. “I can see that. Yep. So let’s hear it. What you can remember.”
She ran a hand through her silvery hair, which was downright messy by this time, what with all the running and everything. She didn’t look like a unicorn anymore, or if she did, it was a badass unicorn, a unicorn who’d been kicked out of the herd for conduct unbecoming. “I think it was something to the effect that Dakota is twice the woman Melody could ever hope to be, and I may have thrown in that her brother was a hero. I think I also said ‘Screw reputation,’ and if I didn’t call Melody a bitch, I sure came close. My mom didn’t like that at all. I’m pretty sure I yelled. And then I walked out, and that Brett Hunter gave me a ride to your place and told me I was right. Which was nice to hear, since you sure didn’t stick around to tell me so.”
“All right. I’m doing it. You listening?”
“All I’m doing is listening. All I came for was listening.”
“You sure?” He was smiling, and he shouldn’t be. “I’d say you came to tell me I shouldn’t have run out on you, especially right after I told you that I was so strong that I’d stay as long as you needed me. Right after you told me that you knew I’d never run. And what did I do? I didn’t stay, and I ran.”
“Because you didn’t trust me. You didn’t believe in me. You thought I’d pick my parents, that I’d pick Melody Farnsworth. Have I mentioned that I can’t stand Melody Farnsworth?”
“Can I help it if I didn’t know that?”
“I was polite. Her mother’s my mother’s best friend. Although I can’t see why. My mother’s nice. Yes, she’s mistaken. Yes, she’s overinvolved. But she’s decent. She’s kind. She cares. She wasn’t the one saying all that.”
He sobered. “She was the one saying it nine years ago. And you were the one listening. If I didn’t have faith in you—maybe I had my reasons.”
It had been so much easier when she’d known she was right.
She had to walk a while. She noticed in an abstract kind of way that the sky was changing with every second that passed, and the thought flashed through her mind that she might remember this night later on when she saw a sunset like this.
Or maybe that was another diversion.
Focus. Face it. Work it out and put it away. It’s never going to be gone until you do.
“You’re right,” she said. “I listened, and I shouldn’t have listened. It’s no excuse, but I’d spent twenty-one years being a good girl, doing the right thing. When we got caught . . . it was like I’d known it was going to happen, that I was going to have to pay. I knew that wasn’t what my life could be. Or maybe I just wasn’t grown up enough. On some level, I was doing for that entire summer what you did tonight. Preparing to walk out the whole time.”
“Could you say it again,” he said, “without that part about me?”
“Yeah, well, I guess neither of us is perfect. I know I wasn’t.”
It had happened two months into that stolen summer. She’d worked at her father’s company every day, in Customer Service because he believed in Establishing Work Habits and Understanding the Business and Starting at the Bottom, and had been yawning by afternoon. Because every night, she’d been meeting Evan.
She hadn’t meant to do it that way. She just . . . hadn’t mentioned him to her parents. Evan would look at her sometimes, when she’d get up from his bed at twenty minutes to midnight and pull on her clothes, and her eyes would drop under that steady, serious gaze. But he never said anything.
Now, she knew why. He hadn’t wanted to push her to choose: her parents or him. He’d known how that would work out. Instead, he’d grab his jeans and T-shirt, and she’d climb on the back of his motorcycle again, ride back to the City Beach parking lot where she’d left her car, and kiss him goodbye until, like Cinderella, she’d all but hear the clock start to chime. Then she’d drive home, come in the door at the stroke of midnight and go in to tell her parents she was home, to kiss her mother goodnight. So her mom could tell if she’d been drinking. That part was obvious, however sneaky her mother thought she was being.
When she did have dinner at home, her mother would ask her what she’d been doing, and Beth would tell her about movies she’d never seen, restaurants she’d never tried, shopping trips she’d never taken. She didn’t tell about sitting in the stern of the battered old rowboat, about looking at Evan’s shoulders and arms and chest as he rowed, listening to the slap of oars on the wate
r, the barely-there zip-zip of dragonflies zooming past, the raucous call of a jay. About walking the high trails in the long, soft Idaho twilight, their footsteps cushioned by years’ worth of pine needles, while the wind sang its song in the pines. About dancing on the scarred wooden floor of a cowboy bar far off the main road, not caring what was playing, just wanting to be in Evan’s arms, to have him spin her around in circles and then pull her up close again. About lying with him after making love in his tiny apartment and telling him about law school, about her fears and her hopes on that one subject, and wishing they could just go on like this, could stay in their bubble.
Never looking too closely. Never digging too deep.
And then those last couple weeks. After Riley had died, and Evan had driven all day to Portland, and then all night back to Wild Horse to bring Dakota home. He’d spent the next three days with Dakota and Russell, and when he’d finally come for Beth again, had been nearly silent.
She wasn’t seeing him every night anymore, because he had someplace else he needed to be. With them, and Beth wasn’t invited. She’d tried not to be hurt, had told herself he was processing, that Evan wasn’t a talker. He’d wanted to make love, had come to her every time like she was his sanctuary and his release, and she’d been glad to be that for him.
But he hadn’t talked, and when she’d tried to ask, he’d gone even quieter. So she’d stopped asking.
That last night, then. Nearly two weeks after the terrible day when Evan had told her about Riley and she’d seen pain in his eyes she couldn’t bear and hadn’t been able to help. That night, after hours of dancing and too many beers, he drove the lake road too fast, took the curves too steeply, and half of her wanted him to stop, while the other half wanted him to go faster, to turn harder. To make her feel the wind and the wildness, to burn out his pain and let her watch it go.
When they reached his house, he grabbed her before she was all the way off the bike, pushed her down on the seat, and come down over her. Dark, desperate, and dangerous. He picked her up at last and carried her through the door into his tiny apartment, pulled her down on the floor, and made love to her there, neither of them getting their clothes off, the sex urgent, strong, and one bare step this side of the line. He pulled her under into the darkness until she was gasping, until she was way too close to scared, thrilled to her darkest limit. She had four orgasms, he had two, and when they finished, they were sprawled on the floor, her cheek pressed to the wood and Evan on top of her, pulling her hair back from her neck and kissing her there like she was his and he was branding her.
No Kind of Hero (Portland Devils Book 2) Page 25