by Rose Wulf
“Damn,” Riley muttered before promptly disconnecting, as if she had actually thought his answer would have been any different.
“Vaughn?” Vanessa asked, curiosity mixed with concern, as he deposited his phone in his pocket.
It wasn’t until Angela sucked in a sharp, startled breath that he belatedly realized he’d heard her phone beep. Indicative of a new text message. She looked at him with instantly wide, watering eyes and he knew she knew. He opted to spare her having to articulate the situation, though, and returned his attention to his mother. “Apparently, my condo’s on fire. I have to get going.”
Angela was already on her feet. “Dean’s there,” she announced. “If there’s anything he can salvage—”
“It’s just stuff, Angie,” Vaughn interrupted, deliberately keeping his voice calm. He doubted it had really sunk in yet that he’d just lost nearly everything he owned. Yes, it was “just stuff,” but some of it had been nice, hard-to-replace stuff. Some of it had mattered to him. He was going to lose his temper when he got there and saw what was left of his condo, he was sure. But there was no helping it.
Vanessa pushed to her feet, her determined expression settling into place. “I’m going with you.”
“Mom, there really won’t be anything you can do,” Vaughn argued carefully. He knew there would be no stopping her, but he felt obliged—for multiple reasons—to point out the obvious.
She met his gaze. “My son’s home is burning. You could just as easily have been inside when the fire started. Do we even know how it started?”
“Officially?” Angela asked before Vaughn could respond. Exasperation weighed her voice again. “No. But I’m sure it’ll be another ‘unusual electric fire.’” She looked back at Vaughn and he could see the guilt in her eyes.
“Don’t,” he said. “This isn’t your fault. Let’s just get this over with.” He paused when Angela sighed and nodded, realizing he needed to say something else. Here it goes. “Also, Mom, there’s something you should know…”
Vanessa, who was halfway down the hall already, came up short and turned back to face them curiously. “What is it?”
Swallowing a bout of uncharacteristic, uncomfortable nerves, Vaughn forced himself to tell her the news he knew she was least expecting. “Riley’s sort of been staying with me.” Shit, and now I’m starting to sound like her.
Silence held in the house for a long second as Vanessa’s eyebrows disappeared beneath her tastefully curled blonde bangs.
“I’m sorry,” she finally said with a faint shake of her head, “did you just say Riley has been staying with you?”
“She invited herself in on Friday night,” Vaughn elaborated. “I didn’t exactly know how to tell you.”
Vanessa pulled in a breath, her lips thinning as she worked to control her reaction. “I see,” she said. She smoothed a hand down her blouse and added, “That doesn’t change my decision, Vaughn. I’m still following you over. I’ll deal with Riley later.” She turned promptly and resumed her path down the hall, snatching her keys from a side table as she walked.
Vaughn glanced back to Angela, who offered him a small smile and partial shrug. She was right. That was the best he could hope for.
Chapter Nine
Angela let her head rest on Vaughn’s shoulder and whispered, “I’m so sorry.” It was late, and they were back at the Prescott home. Vaughn’s condo was no longer burning, but neither was it livable, which meant he was stuck going home again for the time being. Not unlike her, despite a large difference in reason. His situation, however, really was her fault.
Vaughn’s arm curved around her back. His voice was quiet when he said, “Would you stop apologizing?”
“Not until everything’s better,” she replied flatly. She couldn’t describe how terrible she felt for what had happened. It didn’t matter that a part of her was honestly surprised this was the first time he’d really had to suffer the repercussions of knowing her. “They wouldn’t have come after you if it weren’t for me.”
“I don’t care,” Vaughn said, his arm tightening around her. “They’re a bunch of cowards and you don’t need to apologize for them.”
“I’m not—” Angela started, intending to argue his perspective until he could see hers. But she was interrupted when a different, far more heated, argument drifted down the hall from the formal dining room.
“Well, I’m sorry I’m not you!” Riley shouted exasperatedly, drawing their attention.
Angela glanced down the hall as far as she could, despite that it curved and therefore blocked any kind of view of the room Vaughn’s relatives occupied.
The scene at the fire had been tense but uneventful, at least as far as Vanessa and Riley were concerned. They had barely exchanged a word. But then they’d all gotten back to the Prescott home, away from prying eyes, and their respective coats had barely been hung up before the argument began. That was the main reason why Vaughn and Angela had isolated themselves in his family’s den. The den was smaller than the living room, fairly comfortable and, at this hour, rather dark. It was designed for games and movies and daytime reading, so it didn’t have much in the way of artificial lighting. It didn’t help that Vaughn had only turned on half the recessed ceiling lights.
“I don’t want you to be me, Riley!” Vanessa’s equally agitated voice announced.
“I never knew your mother could yell so well,” Angela mumbled thoughtlessly.
Vaughn chuckled and shifted, pulling her a little more into his side. “That’s because you didn’t grow up with her.”
Angela’s lips twitched and she poked at his chest lazily. “Are you saying you got in trouble a lot when you were younger?”
He found her hairline with his lips and trailed kisses down to her temple before rumbling, “Who said anything about having grown out of it?”
A delightful shiver danced down her spine and Angela’s smile broadened. “You’re terrible,” she teased. To prove her point, she levered herself up a little in order to kiss him properly. That was clearly what he’d wanted, too, because he pulled her closer and ran his tongue leisurely along her lips. She curled one hand into his shirt, somewhere between shoulder and collar, and moaned when his fingertips brushed the skin over her waist. His other hand grazed her shoulder, en-route to her hair, and Angela found herself being tugged half across his chest.
He nipped at her lower lip, immediately soothed the spot with his tongue, and she moaned again. The way he made her feel was crazy. The way she was coming to crave it in such a short stretch of time was even crazier. She already loved the way he kissed. He took possession of her mouth—and all her senses—like he had every right to. Like he’d done it a thousand times and knew just what to do. His kiss was aggressive, yet sensual, and promising, and she swore every time he stroked his tongue over hers, she felt it in a very different place. A place she was quickly becoming rather eager to share with him. If he made love like he kissed, she was sure she’d be ruined. Ruined in the best of ways.
“Oh, don’t worry, Nessy,” Riley called, angry sarcasm dripping from her voice. Her voice that seemed to be getting closer. “I wouldn’t want to put you out or anything.”
Vaughn and Angela jerked apart, breathing hard, and Angela reflexively buried her face in his shoulder to hide her crimson cheeks. How had she forgotten that his mother and aunt were right down the hall?
“Quit with the stubborn pity-party, Riley,” Vanessa snapped. Her voice was closer, too.
Their heads swiveled again toward the open doorway in time to see Riley walking—more like stalking—by. She paused barely within their line of sight on the far side, her back to the doorway, and turned to shout, “So what is it, Vanessa? Am I a stupid, stubborn, teenaged victim of the world or a raving, drunken whore? You can’t have it both ways. I mean, even I know that, and I’m just a spoiled rotten brat.”
“What you are is impossible,” Vanessa said sharply, striding into view to stand near the center of the den doorw
ay. “This argument is over a decade old, Riley. When are you going to be a grown up and let it go?”
“I’m sorry,” Riley began, her voice lowering so suddenly Angela almost couldn’t hear her. “I’m not going to get over the insults you’ve hurled at me until you realize how horrible and out of line they were. And if you can’t, then why the hell would I want to be around that?” She put her back to her sister, then, and resumed stalking down the hall, out of sight.
Vanessa’s shoulders rose as she sucked in a breath, but her eyes flicked to Vaughn and Angela and the breath rushed out in an exasperated huff. “Sorry,” she offered before turning and walking in the opposite direction. It was clear she was still angry and now embarrassed all at the same time.
“I have to say,” Angela said, her voice a whisper, “that was a little awkward.”
“Yeah,” Vaughn agreed. He shifted and pulled them both to their feet in one easy movement. “It’s probably gonna be like this all night.” He paused for effect, waited until she was looking up at him, and added, “I don’t suppose you’ll stay and rescue me from their wrath?”
She grinned again and braced her hands on his shoulders in order to let a light kiss linger on his lips. She really was tempted, for all the wrong reasons, but she knew she couldn’t. Not this night. “Sorry,” she breathed. “I should probably be getting home.” Yet another reason why living at home was something that needed to end as quickly as possible.
He sighed dramatically, as if he hadn’t already known her answer, and gave her hips a squeeze. “There’s just so much wrong with that statement.”
Angela blinked up at him, thrown by his comment. He was clearly teasing, but she couldn’t quite figure out how he meant it.
He didn’t give her time to dwell, however, before turning her toward the doorway. “C’mon, I’ll walk you out. And drive safe, okay?”
Her smile returned, remaining wide when his arm stayed around her waist, and she teased, “It’s not even a two-minute drive, you know. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“Humor me.”
They paused by the kitchen, finding Vanessa pouring something that looked suspiciously like brandy into a glass. Angela cleared her throat politely and said, “Goodnight, Mrs. Prescott. Thank you again for dinner, and I’m so sorry you’ve been dragged into this.”
Vaughn’s hand squeezed her hip deliberately, this time meant as a pointed reminder that he still didn’t believe she needed to apologize. But his wasn’t the voice that reprimanded her.
“Nonsense, Angela,” Vanessa replied, setting her glass down and meeting Angela’s gaze. “You’re as much a victim in all of this as any of us. More so, really. There’s no need for you to apologize.”
“You heard her,” Vaughn echoed before Angela could do more than open her mouth to argue.
Angela sighed in defeat and nodded. “All right, all right.” She waved when Vanessa called goodnight and allowed Vaughn to guide her the rest of the way to her car. It was sometime during that short walk that she realized he’d kept his arm around her the entire time. There was no way his mother hadn’t noticed, and as good of friends as they’d been, they’d never been that close before. It would look like a statement.
It kind of felt like a statement.
She held on to the inexplicable giddiness that feeling brought her for as much of the rest of the night as she could. It was later than she would have liked, and she was exhausted when she finally toppled into bed. With a little luck, she’d sleep the night away.
But Angela wasn’t lucky. It was three-something in the morning and she doubted she’d been able to keep her eyes closed and mind quiet for longer than five minutes. She was restless. Her sheet was tangled around her legs, her pillow was bunched awkwardly, and her comforter was half on the floor. This sucks. She had school the next morning and she was going to be dead on her feet if she didn’t get to sleep. Something told her it wasn’t happening.
Angela sat up, finally surrendering, and swung her legs to the side of the bed, simultaneously disentangling them from her blankets. Tossing and turning on her bed wasn’t going to help anything, she rationalized, so maybe she would benefit from a trip to the kitchen for a glass of milk. Still, she paused as her curtain fluttered ever-so-lightly in the breeze. Some fresh air could always help, too, but what was it like outside? This late, it was probably horribly foggy and oppressive. So she moved to the window and eased the curtain back a little, hoping she might see more than wisps of silvery gray. And she did.
After just a little squinting, Angela’s gaze landed on a solitary figure in her backyard. Daniel, she quickly realized. He stood on the lawn, his back resting against the deck railing, seemingly staring into the fog. Surely, he couldn’t even see the edge of the yard from there. What’s he doing?
Struck with curiosity, Angela tugged a sweatshirt over her pajama top and stepped from her room. She padded quietly through the halls, down the stairs, and up to the back sliding glass door before pausing. Sure, she was curious, but did she really want to go have a one-on-one with Daniel? No. But she was going to have to learn to be civil with him at some point, so she might as well start trying. This seemed like a good time for that. Maybe she’d even be able to sleep better if she could at least get some of this flavor of tension off her shoulders.
He was still leaning against the railing when she stepped out, his head turned up slightly and his hands tucked into his pockets. He didn’t look like he’d bothered changing into pajamas yet. Except, she noticed as she drew closer, that he was barefoot. It was an odd touch, really, him being barefoot and yet otherwise dressed like a wealthy professional.
“Can’t sleep?” Angela asked for lack of a better conversation starter.
If he was startled at her appearance, he didn’t let it show. “Apparently not,” he replied. A beat of silence settled between them before he looked over at her. “If you’re here, though, I’d like to take a moment to talk to you.”
Angela arched a brow at him and lowered herself to sit on the bottom steps of the deck. “Well,” she finally replied, “I’m here.”
Daniel inclined his head and promptly looked away. “I want you to know, Angela … I’m sorry. I really, truly am. I understand that’s hard for you to accept. I understand why you’re angry. I deserve it.” He pulled in a breath and glanced back toward her without fully turning his head. “But, please, give me a chance. We may never be as close as an uncle and niece should be, and I recognize that I’m entirely to blame for that, but I’d like to be a part of your life now. I’d like to get to a point where we aren’t walking on eggshells whenever we’re in the same room.”
Assuming her exhaustion was easing her usual temper, Angela looked away and quietly asked, “Are you going to be around, then? Really around, I mean. Is Kira going to know you ten years from now?”
“I certainly hope so,” Daniel replied. “I think Dean and Arianna have something of a say in that, but for my part, I intend to be here.” He paused again and his head fell back toward the sky. “I told Lillian I want to bring the family over for Christmas, but the truth is … I’m thinking of moving everyone to the States. My daughter will be going to New York for college, anyway, so it would just be the three of us.”
Angela stared at him for a long second. She hadn’t really expected him to say that. More than that, she was amazed at herself for believing him so quickly, but she did. There was just something about him at that moment that seemed entirely open. Vulnerable and raw in his sincerity. So, she pulled in a deep breath and mulled over her response, wanting to return his honesty. “Mom would like that,” she finally said, knowing it was true. “It would be nice … to have the rest of our family around. I’d like to see my cousins. I don’t remember what they look like.”
It wasn’t until she saw him flinch in the corner of her eye that Angela realized how terrible that had probably sounded. She’d meant it to be positive, but now that the words were out of her mouth, she couldn’t help but wonder how
they could have sounded remotely positive in her head. She wasn’t trying to be hurtful in this conversation and guilt immediately flooded her. “I’m sorry,” she offered softly.
“No,” Daniel said with a shake of his head. He turned a sad smile to her. “You’re right, after all, and it’s entirely my fault. But hopefully, we can fix that very soon.”
Angela returned his smile with refreshing ease and nodded. “I hope so, too.” She stood, then, and jerked a sleeve-covered thumb toward the house as she added, “I was gonna heat myself up some milk. Would you like anything?”
His smile lightened and he turned toward the steps. “Just some water, I think.”
****
“And now I don’t know how to define us,” Angela said as she and Hilary crossed another street. It was Monday afternoon and, with their classes over for the day, Hilary had volunteered to help Angela on her seemingly never-ending search for a new home. Angela had opted to use the time to tell Hilary all about her relationship confusion.
Hilary hummed thoughtfully, brushed some honey-colored hair from her face, and asked, “Is he a good kisser?”
Angela nearly tripped over a crack in the sidewalk. “Hilary!” she exclaimed, even managing to turn a mortified expression toward her best friend.
“What?” Hilary asked. “It seems like a legitimate question. It’d be a shame if a guy like him was a lousy kisser. He’s not dainty about it or anything, is he? Because that’d be a sign that you don’t need to worry about changing your definition.”
“Kissing ability is probably not supposed to be a deciding factor of any relationship,” Angela returned. “And no, he’s not ‘dainty’ about it.” It was hard to even entertain the idea enough to answer the question without laughing. Vaughn and dainty did not belong in the same sentence.
“So?” Hilary pushed, refusing to allow Angela to avoid the question.
Unable to hide the grin completely, Angela replied, “Yeah. He’s an amazing kisser.”