He shook himself. “Lots of people here,” he reminded her. “We have an image to maintain.” She rolled her eyes which made him smile. “Do your flirt thing,” he suggested. “Pretend I’m someone else.”
“I can’t do it if you want me to,” she grumbled. “It’s only fun if it irritates you.”
“Suit yourself. Try to look happy.”
“Says the man with the perpetual scowl.” Becky fake-smiled as her eyes traveled over the room, evaluating their audience. “Besides, I don’t see anyone I know.”
Tank finally let her fingers go and leaned back, casually putting his arm on the back of the seat. “You never know. People are always watching, or so you seem to think.” He let his hand drop lightly to her shoulder, then further surprised them both by studying her very expressive eyes. “Your eyes are great when you’re irritated. I think they actually change color.”
“How do they look when I do this?”
Tank almost vaulted off the bench when she squeezed his leg, this time really getting a hold of it. His knee slammed into the table, rattling everything on it. He grabbed her hand.
“You’ll regret it,” he breathed, “if you do that again.”
“Are you threatening me, Mr. Kimball?” Becky’s eyes danced, delighting in discovering his weakness.
“No threat. Simply a fact.” He kept his voice low, his hand firmly holding hers. “If the table hadn’t been in the way, you’d be across the room right now.”
“Oh, please.”
“My legs are big. My legs are strong.” He leaned a little closer. “You grab that area above my knee and they react without any filter. You don’t want to be on the receiving end of my leg’s unfiltered response. Got it?”
She looked down at his legs, no doubt measuring the threat. Her fingers twitched under his. Looking back up at him, she continued to process their proximity. With one arm around her and the other holding her hand and basically restraining her, Tank had her pretty well surrounded.
A pulse ticked in her throat as she met his gaze.
It occurred to him to loosen his grip and back away, but something held him in place. Becky’s eyes, first delighted, then irritated, looked ... intrigued? He couldn’t drag himself away, though he knew he should. For all of her self-proclaimed experience, she had a look of mixed uncertainty and knowing interest about her that was captivating.
“You should probably move,” she whispered.
“I should,” he replied.
Tank rarely allowed himself to simply stare, but now did so unapologetically. He took his time and let his eyes drift over her face. When had it become so familiar? The curve of her cheekbone, her arched brow, her nose, those lips ... It was as though he’d spent years exploring them, yet he’d never so much as touched. His eyes found hers again; they reflected his turmoil like a mirror.
“Oh, hey, excuse me, Ms. Jacobs?”
***
Tank and Becky jumped apart as though poked with a cattle prod.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m here with my family,” Bailey gestured across the dance floor, “and when I saw you I just had to come over.”
Becky tried to collect herself and focus on her student. “Hey Bailey. What’s up?”
Tank turned toward the girl, leaving his arm around Becky’s shoulder. There was only so much untangling they could do without looking ridiculous.
“Have you met Mr. Kimball?” Becky asked, noting that Bailey was staring.
Bailey shook herself. “Hey, Mr. Kimball.” She blushed and turned back to Becky. “Ms. Halloway had her baby!” she blurted out. “So now we really need you next Friday. Can you come?” She looked back and forth between the two of them hopefully.
Becky’s head spun. She hadn’t mentioned the dance to Tank. Under the circumstances, spending Valentine’s Day with him didn’t seem like a good idea.
“I haven’t even talked to Mr. Kimball about it. How about I talk to you on Monday?”
“Oh, but you’d be perfect!” Bailey insisted. She moved out of the way as the server put Tank’s plate on the table.
“What do you need?” Tank finally asked, his curiosity apparently winning out over his desire to ignore two women talking about babies.
“We need chaperones for our Valentine’s Day dance,” Bailey explained. “It would be perfect if you both could do it. It won’t be hard,” she assured them.
Tank took in the information, seemed to think for a moment, then looked at Becky. He pulled her in a little closer. “Let’s go to the dance.”
She tried to keep a pleasant face while her eyes looked daggers at him.
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Kimball!” Bailey squealed. “It will be so fun! I’ll give you all the information on Monday.” She started to turn. “And don’t forget to dress up. It’s semi-formal!”
It was quiet for a moment as Bailey ran off.
“Nice job,” Becky finally said. “If you’re so bent on dancing in public, we could have have just done it here.”
“Not dancing - chaperoning. It’s different.” Tank turned to his plate and picked up his sandwich. “Anyway, I was just checking with you, and she ran with it.”
“You didn’t check with me, you invited me to the dance. To a high school girl that was very romantic, and obviously, that meant we were agreeing to go.”
Tank looked at her over his shoulder. “Romantic, huh? That was easy.”
“Romantic for a high-schooler,” Becky qualified, ignoring his grin. She sipped her drink while Tank turned and took another bite. How could he eat at a time like this? A few minutes earlier, he’d given her the most unguarded, heated expression she’d ever seen. Whether she wanted to or not, she’d be reliving that look all night long.
She pulled at the neckline of her sweater. It was suddenly very warm. At least Tank had scooted over a little, though there still wasn’t room for both of them in the small space.
He finally took a long drink and turned to her. “We actually have something else to talk about.” He searched her eyes for a moment then glanced around the room. “We can talk on the way home.”
Becky had had enough of the eye contact and touching. This evening needed to end. What else could he possibly need to talk to her about?
Tank paid the server and got up. He stood back as Becky slid off the bench, and walked behind her through the dance floor. Half dreading and half curious, she pulled her coat on and ducked out into the February snow.
“Wow, it’s really coming down. Is your Jeep okay in this?” It was a silly question, but she felt like irritating him.
He gave her a sidelong glance, got in and turned the key. The engine didn’t turn over at first, but the second time it fired up. Becky almost remarked on his infallible vehicle, but held her tongue. Tank glanced over, daring her, while he flipped on the defrost and waited for the vehicle to warm up.
The drive back to the inn wouldn’t take long, and Becky wondered if he planned on coming into the house to talk. Given the events of the last half hour or so, that didn’t seem like a good idea.
“So, what’s up?” She tried to sound casual, as though she weren’t suddenly ultra aware of their proximity. The hand on the gear shift had held hers. She’d had her own hand on that gigantic knee. They’d been touching one way or another all night and she couldn’t shake the images. She looked out the window.
“Yeah,” Tank finally spoke. “Carrie Lynn talked to me after school, today. She thinks she’s pregnant.”
“Oh, no,” Becky turned back to him. There were two Carries in their health class. Carrie Lynn was also in Becky’s French class. She was one of her more difficult students. Still ...
“Poor baby,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry?”
“She’s just a baby.”
“She’s sixteen and she’s been ...” he hesitated.
“Been what, Tank?” Becky’s concern for the girl was swallowed up in anger at Tank, and pretty much all men everywhere. “Guys just do what
comes naturally, but any girl who ‘does what comes naturally’ is a ...”
“No, Becky, please don’t.” He flipped on the windshield wipers with a heavy sigh. “She may be young, but she’s old enough to deal with this. She just needs some help.”
Becky tried to calm down. “Her parents?”
“Not so much support there.”
“Of course. And I’m sure the Romeo is long gone by now.”
Tank cleared his throat. “Wish I could say otherwise.”
Becky gave a humorless laugh.
“Not all guys are like that,” he said.
She pierced him with a look.
“She needs someone to go to the crisis pregnancy center in Benson with her.”
“She wants me? I thought she hated me. She’s given me nothing but attitude in French.” Becky looked out the window again, anxious at the thought of reliving her past through this girl.
“Well, she didn’t ask for you, exactly.”
Becky swung her head around. “Who does she want, exactly?”
“Well, she wanted me to go.”
“What? You?”
“Yeah, I know. It’s crazy. I tried to convince her to talk to you, but she thinks you’re too ...”
Becky sighed in frustration. “Too what?”
“Well, too straight-laced. Thinks you’d judge her.”
“I don’t even know how to respond to that,” Becky sputtered. “Why are we having this conversation? Just go with her.”
Tank turned to her earnestly. “She needs a woman. Someone who ... I don’t know. She needs a woman.”
The Jeep was plenty warm, but still they idled in the parking lot. “Well, she doesn’t need or want me.”
“I told her you’d meet her there tomorrow.” He flinched.
“You what? Why?”
“She needs you. You have a heart for these kids. She’ll warm up to you.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“You know what I mean.”
Becky crossed her arms. “Why would you commit me like that? Never mind how awkward this is.” Another wave of panic flooded over her at the thought of setting foot inside a pregnancy center.
“Well, you’re usually around the house on Saturdays when I come over to work.”
Becky glared at him.
“Now, don’t get mad, but ... okay, you’re already mad,” Tank sighed. “She needs one of us; she doesn’t have anyone else right now.”
Becky shook her head, biting her bottom lip. She did not want to go to the front lines with this girl; a girl who didn’t want her company in the first place.
“I’m surprised she was even willing to talk to me about it. I had no idea what she wanted when she walked up to me in the parking lot this afternoon.” Tank turned down the defrost fan and toyed with the gear shift. “I really didn’t know what to say. I told her I’d talk to you.” He took a deep breath. “By the end of the conversation, she was so worked up, I promised that you’d meet her there. I’m sorry,” he finally conceded. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Becky looked over at him. His remorse seemed genuine. “When is she planning to go?”
“She said she could meet you there at two.”
“Please take me home.”
“Think you can do it?”
“Take me home and I’ll think about it.”
***
Tank pulled into Becky’s drive a few minutes later. The snow was starting to pile up and he was glad he only had a few more blocks to go to get himself home. He put the Jeep in park and looked over at Becky.
“You okay?”
She was staring out the window. “Yeah.”
His gut twisted at the sorrow in her voice. He’d hit some kind of nerve, and while he didn’t want to push her to talk, he didn’t want to leave her in this state, either. He also needed to know what to do about Carrie.
“So, I’m guessing tomorrow’s not really an option?”
Becky turned to him with a sigh. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“You’re right, I don’t.”
She looked up into his eyes; her own wide with emotion. He couldn’t see them clearly in the semi-dark, but he could imagine the gold making inroads into the soft brown. He wasn’t kidding when he said her eyes seemed to change color with her mood. Half the time he picked on her just to watch them do their thing.
This was not one of those times.
“I don’t know,” she shook her head and looked away. “I want to help her, but ...” she shrugged. “I just have to think about it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She opened the door and stepped out.
“Becky.” Tank turned off the Jeep, jumped out, and followed her up the steps.
“Please, don’t,” Becky protested. “You can’t be here.”
“Why not?” he asked, shoving his hands deep in his coat pockets.
She glanced up at him but wouldn’t hold his gaze. “Tonight’s been too weird. I don’t think you should come inside.”
Tank reached for her arm but she backed away.
“Becky, I’m not here to do anything but talk. We’re friends, right?” That admission had been a long time coming.
She shivered. “I guess.”
“You guess?” Tank stomped his feet to keep warm.
“Yes, of course. Please go home.”
“I don’t want to leave while you’re upset.”
“Well, you can’t come in and we’ll freeze out here.”
He sighed, exasperated. “Why can’t I come in?”
“You know why.” She finally met his gaze.
“You don’t trust me?”
She gave him a long look. “I don’t trust me.”
He grinned a little. “It’s been a long time since someone made me do something I didn’t want to do.”
His effort at humor didn’t hit the mark.
“You’d be surprised at what I could make you do.” Becky turned away and rubbed her mittened hands together.
Tank tried to interpret her comment as a threat. “I trust you.”
She turned back to him. “Why? You don’t know me, Tank. Don’t know what I’ve done or what I’m capable of.”
“That sounds ominous.” He added a hop to his foot stomping. They were almost dancing after all.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” she blurted out. “I was Carrie.” She took a step closer and really looked into his eyes. “Sixteen and maybe pregnant and very alone. I got through it, but ...” She pulled her coat tighter around herself. “Carrie needs someone to guide her in the right direction, whether she’s pregnant or not. I’m not that person.”
Becky dug in her purse for her keys, apparently ready to end the evening on that note.
Tank wasn’t. He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. She stiffened briefly, resisting his comfort, then her body slowly leaned into his.
“I’m sorry, Becky.” He held her and stroked her hair. After a moment she reached around his waist. He pulled her closer, marveling at how she fit, bulky jackets notwithstanding. She took a deep breath, and Tank rested his chin on top of her head. He could get used to comforting Becky.
“You’re not the only one who’s made mistakes,” he gently pointed out.
She burrowed in a little deeper. “There’s a story there, but I’m too cold to hear it.”
Tank laughed, enjoying the warmth of her against his chest. “Yeah, I gotta let you go in.” With more regret than he could have imagined, he loosened his hold on her.
She backed up and looked at him a little warily. Her hair was wonderfully mussed. Tank resisted the urge to reach out and brush it away from her face.
Becky looked down for a moment and took a deep breath. Lifting her eyes to his, she regarded him, her expression suddenly hard. “I’ll help her under one condition.”
Tank mentally shook himself. He wasn’t quite ready to switch gears, but the look on Becky’s face indicated that she had. “Okay, great. What is it?”
�
�We’re forgetting about this conversation.” She backed up another step, distancing herself in every way she could. “I never unloaded on you. We go right back to pretend dating - we break up - finish out the school year - and we never have to see to each other again. Got it?”
Tank felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. “Wait. Why? Can’t we talk tomorrow?”
“No. Those are my conditions.” Becky turned away and unlocked the door. She looked over her shoulder at him, all attitude.
Tank stared back for a long moment. “I think it would be great if you helped Carrie, but whether you do or don’t - that’s on you.”
Becky’s mouth dropped a little.
“I won’t agree to pretending I don’t really know you,” he continued, stepping toward her.
She managed to close her mouth, but incredulity still played across her features.
“I don’t want to pretend date, and I don’t want to break up and I certainly don’t plan on never seeing you again,” he finished.
“What does that even mean?” she finally whispered.
“I haven’t figured that out yet, but don’t even think about giving me ultimatums.”
Becky stepped back, her head reeling. “But I’m done with men forever.”
“You’re not done with me.”
twenty-one
Becky wandered out of her bedroom with a yawn, then reeled back at the light bouncing off the walls of the kitchen. The snow had stopped and the sun was out in full force, reflecting off the endless white surface. She braced herself against the kitchen counter and blinked. She’d never seen so much snow and sunlight combined.
She made her coffee and dared to hope; she couldn’t possibly be expected to meet anyone at a pregnancy center today. Looking up the number for the center in Benson, she called to make sure. Their answering machine confirmed that they wouldn’t be open until Monday. Becky breathed a sigh of relief.
After building a fire, she settled in with her coffee, letting the mug warm her hands through. The faint roar of an engine in the driveway caught her attention. Who had braved the roads to come to the inn on a Saturday morning? She jumped up to get dressed.
Done With Men Forever (Clairmont Series Book 3) Page 18