by Beth Andrews
With unsteady fingers she lifted the lid. On a bed of deep purple silk lay a tennis bracelet, set with alternating diamonds and emeralds. The stones shimmered as tears threatened once again.
“Joe,” she managed. “It’s lovely.” She replaced the lid and pushed the box back into his hands. “But you have to know I can’t accept this. It’s too much. Even if we were together—” She pulled in her lips, fought to pull herself together. “Thank you for the thought, but it’s far too much.”
“I had you crawling around in filth, put you in close quarters with a killer snake, forced you to sleep in your car, practically called you a whore and got you fired. To top it all off, I accused you of arson. This is the least I can do. Please. Take it.” He wrapped her hands around the box, leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Bye, my sweet.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “Don’t forget to bolt the door behind me.”
Her entire body quaked with misery as she started to close the door. Then she wrenched it open again and leaned out into the hallway. “Joe!”
Slowly he turned, and she hated that glimmer of hope she’d put in his gaze. But she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t tell him. “I’m proud of you,” she choked, her fingers digging into the doorjamb. “For not drinking. I’m so proud.”
After a long while he gave a vague nod, as if she’d answered a question he didn’t remember asking. “That means a lot, slick,” he said softly. He pivoted, and walked away.
Allison clapped a palm over her mouth, closed the door and fastened the deadbolt, her fingers clumsy because of the box she clutched in her hand.
Bye, Joe.
* * *
THE MORNING AFTER JOE’S unexpected visit, Beryl Kincaid called Allison and finally agreed to lunch. Her mother had been dodging her, which worried Allison—she’d never been one to pass up a free meal. Or an opportunity to finagle a little seed money out of her only child.
By the time she was due to meet her mother at the restaurant, the prospect of finding out what Beryl had been up to wasn’t the only reason Allison had lost her appetite. An hour before her lunch date she’d stopped by the T&P offices to clear out her desk—and what a smirking Danielle Franks had told her made Allison realize what an unqualified idiot she’d been.
Tackett hadn’t planned to offer her that Account Executive position—Joe had bartered for it. He’d signed a contract, committing himself to working at T&P a full week every month—which meant staying in D.C. Earning money for a company he loathed in a city he despised.
Because he wanted to make amends.
All the while Danielle had been talking, the woman had grinned like a Cheshire cat, as if she already knew Allison had turned down the job. It seemed Danielle was looking forward to having Joe to herself. She prattled on and on about what a good team she and Joe would make, but Allison didn’t pay much attention. She was too busy kicking herself for doubting that Joe loved her. All she wanted to do was go home, crawl under an afghan and try to figure out how to set things right. She had a wretched feeling it was far too late for that.
When she finally made it to the restaurant, her mother had already ordered.
“There you are.” Beryl Kincaid stood, setting aside the wrapper for the butterscotch candy she’d just popped into her mouth. Allison hugged her carefully—her mother was so thin that even as a little girl Allison had feared she’d break her. “I have somewhere else to be after lunch, so I went ahead and ordered for us. Potato soup and quiche. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”
Allison nodded absently. “Where’s Carlotta?” She’d invited her mother’s landlady, as well. The woman had opened her home to a flighty craftaholic with a gambling addiction—Allison figured it was the least she could do.
“She had other plans.” Her mother avoided her gaze as she sat back down. Allison’s heart dropped. Her butt followed. Thank God the chair held.
“What happened?”
“It’s...possible I owe her some money.”
“You haven’t been paying your rent?”
“I have to buy supplies. You know, for my crafts. And everything’s so expensive these days. Speaking of expensive...” Her gaze had snagged on Joe’s bracelet. “Where did you get that?”
Allison put her hand in her lap. “It was a gift.” She recognized the avid gleam in her mother’s eyes and her throat started to burn. The fingers of her right hand started up a quiet drumming on the tabletop.
“How much do you think you could get for it?”
“Nothing, since I’m keeping it. Mom, have you been back at the tables?”
“Please stop that ridiculous tapping.” Her mother waited for Allison to put her other hand in her lap, then shrugged. “Remember old lady Graham? She was our neighbor, when we lived in Falls Church. She died just after Christmas. I guess she remembered how well I looked after her because she left me a little cash.”
“How much?”
“Now, Allie girl, I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“Not my business? Mom, Sammy came after me.”
“Yes, but...nothing happened. And if you’re suggesting I turn that money over to you, it’s a little late for that. Anyway, she left it to me.” She smiled to take the sting out of her words. “Care for a candy?”
Stiffly Allison pushed away from the table and stood, the disappointment—in both her mother and herself—ice-cold and rock-solid behind her breastbone. Why had it taken her so long to see it?
She’d stuck by her mother all these years, given her chance after chance after chance to change, to realize she needed to be accountable for her actions. During all that time, her mother had never shown even one-tenth of Joe’s strength. Or any inclination to make things different. Joe had made his intentions to get his act together more than clear.
And yet it was Joe whom Allison had turned her back on.
She shook her head at her mother. “You don’t get it. I gave up almost everything I had for you.” Including Joe. God. Joe.
Her mother’s pretty face hardened. “I gave up a husband for you.”
And there it was. The reason Allison continued to punish herself. Her mother had loved her father deeply. But he’d abused his wife and child, and he’d gone to prison for it. They’d never seen him again. It wasn’t Allison’s fault he’d beat her. Nothing she sacrificed—not even Joe—would change the reality of her broken family.
From somewhere deep and dark within her came a bitter laugh. Joe’s words rose to her lips. “Isn’t that what parents are supposed to do? Protect their children?” She snatched up her purse. “Mom. I love you. But I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what? What are you talking about?”
“You gamble and I lose. Why should you stop, when there aren’t any consequences?”
Panic skittered across her mother’s thin face. “Is this about the meetings? I’ll go to the meetings, I promise.”
“And rehab?”
Her mother pursed her lips, reached blindly for the piece of candy she’d shoved across the table. Allison shook her head. “I am grateful for what you did for me. How you protected me. But that was a long time ago. I’ve paid my debt. Now it’s your turn.”
* * *
“UNCLE. UNCLE. KID, I give up.” Joe bent at the waist and struggled to catch his breath, made a grab for Nat as she scampered by, giggling. He saw Parker come around from the front of the motel and raised a weary hand in greeting. He’d had to recreate Nat’s hockey field to the left of the building, since the fire had razed the field around back. And it was just as well because, though this area was smaller, Parker’s daughter was kicking his ass. Joe dropped his hockey stick and made a show of wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Good thing your mother’s here to pick you up ’cause I was getting ready to kick your butt.”
Nat rolled her eyes.
“You mean you were getting ready to need a nap.”
“That does it.” Joe lunged at the nine-year-old. She screamed and took off across the grass but Joe caught up quickly, swung her into his arms and around in a circle, legs extended like spokes on a wheel.
Parker greeted them from a safe distance. “If she gets sick, it’s on you. Literally.”
Good point. Gently Joe set Nat down. She complained, until she tried to walk. He and Parker exchanged a grin over Nat’s head as the girl stumbled over to her mother.
Parker smoothed a hand over Nat’s hair. “Do you have something to say to Joe?”
She scooped up the hockey stick she’d let fall to the ground. “Thank you for teaching me hockey.”
“I think at the end, there, you were teaching me.”
After Parker and Nat left, Joe put the hockey sticks away, then stared across the blackened expanse of grass between the motel and the woods he’d always associate with Marcus. He lifted the hem of his T-shirt and swiped at his face, decided an iced tea and one of Parker’s muffins would serve as the perfect excuse to get out of the late afternoon sun. And to sit his tired ass down. Maybe he did need a nap.
He was always tired these days. Not enough protein, Audrey would tell him. Too many regrets, more like.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure approach. He smiled. The kid had come back for her stick. Probably wanted to sleep with it under her pillow.
“Couldn’t stay away, could you?” He swung around, and froze. Not Nat.
Allison.
He felt a weightless, rising sensation, as if a giant had picked him up to get a closer look and let him dangle in midair. Joe wiped his palms on his jeans, made a vague gesture toward the parking lot.
“I thought you were Parker.”
“I figured. I saw them leave.” She tried on a smile. “I waved.”
He closed the distance between them, taking in the neat sleeveless dress that hugged her curves, and the controlled smoothness of her hair, which she’d worked into some kind of twist at her nape. Even the leather case she carried boosted the impression of calm, cool and collected. But the slight tremble of her chin and the fingers tapping against her thigh betrayed her—she wasn’t as self-possessed as she wanted him to think. A thrill of possibility flickered through him.
Don’t assume anything.
He stopped a few feet away, and the words came out harsher than he’d intended. “Why are you here?”
A tiny wince. She gestured toward the far end of the motel. “That was quick work, getting the damaged part cleared away. When do you start rebuilding?”
“Crew’s coming next week. I repeat. Why are you here?”
After a second’s hesitation she patted the case, which he realized contained a laptop. “I have something to show you.”
He scowled. “This have anything to do with Tackett?”
“Not directly. May I set this up inside?”
He hesitated, then tipped his head. For his own peace of mind he meant to keep his gaze above her waist, but his brain was already in chaos mode, so what the hell. He tormented himself by watching her gorgeous ass walk all the way to the lobby, where she pulled out the laptop and opened it, pressed a few buttons and stepped aside.
He’d left his reading glasses on the counter. He slid them on, and studied the screen.
She’d created a website for his motel. The photos on the main page weren’t the best quality, but she’d have meant them only as placeholders, until the renovations were done. Everything else—the background, the fonts, the menu that offered reservation information, directions, sightseeing tips—all looked sleek and professional.
He scratched his jaw. Then peered closer. Son of a bitch. “Is that me?”
She smiled, albeit nervously. “Since Hazel provided the photos, I had to promise to use the topless one. If you decide to take this live, naturally I’ll replace them all. Though Hazel will try to talk you out of it.”
“This is great,” he said sincerely, even as the muscles in his back pulled tighter and tighter as he fought the urge to reach for her. “When I’m ready to advertise, this will be a big help. But...why?”
She took her time shutting down the laptop. “I’m starting my own PR business specializing in online promotions. I was hoping you’d be my first client. Gratis, of course.”
Hell. “You’re not taking the job at T&P.” She shook her head. He turned, and braced his palms on the counter. “Because of me?”
“You mean because I found out you signed a contract committing yourself for one week every month in exchange for my Account Executive position? Then yes, you’re the reason I’m not taking the job.”
“Because you can’t handle working with me?”
“Because I can’t let you make that kind of sacrifice. For God’s sake, Joe, I know better than anyone how miserable you were there. Going back for a month is one thing, but that contract is for two years.”
“I want you to be happy.”
“I know you do.” She crossed her arms, dropped them, wandered behind the counter, picked up a stack of business cards and started counting. “But I don’t belong there. And neither do you. I hope that contract you signed—”
“Is contingent on your taking the job. If you’re not working there, neither am I.”
“Good. That’s good.” She looked up, then, her hazel gaze both sad and sincere. Something bad was coming. His fingers dug into the countertop. She licked her lips. “I did so many things, said so many things that were wrong. I swore you couldn’t love me, but...I already knew that you did. How could I not? All you’ve done since I walked back into your life is try to protect me. Even this.” She held up her arm, twisted her wrist so the bracelet sparkled in the light. “This is because you knew I’d be too embarrassed to accept a loan.”
Slowly Joe pushed upright. She hadn’t sold his gift. What did it mean? “Does that matter to you? Knowing I love you?” He held himself rigid as he waited for the answer.
“Of course it matters. You put yourself out there for me, time and time again. You accepted me, compulsions and all, and I...I’m such a coward. I never even—”
“Okay, stop. Just...stop.” With every goddamned miserable jilted cell in his body, he wished she’d delivered her little “I’m grateful” speech over the phone. “You came to apologize. I get it. But just remember that everything I put you through, everything I tossed your way, you took it in stride. Coward? Screw that. You’re one of the strongest women I know. And you did put yourself out there for me. I knew damned well you didn’t want to get involved but still I had to push—”
“Thank God you did.”
“What?”
Allison shook her head. She looked a little shell-shocked. Meanwhile, he wasn’t sure what the hell to feel. “I didn’t come just to apologize. I came to explain. You were right about my mother. I have been enabling her. The last time I saw her she made it clear she’s not interested in rehab. She was, however, very interested in this bracelet. What it’s worth, I mean.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I paid off her loan. I told her I would. I had to do that, for me.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“But I do. Because—” Her beautiful eyes went wide. “I just realized how this is going to sound.” She bit her lip, then pushed out the words in a rush. “Okay, here goes. I don’t have a place to live. I rented out my condo, and the renters are planning to buy it. They put down a deposit. That’s how I paid off Sammy.”
Joe drew in a breath, held it, let it go in a long, gratified exhale. Things were looking up. Slowly he worked his way around to her side of the counter. “How do you think that sounds?”
“Suspicious. Convenient.”
“I vote for intriguing.”
She tapped the stack of cards on the countertop. The closer he got, the faster she tapped. “And you were right about something else. Castle Creek. I have fallen in love with it. The people, the pace, the view. Even the quiet.” Tap, tap, tap.
He kept his smile inward and held out a hand. She flushed, and dropped the cards into his outstretched palm. He set the stack aside, then pulled off his glasses and rested them on the counter. Interesting, that little hitch in her breathing. He moved in, backing her up against the wall.
“If you tell me you’re here to reserve a room, I might have to excuse myself and go hammer something.”
“I don’t belong in D.C.” Her breathing had quickened. “I belong here.”
Two inches closer and he’d be able to feel the rise and fall of her breasts. He closed the gap, felt the rhythmic puff of breath against his neck, her nipples poking into his chest. Every muscle went taut.
“Still not what I need to hear,” he murmured. He groped for her hand, pressed his lips to her wrist. Beneath his mouth her pulse stumbled. “Where do you belong?”
“Here.” She swallowed audibly. “With you.”
With his free hand he coaxed her chin up. “And?”
She tangled her fingers in his T-shirt. “I love you, Joe. I love you so much.”
An overwhelming surge of elation tempted him to snatch her up and swing her around in a circle, like he had Nat. But he needed to hear it again. “Want to run that by me again?”
“I love you.” She pushed up onto her toes and kissed him sweetly. He slipped his arms around her and pulled her in tight.
“You couldn’t have just said that, first thing?”
“I had a plan.”