Love Burns

by Babette James

  Oh, not this lecture now. She poked toast at the cold eggs. “I have been giving serious consideration to my future. I had—have plans. Uncle Jake and I talked extensively over the past year. We made plans.” The ache in her throat tightened. All their hopes and plans…ashes now. “I never thought I’d lose him so soon, but he knew, didn’t he?”

  Daddy nodded, his eyes glimmering, but he mastered himself. “Yes, he discussed his health with me. He hoped he had more time.”

  “He was always so cheery, so busy, I talked myself into believing him, that he wasn’t so bad. I should have acknowledged the symptoms.” She cleared her tight throat. “I want to keep this place. I want to make Benedetti’s my future. That’s what Uncle Jake wanted, too. I know I can make a success of the bar. Yes, the fire is a huge setback, but we can pull through and get the place on its feet again.” Crazy brave words, considering she didn’t know if she had a building left.

  “We. You’re including Dave Knight as part of this future?”

  “Yes. I love him.” There, the truth out loud.

  Daddy scowled. “You barely know him. How much of a future can a part-time bartender give you? I don’t want him hooking onto your soft heart and taking advantage of you—”

  “Stop, Daddy! I don’t know how much Uncle Jake told you about Dave, and I haven’t said anything to you about him or what he means to me, and that’s my fault. Get to know him before you start judging. Do you know how well-trained you have to be to do the job he did, how strong, how brave? How much sheer guts his job must take and how hard he worked? Yes, he worked with his hands, his body. He saved lives. He saved homes. He took care of the land. Isn’t that valuable? Can’t that be as important as making a killing on Wall Street or directing a company with half a dozen degrees decorating the wall? Uncle Jake took the time to get to know Dave. He liked and respected Dave. Give Dave the same chance Uncle Jake did.”

  Daddy shook his head. “You’re not thinking clearly, Olivia. He’s not the man for you.”

  He wasn’t ready to listen. Time to drop the subject, for now. They had the more practical and immediate issue of the impending deluge of family and friends and Uncle Jake’s funeral.

  “The phone number for the funeral home is there on the counter for you, Daddy.”

  “Thanks, honey. I spoke with them yesterday and have an appointment for this morning. Mama and I’ll make sure Jake’s wishes are carried out.”

  “I know you will, Daddy.” She sighed and leaned back in her chair. What about Uncle Jake’s wishes for the bar? “That leaves me the insurance people, salvaging what we can…”

  She’d been too cowardly to peek outside and face what daylight revealed. She had to stay on top of everything. If only she could trust Daddy not to work behind her back against her efforts.

  “I hope you’ll let me help, Livie,” Dave said from the kitchen doorway.

  Olivia stiffened. Oh, no—Had he overheard Daddy and her discussing him? Her declaration of love?

  “Thanks for letting me sleep, sweetheart. And for the coffee.” He joined her with a warm smile, and his simple, but possessive kiss gave her sad heart a joyous beat. He shared that same warm smile with her parents, revealing no clue as to whether he’d overheard their conversation. “Good morning, Mrs. Benedetti. Mr. Benedetti.”

  ****

  Oh, this was going to be fun. Not.

  Dave kept his smile easy, but he’d overheard enough of the conversation between Livie and her dad that the meaning in Paul’s icy gaze rang loud and clear.

  But he’d also heard Livie’s staunch “I love him,” and that made all the difference in the world.

  Glancing between her scowling husband and tense daughter, Louise sighed delicately and closed her hand over Paul’s shoulder. “Hello, Dave. Please, call me Louise. How do you like your eggs?”

  After an uncomfortable breakfast where Paul continued pelting Livie with opinions, Paul and Louise headed off to the funeral home.

  Livie groaned after the door closed behind her parents. “Heaven have mercy.”

  Dave rubbed a hand over her tight shoulders. So much for hoping her parents’ presence would be a help.

  “Do you want to take a walk and see how things stand?” Livie hadn’t stepped outside once to see what remained of the bar, but he understood. He’d grabbed a look from a second floor window and the view was grim. He held little hope for salvaging their belongings.

  “Later.” She sighed. “I have calls to make and need to get online with Daddy’s laptop. Yet another item to add to the shopping list—a new computer.”

  He hated that he could do nothing to help but sit close and refill her coffee. She found the bar’s records and files safely backed up, and she was able to cancel deliveries.

  A lull came in the phone calls. Livie set the laptop aside on the coffee table and curled beside him on the couch. “I’m exhausted.”

  “Why don’t you take a nap upstairs?” He muted both phones.

  “Just sitting here with you feels good. I’ll be fine.”

  “Scootch a bit and stretch out. Take five.” He kicked his legs onto the couch, shifting to lie back and pillow her close and comfortable on his chest. The stereo remote was handy so he flicked through the CD selection and found one of Jake’s soft elevator music albums. Sweet, sentimental strings filled the quiet.

  Livie snuggled closer. “Nice.”

  He stroked her head, and she settled more against him. Soon, tiny snores purred against his chest.

  About an hour later, her parents returned from their errands, laden with grocery sacks. At seeing Livie snuggled tight as a blanket against him, Louise touched a finger to her lips, and tiptoed off to the kitchen. Paul lanced an enigmatic stare, his eyes flicking to Livie and back to lock eyes with Dave, and then followed his wife.

  Daddy was not happy. Great.

  The quiet couldn’t last, of course. A distant phone ringing from the guest room and Paul’s muffled answer stirred Livie from sleep. She blinked awake, all soft and kissable. So he kissed her, savoring her sweet sigh.

  “I hear Daddy. Have they been back long? How did it go at the funeral home?” Tension flooded her body and grief filled her eyes.

  “Not long and I don’t know. They saw you sleeping and let you rest.” He combed his fingers through her hair.

  “Okay, I’ll let them know I’m awake.”

  He reluctantly let her up.

  Louise’s operating procedure for crisis and stress was food and drink. She made them sit at the table with full wine glasses while she serenely fussed with lunch. Dave was fascinated to see many of Livie’s mannerisms in her mother.

  Paul relayed the funeral plans and the date for the wake and funeral. Jake’s heart, not the fire, had caused his death. They couldn’t have saved him, even if they’d been right at his side. Dave caught Livie’s relieved shudder, and his own guilt load lightened. He closed his hand on hers.

  By mid-afternoon, the family invasion was in full swing. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and some he wasn’t sure who the hell they were.

  Being introduced as Livie’s friend rubbed him the hell of the wrong way, but what were his options? I’m the guy who’s sleeping with Livie? I’m the guy who didn’t save Jake?

  Livie’s mom and two aunts swept her away for the necessary clothes shopping, leaving him alone with the rest, who swarmed the house, talking, cooking, eating, and drinking.

  Paul drained his coffee, set his cup aside, and locked a decided gaze on Dave. “Come take a walk with me.”

  Dave grabbed his cane, in no mood for the talk looming, but he could use some space from the crowd. “Sure.” Yesterday’s sort-of running had been sheer adrenaline and luck, leaving his ruined leg shaky, stiff, and irritable today. He needed to stop hanging onto wishing. He wasn’t built for running anymore.

  So? Stop whining. Improvise and find something new.

  Paul and he walked in silence along the driveway. Closed hurricane shutters presented a false sense o
f normalcy until you noticed the plywood helping secure the building and the scorching and holes scarring the siding and roof. They walked on, past the shuttered kitchen and apartment doors, and down to the boardwalk where they could glimpse the gutted interior through the charred remains of the porch. Bile rose in his tight throat. Between the fire, the water, and the damage necessary to extinguish the fire, Jake’s place was a fucking ruin.

  Hot anger twisted and flared, and the ash-covered foundation and lonely fireplaces of his childhood home rammed into his mind. Not again. Not again. He wanted to scream, punch something.

  Paul shifted beside him and cleared his throat. “You went into that fire after him and then again.”

  “I did what I needed to do.” His stomach turned. Doubts consumed him despite the report on the cause of Jake’s death. If only they’d stayed with Jake instead of heading to the pool. What if he’d started CPR first? If only he’d run faster…

  No, he’d followed some rules right. Up to a point. Then he’d done the crazy thing. The emotional, too-often deadly, don’t-ever-fucking-do-that thing. That fire extinguisher had been as useful as pissing on a bonfire. He’d never done anything so asinine.

  Truth? He’d done what he’d always promised himself he’d never do and attached himself to a place. To a home.

  “When are you returning home to California?” Paul’s cool voice left no doubt he preferred Dave’s departure sooner rather than later. “I imagine you’re eager to return to work.”

  No. California was no longer his home.

  “No. I’m retired from firefighting.” They both glanced at his cane. “I’m here for as long as Livie needs me. I’m a musician now, and a bartender, and even dishwasher, if that’s what Livie needs me to do.”

  Dave stared Paul Benedetti in those chill brown eyes that in his daughter were gentle warm beauty. “I may only have one degree to my name, never did anything with it, and probably never will, but I was damned good at my job. While the career has changed, that part never will. I do my job.”

  Paul folded his arms, finger tapping at his elbow as he stared into the burned wreckage. “I’ve been giving this place thought and Olivia’s options.”

  Dave bristled. What to do was Livie’s choice. No one else’s. If she wanted to rebuild and reopen, she should. However, he kept his mouth shut on that and a few other opinions, taking into consideration the man had just lost his brother.

  “I raised my daughter to be more than a barmaid. This place was Jake’s dream, not hers. She needs to come home with us.”

  Dave stood his ground. Paul was a clueless prick. “Livie needs to do what she wants to do. This is one of her dreams. You raised an intelligent, talented businesswoman who loves what she’s doing here. Jake supported her dreams. Why can’t you?”

  Paul stiffened, his eyes flat and calculating. “Jake mentioned your job search has been meeting dead ends. I can ensure you a new job back west, and the funds to resettle very comfortably. I am prepared to make an extremely generous offer.”

  Dave drew a deliberating breath and unfisted his hands. Decking Livie’s seventy-nine-year-old dad wasn’t an option. “I’m going to ignore what you just said. You can’t buy me off or threaten me like you did R.J. I don’t need your money. I don’t want your money. I love Livie.”

  Saying that felt good.

  Paul’s tight lips whitened, and banked fury filled his eyes. “She’s not for you. If you love her so much, do the right thing and set her free to have the future she deserves.” He turned sharply and walked away.

  Dave let his shoulders sag with a heavy rush of breath and headed to the bench on the dock. Well, shit. Would it be too much to ask that Paul be as easy to get along with as his brother?

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. Aw, hell, Jake. His throat clenched, and he shut his eyes tight against the headache’s viselike bite.

  By the time Livie returned from her shopping with bags upon bags of clothes and the new laptop, his headache was cracking.

  She raised a wan smile. “We also picked things up for you.” She held up two large bags.

  His chest tightened, and his headache blazed as an ancient flashback slammed. “I could have taken care of it myself!” he snapped.

  Livie recoiled like a kicked puppy. The same startled hurt filled her mom’s face.

  Shit. He’d been here before. His heart twisted, and he clenched his jaw against that angry, helpless eleven-year-old Davie.

  After the fire, Mom and Gram had come back from the mall with piles of bags and boxes, like a Christmas shopping spree gone insane. He’d had clothes again, even the cool pair of sneakers he’d been begging for, but Mom’s and Gram’s eyes had been red and puffy, and it was so unlike Christmas he’d hated those once-prized shoes every time he’d worn them.

  You just keep screwing up, don’t you? Grow up. You’re not that pissed-off kid anymore.

  Dave dragged in a breath. “Sorry, didn’t mean to snap. Got a miserable headache. I appreciate you saving me from the shopping.”

  He kissed her cheek and dutifully carted the bags upstairs. He popped the tags off a button-down shirt, jeans, and opened the packages of briefs and socks. Thanks to Livie’s eye for detail, the clothing and shoes fit. The charcoal sport jacket was snugger in the shoulders than he liked, but that happened with any tailored item bought straight off the rack.

  He emerged from the room to hear feminine murmurs from the third bedroom and the shutting of drawers. Figured they’d move her into a separate room.

  “No, Mama, it doesn’t matter.” Weariness filled Livie’s voice. “Whatever you think.”

  Downstairs he found the living room unexpectedly vacant. Needing the music, he sat at the piano, and opened the lid. He idly picked out notes, undecided what he meant to play. Chords drifted together, and he segued into Debussy’s “Clair de Lune,” letting the classic piece fill him and his feelings pour into the variations, the off-tune keys fitting the strained, melancholy day.

  As long as she needed him…

  Fine boast, but, honestly, with her family surrounding her, how much would she actually need him?

  Chapter Twenty

  Olivia tossed and turned in Victor’s former bedroom, kicking herself for being too cowardly to sneak next door into the refuge of Dave’s arms. The viewings at the funeral home yesterday had been hard enough after the longest week of her life. Today…She had to get through today and hold herself together. She wanted the funeral over and done and her family out of her hair.

  Tomorrow.

  She sighed and slipped from bed. After quietly dressing and washing up, she escaped outside for a walk. With Aunt Julia and Uncle Denton sleeping on the living room sofa bed, she couldn’t even make coffee. The sunrise barely lit the horizon under a gray overcast. Eyes pinned to the ground, she walked to the end of the dock, skipping the bench to sit on the edge looking east, unable to face the charred ruins.

  Oh, Uncle Jake…She tugged her light sweater against the cool, damp morning. So much lost, so much. Insurance could replace only so much. Nonna’s china cabinet and coffee cups, Kay’s painting, Dave’s guitar, all gone forever. She shook with the contrary needs to curl into a ball and hide from everything and scream her anger.

  Maybe Daddy was right. Maybe she should just let go. The building might as well have burned to the ground. Even silly old Peppino was gone, shattered into unrepairable chunks. She needed to hear from the insurance company and Uncle Jake’s attorney and from Dixon, but she couldn’t imagine any recourse remained but to rebuild from bare ground or find a new location. She needed estimates, plans. She needed time to think without Daddy breathing down her neck. They’d be closed for Lord knows how long. She couldn’t ask her employees to hang tough and wait. They needed an income. Their customers would move on. So many decisions. She’d be starting over at zero. Her breath and pulse raced, gathering speed with her panic. How could she do this, how—

  Uneven footsteps on the dock boards startled her.


  Dave levered himself down to sit beside her. “Couldn’t sleep?”

  “No,” she gasped.

  He tugged her close. “Hey, hey, what going on?”

  She sagged into his embrace and fought to slow her breathing. “I’m so tired and today is…going to be hard. I’m sorry about Daddy…all my family. Daddy’s been so rude to you.” Mama was friendly to Dave, but Daddy was showing no signs of warming. Did Daddy blame Dave for Uncle Jake’s death?

  Dave pressed a kiss to her hair. “Shh. He’s grieving. I can deal.” His fingers tightened and gentled. He chuckled. “Anyway, your family’s not so bad. Reminds me of Nate’s and Lloyd’s families when my parents passed. People up my ass everywhere.”

  “I love them, but they’re making me crazy.” A fresh stab of panic hit. Dave had lost his parents. She would too…

  “Exactly. Been there. Done that. But, trust me, having them helps.”

  They sat quietly, watching the first bright thread of sun slice above the horizon and clear blue seep through the overcast. Her crazed nerves eased.

  “Want some coffee?”

  “Desperately, but I can’t face any of them yet.”

  “I’ve got my keys and wallet. We’ll go on down the road.”

  They found a pancake house on Highway 1 and ordered breakfast along with their coffee.

  “This is the first time we’ve gone out together.” He took a long sip of coffee, and flicked his amber gaze to her, humor sharpening his soft smile. “Guess we can say we’re dating now?”

  His playful remark lifted her heart and she smiled. Strange, but true. “I guess we can.”

  He clasped her hand. “Everything’s going to work out.”

  “Daddy’s not like this. Rude. He’s more…” She shrugged.

  Dave nodded and tightened his grip. “Like I said, he’s grieving. He’s not himself. More, he’s your dad, and he’s worried for you. He just wants the best for you.”