Blackbird Lake (8 page)

She’d figured if Jake couldn’t sweep away some of the pain Kevin had caused, no one could.

Now, as Emma stirred in Carly’s arms and mumbled something unintelligible, Carly realized how far she’d come. Emma was her world. And Kevin was nothing but a sour-tasting memory.

Even the email she’d received the week before from her college roommate Sydney—an email with a link to a
Boston Herald
article about Kevin’s latest legal troubles—didn’t make her feel anything but relief that she’d found out the truth and broken things off when she did.

Now she gazed down at her beautiful little daughter.

“Time for bed, baby,” she whispered. Emma’s eyelashes had already fluttered closed.

Rising from the rocker, Carly settled Emma in her crib, then swept up a stuffed elephant and a doll from the floor. She tucked them into the toy bin near the changing table, dimmed the lights, and returned to the kitchen.

She set water to boil for tea before settling with her laptop at the kitchen table to shoot a quick email back to Syd.

They exchanged emails almost every week, usually about normal stuff, like what new words Emma was saying, or Syd’s life as she continued to try to pick up the pieces since her husband’s death in Afghanistan two years earlier.

Horrible. What was Kevin thinking?
she typed.
He’s messed up beyond belief. I so dodged a bullet getting out when I did. How are you and Evan celebrating your three-month anniversary of dating?

After she hit send, she deleted the email link to the
Herald
article detailing how Kevin had been charged with felony child endangerment for taking his two older kids out of school under false pretenses and trying to drive them to his parents’ home in upstate New York. Carly had read each word with wide eyes.

Even worse, he’d been pulled over by the police for erratic driving with the kids in the car and had tested for a blood alcohol level of .09 and been charged with an aggravated DUI.

That was when he took a swing at one of the cops.

Kevin’s wife—now his ex-wife—apparently had full custody of the kids and had not given him permission to take the children
anywhere
, much less out of school or out of state. Though out on bail, Kevin was in big trouble with the law. His ex and her new husband were pressing charges.

Sitting back, she shook her head.
I sure know how to pick ’em.

A few years ago, reading anything about Kevin Boyd would have set her teeth on edge and had her pacing, unable to sleep, and furious.

Now she felt zip—except sympathy for his ex and her kids, and a fervent gratitude that she’d found out the truth and escaped when she had.

But as she lifted the whistling teapot from the stove and poured hot water over the peppermint tea in one of Annie’s delicate flowered cups, a small knot tightened in her stomach. Kevin no longer mattered any more than a pebble scattering under the tire of her Jeep.

But she still had a problem.

And it was a biggie.

What were the odds she’d be able to successfully dodge Jake Tanner during his visit to Lonesome Way? Next to impossible, if she didn’t cancel out on attending Zoey’s birthday party.

And
if she and Zoey didn’t pretty much steer clear of town until he was gone…

She took a few slow sips of tea, trying to relax, to remember what calm felt like, when suddenly her cell phone rang.

To her surprise the caller ID showed Karla McDonald’s name.

“Carly, I’m so sorry. I hate to ask on such short notice, but I need a favor. A big one. If you can’t help me, I understand, but—”

Karla’s voice broke. She sounded close to tears.

“What’s wrong, honey? What can I do?” Scared that something had happened to Denny or one of the kids, Carly’s fingers tightened around the phone.

“It’s Denny—and his dad…they’ve been in an accident. They were at a meeting, bidding on a construction job in Livingston, and were on their way home. A car ran a red light and hit them….”

Her voice cracked, and Carly heard a muffled sob.

“Oh, no. Tell me what you need. Are they all right? Where are they?”

“Denny’s okay—at least, he says he is. But he’s shaken up. His dad, though—they think he has a concussion. He’s at Long Valley Hospital in Livingston. I need to go there and be with him. I want to make sure they’re both all right. But the kids are asleep—”

“I’m coming right over,” Carly interrupted. “Let me just grab Emma and I’ll stay as long as you need me. Give me two minutes.”

“Thank you! I can’t thank you enough.”

“No need to thank me. I’ll be right there, honey. Hang on.”

After yanking on a fleece jacket, she tossed what she needed into the diaper bag, then ran to the nursery and eased Emma ever so gently from her crib. She wrapped her daughter in a soft knit throw and headed for the door.

A moment later she had crossed two sets of lawns and was standing on the McDonald porch. Karla’s face glowed almost as pale as her hair in the hall light after she swung open the front door.

“Oh, thank goodness. Thank you for coming. I hope I won’t be home too late. I just don’t know…I don’t know if Denny will be able to leave with me or not, but I have to see if he’s really okay. And to be with him for his dad—”

“Go. It’s all right. Everything here is under control,” Carly said soothingly, stepping inside. “Call when you can and let me know how Denny and his dad are doing. Okay?”

Karla nodded, her thin fair hair swinging forward with the movement. Her eyes were anxious as she hugged Carly and planted a light kiss on the sleeping Emma’s cheek. Only a few years before, Karla had come to Lonesome Way as a single mother, too. She’d first worked as a waitress at the Double Cross Bar and Grill, and then had been hired by Sophie at A Bun in the Oven. Denny McDonald had met her for the first time when he and his father were renovating the former Roy’s Diner, where Sophie was opening her new bakery.

Denny had been forty-five at the time, shy, never married.
But all that had changed after he laid eyes on Karla and her then three-year-old son, Austin.

“You’re the best friend ever, you know that, don’t you?” Karla murmured gratefully; then, after one more quick, frazzled smile, she was gone, racing toward her car.

Carly glanced around the neat house with its olive sofa and butterscotch throw pillows, the wide green and tan cushioned armchairs, and a wicker toy chest just like Emma’s pushed against one of the living room walls. She crossed to the sofa and settled Emma on the cushions, then stripped off her own jacket and proceeded to make a safe little bed for Emma.

Dragging the upholstered cinnamon-colored ottoman over from the deep armchair, she pushed it flush with the sofa and plopped a thick sofa cushion on top of it, so that if Emma rolled over she’d roll into the cushions and the ottoman, not onto the floor. Arranging the throw across Emma’s shoulders, she listened to the sound of her daughter’s soft breathing, then settled down herself at the other end of the sofa.

Outwardly she was calm, but her brain was spinning. She wondered how badly Sam McDonald was hurt, and if Denny and Karla would need to stay with him at the hospital all night. She could try to sleep sitting up on the sofa eventually, but she didn’t really want to take her eyes off Emma since she wasn’t in a crib. Of course later, if she got sleepy, she could always make a cozy bed for Emma on the floor, with cushions and blankets….

She wished she’d brought a book. Something to take her mind off the accident and Denny and Sam. And to take her mind off Jake Tanner being in town. She didn’t want to think about that. About having to call Mia and tell her she and Emma wouldn’t be able to make it to Zoey’s birthday party.

What excuse could she give? What could she possibly say? And was she really going to stay home for the rest of the week, hiding in her house, rather than risk running into Jake somewhere in town?

Carly straightened her spine.
You’re not a coward,
she told herself.
You’re a strong, smart woman.
Not that terrified
little girl who’d hidden all the time, dodging Phil and his roughhousing friends, crawling under the bed when Uncle Nolan got drunk after lunch and started throwing furniture at the walls, and television sets down the stairs.

When she heard a soft tap on the front door, she started, then checked her watch. It was almost nine o’clock—who on earth would be stopping by at this hour?

Still…this was Lonesome Way. Maybe someone—another neighbor—had heard about the accident and wanted to check on Karla….

Surging to her feet, she glanced over, reassured herself that Emma was still sleeping soundly. Even when the second knock came, a little louder than the first, the little girl didn’t stir.

I hope Austin and Ashley stay asleep, too.
Her steps quickened as she strode to the door. She guessed it would be Willa Martin on the porch. The rather crotchety older lady lived two doors down from Karla and Denny in the opposite direction. Willa talked loud and listened harder, always wanting to be the first one to know everything that went on in the neighborhood—she’d probably seen that Denny’s truck wasn’t in the driveway when Karla took off, and had wondered who was home with the kids.

She opened the door, expecting to see Willa’s inquisitive, wrinkly face—and froze.

It wasn’t Willa Martin standing on Karla’s front porch.

Oh, not by a long shot. It was Jake Tanner, the rodeo champion baby daddy himself.

For one crazy moment Carly wished desperately she’d drifted into sleep on the sofa and this was just some unnerving dream jolting through her brain. It wasn’t really happening. No, she was sleeping…waiting for Karla and Denny to come home with Sam….

Then she felt the chill of the night air on her skin, saw the sliver of cool moon glinting in a pure black sky burning with stars. She heard the faint hoot of an owl in the distance and sensed the almost tangible warmth and strength of the man standing two feet in front of her on Karla and Denny’s front porch.

This was no dream.

This was her nightmare.

She was five foot seven but she had to look up—way up—to meet Jake Tanner’s eyes. Eyes such a vivid shade of midnight blue a woman could easily get lost in them.

She felt her stomach tighten as surprise and hearty male appreciation flashed instantly back at her from their gleaming depths.

He looked every bit as amazing as she remembered from
that one incomparable night, yet even in that first instant, she saw subtle differences. He actually looked even handsomer than the cocky, red-hot cowboy she remembered—if that was possible. A little older, but in a good way, even more rugged, and somehow even tougher than he’d looked that night in Houston.

He wasn’t a man other men would want to tangle with. But he was a man women would always notice instantly. Tall and rough and muscular, a faint scar on his tanned left cheek. Dark, sexy as hell three-day stubble on his jaw.

But it was his eyes that held her spellbound just as they had that night she’d spent with him in Houston. They were an unflinching cobalt blue, locked on her now like lasers. She remembered the way they’d warmed when he’d slowly kissed her and slid her out of her clothes in that hotel room, and the way he’d grinned as she’d torn through the buttons on his shirt, nearly ripping it from his chest….

She remembered all that, along with the laughter and need and heat that had raced through them both and left them spent in each other’s arms by dawn. But she couldn’t seem to remember how to talk.

She just gaped at him.

“I’m looking for Denny McDonald. Or Karla. They around?” His voice was deep, polite, but puzzled. “I have an appointment with Den—” Suddenly his gaze changed, sharpened. Then a smile broke across his face.

“Hey, I
know
you.” As his eyes warmed, a small treacherous spark bloomed inside her.

“Houston, right? A few years back…you’re—Carly. Carly…uh…something.” A slow, adorably sheepish grin touched his lips, a grin that was at once warm and pleased and held a hint of apology.

The whole effect would make any woman’s knees melt, she reflected in dismay, even as he shrugged broad shoulders encased in a flannel shirt. “I don’t remember your last name, I’m sorry to admit, but I
do
remember you. And that night.”

Oh, yeah, well, you’re not the only one,
Carly thought.
That was me, all right.
The good-girl Carly who never leaped before she looked—until that one night….

A single thought flew through her mind. She had to stop gaping at him and get rid of him. Fast. She had to close this door. Emma was sleeping only a dozen feet away…oh, God…

“Look,” she said in her chilliest tone, hoping it would cool him off fast. She was feeling hot enough for both of them. “It’s Carly McKinnon, and I remember you, too, but I can’t talk right now. You’ll have to come back to see the McDonalds. I’m babysitting their kids. There was an emergency—an accident—”

“What kind of accident?” The grin faded, replaced by a look of concern. “Are Karla and Denny all right?”

“Denny’s dad may have a concussion. Sorry, that’s all I know and I really need to go check on the kids. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”