Hard Break (Deadlines & Diamonds, #5) (16 page)

“Here the phone.” Penelope brandished the Samsung like a sword.

Kayla jolted out of his hold. They both looked at Penelope, gauging her reaction to their hug. But no reaction came, either way. She simply tossed her mom the phone and ran out of the room, chanting, “Pizza. Pizza.
Pizza.”

Kay held
up her phone. “I guess I’ll call and order pizza.”

“Good idea.” Damn the awkwardness between them. He wanted to grab her, kiss her and drive any doubt from her head
, one thrust at a time. Any reservations he’d had about how she felt or didn’t feel were removed the moment she’d gotten so pissy over Denali. Whether or not Kayla admitted it, she felt something
for him. Ian could work with something.

He could most definitely work with
something.

Heaven help them both
.

Eighteen

“H
i, Ian.” Chase stepped off the bus.

“Hi
, Ian.” Sadie jumped from the step to the curb, waving her arm like a windmill in a hurricane.

“Hi…
guys.” Ian guessed he shouldn’t be surprised two Black children showed up on the bus. He waved a goodbye at the bus driver then ushered Chase
and
Sadie inside.

The two kids looked at each other, conspiracy passing between them
, along with cheesy ass grins. They followed him into the kitchen where he laid out veggies and juice.

“How was your day?” Ian asked.

“My day was pretty good.” Chase plopped down on a stool at the bar. “We had a substitute. She wasn’t mean or anything.”

“What about you
, Sadie?”

“Um, it was good, I guess.” She dropped her backpack before climbing up on the other stool. “How was your day?”

“Good. Busy.” He leaned back against the counter across from them and watched the guilt eat her alive.

She ate quietly while Chase devoured his carrots and moved onto the celery. She
picked up a carrot, sat it down, took a sip of her juice, swallowed and sighed. “I’m not supposed to be here, Ian.”

“I know.”

Her eyes went wide. “You do?”

“Of course I do. You were supposed to ride the bus to the
Smiling Sun, and your mom was going to pick you and Pene up from there.”

Sadie nodded, guilt turning her comple
xion pasty. “What do we do?”

Ian walked over to the fridge, pulled out a bottle of water and cracked the lid. After taking a sw
ig, he looked at the two kids. “Chase, did you know your sister wasn’t supposed to come home with you?”

For the first time since stepping off the bus, the male Black
child pulled a criminal before the judge look. He picked at his celery, tugging the stringy pieces off. Slight as it was, Ian caught the nod.

“And what do you two think would happen when your mom shows up and you’re not there?”

“I’m not supposed to be there,” Chase defended.

Ian raised a brow. The kid dropped his head.
Sadie slid off her stool and walked around the counter until she stood in front of Ian. She looked up. The distance seemed like freakin’ forever as Ian stared down at her. He sank down to his haunches when tears shimmered in her eyes.

“What’s up?”

A big fat tear tracked over her cheek. “I didn’t mean to.” She swallowed a sob. “Mom will be worried.”

“So what should we do?” Ian
wanted to comfort her, but he needed to stay stoic.

She pursed her lips, quirked them at one sid
e. “I guess you’ll have to take me there.”

“I have a better idea.” He took his phone out of his pocket and called up Kayla’s information. He hit
send
and waited, Sadie’s eyes the size of dinner plates.

“
Did Chase make it home?” came the greeting.

“Yeah. We’re all safe.”

Her relieved breath rushed through the phone. “Oh, good.”

“So is Sadie.”

“What?” she asked in a slight shriek.

“Apparently she
told the school she was to stay with Chase. He didn’t contradict the story.” Ian lifted a shoulder, not that Kayla could see the shrug. “And there ya go.”

Kay sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Ian chuckled. “Don’t be. How about I head over and grab Penelope. We’ll all hang out until you get home.”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know because you don’t want to inconvenience me, which it won’t, or you don’t know because of another reason?” He pointed at Chase then the sink, reminding the boy to put his plate away.

“Just taking the kids is favor enough. You shouldn’t have to—”

“That’s what I thought. We’ll see you about six-thirty.
All
of us.” He hit
end
before she could protest, and ignored her quick redial. He grinned at the kids. “Come on, guys, let’s go get your sister.”

As he pulled up in front of
Smiling Sun, nightmares of the last time he’d picked up the kids flashed through his thoughts. He certainly didn’t feel like a confrontation, especially with the kids in hearing distance.

Chase hustled up the sidewalk, while Sadie skipped at the end of Ian’s arm.
The trio entered the glass double doors and Chase led the way into the front office.

An elderly woman with reading glasses perched on the end of her nose looked up from her computer.
“Can I help you?

“Yeah, we’re here for Penelope Black.”

She glanced from Chase to Sadie back to Ian. “And you are?”

Not again
.

“He’s Ian,” Sadie chirped. “He’s our friend.”

“And our neighbor,” Chase added.

“And sometimes he’s babysits us.” Sadie flashed a giant smile.

The older woman answered Sadie’s grin with one of her own then looked at Ian, all happy and cheerful. “Well, Ian, friend, neighbor and sometimes babysitter, do you know if you’re on the emergency contact list?”

“I should be.” He tightened his hold on Sadie’s hand when she jerked toward the door. “I am everywhere else.”

She went to a file cabinet and opened one of the drawers. Her fingers walked over a whole lot of manila before moving back toward the front and pulling one out. She cracked it open, reading through those glasses of hers. “Ian McCallister?”

“Yep. That’s me.”

She snapped the file closed, put it back in the drawer and returned to the counter. “Do you have some ID?”

He fished the plastic card out of his wallet and handed it over.

Her eyes ping-ponged between the license and his face twice before she returned the ID. “Sorry about the interrogation. You just can’t be too careful these days.”

“I understand.”
And he did. Nobody could be too careful these days. He worked in news, for hell’s sake. He knew all about perverts, pedophiles and pricks. After all, that’s what made people turn on their televisions at six o’clock.

The secretary picked up the phone and punched in a couple numbers. “Yes, can you please bring Penelope Black to the front office? Home for the day. Thank you.” She placed the handset back into receiver as she said, “She’s on her way
.”

“Thanks.”

Sadie grabbed hold of his hand and dragged him back out into the hall. “Wanna see the picture I drew?”

He knew they drew pictures and hung them
on bulletin boards at school. Why wouldn’t their daycare do the same? Although the request had
thrown him for a second. “Sure thing. Lead the way.”

Thirty feet down the huge hallway was a giant board. The thing started at the baseboards and stopped about Ian’s shoulders. It was covered
with drawings and paintings and you-name-it. Sadie stretched up on her tiptoes, her fingers brushing the edge of a bright orange paper.

“Here, let me help you.” Chase stepped
in to lift the paper in question. Under it was a lighter orange paper the size and shape of a shoehorn with two stick figures drawn in purple crayon.

“See, that’s me.” She pointed to the one with longer hair. “And that’s Dad.” Her finger hovered above the taller, rounder one.

“You know, I was going to guess that.” He leaned in, making an exaggerated examination of the wide lines. “You are a very talented artist.”

“Thanks.” She hugged his leg. “I’ll draw one of us for
you to hang on your fridge.”

He put an arm around her shoulders, holding her to him. “I would like that very much.”

“Ian!” Penelope’s squeal had them whirling around to see the little girl running for all she was worth down the corridor. Her pink and black backpack bounced with each clunky step. “Hey, guys.” She came to a stop, her breaths puffing from her lungs. “Whatcha doin’ here?”

“We decided to go for ice cream.” Ian grinned when Penelope frowned. “And we didn’t want to leave you out.”
She flashed into all smiles and twinkling eyes. “So here we are.” 

She let out a
whoop and jumped, both hands fisted above her head. Obviously her three-year-old mind hadn’t compensated for the extra poundage of Hello Kitty on her back and she stumbled. Her knees buckled, dropping her to the floor. She landed in a giggling heap.

“I love ice c’
eam,” she informed them, hopping to her feet, brushing tiny hands over the small curve of her bottom. She then took Ian’s hand, as though he were the child. “Come on. Let’s go.” She headed in the direction of the office. “You check me out.”

Sadie’s snort conveyed her annoyance. Chase, on the other hand, offered the patient clarification. “We already did, Pene. That’s how they knew to bring you to the front.”

She bit her lip, her brows creased. She nodded. “Ice c’eam!” She did a little hop. “Let’s go.”

Ian’s laugh bubbled in his g
ut, bursting from his mouth. Dang, he loved these kids. Just as much as he loved their mother.

E
xhaustion plowed into Kayla. Emotionally and physically. Being a single parent played catch up and nearly took her down. Today’s latest episode, with Sadie doing her own damn thing and showing up at Ian’s, made her want to scream. Or cry. Or both.

She tightened her hold on the steering wheel, watching as the light flashed from green to yellow and finally to red.
She eased her foot onto the brake and closed her eyes when the car came to a stop. Her head gently bumped the headrest. Her thoughts tumbled over the ginormous list of things dotting her to-do list. Homework and dinner and baths and storytime and—

A horn behind her jerked her out of her pity-party. She sighed and finished the journey toward home. When she turned the corner onto their street, she drove passed Ian’s dark home and hit the button on the garage door opener. While it trundled up, she formed a plan; bathe th
e kids, homework while she cooked dinner, eat, then stories and bedtime. An hour, ninety minutes at most, before she could crawl into a hot bubble bath with a glass of wine.

She pulled into the garage and put the car in park
, waiting until the door kissed the concrete. Kayla grinned, thinking of Leon’s insistence she make it a habit.

“You can’t be too careful,” he’d told her
a million times.

She’d
always rolled her eyes.

“Kay,” he’d bark to get her attention,
his eyes flashed in warning before turning vulnerable. “If something happened to you…”

More times than not, he’d let it end there. She understood what he’d meant
, but following the script countered with, “I’m not the one who straps on a bullet proof vest to go to work.”

He’d kiss her then, promising against her lips, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The recurring conversation usually ended with a sweet combination of promises of forever via a long, slow session of renewing the connection only making love accomplished.

In the end
, he’d lied. He
had
gone away. And gathering up the pieces of her life nearly killed her. At least she didn’t cry every minute of every day anymore. In fact—she blinked—her heart filled her chest with a heavy throbbing, but her eyes were clear.

She hated the
thought she might be moving on, had moved on. Heaven help her, she’d fallen in love with Ian. Did Leon hate her? She hoped not.

The day Leon died, she vowed to love him forever. She
hadn’t meant to develop feelings for her neighbor, the guy Leon teased her about, the same one she’d been completely oblivious to until—

M
aybe not
completely
oblivious. She had eyes in her head. But she’d never considered Ian more than just the hawt neighbor. She leaned back against the headrest, trying to decipher the exact moment Ian became more.

Flashes of the past crossed her memory; Ian showing up at her door the day Leon died, Ian taking care of the kids, Ian holding her while she cried, Ian hanging Leon’s portrait, Ian laughing with Chase, helping Sadie and hugging Penelope.

She guessed that was what did it, that was the clincher, Ian loved her kids. How could she not fall in love with him?

The overhead light blinked off.

Time to face the battle.

She cracked open her car door and
light pie-wedged through the dark garage. She gathered her purse, stepped out of the car and closed the door. Thank heaven for the tiny flashlight on her keys.

At the door to the house, she paused again. She loved her kids, absolutely adored them, but sometimes she really just wanted a break. The monotony of making dinner and brushing teeth and combing hair and homework and—

It’d been forever—ten months to be exact—since she’d done anything with her friends. She’d completely shut them out of her life. Could she still call them friends? She hoped so.