Out of Turn (5 page)

These were words I’d wanted to hear for months, and a part of me was stunned at what he was saying, not ever having really expected it of him. But the other part of me, the part still encased in ice, was left… unmoved.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I finally replied with a small shrug. “You’re right—I can’t forgive you. Not right now. You said I’d betrayed you, when really it was
you
who betrayed
me
. You didn’t believe in me, in us.”

Blane was absolutely still as I spoke, his arms crossed tight over his chest, his gaze intently focused on mine, and I had the passing thought that maybe I wasn’t the only one barely holding myself together.

“Why are we having this conversation now?” I asked. “Because of Gage? Were you going to say these things to me without that threat?”

“I just thought… maybe… we could be friends,” he said.

I gaped at him in disbelief. “You’re not serious.” I laughed, and the sound was slightly hysterical even to my own ears.

Blane moved until he stood right in front of me and my laughter died a quick death. He reached for a lock of my damp hair, and this time I didn’t flinch.

“I drive by, all the time,” he said, his voice hardly above a whisper. “Just to see if you’re home. I’ve called so many times, only to hang up. I see you when I close my eyes at night. I smell your perfume at work and turn around, every time praying it’s you… but it never is.”

I studied his eyes and couldn’t deny that I dearly wanted to lean forward, let Blane wrap his arms around me, and forget the past three months had ever happened.

I’d be an utter fool to do that.

I cleared my throat. “That sounds real sweet,” I said quietly. “But we’re over, Blane. You about killed me, twice, and I’m not so stupid as to
ever
trust you again.”

His expression turned blank and he gave a curt nod. “I see. Then why all the booze, Kat?”

I stiffened at the nickname. He’d given up nickname privileges. “What are you talking about?”

“You never used to drink so much, at least not without cause. Why is there more vodka in your freezer than food? Why is it every time you’re at work, there’s a drink nearby?”

The blood left my face in a rush. “Were you spying on me?” It was hard to wrap my head around that.

“I’ve been around,” he said evasively. “But I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

“You’ve talked to other people about me?” Now the blood came rushing back, as did my anger. “You’ve sat around discussing me like I’m some sort of… of… pity case?” I tried to push past him, needing some space, but he grabbed me, his hands closing on my arm.

“Not other people,” he said. “Clarice. She’s worried about you. I am, too.”

“I’m fine,” I gritted out. “Get over yourself, Blane. I drink more now because it’s my choice. It has nothing to do with you.” That wasn’t precisely true, but the truth didn’t matter. I was humiliated that Clarice would talk to Blane about me. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

“I’m not going away, Kat, whether you want me to or not. I’m not going to let Gage send someone to hurt you. And I’m not going to let you hurt yourself, either.”

My pride took a beating at that last part and I struggled not to let it show. “Fabulous. Get out.”

Blane’s jaw was clenched tight, our gazes locked together, but he released me and stepped away. I didn’t breathe properly until the door had shut behind him, then I sagged against the wall, letting it hold me up.

My instinct was to go next door and talk to Alisha, my friend and neighbor, but I knew she was out of the town for the weekend with her boyfriend, Lewis. My next thought was to reach for the vodka inside my freezer, but Blane’s words stilled my hand. Yes, I’d been drinking more lately, but if he hadn’t shown up out of the blue, I wouldn’t have drunk as much as I had last night. So really, it was his fault.

I sighed, pushing a hand through my damp hair. I really, really hated to admit that Blane had a point about anything, but he probably did about the alcohol. I’d been using it too much as a crutch these past few months. Apparently, so much so that Clarice had felt the need to tell Blane.

Shame and humiliation washed over me. Clarice and I were going to have a talk. She’d broken my trust, and no matter how well intentioned, that didn’t sit well with me.

And Blane had been spying on me in the bar? I remembered last night, when I’d felt as though someone was watching me. Had that been him? How long had he been outside, watching? Long enough to see me get propositioned for a threesome by those guys?

As if that event in itself hadn’t made me feel sleazy, suspecting Blane had seen the whole thing sealed the deal.

I pushed the thought aside. I couldn’t dwell on it or I’d wallow in self-pitying misery all day. I’d never kidded myself that Blane and I were of the same class, but I’d always had my dignity. Between Clarice insinuating to Blane that I was a drunken mess without him and the guys last night treating me like an easy hookup, my dignity lay in tatters at my feet.

I opened the refrigerator and peered inside. My stomach was tender, but I had to eat something. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to choose from. A nearly empty loaf of bread, the ends of which were moldy. A six-pack of beer with two bottles missing. A head of lettuce, its leaves limp and brown. Ketchup. Mayo. A half-empty bottle of soy sauce. Looked like a trip to the grocery store was in order.

I needed to check my tips from last night. My bank account was pretty low. Best to see what I’d made so I’d know how much I could spend at the store.

I’d dumped the crumpled pile of money on the table by my couch, not caring much at the time about what I’d made. The pile was now neatly stacked, but not very tall. I remembered the fifty bucks I’d made off the college guys. Bad propositions aside, that would certainly come in handy.

I sat cross-legged on the couch as I counted the money, being sure to sit on the thin blanket I’d spread over the cushions. Sweaty skin and leather did not mix.

When I came to the bottom of the handful of ones plus the fifty, I paused. A hundred-dollar bill was last in the stack. I frowned. I hadn’t cashed in my ones last night and I certainly would have remembered a hundred-dollar tip. Where had it—

Blane.

He must’ve counted the money while I’d been in the shower, adding in the hundred.

I stared at it, unsure how I felt. I sure didn’t like the charity, but then again I wasn’t in a position to be proud. The electric bill that I was behind on could really use that hundred dollars. Plus, Blane was already gone. How was I supposed to return it?

I hadn’t believed him when he’d said he wasn’t going away. After the argument we’d had, I doubted I’d see him again anytime soon, a thought that was immediately quashed when I went outside a short while later to find a glass company’s truck pulling out of the lot and Blane standing by my newly repaired car.

Déjà vu hit me hard as I remembered the first time Blane had fixed my car for me. It had felt so good then, for him to help me.

It felt quite different now.

“What are you doing, Blane?” I asked, walking up to my car. He turned toward me. “I told you I didn’t want you fixing it.”

“If Gage is behind this, then it’s an expense for the firm to absorb,” he said, eyeing me as though wary that I’d flip out on him again. He glanced at my clothes. I was wearing the same thing, had just slipped on a pair of flip-flops and
my sunglasses. I’d pulled my hair back into a high ponytail. “Where are you going?”

“Weren’t you the one griping about the food in my refrigerator?” I retorted. “I’m going to the grocery store.” I stepped around him and climbed into my car. All the glass had been swept away and I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t glad it had been taken care of for me. I decided not to argue with him about it. It’s not like there was anything I could do now anyway. I thought about the hundred dollars but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to humiliate myself by arguing with him over the money, especially when I was in such need of it.

Blane slid into the passenger seat. “I’m going with you.”

“You’re what?” I stared at him.

“You’re not going anywhere unprotected,” he said, slamming the door shut.

Short of throwing a big-ass temper tantrum, I didn’t see any way I was going to get him out of my car, and I wasn’t one hundred percent sure he’d go even in the face of a tantrum.

“Fine.” I threw the car in gear and sped out of the parking lot.

We didn’t speak as I drove. I was acutely conscious of him. As it did in my apartment, Blane’s presence overwhelmed my car, too, its confines made even smaller by the size of his body. His sunglasses hid his eyes from me now as he rested an elbow on the rolled-down window, the wind artfully ruffling his perfect hair.

“Shouldn’t you be doing some campaign stuff rather than following me around?” I asked.

He glanced my way. “I’ve taken a temporary leave from the campaign.”

I swallowed and focused on the road. Blane was putting his campaign on hold to play bodyguard for me?

“I bet your uncle isn’t too happy about that,” I said stiffly.

“It’s not his decision.”

I wondered if the senator agreed with that sentiment.

When I parked, Blane followed me inside, watching as I got a cart and walking beside me down the produce aisle. We could’ve been like any of the other couples doing their weekend shopping, if the tension between us wasn’t as palpable as a living thing.

My nerves were on edge, Blane’s silent vigil next to me making it hard to concentrate. He’d hooked his sunglasses on his shirt while I’d pushed mine on top of my head. Blane looked incredibly out of place, standing in front of the broccoli. Grocery shopping was something we’d never done together.

I shook my head. Best to hurry up and get this over with. Peaches were in season and on sale. I grabbed a few. Cucumbers were plentiful and a couple of those went in the cart. Lettuce. Tomatoes.

I lived a lot off sandwiches and ramen noodles, so I grabbed some prepackaged lunch meat. The soup aisle was next, where I got some more noodles, then to the bakery for a loaf of generic white bread. I caught Blane looking sideways at the bread and noodles.

“So is there an assassin hiding in frozen foods?” I asked snidely, my pride stung when I suspected he was looking down his upper-class nose at my food.

His gray eyes met mine. “None that I can see.” His serious reply took the heat from my snit and I heaved an inward sigh.

“Let’s go,” I said, turning for the checkout.

“Wait, that’s it?”

I glanced around. Blane was staring at my cart.

“That’s pretty much what you do here, Blane,” I said with exaggerated patience. “You put food in the cart, then you put it on the belt and pay for it so you can take it home.”

His eyes flashed at my tone. “I meant, is that all you’re getting.”

I looked in my cart and did some quick math. If I was lucky, the groceries would be just under fifty dollars. I had food for sandwiches, salads, and noodles for dinner.

“Yeah, that’s it,” I snapped. “Some people have to live on a budget.”

“I need some stuff, too,” he said, inching me out of the way to take over the cart. “Might as well not make two trips.”

“
You
need stuff?” I asked in bewilderment, having no choice but to trot after him as he started down an aisle. My purse was sitting in the cart. “What happened to Mona?”

Mona was his housekeeper and took care of the cooking. She and her husband, Gerard, lived in a house that adjoined Blane’s property.

“She asked me to pick up some things,” he said, grabbing some jarred pasta sauce off the shelf.

Whatever. “Fine, just keep it separate from my stuff.” I reached in the cart and pushed all my things into a small pile in the back.

I followed Blane as he went back through the store. He wasn’t consulting any list that I could see and I had a suspicion as to what he was doing. Meat went in the cart, steaks, chicken, and pork chops. Cereal, granola bars, pop, chips, pasta, frozen meals, potatoes, fresh vegetables. I really
hoped Mona hadn’t gone shopping recently because she was about to get a load of other stuff.

Blane was taking great care in picking out “Mona’s” asparagus, so I rolled my eyes and wandered away. He knew I liked asparagus, but it was expensive, so I hardly ever bought it. I wondered with a sigh how this was going to play out when we got to the cashier. If I’d had my purse, I would’ve just left Blane standing there inspecting the strawberries.

Glancing next to me, I saw a man looking over the melons. Our eyes caught.

“I, uh, never know how to tell what’s ripe,” he said.

He seemed to be in his late twenties or early thirties, attractive with blond hair that looked like it had been kissed by the sun. Blue eyes, straight teeth, and a smile that was both shy and sexy—and that had me smiling back.

“Yeah, something about if it sounds hollow when you tap it, I guess,” I replied with a shrug.

“They all sound hollow to me.”

I laughed at his self-deprecating grimace and his smile was wider this time.

“I’m Luke,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Kathleen.”

“Nice to meet you, Kathleen.” He held out his hand and I took it.

“Likewise.”

“I don’t usually do this—” he began.

“Kat, you ready to go?”

I turned to see Blane now standing behind me, his face like granite as he stared at Luke.

Nice.

“Sure,” I said easily as Luke glanced from me to Blane and back. “Luke, this is my… brother. You were saying?”

I didn’t look to see how Blane was taking that.

“Ah, yeah.” Luke focused on me again when Blane didn’t speak. “I was wondering if you might like to go out sometime.”

I could have done a little dance in delight. A cute, sexy guy was asking me out right in front of Blane and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Maybe fate had a twisted sense of humor after all.

“I’d like that,” I said. I grabbed a pen from my purse and scrawled my number on Luke’s palm. “Here’s my number. Call me.”

He beamed at me and his gaze dropped to my chest before jerking back up to my face. “Thanks! I will.”