Small-Town Redemption (20 page)

He nodded. Most of the parents of her friends were, too. And the ones who weren’t didn’t seem to like each other that much.

“Is your dad remarried?” she asked. Most of her friends’ parents were.

His expression darkened. “No.”

“How long have they been split up?”

“Not long.” He sat back on the floor, his back against the bed. His back to her. “We’d better finish up before dinner.”

“Oh. Sure,” she said slowly, flipping a few pages to find the place where she’d left off.

He didn’t want to talk about his family? Honestly, his mom hadn’t seemed that bad.

Estelle’s mama would have been fine finding them in her bedroom. She trusted her. Mama would have come in, gorgeous as always, smiling and chatting with Estelle and her friends, as though she was one of their crowd. Sometimes it bugged Estelle, how her mom acted as if she was one of her friends, but most of the time Estelle loved having her around.

God, she missed her. And it hadn’t even been two weeks. She couldn’t even imagine how awful it was going to be without her for the next two years.

Unless Andrew was right and Estelle was brave enough to make sure that didn’t happen.

* * *

K
ANE
B
ARTASAVICH
WAS
not the man of her dreams, Char reminded herself during a lull at work Tuesday night.

But that hadn’t stopped her from thinking about him and his sweet kiss. About everything really, their first kiss, how he’d made her feel that evening at his apartment. How she wondered how his father was doing, if his family was driving him crazy.

Wanting to see him.

Which was fine, she assured herself as she finished inputting details into a patient’s chart on the laptop. Being a kind, generous person, someone who cared about others, was a good thing. Thinking she could have feelings—real, true, heartfelt romantic feelings—for that stubborn, sexy, someone?

Definitely not okay.

The problem was she needed to keep her distance from him. How hard could that be? Sure, Shady Grove was small, but they weren’t the only people in town. She’d managed to avoid him for months before. She could certainly do it again.

If only she could stop remembering how he’d looked before those elevator doors had shut. Tired and almost as stunned by their kiss as she’d been. If only she could stop dreaming about how he’d touched her, made her body come alive, how her nerve endings fairly sizzled just from the sound of his voice.

But that was just sex. She may be a virgin, but she understood how the human body worked. Why she responded to him the way she did. The way she’d expected to respond only to a man she was in love with.

She wasn’t that naive—despite popular opinion to the contrary. She knew how powerful sex could be, how good it could feel. She merely needed to forget how he’d looked with his shirt off, dangerous and edgy and ripped. His body leanly muscled, those tattoos begging her to touch them, trace them with her fingertips.

She went hot all over. Waving a hand in front of her face she glanced around to make sure no one noticed. Yes, she was still attracted to him. She wasn’t dead, was she? But that didn’t mean she should keep making the same mistakes, keep believing there was more to him than a rebellious loner, one who’d never commit, who didn’t want the same things she did. Didn’t have to keep believing there could ever be a future between them.

And that’s what she wanted. A future. Her future, the one she’d dreamed of since she was little. No, she didn’t need a man to complete her; she was whole and healthy and just fine on her own, thanks all the same. But that didn’t mean she didn’t want someone to share her life with.

What she needed was to get back to her plan.

She saved the data, then sipped the bottle of water at her elbow, looked around and spotted Justin at the other side of the nurses’ station.

Determined, she circled the counter, put a smile on her face and stepped up to him. “Hi, Justin.”

He smiled at her and so what if her heart didn’t trip? If her pulse didn’t do anything other than keep its regular steady beat? That was all superficial, anyway. He was handsome, kind and smart. Everything she wanted in a man.

“Hello, Charlotte,” he said, and she frowned because the way he said her name was so different from how Kane said it.

Damn it. She wasn’t going to think about Kane anymore.

“Are you signing up for the half marathon in Pittsburgh?” he continued, looking at her in a way that gave her the impression he was interested in what she had to say. That he was interested in her.

Then again, what the hell did she know? She’d thought James was interested in her and he’d merely been nice to her because of Sadie. And Kane? Well, she had no idea what his interest in her was.

“I’ve never run a half marathon before.” She’d never run anything other than a 5K, but he didn’t need to know everything about her. It was important to keep a bit of mystery in a relationship, after all.

“It’s not until the summer. I’ve run quite a few.”

She nodded. Smiled. Waited for him to suggest helping her train, giving her pointers. Anything to prove he was picking up what she was putting down, for God’s sake. But he just waited, expecting her to say something, as if it was her turn now. “Uh...that’s great.”

What else was there to say? Nothing, obviously, because he nodded as if in agreement of his awesomeness and, tapping the file in his hand, said, “I’d better check on my patient.”

Char blinked. That was it? She knew their first couple of dates hadn’t been exactly mind-blowing but they hadn’t been that bad. She thought he’d enjoyed himself, even if he hadn’t called since their last lunch date.

Maybe that was her fault. She needed to step up her game, give him more hints, broader ones. Ones even an idiot couldn’t miss. How else was she going to let him know she was interested in seeing more of him?

Have dinner with me.

Kane’s voice floated through her mind. She frowned.
Not thinking about him or the husky way he’d sounded when he’d asked her out. Remember?

Still, maybe she needed to start revamping her plan.

She caught up to Justin. “I really enjoyed lunch the other day,” she said softly, not wanting it to get around they were seeing each other. Even if it was casual. So far.

“I did, too.”

Thank goodness. “I thought maybe, next time, we could go out to dinner? Maybe dancing afterward?”

His grin widened. “That’d be great.”

She blinked. “It would?”

“Yeah.” They stopped outside his patient’s door. “I’m scheduled every night except Saturday.”

“Saturday will be perfect.” She was supposed to work, but she’d switch with someone. This was important. This was her future.

“Great. I’ll pick you up?” he asked.

She tried to work up as much enthusiasm as he had. “Sure. I mean...yes. Yes, that would be wonderful.”

He glanced around, then reached out and gave her hand a quick, warm squeeze. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Her smile felt frozen. “Yeah. Me, too.”

His fingers brushed the back of her hand as he moved to knock on the door.

She felt nothing. No excitement or anticipation. Not even one freaking tingle.

Where was the justice in that?

He walked away, with his perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect runner’s body. His skin—insomuch as she knew—unmarred by scars or tattoos.

He
was perfect. Perfect for her.

No, her body hadn’t responded to his touch, but it wasn’t even a full touch, anyway. Just a whisper of one. And it would have been inappropriate for her to get all hot and bothered over his fingers brushing against hers in their place of work. She was sure there would be sparks and fireworks and all sorts of bright lights and explosions once they got to know each other better.

She was sure it would be magical.

Perfect.

Just as she wanted it to be.

* * *

K
ANE
WALKED
ACROSS
O’Riley’s parking lot, his hand in his pocket, the fingers of his broken arm cold from the damp air. It’d been a long two days, but his old man was pulling his own. He had a long road ahead of him as far as physical rehabilitation and speech and occupational therapy, but the doctors were optimistic he’d be able to function at 75 percent capacity or more.

Seventy-five percent. The old man was going to hate that, was going to hate not being able to live as he had before. He’d lost the use of his arm and his speech. His right leg was weak. He wasn’t helpless, but he’d lost most of his independence.

Kane glanced at the cars in the lot. Not a bad crowd for a Tuesday. He could stop in, work behind the bar or help with cleanup, but he knew the place was in good hands. He didn’t have to worry about it going under because he missed a day or two of work.

Besides, Sadie, who usually worked only weekends, was covering for him. Probably talking everybody’s ears off about her engagement, her wedding plans.

He wondered how Charlotte felt about it.

He squeezed his keys until the teeth bit into his palm. Every time he let his guard down, even for a minute, she entered his head.

It was the only place he saw her.

Except for his dreams. Hot, sweaty dreams about her pressed against his living room wall, her skin soft and warm under his hand, those little sounds she’d made whispering in his ear.

He stomped up the stairs. Yeah. She really knew how to burrow into a man’s head and stay there.

Where the hell did she get off doing it anyway? He hadn’t asked her to worm her way into his life. She was the one always worrying about everyone else. Jumping in, making sure he was okay after his accident, bringing him pain pills so he wouldn’t suffer. Understanding when he refused them.

He hadn’t asked her to be there the night his father had his stroke, to keep coming out and checking on him and Estelle. Holding his hand, sitting by silently while the doctor told him how badly off Senior was.

Then he’d made that boneheaded move of kissing her in the elevator—after she’d made it clear she didn’t want anything to do with him—and he hadn’t seen her since.

It pissed him off that he’d been looking for her.

He unlocked the apartment door and walked straight to the couch. Leaning his head back, he stretched his legs and shut his eyes. His arm didn’t hurt as much, and it no longer felt as though someone stabbed him with each breath, but the remnants of his injuries were still there.

Maybe Charlotte had just been busy working. Was she there now? Her shifts ended late. He didn’t like the idea of her walking around the dark parking lot by herself.

Not his business, he reminded himself grimly.

So what if he’d been telling the truth when he’d stupidly admitted he liked her? Christ, what was he? Eleven?

But he did. He liked being with her. Liked talking to her. So much that he would try to find ways to keep her talking. To get her to stay.

But she still always walked away.

“Daddy?”

Opening his eyes, he sat up. “Hey. I thought you were sleeping.”

Estelle tucked her hair behind her ear. “I wanted to see how Granddad’s doing.”

“No change.” He shifted to the right and she curled up next to him, her legs tucked under her, her feet bare. “Did you get your homework done?”

Chewing on her thumbnail, she nodded. “I went to Andrew’s,” she blurted.

He sat up, speared her with a narrow look. “I didn’t give you permission to go there.” Damn it, she’d been out with a boy and he hadn’t even known it? “I trusted you to stay here.”

Maybe that had been his first mistake. Trusting her. But he didn’t want to raise her the way he’d been brought up, with demands and lectures and suspicion.

That he’d deserved that suspicion wasn’t the point.

Her eyes welled with tears. “I know, and I’m really sorry, but I was so worried here all by myself with nothing to do or think about except the possibility of Granddad dying—”

“He’s not dying.”

“I know that. But I can’t always control my thoughts.” She flopped back against the cushions. “Besides, nothing happened. I was only there for a few hours and it’s not like I slept with him or anything.”

His entire body went cold. His face numb. The idea of his daughter ever having sex... No. Just no. “You still should have asked me before you even thought about leaving this apartment to go anywhere.”

“His mom was there. You can ask her since you don’t trust me.”

The last thing he wanted was to call some teenage boy’s mother and ask her if her son kept his grubby hands off his daughter. “If you say she was there, then I believe you.”

Had no reason not to. She’d always been a good girl. Not perfect. She’d had her fair share of troubles—detention for being late to class, out past curfew on a few occasions. Nothing he and Meryl couldn’t handle.

Nothing compared to the things Kane had done.

“But this has nothing to do with trust,” he continued, “and everything to do with respecting the rules your mother and I have set for you. Including letting us know where you are and getting our permission before leaving the house.”

“I know,” she said, all resigned and remorseful. “And I really am sorry.”

He nodded. “I appreciate that and I appreciate you telling me the truth. But I think it’d be best if you stayed here for the next week, finished up your schoolwork.”

“Is that your way of telling me I’m grounded?”

“What do you think?”

She flopped back against the couch, crossed her arms. “I think a week is way overkill. I mean, I did tell you the truth.”

He’d give her that. He didn’t want to punish her for coming clean. “Three days.”

“One seems sufficient.”

“If you don’t like three, we could always go up to five.”

She rolled her eyes. Huffed out a breath. “Fine. Three. But that means I won’t be able to go out to eat or shopping with Grandma.”

“She’s gone. C.J. drove her to the airport an hour ago.” They’d managed to talk their mother into going back to Houston, promising to fill her in on Senior’s condition at least once a day.