Stay (Dunham series #2) (21 page)

He swallowed at the word she had chosen, his whole
world tilting wildly. “So . . . what you’re telling me is that you
don’t know who you’re having dinner with, either.”

Vanessa looked to him slowly. “No.”

He took his hand off the gearshift and offered it to
her. “Hi. My name’s Eric Cipriani. I teach karate.”

She stared at him, then at his hand, and began to
laugh, the corners of her eyes crinkling yet again. She took his
hand and shook it firmly, saying, “I’m Vanessa Whittaker and I’m .
. . a cook.”

Eric looked back at the road only because he didn’t
want to crash his truck.

They were getting somewhere.

Finally.

“I want to know why you broke up with Annie,” she
said softly, suddenly.

That was fair. Eric drew a deep breath. “Maybe the
better question would be why we were getting married.” Vanessa
remained silent. “We were, well, friends with benefits,” he finally
said. “We had similar goals, similar philosophies. It was a
deliberate choice to be together, work together. Like a
partnership.” He shrugged. “The sex was good. But . . . then we
talked to you at the school and . . . ” How was he going to say
this? Did he even want to? “Seeing you was kind of a defining
moment for us.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Uh, Annie decided she needed more than what I could
give her and I . . . needed more than what she could give me.”

Vanessa said nothing for a moment, then, “There’s
more, but I understand it’s private. No problem, but . . . was she
angry?”

“Not at you or me. In fact, she wanted me to get
your phone number for her.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s sweet.”

“Uh, yeah. She thinks you’d be very sweet.”

Vanessa stared at him, her eyes growing big and her
mouth opening as it sank in. Then she began to smile again, that
wonderful smile that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. “I
didn’t know she—” She put her hands over her mouth and began to
giggle.

“Me neither until she suggested a threesome,” Eric
said dryly, glad he’d been able to make her laugh. Perhaps letting
loose with the truth—or most of it—wasn’t so bad, even if it had
its rough spots. “All of a sudden, it was like hanging out with a
guy, both of us drooling over you.”

“Well,” she said through fits of laughter, “I like
Annie, don’t get me wrong. Just . . . not that much. If she wasn’t
mad at you or me, who was she mad at?”

“Her mother,” Eric said promptly. “She needed to get
away from her.”
And Vanessa.
“So she moved to Omaha to
manage her pharma’s sales staff up there. She broke up with me
after she broke up with her mother.”

Vanessa chuckled. “Took her that long, huh?”

“Some people have higher tolerance levels for
abuse.”

“That’s not necessarily a good thing.”

“So . . . LaVon thinks you and Knox—?”

She turned in her seat so that she faced him, and
crossed one knee over the other. He hoped his very sudden hard-on
wasn’t visible. “No. It’s just something she used to hit me with,
used it to try to discredit Knox. Everybody knew that Knox’s only
interest in me was protecting me from LaVon.”

And from a dozen other people who might be out for
revenge.

“I had study hall in the prosecutor’s office and by
the time I graduated, half the egghead contingent did, too.”

Eric laughed wryly and shook his head. “Why doesn’t
that surprise me? Knox must’ve been in hog heaven.”

“He got a little impatient with how many people
showed up, but the other attorneys helped. Mr. Hicks taught math
better than any teacher I’ve ever had.”

“What did Nocek have to say about all that?”

“Nocek had nothing to say about anything Knox did
after he killed Parley. Nocek knew he was next on the list.”

Ah, yes. That made perfect sense.

“Do you know, all these years that he went to the
Ozarks— To his inn, he said. I never knew it was you.”

She started and looked at him sharply. “You
didn’t?”

He shook his head. “He never said a word. So,
Whittaker House,” he said, fascinated by what he’d seen on her
website, needing to know more about what she’d built. “Are you
planning to buy out Knox’s half eventually?”

She took a deep breath. “Officially, Knox is just
the CFO now. OKH Enterprises is my actual business partner.”

He looked at her sharply. “Eilis? Sebastian’s
wife
is your partner?”

“Yes. We’re friends. We joke about it. Compare
notes. Call each other ‘Muse.’”

He began to chuckle. “God, that’s incestuous.”

She chuckled. “It is. It was strange at first, I’ll
admit, but she said, ‘I knew what I was getting when I married
him.’”

“How did OKH become your partner?”

“Knox took a lot of draws the last couple years
before he was due to inherit. By the time he did, he’d taken his
whole share from Whittaker House and more. OKH bought out Knox’s
share for the price of his draws. But we work together like we
always did. He does the books and the lawyering, which he can do
from pretty much anywhere. I do the food and general management and
direct its path. He doesn’t tell me how to do my job and I don’t
tell him how to do his. Eilis doesn’t interfere unless Knox’s
reports are overdue—which happens more often than I’d like.” She
sighed. “I’ve had to work a lot harder since he moved to Utah. I
didn’t realize how much he got done on the weekends until he wasn’t
there anymore. But,” she added, “I’d rather have him alive in Utah
than dead, so I don’t say anything.”

“I miss him, too.”

She said nothing to that, but then laughed
unexpectedly and laid her hand over his where it rested on the
gearshift. Eric swallowed, because her laugh was so . . . husky.
Earthy. “Thank you for rescuing us from the vultures back
there.”

“Vanessa, I’m sorry I came. All I could think about
was saying thank you and— I didn’t think. Dirk said—”

“Eric,” she interrupted, “it’s okay. I’ve been
dealing with that since I was a child.”

“I know. That’s why I’m apologizing. Again. You
shouldn’t have to still be dealing with it.”

“You deal with it every day.”

He shrugged. “I chose to come back. I knew what I
was doing.”

She remained silent on that, he supposed, because
she knew it was true. Then, “Why
did
you come back?” she
asked slowly.

“Several reasons, but mostly because I wanted to
prove to Knox I hadn’t wasted his money or his time. And, well,
revenge. I don’t mind being able to rub LaVon’s nose in her
shit.”

She stared at him, as if something had just occurred
to her. “Your press conference,” she whispered, “last year, when
you thanked Simone. That was—”

“That was me rubbing their noses in it, yes.”

Vanessa swallowed and looked away. Wiped her cheek.
“I— I saw that,” she mumbled. “I thought you’d forgotten me.”

“So . . . you were already mad at me before Simone’s
funeral,” he said slowly.

“Yes. Knox tried to explain, and I wouldn’t listen
to him.”

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. We’re here, right? Just you
and me—and Vachel,” he teased, getting a little smile out from
under all those tears, “going to dinner, talking, getting things
straightened out.”

She looked up at him then, and his gut lurched at
the raw hope he saw in her face, the hope he returned
wholeheartedly.

“Nash Piper?” he whispered.

“Friends with benefits,” she whispered back. “It’s
not a problem. He has his own issues that he needs to work out. His
ex-wife. He’s . . . afraid.”

Eric blinked. “Just like us.”

She nodded earnestly. “Yes, exactly. Just like
us.”

“And Sebastian?”

“
Who’s
the slut?” she shot back.

He couldn’t help his slow grin. “Point taken.”

* * * * *

20: Sometime Blizzards Must Stop

They ended up in downtown Kansas City’s west side at
a Mexican restaurant.

“Manny’s,” Vanessa murmured when Eric handed her out
of his truck with some flourish. “This is nice, Eric. Thank
you.”

“You’re welcome, Vanessa,” he whispered, giving her
that saucy, sly grin, the one that had set her heart to pounding
when she was a child. The tingling in the pit of her belly, the
heat rising in her chest, the difficulty she was having breathing,
though—
That
was all woman.

“Aunt Vanessa?”

Vanessa started and twisted away from Eric with a
guilty jerk. She turned to see a groggy Vachel climb out of the
truck. God help her if he sniffed out the sexual undercurrent
flowing between Vanessa and Eric.

The boy stopped to stare at Eric’s truck, then he
gestured vaguely. “I always liked your ’vette,” he muttered,
sullen.

“You did?” Eric asked, obviously surprised.

“Yeah. The guys, they— They wanted to throw rocks at
it, slice it up to get you back— Because of me— But . . . ”

Vanessa stared at Vachel, shocked. “What stopped
them?”

Vachel’s mouth tightened and he looked away. Vanessa
turned to Eric, but wouldn’t look at him. “Every day,” she
murmured, “I find out something new that just kills me. He—” Salt
stung her eyes. “He has this core of honor I— I’m not sure where it
came from, but I think maybe it was . . . you.”

Eric squeezed her hand. “Who gave it to you?” he
whispered. “Before Knox took you under his wing?”

“Laura,” she murmured. He wouldn’t know the
reference, but he seemed to comprehend that she was unwilling to
give any more of herself to him for now. He cleared his throat and
said,

“Let’s go eat,” with exaggerated enthusiasm.

“For the record,” Vanessa said wryly as they entered
the restaurant, Eric’s hand lightly splayed over her back, “I
almost bought a Stingray. Seventy-six. I love them.”

“That means a lot, coming from the woman who drives
the Batmobile.”

She laughed, delighted at his mock envy, but didn’t
say much more because she was reeling from what was happening, the
speed at which it had.

Thanks rendered.

Apologies exchanged.

Misunderstandings clarified.

Histories exposed.

Desires acknowledged.

Wants voiced.

Paths cleared.

Manny’s, cozily crowded, was far too close and
personal for Vachel’s claustrophobia, and he stuck close to Vanessa
on the way to their booth. She slid in first, allowing Vachel to
sit on the outside. Eric slid in across from them and glanced
between her and Vachel in such a way that she thought he
understood.

As usual, Vachel ordered three times the amount of
food he could eat, but Vanessa said nothing. He needed the security
of knowing he had enough.

Eric didn’t bat an eye.

That was when she fully comprehended that Vachel and
Eric already had a longstanding relationship, however
dysfunctional. Vachel had always depended on Eric the way Vanessa
had depended on Knox, albeit clumsily. Once Vachel learned that
getting arrested would get him taken directly to the prosecutor,
Eric had become the only male Vachel had allowed himself to trust—a
function of both of them being victims of the same women. Eric knew
Vachel in ways Vanessa didn’t, and he’d apparently done the best he
could within the boundaries Vachel set for him.

“Okay, Vachel,” Eric said in a rather commanding
tone, “I want you to admit you got arrested on purpose and why. I
already know, but I want to hear it from you.”

He blushed and swallowed, but he obeyed. “Yeah.
Well. Um, I was hungry and I couldn’t, uh, steal as much food as I
could buy if I stole one big thing and hocked it.”

Vanessa felt a sharp ache behind her breastbone that
never got any duller, no matter how many times she heard him say
that. She remembered contemplating that course of action long ago
and deciding against it, knowing what Laura would say, what she
would choose.

“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on with you
in that house? I must have asked you a million times.”

“I didn’t know if you were worse or better and I
didn’t want to go off to foster care. I knew some foster kids at
school and they didn’t have it any better than I did.”

Eric said nothing more for a moment, then nodded
slowly, solemnly. “Okay, but why didn’t you just ask me for money
or food? You know I would’ve given it to you.”

“I don’t know. It was easier to let you pay for
everything I stole than ask for money.”

Pride, and precious little of that, was the only
thing Vachel had had left by the time Vanessa had walked into his
life.

Once the food came, Eric began to draw Vachel into
conversation, little by little, making him comfortable—

—starting fresh with Vachel, too, both boy and man
hesitantly eager to put their long and turbulent history behind
them. He began by asking about school, the highland games, and what
sports he was into.

“Archery.”

“You have archery at school?”

“No,” he said shortly, and Eric looked at Vanessa.
She shook her head once, very slightly. Any discussion of school
would ruin what was turning out to be a nice evening.

Once Vachel loosened up, he talked more and faster
than he had since he’d come to Whittaker House.

Vanessa ate in silence, lost in watching Eric, only
half listening to him and Vachel yammer at each other. Vachel’s
maturity surprised Eric at most every turn in the conversation, and
his willingness to talk—to
Eric
—shocked Vanessa.

She’d have to give the boy’s therapist a hefty
Christmas bonus.

With each glance Vanessa sneaked at Eric, she ached
a little. His dark face was square, carved—exotic and familiar at
the same time—his black eyes flashing intelligence, his black hair
gleaming, his large hands strong, his smile quick and sincere.

He smelled divine.

He wore a fine silk-blend suit of dark olive, his
collar and cuffs impeccable and his tie rather bold and
striking.