When Angels Cry (4 page)

Kaylee absently fingered the holes in the fabric, wondering how they’d been ripped.  Her fingertips moved back and forth across the ruined spots. 
Nothing lasts forever
, she thought, gritting her teeth.

“They aren’t much,” Bastian growled.  “But it’s the best I can do.”

She pulled them on
, grateful for the warmth. 
“Thank you.  It’s nice of you to let me use them.”

Bastian shook his head, biting his tongue to keep from telling her what she could do with her condescension.  He tapped the turn signal and pulled out behind a blue station wagon.  Why had he jumped in after her?

“Where am I taking you?”

Kaylee leaned back and closed her eyes.
  “20035 Renquest Lane.”

Bastian gripped the steering wheel and veered into the
right
lane, still following the
wagon
.  He'd been right.  She was made of money, just like his father. At the next red light, Bastian watched her from his peripheral vision.  Small clouds of her breath appeared and disappeared.  A few strands of her dark hair fell into her eyes.

“Hey, you okay?”

Silence.  She’d gone to sleep.

He kept staring, noticing how the sun
had
turned her dark hair a burnished auburn.  The water had chapped her lips
, but e
ven in the harsh morning light without make
-
up, she was beautiful.   

A horn blared from behind, and Bastian’s gaze jerked to a green light.  He accelerated through the intersection, and as he turned, Kaylee’s body slumped toward him, her head falling to his shoulder.
Her close proximity enticed
him, and, without realizing it, he
’d
leaned over and kissed her forehead.

What the hell was he doing?

He looked at her sleeping profile and half-expected her to wake from the turn or the feel of his body supporting her, but she slept, and he wondered just why she had fought the doctor so hard
; s
he should’ve stayed.  But who was he to give advice?  He couldn’t even manage his own life.

Bastian drove until he
’d
reached the North Haven housing addition,
a
neighborhood where numerous doctors and lawyers lived.  And Kaylee.  Maneuvering through streets flanked by
mansion
-
esque
houses, Bastian finally found Kaylee’s–a two-story Victorian nestled among tall stately evergreens.  It was painted a light brown with dark brown shutters around each window.

“Kaylee?” he said.  “We’re here.”

She slowly sat up and yawned.  “Did you have any trouble finding it?”

Bastian shook his head, amazed that she’d been so close
.  E
ven upon waking, it
hadn’t
bother
ed
her.  Gritting his teeth, he accepted what that meant–-Kaylee didn’t see him as a person, much less a man.

“No,” he finally answered.  “It was simple enough, considering there’s no other addition quite like North Haven.”

Bastian pulled into the long, winding drive and shifted the truck into park.

“Come in for a cup of cocoa or hot tea.” 
Kaylee looked at her front porch, where the glowing porch light awaited her arrival
, and
she looked back at Bastian, studying his red cheeks and ears. 

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.  I mean, you don’t know me.  I could be a serial killer or something.”
 
Bastian stared at his red knuckles.  As long as he focused on them, he could forget that a beautiful woman had
just
asked him to come in because she felt sorry for him.

 
“Serial killers don’t rescue the people they plan on killing.” 
Kaylee brushed the hair from her eyes. 

“How do you know?
  Maybe I like my women dry instead of wet.”
Bastian rolled his head from side to side, trying to ease the sore muscles complaining from that damned uncomfortable chair
at
the hospital.  He’d probably still be trying to work out the stiffness next week. 

Kaylee laughed.  “In that case I’ll keep a Super Soaker handy to discourage you.”
  She laughed and
touched his shoulder.  “Please come inside.  Hot cocoa isn’t much of a thank
-
you, but it’s something.  You even went out of your way to give me a ride.”  She pulled off the gloves and felt his hand, his skin chilled.  “Besides, you could use some.  Don’t bother telling me you’re warm when your hands and face are cold and red.”

Bastian moved his hand higher on the wheel to escape her caress. 
“ I’ll be fine.”

“I insist,” Kaylee said.  “And I’m not leaving until you come with me.”

Bastian turned toward her and glared. 
“Did anyone ever tell you what a pain in the ass you are?”
   

“More than once.”

“I guess I’m having cocoa.
  Lead on, M
a
cDuff.
”  Bastian shook his head, pulled the keys from the ignition, and opened his door.  The snow crunched under his weight as he stepped out.  He paused, turning toward Kaylee.

  “I didn’t know you liked Shakespeare.”
  Kaylee shoved her hands into her pockets.

“What do you know about me, Kaylee?
  I don’t exactly run in the same circles as you.”
  He stood perfectly still
.  T
he cold filled him as he looked up at a house resembling the one he’d grown up in.   Two stories,
a fireplace, and shutters.  A metal fence surrounded the property and met the driveway
,
where the gate stood open as if expecting them.  What was it, five or six bedrooms?

  “It’s the house, isn’t it?  It makes you uncomfortable.” Kaylee, too, peered at her home as if really looking at it for the first time in years.  “When I bought it, I thought it was perfect.  Now it’s just a house.  It doesn’t really matter how many bedrooms it has.  After all, I only need one to sleep in, right?”
 
She started walking.  “Come on. 
Let’s go inside
where we can make cocoa.”

Like hell it’s just a house
, Bastian thought. 
He
ambled behind her along the front walkway.  He expected her to pause at the door and wonder how to get inside without her keys
.
  Instead
,
she opened it.  Wincing, Bastian stopped and shook his head.  Not only was he stupid for being attracted to a rich girl, but he was stupid because this rich girl was attached.  Otherwise, why would the door be open?

“I need a bullet in my head,” Bastian whispered.

“What?”  Kaylee held the door for him.

“Nothing.”  Bastian wiped his feet on the mat before stepping
i
nto the black marbled foyer.  To his left
,
he saw a coat rack.  Kaylee shut the door, hung up her coat, and reached for Bastian’s.

“I prefer to leave it on.”

“Planning on making a quick exit?”  She put her hands at her sides, frowning.  “Bastian, it seems at every turn I somehow offend you, and I don’t mean to.  You did something for me I never expected, and I’m really grateful.  Can’t you just let me show you how much I appreciate your kindness?”

“I know you’re grateful, Kaylee.  But I don’t think your husband would appreciate you dragging a total stranger into your home--especially not one who looks like he could steal you blind.” 
A lump formed in the back of Bastian’s throat as he stared
into
Kaylee’s face.  He could read lines of confusion and sadness, and he wondered if he were wrong about her and her money. 

“Husband?”  Kaylee laughed.   “Bastian, I’m not married.  I live alone.  I don’t even have a cat.  Why would you think that?”

Bastian pointed to the door.  “It wasn’t locked.  I thought someone was here.”

“It’s a bad habit.”  She reached for his coat.  “Now will you relax and stay for a bit?”

“You leave your door unlocked?  Are you nuts?”
 
Bastian slowly took off his coat.

 
“It’s just a house.  It’s just stuff, Bastian.  I don’t think I’d miss it.” 
Kaylee averted her eyes to the rack as she hung up Bastian’s coat. 

Bastian placed his hands on Kaylee’s shoulders.  “Look at me.”  He waited until she
’d turned and regarded him with
her dark blue eyes.  “Granted, you might not miss the ‘stuff,’ as you call it.  But not every bad guy is after ‘stuff.’  One of them might be after you.  Unless you’re a black belt, you’re asking for trouble.”
  She squirmed from his hands and walked into the living
room, leaving Bastian no choice but to follow.

“Your concern
has been
duly noted.
  Now have a seat while I change.
” 

Bastian reluctantly sat and waited until Kaylee returned wearing jeans and a white button-down shirt.   “Let’s get the cocoa, okay?”  She headed toward the kitchen.

Bastian followed her through the house.  As they went,
he took in
the art pieces
decorating
her home
: lots of
Jackson
Pollock
paintings in sharp contrast to
a
ngelic sculptures sat upon tables and shelves.

“You’re a mystery,” he called, puzzled that his concern for her safety seemed so irritating to her. 

“I always wanted to be interesting,” she replied curtly.  “It’s just a pity it’s tak
en me this long to get there.”  As she went about the task of making cocoa, she often tilted
her head so her hair cascaded to the small of her back
and closed her eyes
.

“You all right?” Bastian asked, stepping toward her, wanting to touch her shoulders, to lean over and smell the intoxicating darkness of her hair.

“
T
ired.” 
Kaylee nodded. 

“Maybe I should go,” Bastian said
,
“
a
nd let you get some rest.”

“There
’ll
be time for
that
later, Bastian.  I’d really like you to stay.”
   

“Damned if you aren’t stubborn,” he muttered.

“You got that right.”  As she poured the
cocoa
into the mugs, Bastian saw her fingertips tremble, something even quick movements couldn’t disguise.

“
C
old?”

“Yeah.  I’ve always been cold-natured, and this year it's worse than ever.
  If I had any common sense, I’d move to some place warm—California or Florida
,
maybe.
”  With that same unsteady hand, she tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.  As her fingers brushed the side of her face, Bastian noticed
her
small golden hoop earrings. 

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t need me to go diving in after you.”  He touched the base of his neck and massaged
there
, trying to ease the kinks.

“Well, in that case, I shouldn’t consider moving, common sense or not.  I wouldn’t want to spoil your new hobby.”  She touched her temple and winced as the kettle whistled.

“I wouldn’t call it a hobby, Kaylee.  In fact, I’m not sure you could call it anything, really.”  Bastian frowned as the grimace on Kaylee’s face spread.   He laid his hand
o
n her shoulder and gingerly squeezed.

“I’m fine, really.”  Her long fingers
kept rubbing
.

“
R
ight,” Bastian countered.  “Got any ocean-front property you want to sell
?
”

“You
buying
?” she whispered as the color drained from her face.

“No
.  But I am going to finish making the cocoa while you sit
down.  You’ve had enough nonsense for one day.”
  Bastian set his other hand on her shoulder and nudged her toward the living room, wondering if she were
going
to pass out. 

“I’m fine.”  She forced her eyelids open while blinking furiously.

“Okay, fine. 
Why don’t you sit down while I get the cocoa
?”  Bastian kept his hands in place and squeezed, massaging the tension he found.  “In other words, scram kid--”

“I’ll be damned.  This is my kitchen.” 
Kaylee planted her feet and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Bastian pointed to the door.  “And that’s your living room.  Now if you’d be so kind as to find the couch, I’d appreciate it.”