Wild Iris Ridge (Hope's Crossing) (11 page)

“Yes,” she answered, feeling small and stupid. “It went away after only a few minutes and I thought it must have been stress or...or grief or something like that. After the second one, I went in for a battery of tests. I knew when they called for a psych consult, I was in trouble.”

Again, she waited for him to look at her with disgust, but he seemed amazingly calm about the whole thing, now that she was no longer completely freaking out in the middle of his kitchen.

“I understand there are several available medications for panic attacks. Have you tried anything?”

“A few. I just started a new one. It helps but isn’t a hundred percent effective.” She curled her hands together in her lap. “I’m sorry you had to find out.”

He made a dismissive sort of gesture. “You have a medical condition. I can see no reason to be embarrassed about it, any more than you should be about diabetes or high blood pressure.”

She didn’t want him to be decent about this. It only made her feel more guilty about the way she had treated him over the years.

“It’s not quite the same, but I appreciate your efforts to make me feel better,” she said.

“I don’t see a difference. Panic attacks are the result of a biochemical reaction in your brain. You’re not crazy and it’s not some kind of weakness on your part. Is that what you’ve been thinking?”

“I tell myself that, but it doesn’t make me feel any better—not when I feel like there’s this evil little demon walking around with me every moment for the last four months, just waiting under the surface to burst out and say hello and completely take over my psyche.”

“Did the panic attacks have an effect on your job?”

“You mean, was I fired because I freaked out in the middle of a staff meeting? Not directly, but I missed a couple of meetings for doctors’ appointments and then had to play catch-up. You played football. You know how disastrous it can be on a team when one player’s head isn’t in the game. Eventually, the team has to cut the guy who’s keeping them from the championship.”

“Did you bother explaining to anybody what was going on? Or did you just try to soldier on by yourself?”

He probably knew her well enough to guess the answer to that.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s done. They fired me, with complete justification.”

“The panic attacks are the real reason you’re back in Hope’s Crossing right now instead of out there trying to find a new position, aren’t they? You’ve come home to the one place in your world where you felt safe.”

She wanted to cry all over again. How was it possible that Brendan Caine, of all people, had figured that out before she did?

He was absolutely right.

The two years she’d lived with Annabelle had been the most calm, stable, comfortable time in a childhood ruled by chaos and insecurity, first through the constant arguments of her parents and then by her father’s negligence and her mother’s drinking and instability.

“Now you dispense mental health counseling, too?”

“Whatever it takes,” he answered with a slow smile.

“You’re very good at it,” she admitted. “I suppose you’re right. Annabelle and Iris House have always been an island of calm for me, a place where I knew I was loved, no matter what.”

To her further humiliation, he picked up the list she had been composing before the panic attack hit. “This is what set you off, isn’t it? Your sister coming tomorrow.”

“What if I fail? What if I can’t help her, can’t provide that quiet calm that Annabelle gave to me?”

“You said it yourself. Annabelle provided a place where you always felt loved. Forget your lists. Just give your sister that.”

She drew in a shaky breath, far more calmed by his words than she knew she should be. “Thank you. I appreciate the comfort and the insight.”

“Anytime.”

“And now that you have seen far deeper into my brain than I feel completely comfortable with, I’m going to go home so we can both get some sleep.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. I’m usually a little shaky for a while after a bad one, but I should be fine.”

She stood up and headed for the door. He was there to open it before she could reach it, surprising her again with his speed.

“Let me grab the monitor and I’ll walk you up to your place.”

She wanted to argue with him, but the truth was, right now she needed to borrow a little more of his strength and that calm center of his that drew her like a warm fire in the middle of a howling blizzard.

* * *

W
HO
EVER
WOULD
have believed brash, confident Lucy Drake suffered from panic attacks?

As they walked up to Iris House, Brendan mulled the fascinating dichotomy of her. Everything he knew about her would have given him the impression she charged through the world, conquering challenges right and left.

Finding out she struggled in this way lent a vulnerability to her that was as startling as it was...appealing.

He was actually glad she wasn’t perfect. It made her far more down-to-earth and approachable, though he didn’t think she would appreciate the perspective.

He was intensely aware of her walking beside him, soft and warm in the moonlight. Her head only reached the top of his shoulder, and he could smell her shampoo—or whatever kind of goopy girl hair product she might use. She always smelled like strawberries. Ripe, juicy, summer-night perfection.

“Thank you again for helping me with Faith and Carter,” he said as they approached the house. “Did everything go okay with them?”

“You mean, before I had the meltdown?”

He nudged her a little with his elbow. “You said that. I didn’t.”

“If I didn’t say it before,” she said after a moment, “thanks for being understanding about everything.”

“There was nothing to be understanding about. But you’re welcome.”

“To answer your question about the children, everything went fine. You have to be the luckiest dad in the world. They’re lovely, both of them.”

He smiled, deeply grateful for his children. “We might have a different story to tell when they start hitting their teenage years, but for now, yeah. They’re pretty awesome.”

“I should tell you,” she said, just as they reached the iron gate at Iris House, “I had quite a serious discussion with Faith this evening.”

He wasn’t surprised. His daughter had a huge heart, with a giant capacity for love and pain. “Oh, no. Who is she worrying about this time?”

“You. She’s afraid you might go out on a call one night and not come home.”

He muttered an expletive. “Not the first time I’ve heard that from her. I don’t know how to ease that particular fear, other than to quit my job. I’m not ready to do that.”

“I don’t think she expects that of you.”

He wasn’t so sure of that. Jess had wanted him to quit. It had been one of the few things they’d argued about. She couldn’t understand how he could possibly love a job that occasionally put him in harm’s way. Since he had always loved the paramedic side of things, even before he became the fire chief, she had wanted him to go on to medical school, something that wouldn’t have fit his personality in the slightest.

“I’ve tried to explain to Faith that even if I had the safest job she could think of, there are no guarantees in life. Something could still happen to me.”

“That’s basically what I told her. Maybe a little less blunt. For the record, I think you’re doing a great job. It can’t be easy on your own, but your children are healthy, well-adjusted little creatures.”

More of that soft warmth soaked through him. “Thanks,” he answered. “That means a lot.”

They walked up the steps to the porch, and she unlocked the door and turned on the light inside. He needed to get back to the kids—monitor or not—but he was hesitant to leave until he was certain she was okay.

“How are you doing now? Better?”

“Much.” She managed a small smile that only looked a little tremulous. “Thank you. I’m only sorry you had to see it.”

“Sorry
anyone
caught you in a weak moment or that the eyewitness was me in particular?”

He wouldn’t have dared ask the question if not for this new intimacy that seemed to swirl around them. He might have credited it to the shared experiences of the evening—when you save a man’s life together, you do tend to have a new sort of bond, not to mention that he had seen her in a moment of rare vulnerability during the last vestiges of her panic attack.

Somehow, it seemed as if they had turned yet another corner in their relationship.

She was quiet for a long moment and he wasn’t sure she was going to answer him.

“Ah. That is a good question, isn’t it?” she finally said.

“You can be honest, Lucy. You don’t like me much. That’s not some big dark secret. You never thought I was good enough for Jess.”

As soon as he said the words, he regretted them. Why couldn’t he just enjoy this new peace between them?

“Maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are,” she answered softly, her eyes large in her slender features.

He snorted. “I never claimed any kind of brains. I think it’s fair to say, Aidan got more than his share of smarts among the Caine males.”

“That’s not true.”

He stepped forward. He knew it was a mistake under the circumstances but she was too lovely there with those big green eyes and he couldn’t seem to help himself.

“Yeah. It is. For instance, a smart man would never think about doing this,” he said just before he kissed her.

CHAPTER TEN

O
KAY
,
THIS
COULDN
’
T
be real.

She couldn’t really be standing in her foyer wrapped around Brendan Caine, being kissed by him as if he couldn’t get enough. For one brief, wild moment, she wondered if she had passed out in his kitchen during the panic attack and thumped her head on the edge of the kitchen table or something.

That would be a far more reasonable explanation than the reality of being here in his arms, his mouth intent on hers, his hands pulling her closer and closer.

Kissing him might seem surreal and unexpected. That didn’t mean she wanted him to stop anytime soon.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, desperate for more. He had talked earlier about how she came back to Hope’s Crossing in search of her personal happy place, a place to feel safe and secure.

This.
This was safety and peace, unlike anything she ever expected. She wanted to burrow into his big, broad chest and stay there forever.

She didn’t know how long they kissed, but eventually they came up for air. Brendan was breathing hard, his pulse racing beneath her fingers. He stared at her for a long moment, looking stunned and a little wary.

“Wow,” he finally said. “That was...”

Delicious. Toe-tingling? Wildly, lusciously wonderful?

“Completely unexpected,” she finished for him.

He cleared his throat and she had the feeling he had intended to say something else. “Yeah. That, too. I’m sorry, Lucy. I didn’t intend for that to happen.”

Even as her heart cracked a little along a familiar fault line, she tried for insouciance. What else could she do? “Do your lips often act of their own accord, then?”

He made a face. “Apparently.”

“As do mine. Apparently.”

He drew in a ragged breath. “Well. This is a complication I didn’t anticipate.”

That made two of them. She was exhausted suddenly and wasn’t at all sure her emotions could endure many more complications.

The day had been long and strange, the most bizarre she could remember.

First her father’s unexpected and unwelcome visit, then helping to save a man’s life. Throw in a nasty panic attack, followed by a kiss from the man she had tried to shove out of her head for more than a decade and she was suddenly exhausted.

“It doesn’t have to be a complication,” she finally said.

“Oh?”

“We can just both pretend nothing happened. It was a fluke. An aberrant moment of shared insanity.”

“True enough.”

He smelled delicious, like sage and leather. And he had tasted even better....

She caught herself. Oh, for heaven’s sake. She really needed to stop noticing things like that. Better to focus on the scents of spring that still wafted through the open doorway. The new leaves on the trees; moist, overturned soil; fresh-cut grass.

Only a few hours ago, he had been mowing that grass for her. How had everything changed so quickly?

“We can blame my panic attack. I mean, isn’t it obvious? I’m not in my right mind tonight. Otherwise, I never would have let you kiss me.”

“Or kissed me back.”

That had probably been a little hard for him to ignore when her tongue had been tangling with his. She flushed. “Or kissed you back.”

“I started it. It was wrong of me to take advantage when you were already upset about the panic attack. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Look, let’s both just let it go and do our best to forget about the whole thing.”

She hadn’t had much luck trying to forget the last kiss they shared on another spring night, but there was always a first time, right?

“Sounds like a plan,” he answered.

She gripped the open door and tried to ignore the wobble in her knees. It was only fatigue, she told herself.

To her vast relief, he headed for the doorway.

“Good night,” she said.

“Night, Lucy.” He paused with that lopsided smile she was beginning to crave like strawberry cheesecake.

“For the record,” he murmured, just a few feet away from her, “it might have been crazy but that was one hell of a kiss.”

He trotted down the steps and headed down her sidewalk.

She watched him move through the darkness for only a moment before she wrenched her gaze away and forced herself to go into the house.

She did
not
understand the man. Why would he possibly want to kiss her? Twenty minutes ago, she was a trembling, emotional wreck.

She had spent all these years telling herself the connection that she’d felt so long ago with him had just been her imagination. A few too many margaritas; a little too much dancing; a warm, lovely spring night perfect for flirtation.

After he started dating Jessie, she had tried to cover up her hurt by pretending she didn’t like him, anyway.

He only had to kiss her before she recognized the lie for what it was.

* * *

L
UCY
SAT
IN
her parlor with her father and sister, wondering just what she had done.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like something to drink?” she asked Crystal. “I bought regular Coke, Diet Coke, regular Pepsi and Diet Pepsi because I wasn’t sure which you would prefer.”

“What about Diet Mountain Dew? Do you have that?”

Naturally, her sister
would
have to pick the one beverage she hadn’t stocked up on. All that angsting in the grocery store over which one to buy had been for nothing.

“No. I missed that one. Sorry. We can go to the store later and pick some up. If you have anything else you particularly like, make a list.”

“How about margarita mix? Can we get that?”

“Crystal.” Robert looked up from the message he was sending into his phone long enough to snap out his daughter’s name.

“Oh, right. I forgot. You’re tossing me into a black hole where fun isn’t allowed.”

“We can have fun,” Lucy protested. “We’ll have all kinds of fun. Iris House isn’t exactly a women’s prison.”

“Close enough.” Crystal slumped onto the couch and Lucy’s heart sank even further.

Her half sister obviously did
not
want to be here. From the moment she and their father walked inside, she had just about seethed with snarky attitude, lots of eye rolling and sarcastic comments.

Lucy wanted to call the whole thing off. She supposed it had been idealistic of her to think Crystal would be happy to see her. Her relationship with her sister had always been a good one. She had assumed that would be enough to carry them through a couple weeks of togetherness.

Now she wasn’t so sure.

“You want a women’s prison?” her father asked, his voice hard. “You’re in enough trouble right now, young lady. It wouldn’t be that much of a stretch for us to arrange the genuine article. I’ve been doing my best to keep you out of the juvenile corrections system, but maybe I need to just back off and let you deal with the consequences of your actions.”

Crystal opened her mouth to make some sharp retort but apparently thought better of it, under the circumstances. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and slumped lower into the sofa.

Ah, the old silent treatment. Lucy had used that one with regularity when she was Crystal’s age.

“I’m really excited to have you stay with me.” She crossed her fingers at her side and hoped her sister didn’t notice. “We’re going to have a great time. You’ll see. Hope’s Crossing is a great town.”

“Why can’t I just stay home?”

“You know why,” Robert said in that same absent tone as he continued his email. “Your mother isn’t well right now. She’s exhausted and weak from her MS flare-up.”

Crystal’s lips tightened. “And that’s my fault?”

“You haven’t exactly helped the situation. All this stress is taking a toll on your mother. She needs peace and quiet for a few weeks.”

“Sure. Get rid of the annoying brat. Why not?”

As Lucy might have predicted, all that teenage attitude rolled off their father like raindrops on Gore-Tex.

“Oh, give it a rest,” he said wearily. “I don’t have time for more of your histrionics. I’ve already taken more time than I should have, driving all the way out here. I have meetings this afternoon and need to head back to the city.”

“Sorry I dared waste a few minutes of your precious time,” Crystal muttered.

Robert sighed, raising his glasses up a little to squeeze the bridge of his nose. For the first time she could remember, her father actually appeared less than impenetrably composed. He looked tired.

He wasn’t as young as he’d been when Lucy was the belligerent fifteen-year-old throwing barbs at him. If she wasn’t careful, she might actually feel a little sorry for him.

“Again, the attitude isn’t helping matters,” he said. “I can’t see what’s so heinous about this situation. You have the chance to enjoy a two-week vacation with the older sister you love. You’re always saying you want to spend more time with Lucy. This is the perfect chance, so tell me again why you’re throwing a tantrum about it like a three-year-old.”

“Lucy doesn’t want me here any more than you and Mom want me around at home!” she snapped out.

“Not true,” Lucy protested. “I’m excited to spend a little time with you.”

She justified the lie because she figured it wouldn’t help the situation if Crystal knew Lucy probably wanted her at Iris House
less
than Pam and Robert wanted her at home.

“Why?” Crystal demanded.

Lucy faltered for about three seconds to come up with a reason her sister might believe but that tiny pause was disastrous.

“Yeah. That’s what I figured,” Crystal snapped. “Why can’t I go home?”

“Your sister invited you to stay with her in Hope’s Crossing for two weeks, and that’s what you’re going to do in order to give your mother a chance to rest and regain her strength.”

“Do you want me to stay in my room and write ten thousand times,
From now on I’ll be a good little girl and drink the Kool-Aid my Fascist dad forces down my throat?
”

“An excellent place to start,” he retorted.

Had she been this awful? Lucy wondered. Worse, probably. How had Annabelle endured it?

“I’ll be in touch,” he said. Lucy waited for him to hug the daughter he wasn’t going to see for two weeks, but he only rose and walked toward the front door.

She followed him, ever the good hostess. Of course, he didn’t hug her, either, or even thank her for the sacrifice she was making for his younger child. She didn’t expect him to.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure by tonight she will get over her pique so she can be more excited about spending a little time with you.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“We’ll put an end to this,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact and without any trace of softness. “She might think spending time with you at Iris House is akin to being consigned to a women’s prison, but she will think very differently after she spends a few weeks at Rock Crest.”

The military school had always been her father’s favorite threat with her. Maybe one of his daughters ought to call his bluff one day.

“I’ll be in touch,” Robert said again.

“Goodbye, Dad.”

He paused at the door, and to her surprise, he kissed her on the cheek. “Thank you for this. I know it will be an imposition on you. I want you to know, Pam and I both appreciate it. You returning to Hope’s Crossing right now came at an ideal time for us.”

“Glad I could help,” she said dryly.

Really? Could he be so oblivious to her own personal life trauma? The death of all her hopes and dreams? She had been abruptly terminated from the job she loved, and he couldn’t see beyond his own needs.

He waved and headed to his waiting Mercedes, and she returned inside to the angry shadow of her own teenage turmoil.

When she returned to the parlor, Crystal was texting something on her cell phone—something amusing, apparently, judging by her smirk.

For just an instant as she realized she was now responsible for this person who exuded teen angst, Lucy’s heart seemed to squeeze in her chest.

No. She could handle this, she told herself. She was tough and smart, and she had walked this particular road from the other side.

“Let’s take these bags up to your room and get you settled in,” she said.

Crystal looked as if she wanted to make some kind of snide comment, but she apparently thought better of it and shrugged instead. “Whatever.”

She stuck her phone in the pocket of her very tight shorts and grabbed the smaller suitcase, leaving Lucy to take the larger one.

She thought about saying something but had a feeling she was going to have to pick her battles carefully over the next weeks.