Bet on Me (12 page)

“Yes.”

She nodded. “Okay. We could go in the morning.”

“We were going to go look at studios for you.”

That’s right. They’d discussed that…Tatiana blinked. Dear Lord, had that only been this morning? “I’ll call the realtor. We can go on Sunday afternoon.”

“I don’t want to—”

“Wyatt. It’s fine. The studio can wait a day.” She kissed his cheek. “I was thinking of buying instead of leasing, anyway. So I don’t want to rush into a space, you know?”

“Buying.”

She shrugged, trying for an air of casualness, though she knew now how much the concept of permanency meant to him. “Makes more fiscal sense.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes. I agree.” He placed his finger under her chin and lifted it, searching her gaze. “Thanks.”

She kissed him firmly. “My pleasure.”

“I’m sorry I ruined the big night you planned.”

“Nothing about this night was bad.” Her words were honest. She felt as though she’d been through the emotional wringer, but every step they’d taken tonight had been about making them stronger.

They would never be invincible, but they could damn well be close.

“Still…”

“Wyatt. Remember how you helped me at the gallery when I was nervous? Let me be as good of a girlfriend as you are a boyfriend.”

“I fucked you in the bathroom.”

“Yeah, you got something out of that. I get something out of this. I don’t want to hear anything more about it.”

His chuckle was rusty. “Fine.” He stirred. “I don’t know if I’ll be sleeping. I’ll go out to the living room so you can rest.”

“I won’t be either. I kinda feel like sketching.” She sat up. “Why don’t you pop in a movie, and I’ll see what we have for snacks.”

“You don’t have to—”

She shushed him and slid off the bed, grabbing her sketchbook off the nightstand. Her fingers itched for a creative outlet for the swirling mess of feelings inside her. “I want to. I’m wired and a little hungry. You got a burger on the way home, and you didn’t feed me at all.”

Wyatt’s laugh was hoarse. “Look, I could feed you or dump all of my baggage on you. I’m not superman.”

When he’d been young and trouncing pros double and triple his age on the poker circuit, commentators had wondered if Wyatt had a pulse, he was so calm and emotionless under pressure. Today, his palms were slick as he drove to the hotel where Ellie and Carol were staying, despite the distraction of Tatiana’s light patter.

Poor woman. No way had she been prepared for the emotional shitstorm he’d rained down upon her last night. In the wee hours of the morning, she’d finally dozed off in his arms while they sat in front of the television. He’d spent the time until she woke watching infomercials and stroking her hair.

His eyes were gritty and bloodshot from lack of sleep, his body vibrating with the kind of energy that came from caffeine and nerves. He’d chosen his clothes at random, and would have walked out the door with mismatched shoes if Tatiana hadn’t stopped him and gently pointed it out.

He stole a glance at her pensive profile. The morning sun formed a halo around her, turning her into a golden angel. He knew what she’d growl in response to that observation, if he dared to voice it.
I’m no more an angel than I am a whore.

Correct. There was nothing ephemeral about her. She was too earthy and ribald to be an angel, and he wouldn’t make the mistake of putting wings on her and slapping her on a pedestal. Didn’t mean he couldn’t consider her his personal savior.

Part of him was alarmed at the needy, insecure mess that had come spewing out of his mouth last night. Another part of him was so relieved the cat was out of the bag and that she was still by his side, he didn’t have much room for shame.

The rest of him was too preoccupied with this upcoming meeting to worry about his relationship.

His stomach tightened as he edged his sedan into a spot between minivans and SUVs.

His sister was inside this family-friendly hotel. Jared had called an hour ago, while he and Tatiana had been pretending to eat breakfast. The private investigator had sent over more information supporting the blood tie between him and Ellie. Not that he needed more proof. As he’d told Tatiana, the fact that the kid lived with his father was enough for him to dig deeper.

That didn’t mean he was a great family man, as Tatiana seemed to think. It meant he was the only one in the world who had an idea of all the ways the kid could be suffering. A child was a child, at the end of the day. Helpless.

A rush of protectiveness infused him. She hadn’t asked to be Sam’s daughter, or his sister, but it looked like she was both. And he could do for her what no one had ever done for him.

His sister. He wanted to test the words out loud, see how they sounded on his tongue. He hadn’t claimed a family member in so long, it felt strange.

Wyatt swiped his hand over the back of his neck. It was fine. This was not a big deal. He’d dealt with billionaires, millionaires, politicians, mafiosos. A little girl and her mother should be a cakewalk.

A soft touch landed on his arm, and he started.

“Wyatt,” Tatiana said, anxiety creasing her brow. “We don't have to do this, you know. We could work out some sort of meeting through our lawyer, or communicate over the phone. Or I can go and talk to them without you.”

This woman. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and wrenched her close, pressing his lips against hers in a brief but desperate kiss. “No,” he murmured. “I’m okay. I’ve got you.”

“That’s right.” Her smile was a shadow of its normal self, worry for him obvious. “Your lucky charm.”

“The ace up my sleeve.”

“We can work out the appropriate gambling analogy later. Shall we?”

He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Let's go.”

Wyatt tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow after they exited the car, not wanting to lose contact with her.

Needy.

He buried the chastising voice, replacing it with Tatiana’s expected, exasperated words.
Yeah, you’re needy now. I might be needy tomorrow. That’s how it works.

They had parked on the side of the hotel, and they made their way around the perimeter toward the front. This establishment was light years away from Quest. It filled its advertised purpose: a safe, affordable place for families to stop and rest while they were on vacation together. The type of hotel he had never been to when he was Ellie's age. Or at any time after his mother died. Family vacations had stopped then.

The sound of shrieking children grew louder as they neared the outdoor pool. Caught by the noise, he glanced at the area and faltered, finally stopping dead in his tracks and bringing Tatiana to a halt with him.

Samuel Caine looked older than the driver’s license photo Jared had sent over, with silver threaded through his midnight hair and wrinkles on his face. His dark head was bent close to another, one that wasn’t graying. Wyatt watched his father smile at Ellie as he rubbed sunscreen on her arms.

That wide-open smile was foreign to Wyatt. He hadn’t seen his father grin like that since before his mother had died. Even before her death, that level of happiness had been reserved for his mom, not him. Samuel flicked his finger against Ellie’s nose, and his smile widened.

Ellie reached up on tiptoes to kiss her father's cheek, and something broke inside Wyatt.

They should go. They had to go. His father wasn’t supposed to be here.

Jared was more than capable of keeping tabs from afar, and there were other ways to ensure the child’s safety. Maybe he would seek the kid out when she was older. Or speak with her if she contacted him again.

Ellie ran off to the pool, and Samuel straightened from his crouched position. As if sensing a gaze on him, he glanced over the heads of the riotous children and parents. Ice ran through Wyatt’s veins as matching black eyes met his.

To his credit, Samuel looked as shell-shocked as Wyatt felt. His father took one faltering step, and then another, and another, until he was at the wrought-iron gate to the pool. He reached down, twisted the handle, and opened it.

Tatiana squeezed his arm and he jerked, having forgotten she was standing next to him. “Your call,” she whispered. Of course she had recognized his dad. The man still looked disgustingly like him.

Wyatt would happily turn and walk away forever, grateful to never encounter this man again for the rest of his life.

Don't grow up to be weak like me. Please.

Words the old man had often sobbed out during his drunken crying jags. In the beginning, Wyatt had watched wide-eyed and silent, or cried himself. Later, he grew so desensitized, he would step over the man to go make himself a sandwich or to take care of the bills.

The words had stuck with him, though. Wyatt eyed the hand holding the gate open, rage flushing through him. Fuck no. Everything he’d done in his life had been done partially to prove he wasn’t weak like this bastard.

He tightened his grip on Tatiana’s hand and squared his shoulders, girding his loins to walk the short distance.

When Wyatt had left home, he had still been an inch or two shorter than Samuel. They were the same height now. Roughly the same build, too. Construction had kept the man whipcord lean. Wyatt had worked on a crew when he’d been younger. He’d spent the past decade trying to replicate that workout in a gym.

“Wyatt,” his father said. Wyatt controlled his instinctive flinch from the familiar gravelly voice. “I didn't think...” He trailed off.

They stood in frozen silence, cataloguing each other for a long moment, before Tatiana delicately cleared her throat.

Samuel tore his gaze away and looked at Tatiana. “Excuse me. I—” His brow furrowed. “I know you. You look familiar.”

“My name's Tatiana Belikov.” She held out her hand. Automatically, Samuel grasped it. “Wyatt and I dated in high school.”

To Wyatt’s surprise, a dull red flush worked its way up Samuel’s neck. “I’m sorry. I should have remembered.”

A good parent would have remembered. He and Tatiana had only been dating for six months when he moved out of his father’s home, but that was more than enough time for a functional adult to have met a child’s girlfriend.

“I never introduced you two,” Wyatt said flatly. “So it’s not a surprise you can’t remember.”

“Ah. Yes.” Samuel had trouble meeting Wyatt’s gaze.

He should have trouble with that, Wyatt thought viciously. “I came to see your—” he choked on the word wife, unable to think past his mother, “—family. I didn’t think you were here.”

“I flew in last night after Carol told me about Ellie’s adventures.” The other man squared his shoulders. “I was going to come see you today.”

Bullshit. The guy hadn’t tried to see him when they were within driving distance of each other.

Tatiana cleared her throat again. “Why don't we sit down somewhere?”

Samuel jerked, as if he’d been prodded into recalling where they were. “Yes. Please, that’s a good idea.”

Wyatt forced himself to put one foot in front of the other to follow the older man to a patio table where a pretty, plump blonde watched them with worried eyes. The nurse, Wyatt thought. His mother had been a blonde, as well. The old man had a type.

He glanced at Tatiana's honey hair, disturbed to think he and his father shared a preference for anything or anyone. But he'd always be attracted to Tatiana, even if she turned her hair pink and her eyes purple.

“This is my wife, Carol,” Sam said quietly.

Wyatt nodded and gave a brusque handshake to the woman. “Wyatt.” He nodded to Tatiana, who smiled warmly at the other woman, no doubt trying to diminish some of the awkwardness. “This is Tatiana.”

“How nice to meet you both,” Carol responded, but worry lines creased her brow, belying her words.

“Wyatt?”

He turned at the now-familiar, eager voice. Ellie wore a hot-pink one-piece, with neon goggles pushed up on her head. Her dark lashes were spikey from the pool water, her hair hanging in wet ropes down her back.

“Hello, Ellie.”

“What are you doing here? I didn't think I would see you again.”

“You snuck out yesterday before I could speak with you.”

“I thought it was best.” Before he could respond to that cryptic and oddly mature pronouncement, Ellie glanced at Tatiana. “Is this your girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“Hello,” Tatiana offered. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“You dated in high school,” Ellie announced.

Wyatt raised a brow. “How did you know that?”

“Found pictures from your senior prom. Your alumni board is pretty active online.” Ellie surveyed Tatiana. “You were a lot fatter then.”

Tatiana’s lips twitched. “I was going through an awkward phase.”

“Ellie, for God’s sake…”

Ellie glanced at her mother. “Sorry.” The word was dutiful, as if Ellie was used to apologizing. “Why aren’t you married yet, if you’ve been dating for so long?”

“We took a break for a while,” Tatiana replied.

“Ellie, can you give us a minute, please?” her father interjected.

A mulish pout crossed the girl's face. Some people might loathe seeing that expression on a child’s face but something within Wyatt eased at the sight of it. He had never disobeyed or become stubborn with his fragile father. He had learned early to avoid anything that could trigger a drunken rage.

“But I want to talk to Wyatt,” she whined.

“Later.” Samuel reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of quarters. “Here, go play video games.”

The girl snorted. “Those arcade games are for babies. The graphics are terrible, and I can beat them in a few minutes.”

“Elizabeth,” her mother interjected. “Do I need to remind you that you are still in trouble from your antics yesterday?”

Ellie’s pout disappeared, and so did the quarters. “No, ma’am. I’ll come back soon.” With a wave to Wyatt, she trudged away.

Wyatt wanted to smile at the forlorn sigh Ellie tossed in for good measure, but he was far too overwhelmed by his own demons.

“Would you like to go inside?” Carol asked.

And prolong this? No thanks. Wyatt shook his head and sat down at the patio table. Tatiana's hand slid off his arm, but only to link her fingers with his.