Delinquent Daddy (15 page)

So yeah, Ellie pretty much adored this life she'd built up all by herself. She might've had grand dreams when she'd lived in Tennessee, but she'd never really thought she'd get this far. Hard work and pure determination actually did pay off sometimes.

As she listened to Cassidy's even breathing, she was helpless but to remember the man who had helped her create this gift. It was like meeting him for the first time all over 137

Delinquent Daddy

by Linda Kage

again. She'd fought so hard not to like him, not to fall for him. But she'd failed miserably.

She couldn't let that happen again. She refused to trip into Boston Kincaid's seductive web one more time. This round, they were enemies. It wouldn't do to lose sight of that.

He wanted to take her daughter.

Remembering the look on his face, however, when he'd seen Cassidy for the first time and the way he'd treasured her body tonight, touching her like he'd actually missed her, Ellie gnashed her teeth even harder. Closing her eyes, she swallowed back the guilt over keeping father and daughter apart. Though she tried to stop it, her mind wandered further into the past, back to Cassie's conception, back to when those good times started to turn not so good.

It was early April, and Boston was in a mood. He often became irritable and tightly wound when he had a big test or a paper deadline to make. The man was the ultimate worrywart. Ellie teased he was going to have an ulcer before he hit twenty-five. But his mood swings had never turned her off before. She'd always delighted in the fact she could pull him out of his doldrums. That was one of the reasons she'd been so drawn to him. Because he'd been so positively affected by the mere touch of her hand.

As one who'd never been comfortable with getting close to other people, she could curl up to Boston and have his body humming in seconds. It was unreal how near she always wanted to be to him. He was like a drug, and she'd become addicted. So addicted, in fact, the first time he'd pulled away from her had felt like a bad overdose.

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Delinquent Daddy

by Linda Kage

She went to his apartment to visit. It was a rainy Saturday afternoon. Though she'd been scheduled to work, another waitress had begged to switch shifts with her. So, Ellie unexpectedly had the entire day off. She could've caught up on a little homework. But she went to Boston instead.

After tapping on his door, she heard his muffled call, "'S

open." So, she grabbed the handle and entered.

He sat on his bed, one leg tucked under him, the other hanging over the mattress as he tapped his toe on the floor to the tune on the radio and worked from an open textbook in his lap.

He glanced up briefly. When he saw her, he didn't smile as he usually did. In fact, he looked a little sick. His face drained of color, and a haunted expression crossed his features so quickly Ellie convinced herself she'd imagined it. Still, warning bells went off.

"Hey," he said stoically and immediately dropped his face to return his attention to his homework, tapping his pen against the textbook.

"Hey," she murmured in reply, closing the door behind her and easing closer to his bed. Something was wrong, ergo, she immediately wanted to fix it and soothe him back into being the guy she loved so much.

"I got off work today. Angela begged to switch schedules so she could go out with some new guy tomorrow night."

"Hmm," he responded, not even bothering to sound interested.

Wanting to cheer him the quickest way she knew how, she sat down on the mattress and scooted closer. "Anyway," she 139

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went on. "I was thinking...since I have the entire afternoon off..." She left the invitation open ended.

Spotting a lock of his hair obstructing his view from reading, she reached out to brush it out of his eyes. But before making contact, he shifted his face away. Ellie's fingers froze and her body constricted with pain. He'd never rejected her touch before. Swallowing, she quickly pulled her hand back to her lap.

He glanced over. When he saw the hurt on her face, his eyes filled with regret, and he opened his mouth as if to apologize. But then he forced his gaze away and mumbled, "I really need to study."

"I'll help," she offered and once again reached out, intending to slip his book off his lap. She'd grown accustomed to helping him study. And he'd always gratefully appreciated her efforts, especially when they did the strip off, where she peeled of a piece of clothing for every question he answered correctly.

But for a second time, he rebuffed her and jerked the book away before she could get it. "Damn it, Ellie," he snapped and lifted his face to send her an irritated scowl.

Her mouth fell open; she could only gape at him in agonized surprise.

His annoyance fell flat when he caught her gaze. He gritted his teeth as if supremely conflicted. Then he sighed and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back to bump against the headboard.

"Look, I just want to be alone and study this for a while, okay." His tone was mildly apologetic. Though the word 140

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"sorry" didn't cross his lips, he opened his eyes and said it with his expression.

Ellie had no idea what was wrong, but she was vividly aware of the fact that this was the first time she hadn't been able to pull him from a mood. It shocked and scared her and made her think she'd done something wrong, something to upset him. Not wanting to look clingy and beg him to talk to her, she nodded wordlessly and scooted off the bed.

"I'm sorry I bothered you," she murmured and hurried from the room. She ran all the way back through the lazy rain to her dorm room, where she shut herself inside and wept the rest of the afternoon.

Boston appeared the next day. Once again, dismal weather filled the campus with a slow, miserable warm rain. Ellie had dried up from her tear fest and was doing homework when the soft knock came. After scooting off her bed, she went to the door and checked the peephole. Her heart about thumped out of her chest when she saw Boston standing there, his hair glistening with raindrops.

Pulse racing, she flipped the deadbolt and flung the door open. He lifted his face, and they both froze, taking a good ten seconds to just stand there, soaking in the sight of each other.

Finally, Boston asked, "Want to go for a walk?"

Neither seemed to care how wet it was outside. Ellie merely bobbed her head and answered, "Let me put on some shoes."

He stayed in the hall and watched her through the open doorway as she plopped onto the floor and jerked on a pair of 141

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sneakers. The fact that he didn't come inside told her things still weren't kosher. But Ellie didn't care. He was here. He was attempting a reconnection.

She assumed he'd tell her what was wrong, what she'd done that had upset him. She'd been wracking her brain for twenty-four hours, trying to think up something she might've said to displease him. But she couldn't think of anything. All she knew was that she loved him, and thinking he was upset with her hurt her to no end.

Ellie was surprised when he remained strangely mute as they started their walk. He didn't seem to want to talk. He only wanted to walk.

So, they walked.

It was ten minutes into their stroll before he even took her hand. Still no words were spoken; he merely slipped his damp fingers through hers and held on. Ellie closed her eyes briefly and tightened her grip in quiet support. Another ten minutes passed. He led them to a deserted memorial park and into a thick copse of trees off the beaten path.

When he slowed to a stop, Ellie looked up. He turned to her slowly and blinked as if surprised to see her.

"You're all wet," he murmured, realizing it for the first time. He lifted his hand and wiped a stream of rain off her cheek.

Her heart warmed. "So are you," she told him and brought her hand up to mimic his actions.

He closed his eyes and moved his face against her fingers, delighting in her touch. Lightly catching her wrist, he held her 142

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hand still as he pressed his mouth against her palm and kissed her, licking the rain off the inside of her fingertips.

Ellie's loins tightened and her spirits lifted. "Boston," she whispered.

He inhaled loudly, smelling her scent. When he opened his eyes and looked at her, she felt the zap in every pore of her being.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, looking regretful like he'd never looked before. "God, I am so sorry."

Then he reached for her face. She eagerly reached back.

They made love right there, in the slow rain with no protection. No umbrella. No condom. Boston had been inside her without a condom before, but he'd always pulled out at the last moment.

This time, he didn't. He didn't even seem to realize he had nothing on to prevent a pregnancy. And Ellie was too glad he wasn't upset anymore to remind him otherwise. She didn't want him to stop. So, she held him close and continued to participate in the most erotic, prolonged event of her life.

He said sorry a few more times; she assumed he was apologizing for his mood the day before. It took her a week to learn there was so much more he'd been trying to beg forgiveness for. Yes, she found out exactly why he'd withdrawn from her the Saturday before. And it had nothing to do with her own failings.

She entered her American history class at nine the next Monday morning and was startled to hear a couple of girls mention Boston's name. They didn't just say Boston, either.

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They said Boston
Kincaid
. There was no way they were talking about someone else.

A chesty, lithe redhead by the name of Heather Grimaldi described him to a tee and went on to enlighten her friends how she'd picked him up at a party the week before. Then she bragged about how she'd gotten him to go back to her room with her. She hadn't been able to go into much more detail before she sighed with delight and slumped down in her chair, smiling dreamily at her companions.

"Oh my God, that man can kiss," she said. "He has, like, the softest mouth ever." Then she giggled and added, "I can't wait to see him again."

Sick to her stomach, Ellie jerked to her feet and raced from the classroom before the professor even entered to start his lecture.

Moisture running in droplets down her face, Ellie realized she'd unknowingly started to cry as she'd drifted off into sleep. Sucking in a tear, she wiped it away with the back of her hand and then reached out to stroke the still slumbering child's hair next to her. Her beloved Cassie, who'd been conceived in the rain, lay peacefully asleep. Focusing on that, Ellie reminded herself she had someone to truly love now. Life was still good, and she was still happy. The simple reappearance of Boston into her world wasn't going to ruin that. She wouldn't let it.

Hoping a good night's sleep would fix the little pity party she'd had when she'd crawled into bed with Cassie, Ellie woke the next morning with a headache. Sleep had fixed nothing.

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In fact, sleep hadn't even come. She'd just lain there, awake and miserable, listening to Cassidy snore.

Groggy and sore, she rolled off the small mattress and took her shower. She was cooking sausage links and toasting bread when her daughter stumbled into the kitchen.

"Morning, sweetheart," she greeted her, her back to Cassie because she was busy flipping the links and trying to press all the grease out of them with her spatula.

Cassie didn't answer, but she'd never been a bright and shining morning person, so Ellie wasn't concerned about it—

until she turned around to butter the toast. She slid a smile her daughter's way only to pause when she found the girl scowling.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

Cassie kept glaring. "You yelled at him again after he tucked me in last night, didn't you?"

Ellie's mouth fell open, speechless. "Yell" wasn't exactly the word she'd use for what they'd done.

"Why do you hate him?" Cassie said. "He just wants to be with me, and you keep pushing him away. Why do you want to keep my dad from me?"

Her daughter looked so tormented, Ellie's heart crumbled.

"Oh, baby," she said, dropping the butter knife and kneeling in front of the chair where Cassie sat. "No. I never wanted to keep him from you."

"Yes, you did too! You told him I was dead. You—"

"That wasn't because I wanted to keep him from you, Cassie. I..." She what? Suddenly at a loss for words, she stared at her daughter blankly.

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Had
she wanted to keep the two of them apart? From the very moment Cassidy had been born, she'd been Ellie's.

Cassie was Ellie's one great accomplishment. Her daughter was her life and her world. Had she subconsciously been hogging that wonder all to herself? Had she purposely driven Boston away so she didn't have to share with him?

Cassidy was still staring up at her, waiting for an answer that Ellie couldn't give.

"Eat your toast," she mumbled and plopped the hard bread on her daughter's plate.

Cassie stared down and glared at her food, refusing to touch it.

And thus progressed their relationship. Three days later, Ellie felt like a damn recorder. Once again in the kitchen, mother and daughter filled the room with a hostile silence.

Ellie stuffed her mouth with a forkful of Hamburger Helper and chewed relentlessly, though it tasted like cardboard to her.

She scowled at Cassie, who sat slumped in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, refusing to eat. This argument they had going was proving to be their longest yet. When Ellie tried to corner Cassie and get her to talk, Cassie would turn around and ask Ellie questions about Boston that shut her mother up in seconds.