Earning Edie (Espinoza Boys #1) (11 page)

She shrugged. “She did what she wanted to do. I didn’t stop her. I don’t understand why I’m being blamed now that it hasn’t worked out. I warned her that Debra was cold and Paul was oblivious.”

I steered the interview back to the other points in the article, and I quickly got a picture of life with Edie’s mother. She barely paid the bills, much less had money for the things teens might want or need. Sheila knew she didn’t have a lot to offer Edie in terms of material items, and she seemed to think Edie found her inadequate, but knowing Edie I doubted that was true.

Edie was a practical girl; if she thought one parent could more easily afford to support her, I could see her making a choice based on that fact. I’d have to ask Edie later, but she didn’t seem to care about material things. Sheila was also obviously bitter about Edie’s option to live with her father, possibly even jealous.

But she did seem to love Edie.

“Wasn’t it a little harsh not to give her a place to stay when the Masons kicked her out after that column?”

Sheila picked at a sliver of wood on the bench restlessly. “What she said about us was harsh. Besides, she left us years ago, and she doesn’t really want to be here. Have you seen this place? I always knew Edie could take care of herself. She’s not sleeping on the street, is she?”

“No.”

She’s sleeping in my bed.

It was a distracting thought, a tantalizing one, even if I wasn’t in the bed with her.

“I knew she’d be okay. Edie is pretty and bright and she’ll have a great life, if she can get over these pity parties she throws for herself.”

“Well, thank you for your time,” I said.

“One more thing, Mr. Espinoza.”

“Yes?” I asked, as I stood to go.

“You did wrong, by her and by us, when you printed that first article.”

I nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’m trying to make it right.”

She chewed on her lip thoughtfully. “I sense that you know Edie past that first night you interviewed her.”

“I have talked to her since then, yes.”

“Well, tell her she’s still welcome to visit, of course. Just like always. I wish I could offer her more.” She shrugged. “This is my life now. Between Ray’s overflowing hobby and our two pennies for bills, we can’t accommodate Edie. But we do miss her.”

I smiled. “I’ll pass on the message,’ I said. “I think she misses you too.”

***

A few days later, I walked in after work, happy to return home in a way I never used to be. It was nice to have someone waiting when I walked in the door. I finally understood why people liked marriage and kids.

Today, I was especially glad to get away from the office. Tanya had called me to her office,
again
, but at least there’d been no threats to fire me this time. Today, she wanted to tell me how much she liked my work. That should have been good news, but she liked my work so much she’d decided the column about our county treasurer’s abuse of public funds should be revised into a front-page news story instead.

I was killing myself to prove my column’s worth, and she was robbing it when I’d written the best column to date.

It frustrated me to no end, even with her extending the deadline on my column’s performance an extra week. With the strain put on staffing at the newspaper, I was pretty sure my column’s death sentence was a foregone conclusion, no matter what I did.

“Honey, I’m home,” I called out jokingly, just as I always did.

In the beginning, it irritated Edie to death, which I enjoyed. Now, she just rolled her eyes and went with it.

Edie looked up from a spot in the middle of the living room floor. She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of an explosion of books and printouts. She turned her head away, but not before I saw the tear tracks on her cheeks.

There was a time seeing those tears would have sent me walking right back out the door. But Edie’s sadness seemed to bring out my protective side.

I immediately forgot my irritation with Tanya, my concern for Edie overtaking all other thoughts. 

“Oh, hey,” I said, my voice automatically going to gentle mode. “What’s the matter?”

Please don’t let it be something I did.

Edie had already read the column about her parents, so I knew it couldn’t be that. I’d let her read a copy ahead of it going to print, and she’d taken their words stoically. She wasn’t surprised Debra was the most bitter of the bunch, and I got the impression their relationship had always been strained.

She gestured at the mess. “It’s hopeless! I kept thinking I might find another scholarship or grant or something, but it’s just too late.”

I dropped to my knees beside her and looked at the book covers. “Scholarships for Dummies” and “Rare college scholarship opportunities.” So, she was worried about college. I’d kind of figured that out from some of the searches in my laptop’s browser history.

“Maybe you should talk to your parents again,” I said.

She snorted. “After what they said in your follow-up column? No thanks.”

I winced. I hated that I’d had to write that column. She said she understood, but I still wasn’t sure she really did. She probably just didn’t want to look for a new place to live.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “So, level with me. How bad is it?”

Her eyes met mine in surprise. “I have a scholarship that will cover one semester of tuition if I stay in state,” she said. “But … it’s the cost of living. Rent and food and books…”

One semester. But that meant even if she found the cash for room and books, she’d have to go through this all over again at winter break. She might be able win a scholarship from her degree program by then, I mused, thinking back on my own college experience. But that’s a lot of pressure when you’re already stressed out to be in college for the first time.

I resolved to start making phone calls. Surely there were local organizations or businesses in town that could be convinced to donate a one-time scholarship.

“Loans?” I asked.

She shoved the books away from her and stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankle.

“Maybe,” she said. “I haven’t gone down that road yet. Even if I can get a loan, I’d be in heaps of debt by the time I graduated. And social workers don’t make much.”

This was the first time I’d heard Edie wanted to go into social work, but it fit with her personality.

“True. But …”

“What?”

I hesitated. “Well, if it were me, I guess I’d rather have a load of debt for the rest of my life and a career I loved than no debt and a job at some diner.”

“I’ll take door number three,” she said. “Is there no middle ground?”

“Sure, there is,” I said, not entirely sure I was being honest. “We’ll find it.”

She sighed and wiped at her cheeks. Her eyes were still red.

I clapped my hands together. “I know how to cheer you up. Wait here.”

EDIE

He returned with a bottle of wine and two cheap plastic cups.

“I got this for my birthday last year, and I’m not much of a wine drinker, but it’s all we’ve got unless you want me to run to the liquor store.”

My eyebrows went up. “You do know I’m underage?”

He shrugged. “It’s just wine, and it’s not like you need to drive anywhere. If you really don’t want it, it’s OK. I thought you could use a break from your life.”

Well, that much was true, and it wasn’t like I’d never drank before. I’d had too much alcohol the night I met Nick at that party.

“You’re right. I would love to de-stress.” I pointed a finger at him. “But no interviews.”

He crossed his heart with a finger. “I promise.”

He jabbed the sharp end of the wine opener into the cork and started twisting. It was dangerously fun to watch him while he was distracted. With each turn, the muscles in his forearms flexed.

Once he’d popped the cork and poured us glasses, I sank back onto the sofa beside him and took a sip. It was dry and kind of bitter, and I fought not to grimace. It tasted like I was drinking an oak tree.

Nick handled it better, taking a big swallow and turning toward me expectantly. Rather than tell him I hated the wine, I went back to our earlier topic of conversation, even though it was a downer.

“I keep thinking, maybe my family is right and I’m exaggerating everything,” I said, referencing the comments they made in his column.

“No way,” he said. “It’s not your fault.”

“But maybe they didn’t know how I felt. Maybe I should have explained what I wanted better.”

Nick made quick work of his first glass of wine before pouring another. When he chased a stray drop at the corner of his mouth, I couldn’t help but watch his lips as he did it. He had nice lips. Heck, who was I kidding? Nick had nice everything.

“You should come meet my family,” he said, distracting me from my study of his mouth.
Cut it out, Edie, before he notices!

“What? You want to rub it in or something?”

He grimaced, and put his glass on the coffee table.

“This wine is crap,” he said, even though he was on his second glass now. “No, I just think you should see what a supportive family looks like. Then you won’t doubt yourself. You’ll know this whole situation is not your fault.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Maybe. It’s not like I haven’t been around happy families. Lil’s family has been there to catch me when my parents left me hanging.”

“I’m glad you had that. But even if you don’t need a demonstration, just come over with me. Mama will love you, and you could do with a little coddling.”

I laughed at that and shook my head.

“Mama makes a mean lasagna,” he tempted. “And the most delicious tiramisu. Aren’t you tired of fast food?”

I put my glass down with relief, no longer feeling obligated to fake it now that Nick had given up on his own drink. He’d managed to down more wine than I had, though, and I could see the results in the relaxed lines of his body.

“I really am tired of fast food,” I said fervently. “I’ll think about it.”

NICK

I grabbed my wine glass and finished it off, then poured a third.

A glance into Edie’s cup showed that she’d had very little, but I couldn’t blame her. Wine was an acquired taste, especially for someone who hadn’t drank much before.

I took a couple of big gulps, and I could feel the wine working to relax me. I sank back against the cushions, and just enjoyed the feeling of lethargy coming over me. Edie was right next to me, and I could feel her warmth. I wanted to soak it in.

“My family life is such a disaster,” she said. “But so is everything else.”

“You mean college?” I murmured.

“And don’t even get me started on my love life.”

I snorted. “Please. Did you not meet Elana? I win hands down.”

“Well, maybe as far as disasters go,” Edie allowed. “But mine is nonexistent. I’ve never even been on a date.”

I opened my eyes, and met her gaze. She looked embarrassed. She should have had more wine, I reflected. This conversation was too heavy.

She picked up her glass hesitantly and sipped it before making a face and returning it to the coffee table.

I watched her, liking how her body shifted when she moved. She turned back toward me expectantly. What were we talking about again? Shit …

I’d lost the thread. She chewed on her bottom lip like she always did when she was nervous.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Just a little. You?”

“Very little.”

I suddenly remembered. Her love life. Nonexistent.
Good
.

“It just means you have high standards,” I said.

“Huh?” she asked.

“The no dating thing.”

“Oh.”

“Dating sucks,” I added. “You go out with someone you barely know. You make some small talk, and then you almost always find out they’re irritating and rude. Then you get to the end of the night, and it’s terribly awkward. Do I kiss her, or don’t I? You’re better off without it.”

“Yeah, that kissing thing is a huge dilemma,” she said with a grin. “I never know if I should kiss the girl.”

I squinted at her, before realizing she was teasing me.

“Er … you know,” I said, waving a hand vaguely.

“No, I don’t,” she said sadly.

She cast her eyes down, and her dark lashes fluttered against her skin. Her lips were pink, fresh. Had no one ever kissed them before? That was sacrilege.

Virgin lips. Cherry lips.

I suddenly wanted them. Badly.

I reached out and stroked a finger along her cheek. Her gaze snapped up to meet mine. There were questions in her eyes, and I had no answers.

I leaned in and kissed her anyway.

Everything about me felt slow and languid, so that’s how I kissed. I brushed my lips against hers in a feather-soft touch, slowly skimming my mouth across hers.