Everything You've Got: Anything & Everything, Book 2 (31 page)

“You’ll just have to outdo him. And you can.” Luke sat forward. “People will come to you. You can make this work.”

He sounded supportive. He sounded like he wanted what was best for her. But she couldn’t help but wonder—was it more that he wanted what was best for
him
? He’d been in love with Sabrina for years, but when she wanted to follow her dream to travel and try to make it in music he refused to go with her. He knew what he wanted and if she wasn’t willing to give it… Kat didn’t want to think about it, but it was very possible that he’d say
see ya
to her too.

She sat forward too, her temper rising. “I don’t want to make that work,” she said firmly. “I don’t want to work for Brickham, I don’t want to work at the hospital in Alliance and I don’t want to open my own clinic in Justice.” She’d been willing to make the drive to and from Alliance forever,
for
him
, until he insisted on her telling him what was
really
going on.

This
was what was really going on.

He should have been content with the mega amounts of sex.

Luke just sat staring at her for a long moment. Then he sat back in his chair and gave her a huge grin.

What the hell? She poured another glass of wine.

“You definitely don’t need to put up with any of that.”

She drank half the glass of wine. “Yeah?”

“You deserve more than that.”

Damn right she did. She narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?” They really needed to be on the same page here.

“You deserve the freedom to do whatever you want.”

She did. But did he know what she wanted to do? “Like what?”

“Anything.” He looked almost excited. “I can easily support you. You’ve already moved in. We’ll sell your house. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

She drank the rest of her wine. Once she’d set her glass back on the table she tipped her head. “What will I do?”

He shrugged. “Pro bono work. Volunteer. Work at The Camelot. Nothing. Whatever you want.”

“I could work at The Camelot?” she repeated. “Doing what? Washing dishes?”

He smiled. “No. You can bartend. Or hostess. Or nothing,” he said again, reaching for his own wine. “You can be a lady of leisure.”

“You want me to be a desperate housewife?” she asked. “We’re going to need to put in a pool so I can get a pool boy. And a garden so I can have a gardener to mess around with.”

He didn’t pick up on her irritation. He grinned. “I’ll come home for nooners so you won’t have to worry about that.”

He had to be kidding.

“Oh, well in that case, sure. I’ll just stay at home. I’ll just forget the ten years I spent in school, the fact that I love taking care of patients, the idea of doing meaningful work and feeling rewarded.” She couldn’t believe he wasn’t kidding. Okay, pro bono work wasn’t a
terrible
idea, but—

“Well, that brings up another fantastic option,” he said.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it. “Oh?”

“We can start our family.”

Kat just stared at him. He grinned back. She reached for the wine bottle.

Once she’d poured and drank again she said, calmly, “As in, I can get pregnant and then stay home with the baby because I don’t have anything better to do?”

He frowned. “I want you to be happy, Kat. I want to give you something that means a lot to you, that you’ll be great at, but that doesn’t stress you out and make you feel like crap.”

She understood what he was doing. He was fixing this. Or trying to.

That was what Luke did. He fixed things for people.

She’d come to him with a problem—hating her job—and he was making it so she didn’t have to work at the job she hated.

But all of his solutions revolved around him still getting what he wanted—her in Justice.

“Babies are your solution?” she asked, sounding as exhausted as she felt.

“An option,” he said quickly, finally picking up on her exasperation. “Off the top of my head. Without fully thinking it through before I opened my mouth and sounded like a chauvinist.”

She actually smiled a little at that.

She wasn’t ready for this fight. She wasn’t ready to let go of him yet. The choice was clear—stay with AMP and keep Luke, or leave AMP…and Luke.

Kat stood and slipped into his lap. She looked into his eyes, then leaned in and kissed him, pouring her love into it. He didn’t resist her for a moment.

When she pulled back, she saw the same love in his eyes. “That’s for trying to fix things for me,” she said softly.

Even the stuff that couldn’t really be fixed.

She stood, took his hand and tugged him to his feet. “I need you,” she told him.

Without a word, he pulled his wallet out, tossed a hundred dollar bill on the table, then took her hand and headed for the door.

Kat approached the door to the Camelot with an unexpected and unwelcome amount of anxiety.

She hadn’t been there in over a month. And she hadn’t really missed it. The month had confirmed that the appeal was Luke. She liked the people who came here, loved the food, usually had a good time. But it had been part of her daily routine because of Luke. Now she had him at home so she hadn’t missed being at the Camelot.

On the few nights off Dr. Brickham had given her, she’d wanted to be quiet at home with Luke. Or loud at home with Luke.

But tonight was Luke’s dad’s birthday, so she was showing up.

She pulled the strap of her dress higher on her shoulder and breathed deeply.

This didn’t feel right. She was incredibly uncomfortable. Which was crazy. The dress was a soft, flowing cotton, and was modest and tasteful.

Everyone was going to be shocked.

She was wearing yellow. Light yellow. No black. No boots. Her hair was soft and curly, her makeup was subtle and tasteful.

She was dressed exactly how Luke “Pillar-of-the-Community” Hamilton’s girlfriend should dress at his father’s birthday party.

And she couldn’t do it.

She felt vulnerable, extremely unsure of herself, definitely frustrated, even sad. Every bit of that would show. She needed to have everyone looking somewhere other than her eyes.

Turning on the heel of her conservative, comfortable, flat sandal she headed home.

In her closet ten minutes later, she reached for the skimpiest, tightest thing she had.

The black zip-front bandeau minidress would mold to every curve and show off plenty of cleavage. It would show off the swirls of silver body paint on her shoulders. It would look hot with her boots.

It would effectively distract everyone.

She wouldn’t have to worry about any deep heart-to-heart talks or prying questions in this dress.

The men would be busy trying to pull their attention from her breasts and butt when they talked to her and the women would be busy hating her and regretting that they’d skipped the gym that morning.

It was perfect.

Twenty minutes later her makeup was nice and heavy and her hair was spiked and purple.

Much better.

She managed to stand in the doorway to the Camelot’s main dining room for nearly a full minute before being noticed.

Sabrina was on stage and Marc was helping behind the bar, but Mrs. Sangle, Justice’s high school biology teacher, noticed her just seconds before Luke did.

“Kat.”

“Hi, Mrs. Sangle.”

“It’s nice to see you.” The older woman’s eyes traveled over Kat’s ensemble and for the first time Kat noticed…and cared.

Dammit.

“How are you?” Kat asked, trying to ignore the irritation she felt. Besides, she couldn’t decide if she was irritated with Dorothy Sangle or herself.

They were just clothes. Why did they have to matter at all? To Mrs. Sangle…or to Kat herself?

“Fine. Fine. No complaints. I wanted to ask you for some help, though.”

Mrs. Sangle had trouble controlling her diabetes. “Of course. What’s going on?”

“We’re going to be raising funds to put an ice cream machine in at the community center. I was hoping you would cochair the fund-raising committee.”

Kat stared at her. An ice cream machine. Seriously?

“I’m not sure I have time for anything like that right now,” Kat said. She was sure she did
not
have time for that. If they’d asked her to do a presentation on managing high blood pressure or dealing with hormonal fluctuations she’d make time. But a stupid ice cream machine at the stupid community center? Really?

Luke came up beside her, slipping an arm around her, his fingertips brushing the bare skin at her waist. “Smile,” he muttered with a big smile of his own for Mrs. Sangle.

Smile? He was concerned because she wasn’t
smiling
? Well, she didn’t frickin’ feel like smiling.

“Evening, Dorothy,” Luke said. “Thanks for coming.”

“Hi, Luke.” Mrs. Sangle glanced at Kat. “I’m sorry things are so busy, Kat. Maybe another time.”

Oh, sure. The next time the town decided it needed to raise a few hundred dollars for something completely frivolous, Kat was sure they’d ask her to head it up.

“Just let me know when the preschool is ready to hear about the importance of physical activity or when the senior center wants to hear about how to keep their bones strong,” she said. And she smiled as she did it.

Mrs. Sangle frowned. “I suppose Dr. Davidson will be handling those talks now. But maybe you can get involved when we start planning the next book club.”

Kat gritted her teeth, then opened her mouth.

But before she could respond, Luke broke in. “Thanks, Dorothy. Keep us in mind,” he said as he turned Kat away and toward his office.

Once safely inside, he shut the door and faced her. “Bad night?” he asked.

“She wants me to raise money for an ice cream machine.” Kat paced to his desk, then turned and paced to the other side of the room, full of angry energy.

“I know.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Why? You’re a great fund-raiser.”

She stopped and looked at him. Was he trying to be funny? Push her buttons? She couldn’t tell. And she wasn’t going to try to figure it out. Just like she hadn’t felt like smiling at Dorothy Sangle, she didn’t feel like puzzling out what Luke was doing or not doing.

“I don’t want to.” She crossed her arms.

“Because you’re busy and tired?” Luke asked.

“No. Because I don’t like spending my time doing things that are stupid.”

“You’ve raised money for stupider things than this. Like the potted silk plants they put in the church lobby.”

She rolled her eyes. That had been stupid.

“Why did you do that?” he asked, coming toward her.

She averted her eyes, running her finger up and down the seam on her sleeve. She wasn’t going to admit she’d done all of that to fit into his image of the perfect woman. No fund-raising event too trivial, no cause too inane.

“Have you ever noticed that they don’t ask me to do anything serious?”

Luke tipped her chin up with one finger, making her look at him. “No, I’ve never noticed that.”

“They ask me to do little stuff. Silly stuff.” The realization was just dawning for her as well. She’d never been in the center of anything like Luke was.

“I don’t think they—”

“Luke, I’m not who they want up in front of everything and everyone.”

He started to shake his head, but she grabbed his face between her hands, stopping him. “I have purple hair. Or blue. Or green. I wear black leather. Often skimpy black leather. I have piercings. That’s not who they want to shine the spotlight on.”

“Everyone likes you,” Luke insisted.

“They do,” she agreed. At least, most of them liked her. “But liking me and wanting me as the image of the town are two different things.”

“So, show them who you really are. Show them that this image isn’t really you. Show them what’s underneath.” He swiped his thumb gently along the black line under her bottom eyelashes. The eyeliner came off on his skin. “I thought you were getting more comfortable being real.”

She sighed and shook her head. “This is real. This is who I am here.”

“But this is home. You should be most comfortable here.”

He had a point. Home was where you could be yourself. Which made her heart flip, then ache.

Justice wasn’t home for her.

“Then they shouldn’t care what I wear. And my mistakes should be forgiven. And I shouldn’t have to prove myself. I shouldn’t have to be on every little stupid committee and fund-raise for every little stupid thing someone comes up with to fit in.”

Luke didn’t look surprised. But he did look disappointed.

She pulled away from him, not able to look at that. “I want to be real, Luke. I do. So I’m going to from here on out. And there’s more to it than sweatpants versus leather.” She took a deep breath, feeling like she was about to jump off the high diving board. “I don’t like committees, I read the synopsis online instead of reading the last book club book, I pay Mrs. Jenkins to bake for me when it’s bake sale time. And I’d rather watch football on your couch with a bag of potato chips instead of having a big fancy party with all our friends.”