Find My Way Home (Harmony Homecomings) (14 page)

Bertie released a huge pent-up breath. Her professional life and personal goals had suffered a huge setback. She didn’t have time to be playing a hormonal teenager lusting after the gorgeous high school jock. The ramifications from this stupid, stupid, careless act made her mind spin. She was already up to her ass in alligators and she was wearing muskrat underwear.

“Wow, Bertha. Congratulations. Didn’t know you had it in you. If I’d known you were doing the dirty deed, I wouldn’t have stopped by with Scott.” Liza made her way up the back steps as if Bertie had invited her in.

“Stop calling me Bertha.” Bertie pushed her tangled hair behind her ears. “It’s late. You need help getting Scott home?” she mumbled and then frowned. “Where is Scott?”

Liza’s head popped up and both she and Bertie scanned the dark night. A dim glow from the outdoor sconce reached only a few feet from the back porch to the yard. Beyond that, the ground was draped in darkness. Liza shrugged.

Bertie jumped off the steps. “Scott?” Bertie stopped. “Do you hear water?” Both she and Liza listened. The sound of water streaming hit their ears.

“Scott Douglas!” Liza yelled.

“Over here. Had to take a whiz.”

Bertie smacked her forehead with her palm. Holy moly. Scott Douglas was peeing on her precious Japanese maple. “Scott, if that tree dies, you’re buying me a new one.” Bertie had to yell to be heard over Liza’s howling laughter.

Liza deposited Scott safely home in his mother’s caring arms. Shirley Douglas cradled Scott’s snoring head on her shoulder. Shirley’s mouth said thank you, but her eyes clearly said she thought Liza was the devil incarnate and had lured her precious son over to the dark side of hell.

Earlier, Liza had been prepared to dump Scott on Bertie’s doorstep. In fact, she’d been gleefully looking forward to it until she laid eyes on Bertie’s disheveled clothes and swollen lips and recognized what Bertie had been up to and with whom. Liza had witnessed the obvious attraction between Bertie and Keith back when they’d argued over the ladder and wallpaper. She’d suspected then that Keith wanted to fondle more than luxurious velvets and nubby chenilles. He had looked at Bertie like he’d just been released from months of solitary confinement and she was his salvation. Liza chuckled as her Beemer zipped down the empty street. She might stick around a little longer to see how all this played out. Bertie provided more entertainment for the people of Harmony than the State Fair. Bertie was the glue that kept this town vibrant and moving forward. And the beauty of it all was that Bertie had no clue. Liza would enjoy watching her fight her attraction to the bad boy of tennis. Much better than sitting home and watching
Housewives
of
New
Jersey
or licking her own wounds.

Liza’s cell buzzed, and she grappled for it on the passenger seat. She blew out a calming breath as she recognized the number that should be making her turn her car toward the interstate instead of parking it in her driveway. She almost let the call go to voice mail…almost.

“Hey,” Liza said.

“Where are you?” he asked. Liza melted a little every time she heard that deep, comforting voice.

“I dumped Scott at his mom’s and was heading home.” She kept her voice steady.

“Don’t.”

Liza gripped the blue rubber cover to her phone. His sigh sounded a lot like frustration and desire mixed together.

“Come over. I need to see you.” He tempted her with his honesty and his need. She kept quiet. “Don’t you think we should see where this goes instead of avoiding each other?”

“I’d gotten pretty good at avoiding you,” she finally answered.

“Yeah? And how’s that working out for you?”

Like crap. Terrible. More miserable now than fourteen years ago. “We decided a long time ago that this was never going to happen. What happened to that?” she asked.

“We were young and immature.” He hesitated and Liza held her breath. “Come on. We owe it to ourselves. Haven’t you always wondered?”

Yeah, that was what got her into trouble the first time. Heart racing, she increased her speed. This could be the biggest mistake of her life. Or…this could be what she’d been searching for. “See you in fifteen.”

There was a beat of silence. “You won’t regret it.” He sounded relieved, and her heart kicked into high gear. “I’ll be waiting.” And then Cal Anderson ended the call.

***

Keith paced over the subfloor in his gutted kitchen and checked his watch for the fifth time. He remembered ordering Bertie to be here at eight on Monday morning, but he hadn’t called to confirm the day before. He hadn’t spoken to her since he left her standing in her kitchen, looking thoroughly kissed and well satisfied. That night, he’d lost his head and practically done the curvy, bombshell decorator with the killer green eyes and gorgeous breasts on her own kitchen counter. He’d felt the dangerous pull of temptation as he’d drunk the tasteless beer and fought the urge to grab her. And then he’d shaken off the feeling, choosing to be noble and leave her house before he did something stupid. And he’d almost succeeded.
Damn
. He’d been so close. His foot had been out the door… and then she’d jumped him. No, maybe threw herself at him would be more accurate. Either way, she’d left him no choice. He’d had to grab her. Once he’d filled his hands with her warm body and she’d given him a kiss that almost blew his head off, he’d been a total goner.

What had he been thinking? He hadn’t. Keith’s palms began to sweat as he rubbed them down his cargo pants. Did he not learn anything from his past? Did his miserable, dysfunctional marriage not teach him a damn thing? He considered himself a fairly intelligent guy. He’d made good grades in school—good enough to attend Princeton. Yeah, his tennis had certainly helped, but even without tennis, Keith’s grades and scores had been high enough to get in.

But somewhere, somehow, he had a screw loose. He had a masochistic tendency when it came to women and relationships. The more torturous, the more he fell—hook, line, and sinker. Show him a woman who could wreak emotional havoc like a category five hurricane or a mega tidal wave, and he’d attach himself to her like a burr under her saddle.

The same thing had happened with Adriana. He’d fallen for her sultry brown eyes, her sculpted, talented lips, and her round curves she’d wrapped in shiny spandex and sparkly Lycra. Forget the fact that she’d targeted him because he was a big tennis star. Or because she found a permanent way out of her family’s one-bedroom apartment in Little Havana and into a high-rise on Ocean Drive. None of that registered with him. He had followed her lead like a drooling St. Bernard on a leash, not caring that they were drunk most of the time and playing with fire. He didn’t wake up from his lust-filled haze until she shoved a stick under his nose from a pregnancy kit indicating she was knocked up. Keith remembered staring at that stick and its pink plus sign like he was looking into a crater of molten lava at the exact same moment he’d lost his balance. Terrified didn’t begin to cover his emotions. That pink plus sign sobered him faster than an IRS audit. That powerful little sign marched his ass down an aisle and made him say, “I do.” Not exactly an aisle. More like the courthouse steps, but it didn’t change the end result. Keith had married a woman he didn’t love because she carried his baby.

He’d been atoning for his sins ever since. He didn’t need a therapist to tell him that his mother had fucked him up. He knew it already, and having a therapist confirm it with a bunch of psychobabble only made him feel worse and more out of control. He felt abandoned after his dad had died and his mother flitted from house to house and then country to country. He spent more time in boarding schools than in a stable home. He reminded his mom of what she’d lost—his dad. The love of her life.

He got all that. On paper, it all made perfect sense. But it still didn’t stop him from wishing he’d tried harder, showed her more affection, and listened to her talk. Even when it was hard and she rambled or, worse, cried. Instead, he sulked and hid in his room. Maybe if he’d been a better son, they could’ve made it work as a family.

Keith shook his head. Yeah, when birds grew lips. He needed to break his cycle of fucked-up relationships. The hard-knock lessons he learned from his mom and the drama from Adriana should be embedded in his skull. And he should be smart enough not to repeat the past. He had Maddie and this broken-down house. One was perfect and the other would be as soon as the renovations were complete. He’d been given a second chance by his interfering, domineering, but well-meaning aunt. Maddie deserved a better home and a loving family. And Keith planned to give it to her. He already had the perfect candidate picked out. He needed to stay focused and keep his eye on the ball. Even on his worst days on the tennis court, as long as he kept his eye on the ball and relied on his training, he could turn a bad match around. One point at a time. Because, like tennis, he had no intentions of losing.

Keith picked up a broom and started sweeping the dust from the construction. It would be only a matter of days before he needed to move out completely. The major overhaul had started. The kitchen and master bath had been gutted. Each day, he breathed and ate more dust. He looked up at the sound of the front door closing and waited.

Bertie entered the kitchen wearing dark jeans with a long green sweater that covered her entire torso and fell mid-thigh. The sweater did a great job of hiding her shape—but not good enough to keep him from remembering. She’d twisted her hair in some sort of knot or bun, reminding him of his third-grade teacher, but without the pinched, disapproving expression. No. Bertie wore a wary expression. No smile. Just wide, green eyes that looked as if they might pool with tears any minute.

“Thanks for coming so early,” he heard himself say, clearing his throat. Bertie gave a jerky nod. “Uh, about what I said—”

“Please. Don’t.” She stepped farther in the kitchen, clutching her orange tote as if it held rare jewels. “I was out of line, and I’m sorry for my behavior.” Her gaze darted around the room, taking in everything from the holes in the walls to the exposed plumbing pipes, but not him. “You have every right to fire me.” She lifted her gaze to him finally. “I hope that you won’t, but I’d understand if you did.”

Keith leaned against the broom handle, thinking that this frightened gal apologizing for kissing the hell out of him and allowing him to worship at the altar of pure feminine perfection didn’t resemble Adriana at all. Stress, and maybe even fear, ruled her face. She didn’t look at all like the person who jumped him and pressed herself to him in fiery need and desire. Or the person who allowed him to touch her in all the right places. No. She looked as if she wished the entire episode had never happened and she’d made the biggest, stupidest mistake of her whole life. Which kind of pissed him off. He couldn’t stop thinking about how close he came to being inside her and how he burned to be there. She appeared to have been beating herself up for twenty-four hours, waiting for the piano to drop.

“I wasn’t referring to that, and please, don’t apologize. If anybody should apologize, it should be me,” he said. She bit her lower lip and listened. “I’m sorry for, uh…” He cleared his throat. “For attacking you the other night. It was wrong, and I won’t let it happen again.” She crossed her arms as if hugging herself and nodded. “And I’m sorry for what I said about Maddie. I don’t have a problem with you working with her.” Relief and a little color washed over her subdued face. “We spent the day at the beach yesterday and she was so…um…excited about her room.” Bertie inched closer, her troubled eyes cleared with anticipation. “Anyway, Maddie really likes you and…” Keith leaned the broom against the wall. “I want you to fix her room and make it special.”

Bertie nodded but remained silent. Keith moved close enough to catch the trace of blooming flowers that seemed to float around her as if she lived in a garden. She had dark smudges under her eyes, probably from lack of sleep or stress or fear.

“I’m still on the job?” she asked.

“Yeah. And I promise not to make it too difficult for you. I’ll stay out of your way as much as possible.” Bertie inclined her head, shuffling her black wedge shoe over the dusty floor. “We can keep the same arrangement for now,” he murmured. His hand reached out of its own accord, and his finger touched the line of her jaw. Bertie trembled. Keith’s palm cupped the side of her face. “The one where Gary oversees the big stuff.” Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. “I think it’s for the best,” he said as he leaned forward and inhaled. Her perfect lips parted on a sigh, and she swayed toward him. “Bertie…I need—”

“Dad! Where are you?”

Keith and Bertie jerked back as if a geyser shot straight up between them. Goddammit. He was a sick fuck. He had absolutely no control around this bewitching goddess. He needed therapy and then drugs and maybe even a frontal lobotomy, because she was like a crack pipe that stole his mind and killed his inhibitions.

Bertie fidgeted with the tote stuffed with samples and crossed the room to the demolished mudroom. Keith rubbed his hand over his face.

“In the kitchen, honey.”

Maddie came flouncing in, her hair in a lopsided ponytail and wearing a big smile. Her face shone with pure exuberance mixed with the perfect amount of innocence. She wrapped her skinny arms around Keith’s middle and gave him a big squeeze.

“I’m so excited. Is Bertie here yet?” she asked. Keith kissed the top of her head, breathing in her clean hair and Maddie-smell that calmed him even in the worst of times.

“Hey there,” Bertie called from behind them. “I’m ready to go, girlfriend. I’ve got lots to show you.”

Maddie bounced around Keith and smiled at Bertie, flashing her slightly crooked, but perfect all the same, teeth. “Hey! Where should we start? Do you have fabrics and colors and things like that to show me?”

“Oh yeah. And much more. Now this is serious business, so we need to focus and make smart decisions.” Bertie started to sling the heavy tote over her shoulder, but Keith stopped her and grabbed it.

“I’ll take that. Where do you want it?”

“Let’s get started,” Maddie said, unaware of the crackling connection between him and Bertie.

Bertie frowned at the dusty kitchen. “I’ve got a good idea.” She turned Maddie toward the door. “We’re going to hit a great showroom in Raleigh, about fifteen minutes away, that has all kinds of fabrics, trims, and carpets. We’ll set up shop on one of their large worktables, and you and I are going to make some magic.” She gave Keith a nervous glance. “If it’s okay with your dad.”

Keith tugged on Maddie’s loose ponytail. “Sounds good. Listen up, Poo.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “Bertie is the expert here, so you need to listen to her. Okay?”

Maddie nodded. “I know, Dad. She’s my interior designer. I’m not an idiot.”

Keith’s gut tightened as he chuckled at his smart-aleck daughter. “Just so we’re clear: No black walls. No boy band posters tacked up everywhere. No disco ball hanging from the ceiling.”

“Dad! I don’t even like black walls. And we’ll talk about the posters.” The imp kissed him on the cheek.

“That’s settled. Let’s hit the road,” Bertie said.

“Maddie head on out to Bertie’s car. We’ll be there in a minute.” Maddie skipped from the room, humming. Keith faced Bertie. “She’s really looking forward to this. She talked about nothing else all day yesterday.” Bertie lips twitched into a pleased smile. “I don’t care what you spend, but keep it tasteful.”