Authors: Vickie McKeehan
Before she could respond, he’d hit the elevator button, the
doors had opened and he’d disappeared inside, leaving her standing there with
her mouth open.
Jake had just gotten back to his office to deal with Chuck
and the Eastman contract when Dylan appeared in his office doorway. “Where in
the world did you meet a woman like that when you’ve been in Japan for a year,
won’t leave the damned office long enough to go to happy hour, and the closest
thing to a social function you ever attend, if you can call it that, is a
software convention?”
In the midst of everything else he was feeling since he’d
left Kit standing in the first floor lobby, the last thing Jake wanted to
discuss was the woman in question. And the last man he wanted asking him
anything was Dylan. So Jake ignored him.
But that just made Dylan more determined. Dylan scratched at
his cheek. He knew how to get a rise out of the man. “She’s a little young for
you, don’t you think?”
Jake was up out of his chair like a shot and in Dylan’s
face. “Goddamn it, Dylan, get out. I don’t want to talk about Kit.”
“Oh I can see that, but she is…” He meant to say something
special, but at the last minute, still wanting to needle Jake, he said, “Not
your usual type.”
“And what type would that be? You mean like Claire, a
materialistic viper of a woman who slept with anything in pants except maybe
her own husband? And because I really didn’t give a shit, I never got around to
filing for a divorce. Just lucked out when the stupid bitch got herself
murdered and the police tried to pin it on me. Is that my usual type, Dylan? If
that’s who you’re talking about, it’s time I changed my goddamned type. Now,
shut the fuck up and get out of my office.”
Dylan watched as Jake stuck his hands in his pockets and
stared out the window onto the street and the traffic below. Realizing he’d
opened up old wounds that needed stitches, he tried to make it right. “Jake, I
could back up, start over again, but I’d just find a way to piss you off,
especially if I wasted my breath and reminded you that Reese and I begged you
not to marry Claire. The woman came on to me the first time I met her, for
chrissakes. And what did you do when I told you about it? You laughed, said it
was her outgoing nature. Bullshit. And never once during the entire time you
knew her did she act as if she gave a crap about anything except your bank
account. She was an opportunistic bitch, nothing more. You just don’t like
being reminded. And Claire’s misfortune stemmed from the fact that she finally
pissed off the wrong person and somebody took it personally.
“This Kit, she seems nice enough. Hell, there was a time
Claire was too. But maybe this Kit might be another money-hungry woman with a
great-looking body interested in nothing but your money. You need to…”
“No, you need to stop right there before you say anything
else and make me rearrange your face. Kit doesn’t need my money. Kit’s Gloria’s
niece, for chrissakes. You remember Gloria and Morty Gandis. She’s…” He
stopped, what was she anyway? “She’s in some trouble right now, similar to what
I went through with Claire. St. John thinks she killed her mother. Gloria asked
me to help. I’m helping as a family friend, nothing more.”
Like hell, thought Dylan. He’d seen the way his friend had
looked at the woman, had watched the way he acted around her. His reaction to
criticism told Dylan all he needed to know. And it had nothing to do with being
a friend of the family. Jake looked like he had it bad.
Because of that he’d just have to keep an eye on Kit
Griffin, Gloria’s niece or not. He refused to sit back and watch while another
woman sunk her greedy nails into his best friend…again.
Kit was still trying to recover from his bone-shattering
kiss when she stepped off the elevator into the parking garage. As she walked
to her car, she considered their age difference somewhat minor when she
realized what those years represented. That kiss came from a man far more
experienced than she was in everything sexual. She had very little history in
relationships: three to be precise. She had never even experienced the big
О like Baylee and Quinn had.
The first time she’d just turned twenty and finally lost her
virginity to Brad Traynor, a hunky but rather serious-minded geomorphology
major that had packed up after eight short weeks and headed off to study the
landforms of South American jungles.
The other two relationships had come right on the heels of
Brad and were even shorter. From there, she’d moved to San Madrid, where most
of the male population fell into three distinct categories. They were either
kids, happily married, or well over fifty.
She even considered herself to be a rather naïve chump where
sex was concerned. She liked it okay, but didn’t understand what the fuss was
all about. The guys she’d been with hadn’t exactly been stellar in bed. But
then she was no prize there either.
What was it about Jake anyway that always tied her up in
knots?
She reminded herself that she wasn’t a kid now but rather a
grown woman. And the grown woman wanted him now more than she’d ever wanted him
at fifteen. Maybe she could find a book on sex at the store that would fill in
some of the gaps. Because a man like Jake, who kissed her blind like that, had
to be better than first-time Brad.
Lost in lusty thoughts, and trying to search her brain for
the inventory of books back at the store that dealt with sex, she looked around
the darkened parking garage.
An eerie feeling crawled up her spine, making the hairs
stand up on the back of her neck. Even though it was still daylight outside,
that creepy feeling had her increasing her pace toward the car.
But the faster she walked, the more it felt like someone was
following her. Fighting the urge to panic, she quickened her pace as her Jeep
came into view. She was tempted to look behind her, but thought better of it.
Was someone here? She realized how silly that was. It was a
place where hundreds of people parked their cars.
Even though she felt ridiculous, she readied the keyless
remote a good fifty feet before actually getting to the car and then pushed the
button on her key chain to release the door lock. Sliding quickly into the
driver’s seat, in one swift motion she locked the door, fumbled a bit in the
dimly lit interior to insert her key into the ignition. She hurriedly started
the engine, grabbed her seatbelt, and buckled it around her.
Taking a quick look around, she put the car into Reverse,
and gunned the car out of its parking space. As she braked to put the vehicle
into Drive, a shadow passed to the left and behind her. Something struck the
backside of the car with a heavy thud. Looking into the rear view mirror, she
made out the shadowy form of a man. Frantic, Kit floored the accelerator and
the car lurched forward, narrowly missing a row of parked cars.
Glancing back in the mirror, Kit saw the man run between the
cars and disappear into a darkened corner of the parking structure.
By the time she drove to street level, still shaking from
the experience, she wondered what the hell had just happened.
As soon as Kit walked back into the Book & Bean, she
took one look at Baylee’s brooding glare and new something was up. So she
wasn’t surprised when Baylee announced, “We need to talk.”
True, she’d been gone longer than expected, but she didn’t
think that was the reason Baylee looked so anxious. Slipping her purse under
the counter, she tried to gauge that look on Baylee’s face. When was the woman
going to get over these mood swings?
Over the past several months, Kit and Quinn had discussed
Baylee at length, repeatedly trying to get her to open up about the past year,
even suggesting at one point she seek advice from a professional. Maybe, get
her to go back in and see Dr. Strasburg.
As Kit braced herself for whatever Baylee had on her mind,
she stuck her hand in her skirt pocket and felt the gold cowboy she’d found
earlier. She pulled out the trinket. “I can see you’re upset about something,
but before we get into that, can you tell me where you found this?” She held
out the miniature cowboy nestled in the palm of her hand.
Baylee picked up the cowboy and inspected it briefly before
telling her, “I’ve never seen it before.”
Kit frowned. “I found it this morning on the counter by the
register. I thought maybe a child lost it in the store and you picked it up.”
“Wasn’t me.” Wringing her hands, Baylee blurted out, “Look,
I need to leave.”
“Sure. Okay. I know I should have been back an hour ago
but…”
Baylee was nervous. “No. No. Not that. I need to leave
L.A.” She’d thought about it while Kit was gone and decided it was the safest
thing she could do.
Panic stuck like a wad of cotton in Kit’s throat. “No. You.
Don’t.”
Looking into Kit’s eyes, Baylee decided on the spot to put a
spin on the truth. “I do. I can’t stay with Dad any longer. He’s getting
verbally abusive, Kit. He’s started drinking again.” That part was true. “I’m
sure it’s because of the illness, but you know how he is when he drinks. I
don’t want Sarah around that. Even if he is dying, he can’t verbally abuse us
like…” Before, was the word she wanted to use, but instead her voice trailed
off as she considered the shaky past with her father. She wouldn’t get into
that today, not with everything going on in Kit’s life right now. The time to
talk would have been…no, she wouldn’t go there either. Things were just getting
too complicated to handle. And Collin had come into the shop this morning. It
was just a matter of time before he got around to mentioning something. She had
Sarah to protect.
Kit laid her hand over Baylee’s. “Of course you don’t. But
you don’t have to leave L.A., Baylee. You can move in with me.” She’d spent a
week with Kit at Christmas before moving back into her father’s house. She
could move back in now. Problem solved.
But Baylee shook her head. “Not this time. Remember how
crowded we were for a week? You don’t have the space. Don’t look at me like
that. If it were just me, I’d bunk at your place, but it isn’t. Sarah’s things
take a lot of room. Besides, she’s starting to teethe. And we spend five days a
week together as it is. I can’t ask you to take me in…again.” The idea was
humiliating.
“You didn’t. I offered. Baylee, you can’t just take off
again, where would you go?”
“I’ve got a friend in Denver. Remember…”
“No. You aren’t leaving. What are you running from, Baylee?
Is it Sarah’s father?”
Baylee went dead pale and rocked back on her heels as if
she’d been slapped. “Don’t ask. I can’t drag you into my problems. I won’t. You
have enough to deal with without me adding to it. Just know that it’s better
for Sarah and me if we go away. Tanya will call me when…if…Dad gets any worse.
I can come back.”
Kit’s temper uncharacteristically snapped. “Well, of course
he’ll get worse, Baylee. The man’s dying. He has a brain tumor. What is it with
you lately? You and I have been like sisters. We’ve always confided in each
other because we didn’t have anyone else. Then Quinn came along and we made a
nice little circle, the three of us closer than real sisters.”
Kit started pacing back and forth, getting worked up. “Then
after high school we venture out on our own, room together all through college,
tell each other everything. But then a year ago, you lie to me.” Eyeing
Baylee’s defensive expression, Kit shook her head. “No, there’s no other way to
describe what you did. You lied to me. Then seven months later you show back up
with Sarah.”
By now, Kit’s fury raced along the fast track, heading for
the finish line after all the months of holding back. “I try to give you some
space, try to let you deal with whatever you’re dealing with in your own way,
in your own time. But now, you tell me you want to just take off again. Like
hell you will. If you won’t stay with me, then move in with Quinn. She’ll be at
the hospital most of the time anyway. She’s got space. It’ll work.”
“No, it won’t.” Baylee had already thought of that for about
five seconds. “When she’s home Quinn needs to sleep. Sarah’s a great baby, but
she cries. I can’t intrude on Quinn’s downtime like that.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Baylee, you’re trying my patience;
since when can’t you intrude? You’re my family. Why are you acting like this?”
Then as if she’d just thought of something, she snapped her
fingers. “Wait a minute. I wonder if Gloria’s guest cottage is still empty. A
couple of months ago, her long time-tenant moved out, a travel writer from
Europe who met this hunky carpenter and moved in with him. If it’s still
available, it’d be perfect for you and Sarah.”
Baylee looked skeptical. “You really don’t want me to
leave.”
Dialing Gloria’s number, Kit muttered, “Idiot. Of course I
don’t want you to go. What’s wrong with you? Why would I want you out of
here?”
“I…because I’ve kept things to myself. I haven’t been a very
good friend lately.”
As she waited for Gloria to pick up, Kit declared, “No
kidding. Baylee, the last few months getting information out of you has been
like trying to interrogate an undercover cop afraid of blowing his cover.”
When Gloria picked up on her end, Kit got right to the
point. Yes, the guest cottage was empty, and no, Gloria didn’t mind if Baylee
moved in as soon as possible. In fact, the arrangement would work for both of
them.
When she hung up, Kit turned to Baylee, tapping her finger
on her bottom lip. “You can move your things in tonight. I’ll keep Sarah. I’ve
been trying to get her to myself for months now anyway. And Baylee, don’t you
ever just up and leave again without being honest about where you’re going and
why. Don’t you know there isn’t anything you can’t tell me that I wouldn’t
understand? Whatever it is, whoever’s hurt you, we can deal with it together.
Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be right here.”