Nobody's Angel (15 page)

Carl was already sleeping when Lynne let them back into the house. Her mother’s face was drawn and pale. Her eyes searched Lucy’s face, but neither of them had much to say. In the end, Lucy gave her mom a quick hug and went back upstairs. She could hear the low murmur of Richard’s voice and then the door shut.

Silence descended over the house and Lucy let out a huge breath. It was still early in Seattle and she desperately needed to talk to Mads.

Lucy woke the next morning feeling wrung out, but resolved. Mads had wanted to hop on the next flight when she heard the story. Lucy knew the feeling. Her head and her emotions were in a dangerous place. She had barely managed to stop Mads from flying to the rescue, but they had agreed on one thing. It was time to do what she had come here to do and get out. She would focus on her list of amends and get it done. She couldn’t even think about her mother or Carl. It was too big for her right now. The possibility of failure jeered at her.

She found Lynne, as per usual, in the kitchen. It was past Carl’s breakfast time, so Lynne was eating her own meal and making one of her neat lists of things to do for the day.

Lucy was almost dizzy with the relief of not having to deal with her father right now.

“Good morning.” Lynne looked up when Lucy entered.

“Lu Lu?” Lynne’s voice wobbled. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Mom.” Lucy managed a fairly convincing smile.

Lynne looked partially relieved, but worry lurked in her faded eyes. “Your father is not himself.” Her mother frowned and picked at the edge of her list with her fingernail. “He would never hurt you if he was. You know that don’t you, Lu Lu?”

“Sure, Mom.” Lucy eased onto one of the stools in front of the counter. Her shoulder was stiff from where she had grabbed the staircase and her knee felt bruised and sore this morning. “But he is getting worse.”

“Only since you came,” Lynne said. She must have realized what she was saying, because her eyes grew huge. “Not that I am saying any of this is your fault.” Lynne leapt to her feet and started pulling things out of the refrigerator. “I know he’s been difficult, but I have never seen him do anything like he did last night.”

Eggs, milk, and cheese hit the counter. Lynne whirled and clattered through her pot collection beneath the counter. “I spoke to Richard and he says he can give your father something that will help him not to get so angry.” Lynne cracked eggs into the pan. “He said that things will be fine if Carl takes his medication.”

“Richard said that?” Lucy wished her mother would stop scraping the metal fork against the bottom of the pan. It was making her teeth ache.

“Not exactly,” Lynne murmured quickly. “But I am sure it will.” The fork kept scraping against the pan as Lynne’s voice grew higher. “And if you were to try to stay away from him, everything will be fine again.”

Lucy opened her mouth to argue.

Lynne grated cheese into the eggs, her hands moving so fast they were almost a blur.

Lucy studied her mother’s face. It was set and determined. “You know there are alternatives?” she said instead.

“I can’t talk about those now.” Lynne’s lips quivered and she pressed them together in a white line. “I don’t even want to think about those.”

“Then what am I doing here, Mom?” Lucy stared at her mother helplessly.

“You’re here for a visit,” Lynne stated with flat determination. “And when you go home, Carl will settle down and we will go back to how we were before.”

“But, Mom,” Lucy said, struggling to find the right words, “you were not happy about things before. You called me and told me that Dad was sick. That’s why I came here.”

“Is it?” Lynne’s eyes were sharp and keen as she looked at Lucy.

“Why else?” Lucy blinked at her mother, absolutely floored.

“Because that is not what people are saying.” Lynne turned away and grabbed a plate from the cupboard.

Lucy could guess what people were saying.

Lynne scraped the contents of the pan onto the plate. She put it in front of Lucy with a fork.

Lucy stared at the eggs, her stomach rebelled, and she took the fork from her mother and laid it beside the plate. “What are they saying?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Lynne put the kettle on. “You know, Lucy”—Lynne didn’t turn around—“when you go back to Seattle, your father and I will still live in this community.”

“Yes, I know.” Lucy started to get a glimmer of where this was going. The smell of the eggs turned her stomach and Lucy pushed the plate away.

“And I know that a whole lot of gossip would upset your father more. He is so very fragile right now.” Lynne made a face and poured water over a tea bag. “I want you to keep that in mind.”

Carl’s grip on her arm had been anything but fragile. Her mother was blithely ignoring the possibility that it could be her next time Carl went over the edge. Okay, she got that her reaction had been extreme and had very little to do with Carl, but Lynne was floating in a cloud of denial right now.

Lynne had moved on to something else and that was what she was gnawing at this morning. There were times, and this was one of them, when Lucy fervently wished they could dispense with the bloody rituals of preparation and Lynne could get to what was on her mind. But that was not her mother’s way and Lucy sat patiently through the preparation of tea. She accepted her mug with thanks and waited.

“I am not saying I believe what people are saying,” Lynne assured her, but she was frowning down at the counter. “But I do think that Richard is awfully protective of you. And the way you ran over there last night will give people lots of fodder for gossip.”

“So, they’re talking about me and Richard?” Lucy felt the old, familiar surge of rebellion.

“What did you expect?” Lynne blinked at her. “You come back, after all this time. Richard and Ashley are separated. People are bound to put two and two together.”

“Mom,” Lucy said, hauling back on the desire to swear at the lot of them, “you know they are reaching the wrong conclusion, right?”

“Of course I do.” Lynne waved her hand through the air, but she sounded a little too fervent.

Doubt gnawed at the edges of Lucy’s mind. It had not occurred to her that her mother might think she was back for the same reasons as Ashley and, apparently, most of Willow Park thought she was back.

“Richard happened to be running past last night.” She didn’t want to explain herself. She wanted to hotly declare her innocence and then rush out and do something to really make them talk. “We needed help and he gave it to us.”

“I know that,” Lynne hastened to assure her, but Lucy was far from convinced. “I am telling you what people are saying and that you should be careful.”

“Okay.” Lucy watched as Lynne started cleaning the pan. Last night and Carl were already swept under the rug, as far as Lynne was concerned. Anger darkened the edges of Lucy’s vision as she stared at the congealing plate of eggs. She wanted to hurl it across the kitchen and storm out. The stool scraped loudly against the floor as she stood. “I think I’ll take a walk.”

“But, Lucy?” Lynne protested from behind her. “You haven’t eaten a thing.”

“I’m not hungry.” Lucy shoved her arms into the sleeves of her coat and hunted for her boots. She had never wanted to yell at her mother more.

“Are you getting sick?”

Lucy yanked open the door. Cold air took some of the burn out of her cheeks. She closed it behind her.

Richard watched from his kitchen window as Lucy climbed the front steps to her parents’ house. This was becoming a stupid habit. He couldn’t drag his eyes away, though.

Her long legs ate up the distance as she strode toward the door.

He should be thinking about Ashley. His ex-wife. The thought popped into his head, taking him by surprise. Just like that, his brain had moved her into the past.

Granted, it was difficult to make sense of anything with ZZ Top pounding through his brain. Lucy’s coat came to midthigh, but he could picture her prime ass that sat on top of those legs. Jesus, if she had any idea what she did to his blood pressure she would . . . His thoughts ground to a halt. What would she do?

He reached inside for his familiar line of defense, but stopped.

She stood in front of the door, struggling to put her key in the lock. The porch light gilded her crop of unruly, sexy-as-hell curls. She looked like a tousled, naughty angel and the thought didn’t quite go all the way to scaring the shit out of him.

This was not good. She was burning her way back into his brain. He couldn’t get the idea of some asshole using her as a punching bag out of his head. His hands tightened into fists by his sides. He wanted ten minutes alone with that guy. Ten minutes to show him what happened to fuckers who hit women. Anger pushed at his control, raw and primal in its intensity. He drew in a deep, steadying breath.

A light went on in the house and then off again. He imagined Lucy taking off her coat and climbing the stairs. With a soft curse he got moving. He’d spent so much of his time watching Lucy. God help him, but even now, he never got tired of it. He could drink her in constantly. It was as if the image of her was etched into his brain and he needed to keep updating it.

This felt like all sorts of trouble. The awareness dogged his footsteps every waking moment and chased him into sleep. Lucy, always Lucy and he didn’t want it to be. There was no going back. The past was the past. You can’t heat old coffee, as his dad used to say. Except, and this was the kicker, this particular cup had never gotten cold.

That kiss, the other night, still haunted him and the need to repeat his mistake got harder to ignore. Every time he had seen her since, his memory forced him back there. He hadn’t forgotten a thing about her. Not the way she smelled, or tasted, or how he was always one move away from reaching out and grabbing on to all that magic that made up Lucy. His treacherous brain had merely been storing the information all these years in a secret compartment. Lucy had ripped it open.

Now, Richard could not get the lid to shut.

He glanced at his watch. Ashley would still be up. He needed to get his wife back. Then he would stop thinking about Lucy. When he was with Ashley, thoughts of Lucy slithered away and he was left in peace again.

 

 

If a text message could seethe, then this one did. Lucy frowned down at her phone.

 

Need to c u now

 

She wondered how Richard had gotten hold of her cell number and then remembered giving it to his receptionist when she went to his office with Lynne.

 

It’s late, can w8 till morning?

 

She waited. It didn’t take long.

 

No

 

Lucy stared at the text. She had seen him get into his car earlier and drive off. She had also taken note of when his car came back. It was getting pathetic. Who was she kidding? She was becoming a stalker. Her phone vibrated again.

 

Now or I am coming over there

 

Everything ok?

 

I need you

 

And that was all it took to get her up and out of bed. She pulled on a pair of track pants. No need to get dressed up or anything, but she took the time to brush her teeth before she snuck downstairs. Old habits can be good friends and she knew exactly which stairs creaked and where to walk. She slipped out of the house, the icy air scraping down through her windpipe like sandpaper. It was a cold, clear night. It should have been a dark and stormy one instead, because this was so not a good idea. But those three little words blinked up at her from her screen and she was lost.

His door opened before she reached the front porch. He jerked her inside without ceremony.

“What’s up?”

His face was frozen into grim lines. “We need to talk.”

As a general rule, those four words prefaced almost every piece of bad news she’d ever heard.

Richard’s eyes were glacial and a muscle worked in the side of his jaw.

Lucy had the sneaking suspicion she wasn’t going to like hearing them this time either.

She shrugged out of her coat and toed off her boots. All the time under the looming, fulminating cloud of male, repressed rage. It came off him in waves as he impatiently tossed her coat at a hook. It missed and fell to the ground with a soft sigh. Richard uttered a guttural growl and stalked away into the house. His heels ricocheted across the hard wood as he went.

Lucy watched him and raised her eyebrows. He was not happy, not at all. She bent and picked up the coat, hanging it carefully. It gave her a moment to gather her thoughts. She tried to think if she’d done anything to cause his current temper, but she hadn’t seen him since the other night.

She trailed him into the kitchen.

“You’re upset?”

He threw her a
no shit
look. Richard never exploded. His temper eked out of him in a series of carefully placed depth charges, deadly and designed to do maximum damage. Right now, he was about as angry as she’d ever seen him.

“I’ve been to see Ashley.” He wrenched the fridge door open. Bottles clanked together under the force of his ire. He glared into the lighted opening, as if he were waiting for inspiration to strike. He leaned forward and came back with a beer for himself and a soda for Lucy. The can hit the counter with a clatter.

“It didn’t go as you expected it to?” Lucy empathized with the crumpled can of soda.

He made a sound like a strangled laugh and tipped his head back. The beer disappeared down his throat. The bottle was empty when he slammed it back down on the countertop.

“You going to drink that?” He jerked his head at the can of soda.

“I don’t think so.”

The can got tossed into the back of the fridge. It must have hit something, because there was a dull thud before Richard slammed the door shut. He had another beer in his hand. He twisted off the cap and sent it skittering over the granite.

“Richard?” Lucy watched the way his eyebrows lowered over his eyes. “You want to tell me what this is all about?”

He took a long pull on his beer and made that strange laugh noise again. “You.”

“What?” She blinked at him.

“You,” he growled. “This is all about you.” He raised his beer again.

Lucy reached over and caught his arm. Muscle bunched beneath her fingertips. “That doesn’t work so well.” She met his stormy eyes. “Take it from me.”

He looked down at her hand on his arm. “Nine fucking years later and it’s still all about you, Lucy Flint.”

This was getting repetitive. Lucy dropped her hand. Her fingers still felt warm from where she’d touched him. “Is there a reason I’m over here?”

“Yup.”

Lucy waited, but he kept staring moodily at the counter.

“Care to share it?” she prompted.

His shoulders slumped, as if he suddenly ran out of fight. “Actually, I have no idea why I asked you to come over here.” He shrugged and raised his head. “I was so angry after I saw Ashley and I wanted to see you.”

“What happened with Ashley?” Lucy knew the happy little skip of her heart was way premature. There was a lot more to this.

“She wants a divorce.” The words fanned the angry spark in his eyes back into life.

Lucy was a little confused. She thought Ashley had wanted that all along. So, she waited for him to say more. It didn’t take too long.

“I thought when she came over here the other day to talk, it meant she was going to give us a chance. Apparently, I was wrong.” He went for his beer again and Lucy left it alone.
Hell!
She’d be drinking if that were an option for her.

“Why did she come, then?” Lucy could make a fairly accurate guess, but she wanted to see if he could do the same. Richard was too chivalrous for his own good sometimes. She had certainly taken shameless advantage in her time.

“Because of you.” He swore softly around the lip of his beer. “I thought she was going to reconsider, maybe give us a chance, but Ashley wanted to make sure I was not getting too friendly with you.” He was silent for a moment. “She doesn’t want me, but she’d die before she let you have me.” He grunted softly. “I tried to explain that you and I, we were over, but it doesn’t matter to her.” His eyes cut back to her, intent and keen in their focus. “And she doesn’t believe me.”

Lucy struggled to hold his stare. There was so much conflict in his blue eyes, it made her want to touch him and soothe some of it away. Except, she was the cause of most of it. Again. Shit, she didn’t even have to try to screw up his life.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“You’re sorry?” He gaped at her. “Oh man, Lucy. That is unbelievable, because this time you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Being here,” she said, shrugging. “My being here has made your life more difficult.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding slowly as his expression grew contemplative. “But that’s not your fault. I’m the dickhead who can’t seem to get it straight in his head. I’m sitting with Ashley, trying to explain how this thing between you and me is all over and then it hits me.” He shook his head slowly. “It hits me that it’s not over and what chance do I have of convincing anyone else of that, when I know I’m lying.”

Lucy opened her mouth to say something, anything, but the words weren’t there. The truth hung in the kitchen between them. The air around them crackled with possibilities.

“What a fucking mess.” He stalked away suddenly, leaving a vacuum where so much intense, turbulent energy had been. “I don’t get it.” His hands went up in the air as if he could wrench the answers from the heavens. “Tell me why, Lucy? What is so goddamned awful about being with me?”

The rapid subject change threw her at first. Then she got it and Lucy’s heart contracted. This had to be hell on any man, to have lost not one, but the two women you have loved. “There’s nothing awful about being with you.”

“Then tell me,” he demanded as his eyes raked over her. “I’m one of the good guys. I’m a doctor, for Christ’s sake. Every girl wants a doctor.”

“I can’t speak for Ashley.” Lucy’s legs felt rubbery and she leaned against the counter behind her for support.

“Then don’t.” He yanked out a chair and threw himself into it. “Speak for you.”

“I told you why.” Lucy felt as if her voice were an entity separate from the rest of her. “I was broken and hurting and I couldn’t allow myself to be loved. I wanted to prove that everybody was right about me. I was no good and not worth anything. So, I did. I destroyed the one thing that was good and wonderful in my life.”

“Why didn’t you stay? We could have fixed it.”

“No, Richard.” Lucy shook her head. Behind her breastbone she could feel the old hurt gather and swell. “I am the only one who could fix it. It took me six years to figure that out and another three to start putting the pieces back together again. And I can say with absolute certainty that it was not you.”

“Great,” he jeered. He sprung out of his chair, eating up the ground between them until he loomed dark and dangerous in front of her.

Lucy’s heart leapt into her throat, but she held her ground. He would never hurt her, at least, not physically.

“The old it’s-not-you-it’s-me kiss-off. Ashley said the same thing.” He was right in her face, but Lucy didn’t move.

She could see the turmoil in his eyes. It was like a taste of gunpowder in the air.

“She says she married me as some kind of ultimate win against you.” Ashley had apparently spared him nothing. Lucy felt the hurt climb into her throat and she tried to swallow it back down again. “She said she never really loved me, but that I was a good husband and we were content together. Now, content is not good enough. You getting all this?”

Lucy’s mouth was too dry to speak, so she nodded.

His breath was hot and moist against her face and he smelled of malt and hops. The counter dug into her butt as she pressed herself away from him. She wanted to bring up her hands to put between them, but he moved closer, caging her with his body. His arms rested besides her hips, his knuckles white with his grip on the wood.

“Ashley thinks this is all about you, Lucy Flint,” he spoke directly into her ear. He surrounded her. His arms kept her prisoner. The heat from his body wrapped around her and his breath fanned the skin of her neck. Part of her was frightened at his suppressed fury, but she couldn’t deny he excited her at the same time. Her legs felt weak and she sank against the counter. Desire surged hot and strong through her. It washed over her in waves that she couldn’t fight anymore.

“She says that it has always been you, for me.”

Lucy made a soft, needy gasp as he pressed closer. She sensed the wildness in him and it sizzled and crackled through her body in a live circuit. Her breathing came short and quick. Her core tightened with need, pulling at her reason and demanding that she submit to the tug of fierce, reckless passion. She wanted to rip away any pretense of civility and feel.

“You know what I think?” His voice against her skin tormented her.

Her head reeled with the attempt to keep her focus sharp. It was too much for her. Her body vibrated like a tuning fork with his proximity and her thoughts tangled and tripped over her base needs. Somewhere deep inside a voice was warning her, but Richard drowned out the sound with his hot, hard body and the smell of man.