Perfect Fit (8 page)

“What are you doing here so late?” Lynette, the diner owner, a heavyset woman in her midfifties, came over with a pot of coffee in her hand.

“Just warming up,” Mike said to her.

“Cara, honey, want some coffee?” she asked.

Mike wasn’t surprised Lynette knew Cara by name, what with her having grown up in the neighborhood and being given shifts here.

“Can I get tea? Something decaf?” Cara asked. “I’ll never sleep if I have caffeine.”

“Sure thing. Plain old decaffeinated or chamomile?”

“Chamomile sounds great, Lynette. Thanks.”

“What about you, Mr. Police Chief? Coffee?”

Mike nodded. “Thanks.”

A few minutes later, they each had their drinks and Lynette had disappeared into the back.

Cara wrapped her hand around her cup, closed her eyes, and sighed, clearly savoring the warmth, making Mike glad he’d pushed the issue and brought her here.

After giving her a few minutes of silence, he broached conversation. “So.”

Her eyes popped open. “What?” she asked warily. “Do you want to know how often my father drinks? Loses his temper? Throws things? Hits people?”

Instead of making him angry, her defensive tone melted his heart. “I don’t want to know anything you don’t want to tell me, Cara. I just wanted to give you a few minutes to calm down before you drove home.”

“Oh.” Her eyelashes fluttered down. “I’m sorry. I’m just—”

“Embarrassed,” he finished for her.

“Yeah.”

“Well, there’s no need to be. I’m not judging you by your father’s actions or your mother’s behavior,” he assured her.

“What about judging me for not going in and checking on my mother?” She held herself tight and stiff, backing herself into the corner, as far from him as she could get.

Which wasn’t far. He stretched his arm behind the seat, reaching her hair. Grateful to have some part of her to touch, he wound a strand around his fingers. “Why would I judge you for that?”

She exhaled a long breath, and some of the starch left her shoulders. “I’ve done all I can for her. If I go in, if I beg her to leave, if I make him angrier, all I’m doing is enabling the entire screwed-up situation.” Frustrated tears filled her eyes, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

He knew better than to comment about those. “There’s no need to defend yourself to me. You’re talking to someone whose genetics are questionable at best,” he said, bringing up the subject he abhorred. “My real father walked out, never to be heard from again.”

Mike sure as hell wasn’t enough to make the man want to stick around. Nor was he enough for the rest of his family. He’d always figured they were better off without him there.

“And pretty soon you and I are about to investigate something that my gut tells me will end badly for my whole family. So don’t expect me to pass judgment. I’m here, I’ll listen, but I’m sure as hell not going to look down on you for any choices you make.” He paused, then admitted, “Frankly, I think you’re doing the right thing.”

“Really?” She looked up at him, her eyes so moist and big, and he realized how fragile she was deep down inside.

“Yeah, really.” Then, not giving her a choice, he pulled her back beside him. “It takes more guts to stay away knowing someone’s hurting. But sometimes there’s nothing you can do.”

She nodded. “That’s just it. I can’t help her unless she wants help. I can’t fix the situation unless she changes it.”

“Was it always like this?” he asked, hoping the one question didn’t send her into full retreat.

“It’s always been a roller coaster. The lows depended on whether he was holding down a job. If things were good, he’d manage his liquor. If something went wrong, it was everyone else’s fault and he’d dive into the booze. The more he drank, the louder and uglier it became at home.”

Now that Cara knew Mike wasn’t judging, she seemed more willing to open up to him, for which he was grateful. But one question hovered in his mind, begging to be voiced, one he wasn’t sure she’d want him to ask.

He shouldn’t. And yet he couldn’t not. “Did he…did your father ever…”

“Hit me?” She finished the question for him.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded harsh, gruff to his own ears.

“No.”

Mike released the breath he’d been holding.

“But not because he didn’t want to. It was the one thing my mother managed to control, at least when I was younger. She said she’d have stabbed him if he touched me, and I think he believed her. But she couldn’t do it for herself. He said she deserved it, and she came to believe it.” Cara shook her head. “And as I got older, I stayed out of the house as often as possible.”

She stared at the table, and yet he knew what she was thinking.

“Don’t feel guilty for taking care of yourself,” he said quietly. “That was your parents’ job. Your mom obviously did the best she could for you, if not for herself. And your dad failed as a parent. So did mine. I’m just lucky I had Simon.” Even if he’d never live up to the man and his legacy, Mike thought.

“How did you know what I was thinking?” Cara asked.

Because he was coming to know and understand
her
. But
that wasn’t something he wanted to share. “Lucky guess.” He forced an easy grin. “Feeling better?”

“I didn’t even touch my tea, but yeah, I am. Thanks for being a
friend
.”

He didn’t miss her emphasis on the word
friend
, and he didn’t understand why the distinction bothered him so much. They’d been frantic for each other earlier, but that was just sex. Wasn’t it?

Mike paid, and, to his surprise, Cara didn’t argue. He walked her to her car, pausing by the Jeep, unwilling to part ways with her just yet. Though he knew they’d have to get together to discuss strategy on looking into the cold case and Simon’s involvement, it wasn’t something he wanted to bring up now.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he found himself asking instead.

She blinked up at him, her eyes wide-open windows to her soul. “Nothing special. Why?”

“I thought you might like to come to my parents’ house for dinner.” Had he really just asked her to join him at a family event?

She worried her bottom lip, making him want to lean in for a long taste. Not the time, he thought. She’d gone back to skittish.

“Are you sure your parents wouldn’t mind?” she asked, bringing his thoughts back to where they belonged.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? My mother loves to cook, and we both know she adores you.”

Cara flushed. “She’s sweet. But aren’t Sunday nights for
family
?”

Was it his imagination or did he hear longing in her voice with that word?

“You’re like family to them.” Not that he felt the least bit familial toward her, which made him wonder why he wasn’t letting her off the hook for this dinner gracefully.

“Well, if you’re sure.” She looked up at him with grateful blue eyes, and he had his answer.

She wanted to join him as much as he wanted her there. “I am,” he said gruffly.

She nodded her thanks. “I’ll call your mom and see what I can bring.”

Mike already knew Ella would just tell Cara to bring herself. “Come by their house around five.”

“Okay.” Her smile lit up something inside him. She reached for her door handle.

“Cara.”

She pivoted back to face him.

Unable to stop himself, he lifted his hand and stroked his knuckles down her cheek. “Get a good night’s sleep,” he said gruffly.

At his touch, her cheeks turned a rosy red that had nothing to do with the cold air. “I will. Night, Mike.” She ducked her head, opened the door, and climbed inside.

He waited until she started the truck and pulled away from the curb.
What a complicated woman
, he thought, watching as she drove away.

There was much more to Cara Hartley than he’d realized before. And he was drawn to the many facets of her personality: the strong cop, the vulnerable woman, and everything in between. She aroused warm and protective feelings he didn’t recognize. Ones that would normally send him running. Hell, as much as he’d liked going out with Tiffany back in the day, her constant phone calls and neediness nearly choked the life out of him. She’d always told him she relied and counted on him, but Mike didn’t want to be needed that way. By anyone.

Just like his old man, Mike thought in disgust. Which was why with every job and woman, Mike made a point of being up front with his intentions. Even Mike’s sergeant in New York knew that when a case ended, if Mike felt the need to go—he would. Luckily the variety of assignments
in the city kept him interested. The women? Not so much. But Mike wasn’t bolting from Cara, despite the bouts of awareness that told him he
should
be panicking.

He couldn’t. Because Cara had a grip on Mike that wasn’t letting go. Which meant he was in it for the duration.

Besides, there was no downside, he reasoned. When Simon recovered, Mike would step down as chief of police; he would leave town as he’d planned all along.

Cara always felt a mix of admiration, gratitude, and
envy when she visited the Marsden house. She appreciated the sense of family they shared and wished with all her heart she had the same for herself. But she’d long since stopped pining for things she couldn’t have. Instead she appreciated the fact that they included her on occasion. Today felt different because she wasn’t coming at Sam’s request, but Mike’s. She didn’t know why he’d asked her or what it meant, but she’d promised herself she’d take the invitation at face value. Dinner with a family she’d always felt close to, that was all.

She rang the doorbell and Ella Marsden greeted her almost immediately. “Cara! I’m so glad you could make it,” she said, opening the screen door to let her inside.

“I appreciate you having me on such short notice.” Cara stepped into the foyer.

“Nonsense. We love having you. Now what’s that?” Ella asked, glancing at the foil-covered pan Cara was holding.

“Lasagna. I thought you and Simon could freeze it and eat it on a day when you aren’t up to cooking.” When Cara had called, Ella insisted Cara didn’t need to bring anything tonight, not dessert or side dishes. As usual, she had it handled.

That was fine, but Cara knew how tired the older woman had to be, taking care of and worrying about her husband. Flowers seemed like a useless thank-you, so Cara had gone
shopping early that morning for the ingredients and made the dish when she got home.

She held out the pan for Ella to take.

“Thank you.” Ella accepted the food and tipped her head, indicating that Cara should follow her into the kitchen. She passed through the family room where Simon dozed in his recliner and caught a glimpse of the wall of family photos, pausing for a closer look.

She had to smile at the variations on the family photo that changed over the years as the kids grew up. Sam and Erin were lighter in coloring than Mike, both resembling their mother and Simon. For the first time, Cara wondered what Mike’s real father looked like, whether his hair was as dark as his son’s, his eyes like delicious hot chocolate.

“Cara?” Ella called.

“Coming!” Cara headed for the kitchen, a smile still on her face. “I was just looking at the pictures on the wall.”

Ella smiled too, but Cara noticed the strain around her eyes and mouth, small lines that hadn’t been there last time she’d seen her. “They make me happy too. Let’s sit. The boys aren’t here yet, and Erin said she’s running late.”

Cara joined Ella at the table, declining her offer of a soft drink.

“So how are you?” the older woman asked.

“I’m good. Busy, which I like. Between work and volunteering at Havensbridge, I don’t have much downtime.”

Ella nodded. “I’m thinking of doing some volunteer work myself once Simon’s back to himself. Maybe driving cancer patients to the hospital for treatment or reading to the children who are inpatient there.”

“That’s sweet,” Cara said. “What do the doctors tell you about Simon?”

“That he’s progressing nicely. He tolerates the treatments well, and he’s been able to have them consistently. They hope he’ll be in remission soon. And once he’s finished with
this part of the treatment, he should start to feel stronger and want to do more.”

“I’m glad,” Cara said.

They talked for a few more minutes about small things before Ella cleared her throat, looking suddenly serious. “Cara, honey…”

“Yes?”

“When Michael called and told me you were coming for dinner, he mentioned the incident at your parents’ last night.”

Everything inside Cara ran cold. Since driving away from her parents’ apartment, she’d deliberately not let herself think about them. She didn’t want anyone else thinking about it either. Knowing. Judging.

Mike obviously was doing one or more of the above. “So he invited me out of pity, then,” she said without thinking.

Ella’s frown told her she didn’t agree. “You know better than that. You’re comfortable here and we love having you, and I’m sure you can use being around people who think of you as family at a time like this.” The older woman paused, not breaking eye contact. “Although, family’s more Sam’s way of thinking about you than Michael’s.”

Cara knew she blushed a deep red, and she couldn’t think of a witty reply.

“I think Michael just wanted you here,” Ella mused.

Cara shook her head. This conversation was getting awkward on every end. “I don’t know what to say to any of this.”

Ella patted her hand. “I just wanted you to know that if you need someone to talk to about your parents, I’m here. And if you’re worried I might not approve of you and Michael, well, you’d be wrong.”

Cara’s eyes opened wide. “Mike and I aren’t…we’re not—”

“No worries, dear. We’re all grown-ups.” Ella winked at her, and Cara prayed for strength.

“Right. Well, thank you for the offer to talk about my parents.” Wow. Her family had suddenly become the easier
conversation, Cara thought, still reeling from Ella’s frank words.

“I mean it, honey. It can’t be easy for you,” Ella said, in a purely motherly way that put Cara at ease.

“Thank you. I appreciate it, but there’s nothing to say. My mother made her choice to stay years ago. And I made mine not to see her unless she leaves him.” She waited for Ella to condemn her for her choices, but instead she nodded in understanding.