Point of No Return (21 page)

Before I could retort, the music suddenly got louder.

“What the hell is that?” Kade asked over the strains of Florence and the Machine.

I sighed. “Danny likes to turn up the music after closing and sing while he cleans the kitchen.”

Kade’s eyebrows flew up. “He sings this?”

I laughed unexpectedly at the look on Kade’s face. “No. He likes me to sing, too.” It had become our little ritual, Danny and me. Once he’d heard me singing to myself, he decided that belting tunes out after closing was a great way to “clean out the old pipes,” as he put it. Once everyone was gone, he’d put on different music and turn it up. It was fun and helped pass the time while I finished my work. Sometimes he came out and we’d sing something together before we locked up.

Kade didn’t say anything to that, his eyes searching mine. I liked the song playing, had once listened to it all the time, but now it made me think of Kade, which just tore me to pieces.

I sighed, exhaustion overtaking me. It had been a long day.

“Why are you here?” I asked, passing a hand tiredly across my eyes. “What do you want?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and when I finally glanced up, he was frowning, his brows drawn sharply together.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said. “Why are you here? You’re supposed to be with Blane.”

If he’d said he wanted me to dye my hair purple and dance the hula, I couldn’t have been more surprised. My mouth hung open until I finally closed it with a snap.

“I’m what?” I hissed, feeling the anger rising inside me. Had I heard him correctly?

“You’re supposed to be with Blane,” he repeated.

“I’m
supposed
to be with
Blane
? Are you kidding me?” I was fuming now. Deciding I’d better do something else before I flew at Kade in a rage, I spun on my heel and started stacking chairs on tables. The morning crew did the sweeping, so the night crew just had to get things ready.

“No, I’m not kidding you,” he retorted. “Blane—”

I whirled, cutting him off. “If you say that again, so help me God, I’m going to throw this chair at your head.”

The idea that I might actually hurt Kade was laughable, but he shut up, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes narrowed.

I turned away and resumed my task. After a moment, I saw Kade in my peripheral vision, copying my movements and stacking chairs on tables. Sooner than it would have taken me to do alone, it was done.

The lights went out, leaving just the ones by the bar lit. I figured Danny must be about done in the kitchen. Sure enough, I’d just gone to get my purse from under the bar when he poked his head out.

“I’m finished back here!” he called. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Danny!” I hollered back. He went out the back way and locked up, while I took care of the front. Kade followed in silence.

I walked stiffly to my car, drawing from my energy reserves,
which were dangerously low. Gravel crunched under our feet, ratcheting up the tension lodged between my shoulder blades. When I got to my car, I took a deep breath before I turned around to face him.

“Listen, Kade,” I said, “you made it damn clear that you want nothing to do with me, or the baby. So you should just leave. You’re pretty good at that.” And if my voice held more than a trace of bitterness, I thought it was my due.

Kade’s face was stark in the harsh light of the streetlamp in the lot. If I hadn’t known him and had happened to bump into him like this, I’d have turned and run in the opposite direction. The hard edge to him that had been so prominent when we’d first met was back with a vengeance, a malevolence that made a chill creep down my spine.

He took a step closer, but I stood my ground. I’d never let Kade intimidate me into backing down before, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to do it now. He was so close, I could feel the heat from his body, though we didn’t touch.

“I’m here to do something else I’m pretty good at,” he said roughly, the deep blue of his eyes seeming unfathomable.

I swallowed. Hard. I wasn’t proud of the images that flashed through my mind then or the way my body was exulting in how close he was. The slight breeze stirred, sending a waft of his scent my way. A shaft of pain flashed through me even as a shiver of arousal whispered across my skin. I bit my lip against the moan that wanted to crawl from my throat.

“And what’s that?” I managed to ask, my voice mortifyingly breathless.

“Keeping you alive.”

C
HAPTER
T
EN

K
ade followed me home, something I didn’t really have a choice in. I hadn’t asked what he’d meant by his reference to keeping me alive, and didn’t want to know. I’d had enough worrying about those who were intent on physically hurting me. At the moment, I was much more concerned about my emotional well-being.

The gravel road was long and dark, the beams from my headlights cutting through the blackness. I’d left my porch light on, though, so I didn’t have to find my way to the front door in the dark.

I didn’t look around when I unlocked the door. The crunch of Kade’s boots as he walked through the gravel made it impossible to miss his approach. My hands trembled and I had to fuss with the key more than usual before it finally turned in the lock.

I walked through the living room, pausing to flip on a light once I reached the kitchen. It was a country kitchen, homey with lots of light oak cabinets and trim, and I liked it a lot. I dropped my purse on the counter and went to the little laundry room down the short hallway that led to the garage to shuck my shoes. I took off my apron and socks, too, then tossed them into the washing machine for later. When I returned to the kitchen, I saw Kade taking everything in.

“It’s late and the motel’s at the other end of town,” I said stiffly. “You can sleep here for tonight, then go in the morning.” I’d shut off the upstairs vents to save on the AC bill—old habits die hard—but figured Kade could just open a window. Besides, it wasn’t that hot up there now that the nights were cool.

Kade didn’t say anything, the tension between us thick, so I just said, “C’mon.” Turning, I headed up the narrow staircase, the old wooden steps creaking beneath my feet. I heard pretty quickly when he started following me.

I led Kade to the smaller of the two bedrooms, grateful that I’d shut the door on the other one earlier in the day. There was a twin bed in this one that would work for the night.

“Here you go,” I said. “Bathroom’s across the hall. Night.” I turned to leave, but he caught my arm. Of course he did. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Where do you sleep?” he asked.

“My room’s downstairs,” I replied.

“Then I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I stared at him in confusion but was too tired to argue. “Whatever,” I said, pulling away and retreating back down the stairs. He followed me again, which was starting to make me feel like a pied piper, as I grabbed sheets and a blanket from the linen closet. I set them on a chair in the living room, then picked up a sheet to begin making up the couch.

“I’ll do it,” Kade said roughly, taking the sheet from me. “Go to bed. You look like you’re about to drop.”

“Gee, thanks,” I retorted, but there wasn’t much heat behind it. I was just too tired.

I showered because I couldn’t climb into bed with nine hours of french fries and beer aroma wafting from me, but it was a quick one. I resisted the urge to peek into the living room to see how Kade was settling in before I climbed into bed, though it was tough.

Only when I was at last in my T-shirt and curled under the blankets on my bed did I allow myself the pleasure and pain of thinking about Kade and how close he was, and of how I’d thought I’d never see him again—and how, after tomorrow, I likely never would.

I woke earlier than I’d intended, then found I couldn’t go back to sleep. My stomach was still queasy in the mornings, which made my trip to the bathroom more urgent now than before I’d gotten pregnant. Afterward, I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I brushed my hair until it gleamed, then pulled it up into a high ponytail. I’d planned on doing more painting today, so I dressed in an old, faded pair of cutoffs and an even older T-shirt. I abruptly realized that the shorts were too tight to fasten, right where the waistband went beneath my navel.

I lifted my shirt and turned sideways, studying my reflection. Yes, there was a small but definite bump that I hadn’t noticed before.

I stood there too long, a little awestruck, a lot afraid. Each day that passed seemed to increasingly bring home the reality that I was having a baby. It felt strange to be both excited and terrified. So far this hadn’t been at all what I’d pictured when I was younger and imagined having a child. I’d thought I’d be married, of course, and that my husband would be just as thrilled as I was. We’d paint the baby’s room together, argue over names, shop for tiny little baby clothes in tiny little sizes
. . .

And just like that, I was a sobbing mess.

Dammit! The hormone changes that now seemed to rule my emotions with an iron fist showed no mercy, and I was often left reeling between being overjoyed one moment and sobbing in self-pitying misery the next.

The crying jag lasted several minutes before I could pull myself together and wash my face again. My eyes were puffy, my cheeks red and blotchy, and my shorts didn’t fit.

My eyes swam with tears again. I took a deep breath, swallowing them down. One emotional breakdown was enough before I had my coffee. Thank God the morning sickness didn’t include coffee in the list of things that suddenly made me ill.

When I entered the kitchen, wearing a pair of knit shorts with a stretchy waistband, I saw that Kade was already up as well.

And that’s as far as my thought process got.

He’d used my shower, apparently, but as usual, had dressed in just jeans. He stood at the kitchen counter with his back to me, pouring a cup of coffee. His hair was still damp and curled slightly at the ends. The muscles in his back flexed and rippled as he moved, the scars less visible in the soft glow of morning light filtering through the windows.

It seemed pregnancy also had an effect on my libido, because I had to curl my hands into fists, my nails digging into my palms, to keep from licking Kade like an ice-cream cone.

He turned around and I was treated to the lovely view of Kade’s chest. The long scar that ran diagonally across his chest was overshadowed by two new scars, the ones from the bullets that had nearly killed him.

My hormones fled at the reminder and a wave of sadness combined with thankfulness washed over me. Even if we weren’t together, I was so grateful Kade was alive.

Kade took a sip of his coffee as he watched me. He didn’t seem startled that I was there and I thought he must have heard me retching in the bathroom. It was kind of hard to miss.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” I said automatically.

Just then, the doorbell rang, which was odd. It wasn’t like I got company, other than when Mrs. Johnson had brought over the casserole.

The reaction in Kade was immediate. He had set down the coffee and had his gun in his hand before I’d even turned to start toward the door.

“I’ll get it,” he said, wrapping a hand around my arm.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like a killer is going to ring the doorbell before he shoots me,” I said.

“Yes, that’s exactly what he’d do,” Kade shot back. “For precisely that reason. You’re not expecting it.”

I swallowed. Okay, he had a point, and really, he would know. While I hadn’t cared too much last night about whatever trouble had brought Kade to my door, this morning I was acutely aware that I wasn’t just protecting myself but also the little bump that made my shorts too tight.

I watched as Kade moved silently to the door, gun held at the ready, then he peered ever so slightly through the window. The tension in his body eased and I relaxed, releasing the breath I’d been holding.

Kade turned, an eyebrow raised sardonically as he mockingly called, “Honey! It’s for you.”

Frowning, I headed for the door, just as Kade opened it on a very surprised Matt.

“It’s the quarterback,” Kade said with a sneer. “And I’m sure he’s not here to see me.” He moved out of the way as I came to the door.

“Matt,” I greeted him, feeling my face get hot at what I was sure he had assumed, especially with Kade only half dressed. “I
. . .
I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

Matt’s jaw was locked tight and his gaze was still on Kade, who I could feel behind me. He’d retreated, but not far, and I could imagine the look he was giving Matt.

“After last night, I was worried about you,” Matt said stiffly. “Thought I’d drop by this morning, make sure you were okay.”

“That’s so sweet,” I said, forcing a smile. “I appreciate you checking on me, but I’m fine.” My embarrassment was making a flush crawl up my neck. “Was there anything else?” I asked, trying to be polite despite wanting the floor to open and swallow me whole.

“I guess not,” Matt said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just
. . .
be careful.” Matt’s gaze stared daggers at Kade behind me and I noticed his eyes dropping to the scars decorating Kade’s chest. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed and I guessed he was rethinking the wisdom of getting into a confrontation with Kade.

“I will,” I said. “Thanks again.”

Matt gave a curt nod, then headed back to his truck. I shut the door with a sigh. Not exactly the impression I’d wanted to give Matt, but it couldn’t be helped. Now to deal with Kade.

I decided I needed coffee before I took on the task of dislodging Kade from my home, and bypassed him as I moved into the kitchen and filled a mug for myself.

“Did you sleep all right?” I asked, thinking how weird it was to be making small talk with Kade and trying not to stare at his bare chest. My hormones started jumping up and down again when I caught a whiff of his aftershave.

“Sure,” Kade replied, his tone noncommittal.

And that was it for small talk. Deciding I needed some fresh air, I grabbed a blanket off the couch and went out onto the back porch. I loved sitting out there in the mornings. It was quiet and I could be outside without having to deal with the bugs. I sat down on the wicker couch, which had seen better days, tucking my feet beneath me and covering my legs with the blanket. The morning was a little chilly.

To my surprise, Kade stepped out, too, pulling a gray Henley over his head. I watched the muscles in his chest move as he dressed, briefly mourning the loss of the view, then he was taking the seat beside me. I inhaled deeply, but tried not to make it too obvious that I was smelling him, which would just be mortifying if he knew.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

I shook my head, blowing on my coffee to cool it before I took a sip. “Not right now. I’ll make something in a little while, if you want.”

Two squirrels were gathering nuts in the yard, chattering away at one another as they scampered up one of the trees. Birds were twittering overhead and a slight breeze made the leaves rustle. It was a beautiful, peaceful country morning, and I was acutely aware of Kade sitting so close that my arm brushed his when I raised my mug to my lips.

“Why did you come here?” Kade asked.

I watched the squirrels as I answered. “It seemed like the right thing to do. If I’d stayed in Indy, it wouldn’t have been fair to Blane. Both of us needed to move on. I know people here, have a history here. I thought it’d be a good place to raise—” The words
our baby
stuck in my throat. I swallowed, then took another sip of coffee.

“So let me ask you now,” I said after a moment. “Why did
you
come here?”

Kade breathed a sigh, reaching an arm back to rest on the back of the couch. His sleeve brushed the back of my neck, causing the hairs there to stand on end. I was so acutely aware of him, it was almost painful.

“To talk you into marrying Blane.”

Well, at least he was being honest, though I couldn’t pretend those words didn’t bring a lump to my throat. He’d rather me marry Blane, have our child raised by his brother, than be with me himself?

When I knew I could talk without my voice breaking, I said, “So is that why you were being such an asshole to me last night in the bar?” Kade didn’t respond, which I took to mean I’d guessed correctly. I should’ve known. He’d always been nastiest to me when he was trying to push me away. I gave a weary sigh. “There’s nothing you can say.”

“How about if I told you that Keaston’s likely to kill you if you don’t?”

Senator Keaston. I should’ve known I hadn’t heard the last of him.

“He should be happy,” I said. “I’m out of Blane’s life for good. You’d think he’d be ecstatic.”