Stay: Changing Tides, Book 1 (3 page)

She seemed ready to argue, eyes dark and the frustrated knit of her eyebrows tense, but then she nodded. “I can do that.”

“Can you?”

A slow smile broke her dark expression. “Yeah. I’m used to having to prove myself. My size, and the fact that I’m female are usually the issue, not my past. So yeah, no problem.”

She was small, her waist tapering into trim hips that led to sinfully curved legs. He swiped a hand over his face.
Shit
. He hadn’t considered her stature an issue. Strength came in all sizes; it was a matter of brains that kept a person safe. No, the only thought he had about her size was how perfect her tight little butt would feel in his hand. Christ, his mind refused to focus.

“No deviations, Burke.” He growled, more out of frustration with his wayward thoughts than her.

She gave him a jaunty salute and a smile. “There won’t be a problem. You’ll see.”

He had the feeling she’d stick to her intentions—for as long as she could. She stood uncertainly for a moment before starting off across the dock’s parking lot.

He couldn’t help calling out. “Oh, hey, Aretha?”

She stopped dead in her tracks, a stiff jerk to her shoulders. “Yes, Captain?”

Were her words a touch grated? Must be, since he could swear he heard her teeth clench. “Next meeting is Thursday night at six. Don’t be late.”

She whipped around with a brilliantly dubious smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t be.” Then she was off again.

Brack glanced at Jo as the dog trotted over to sit at his feet. He reached down to pat his head, scratching the spot just behind his ear that made his hind leg drum with happiness. “I think I may have given her too much credit, ol’ boy. She’ll follow the rules through my first command if we’re lucky, then all hell’s gonna break loose.”

Brack drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change. He glanced at the console clock and grimaced. Ten thirty. If he hadn’t been re-reading Abby’s profile, he would’ve noticed the time. Damn woman caused problems without even trying.

He didn’t want to be late. Jonathon had been in so much trouble lately, it was a wonder the school had agreed to give him another shot.

Brack wasn’t sure what had happened to his son since he’d turned sixteen, but the new gray hairs he’d acquired were thanks to the youth’s antics, outbursts, and now…drug use.

The light turned green, and a slow knot tightened in his stomach as the entrance of the school came into view. Cars filled the parking lot, and he had to circle twice to find a spot. Locking his doors, he flipped the key ring around on his finger. Jonathon had handled the last few years, and all the changes they’d had to make with the typical difficulties any kid would have suffered. But they’d made it through together as best they could.

Then Jonathon’s acceptance in the Hatten School two years ago had brought on another drastic change for them both. They’d never been apart. But the school offered what Jonathon needed, specializing in the type of learning and academics that would help him succeed as an adult. Until three months ago, Hatten seemed the best place for his son. Now, Brack wasn’t certain.

He walked the remaining distance to the school’s huge double doors and when he entered, he saw Mrs. Windham waiting in the hall. Her usual sour pucker was firmly in place, her hair spun back in a severe knot. “We’re ready for you now, Mr. Elliot.”

Patience with the woman’s superior attitude wasn’t his strong suit. With a deep, slow breath, he followed her into the room. Two men and a dark-haired woman he recognized as the school’s psychologist sat around a conference table. Jonathon wasn’t there.

“Mr. Elliot, please have a seat.” Mrs. Windham motioned to an empty chair and sat across from him.

He nodded to each person before asking, “Where’s Jonathon?”

Mrs. Windham perched her glasses on her birdlike nose and opened the folder in front of her. “We thought it would be best to meet first.”

Brack sat back in his chair. He hated repeating himself. “I told you before, anything you have to say about my son can be said in front of him.”

Four sets of eyes stared at him.

He stared back.

After a momentary standoff, Mrs. Windham reached over to the phone on her desk and pressed a button. “Send Jonathon Elliot to my office, please.”

A woman on the other end replied that she would, but Brack pushed his chair back. “I’ll just go get him.”

He walked from the room before anyone could protest. It only took a moment for the frantic clicks of Mrs. Windham’s heels to catch up. “Mr. Elliot, all visitors must be accompanied by a staff member. Surely you recall this rule?”

He did. Not that he liked it. Made the school feel like a damn prison. “Yes, ma’am.”

Jonathon’s room was only three doors down the first dorm wing. Brack stopped at the door and grabbed the doorknob with a quick glance at Mrs. Windham. “Maybe you’d better let me check and make sure he’s decent.”

She stepped back a fraction as he pushed the door open. Not far enough, since her shocked gasp echoed his thoughts.

There, in the middle of his bed, lay Jonathon. No big deal, barring the obviously naked, though somewhat covered by a blanket, girl draped across his chest. The duo took turns puffing on a joint Jonathon held pinched between his fingers, and it wouldn’t have taken a scientist to realize they were still in the midst of having sex.

Brack kicked the edge of the bed. Hard. The vibration brought Jonathon’s head up in curious reaction, his glazed eyes widening a fraction before he dropped back to his pillow. The girl rolled off him, trying desperately to hide under the covers. With a heavy sigh, he doused the joint in a soda can on his nightstand and threw his hands in the air.

Signing with somewhat fumbled dexterity, he apologized to Mrs. Windham—for not asking if she’d wanted a hit.

Brack groaned, the urge to yank his son from the bed was almost too strong to control. Not exactly the best way for his son to convince the headmistress of the school to let him stay on.

Twenty minutes later, Brack stuffed the last of Jonathon’s bags into the back of his truck. Angry beyond comprehension, he signed for Jonathon to get in and gave him a push toward the passenger side.

When his son climbed in, Brack took a moment to breathe. This was not good. What the hell was going to happen now? The local high school didn’t have the resources Jonathon needed. This school was built for deaf children. At home, he’d be lost in the cracks.

Christ, Ellen. What am I supposed to do now? How would you handle this?

As always, there was no answer from his wife. He could take on a burning building, the fiercest storm, explosions and injuries, but when it came to his kids, shit, she’d been the rock. The solid presence that kept them all moving and on the right track.

Without her guidance, he was at a loss. Without Ellen, their son was falling apart.

Now, that fact was as stark a reality as he needed.

And he had no idea what to do about it.

Chapter Three

Abby shifted the folders in her arms and reached for the car door. She was exhausted. Her first day as special resources tutor-slash-health teacher-slash-softball coach had gone well. One more school meeting and she’d head home for a quick shower before her first fire meeting.

Right now, she needed a cup of coffee to get through the next couple of hours. Dropping her bag on the passenger seat, she climbed in and turned the key. Nothing more than a low
click
sounded. She tried twice more before checking her temper and resisting the urge bash her head against the steering wheel.

A light rap on the window jolted her, and she glanced up as the phys-ed teacher—
crap, what was his name?
—pulled an atrocious fur-lined cap from his bag and put it on. His green eyes sparkled in the evening sun. He was tall and trim with a great smile that reached his eyes. She rolled down the window.

“Car troubles?” he asked.

“Nope.” She laughed. “Just wanted to let you know you had a dead raccoon on your head before I left.”

He fingered one of the straps that hung down to his chin. “Kids love it. I don’t mind being their comic relief.”

“No doubt.” She climbed out of the car and pulled her coat over her shoulders, shivering against the cold wind. “Know anything about cars?”

Shit, Rolo…Rumpelstiltskin…it was a weird name.

He eyed the beast with obvious distaste. “Love to be your knight here, but I don’t know a thing about ’em. How about a lift?”

“I’d rather have a number for a good mechanic.”

“Ouch.” He clutched at his chest. “But I’ll survive. Eventually.”

It was hard not to laugh. He really had a great sense of humor. “Focus. Mechanics in the area?”

“That, I can do.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved a card and pen. Jotting down a number, he smiled. “This guy’s great if you can get past the stench of beer on him. Knows cars inside and out though. And he’s got pretty low prices. Tell him I sent you.”

She reached for the card. “Sounds good to me.” ’Course, she had no idea what name to tell the mechanic.

Just as her fingers were about to close over the card, he pulled it back. “Hang on, there. Don’t I get a prize or something for rescuing you? A cup of coffee, maybe?”

She lunged for the card, but her foot slipped on a patch of ice, and she had to grab on to him to stop herself from falling.

He scooped an arm around her waist and held on until she gained her footing. “Forward, aren’t you?”

“You’re kind of foolish, you know that, right?” Backing away, she held her hand out for the card.

“Yep, it’s my Elliot blood.” He flipped it over between his fingers. “Irresistible. That’s why you won’t be able to turn me down.”

Leaning a hip against her car, she sent him a scowl. Wait, Elliot? “Did you say Elliot? Any relation to Brack?”

With a huge smile, he handed her the card. “Yeah, when I claim him. He’s my brother.”

Well that made a lot of sense. Though this Elliot brother’s conceit was more in fun. She wondered if he was Jensen’s father, or more likely an uncle. Either that, or he had Jensen in his teens…

“More like when
I
claim
him
.”

And just like that, the six simple words from the deep voice of Brack Elliot had her insides sliding into a big buttery puddle. She hadn’t really realized she’d been looking forward to seeing him until now.

“Lay off, Rand,” he continued as he approached. “She’s about to become a member of our team.”

Rand! Right. She repeated it over and over in her mind. She had to remember that.

“Good, we need some new members.” Rand glanced at Brack with a confused arch to his brow. “Still don’t get your point.”

“My point is, if she’s part of the team, she’s off limits.”

“We’re a fun bunch. Most of us.” Rand chuckled and sent her a dubious glance. “You sure you want the aggravation that comes with the job?”

Abby crossed her arms over her chest. Typical Brack. God, was he always so—grumpy? “I’ll join if Captain Sourpuss here finds me worthy.”

A strangled sound issued from Rand’s throat. “Sourpuss?”

Brack brushed past him. “Leave it alone, brother.”

“Sure.” With a bit more laughter than Abby thought was necessary, Rand said, “I was just offering Abby a ride.”

Brack met her gaze. “Car troubles? Again?”

She smiled in triumph and flashed the card in his direction. “I’ve got a mechanic now.”

A brisk breeze blew across the parking lot, swinging her coat open. She clutched at it quickly, but not before she caught the intensity of his gaze. It moved over her throat, her breasts, her belly, and every one of her muscles tightened in response. But when his gaze lingered on her lips, everything around them dissolved.

He moved a bit closer. “I’ll give you a ride after my meeting, if you don’t mind waiting.”

Two offers for a ride. Her mind and body screamed for different choices. She reached into the car and pulled her bag over her shoulder, glad to have something to do with her hands. Rand was the safer choice. He was handsome, funny, and she didn’t feel drawn to him like she did by Brack’s magnetic pull. “Actually, I have a last-minute school meeting in a few minutes.” She’d dreaded the extension in her day earlier. Now it gave her an escape. “I just wanted to grab something to eat before I went.”

Rand, who’d stood silent, suddenly piped in. “I’ll come back. What time’s your meeting over?”

Brack grabbed the bag from her shoulder and slung it over his. “I’ll take care of her, Rand. Maybe if she’s with me, she won’t be late for the fire meeting tonight.”

Then he walked off.

Abby stared at his back.
Arrogant…
She seemed to be calling him a lot of names lately. But it didn’t change the fact that something about the man just set her blood on fire. She wanted to dislike him, had plenty of reasons to, and yet she couldn’t seem to keep her attraction to him under control. Even now, with a very handsome Rand offering her a ride, she wanted nothing more than to continue the excitement that came from verbally sparring with Brack.