The Reasons to Stay (Harlequin Superromance) (20 page)

* * *

N
ACHO
LIFTED
THE
bike onto the sidewalk and headed for the alley, hoping Priss would make good on her promise of pizza for dinner.

“Hey, Nacho.” Adam’s voice came from behind.

His stomach clenched, cutting off a growl. He turned. “Yeah?”
What now?

Adam walked up. “How’d the bike do today?”

Wary, he frowned. “Okay.”

Adam put his hands in his back pockets but didn’t say anything.

“Oh, and thanks for letting me use it.”

“No problem. It was just sitting in the garage.” He ran his fingers across the seat. “It was a good bike—still is, I guess.”

Why is he just standing there? If I’m in trouble, he should just yell and get it over with.

But Adam didn’t seem mad. He seemed all nervous, like he had in the office yesterday, with his brochures.

“I owe you an apology. My friend found the dollar. Penny had it.”

It took Nacho a few seconds to overcome the shock of hearing an adult apologize. “That’s okay.” He rolled the bike toward the alley. When Adam touched his shoulder, he stopped.

Adam walked around, to look him in the face. “No, it’s not. It had to hurt to get called out in front of people you didn’t know for something you didn’t do.” He held out a hand. “A man apologizes when he knows he’s wrong.”

Even more surprised by this offer, Nacho shook the outstretched adult hand.

Adam blew out a breath. “Whew. Glad that’s over.”

He was nervous to talk to me?
This day was getting weirder by the minute.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you back. How did it go at Bear’s today?”

Nacho wheeled the bike through the alley. “Oh man, you shoulda seen. He’s got this shortie faring from a guy’s Harley that wraps around above the headlight. He’s airbrushing a skull chewing barbed wire on it. It’s gonna be legendary.”

“Sounds amazing.”

“It is. Then Bear’s got these rims he’s gotta powder-coat. He says maybe he’ll let me help.”

“You’re lucky to get to work with him.” Adam smiled. “You’re going to do fine.”

Why is he being so nice all of a sudden? He doesn’t really care.

Does he?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

P
RISS
STOPPED
,
MIDPOUR
.
“What are— What’s wrong?”

The bright light from the open door seared her bar-adjusted eyes but she’d recognize that broad-shouldered silhouette anywhere. She put down the martini shaker as Adam strode to the bar.

“Everything’s fine.” He leaned his forearms on the bar. “Oh, hi, Gaby. How are you feeling?”

“Fair to middlin’. Those shoe inserts you gave me helped.” Gaby lifted her drink tray and walked away.

Priss closed her mouth. It made sense that Adam would know most everyone in here; he was the town’s pharmacist. But for some reason, she’d never thought about that before.

She finished pouring. Wiping her hands on her apron, she shot a look around, seeing her workspace through a stranger’s eyes. Well, hardly a stranger’s. She snatched a crumpled napkin from the bar and swiped a wet spot with a towel. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Adam.” Porter raised his glass in salute.

Adam waved, but his eyes remained on her. “Can you take a quick break?”

She checked her customers’ drink levels. “Can you guys live without me for ten minutes?”

Attention locked on the game show, they murmured assent.

She tipped her chin toward the back door and untied her apron.

Blinded by the bright noon sunshine of the alley, she grasped his upper arm and he led her to where Mona sat like an elephant seal basking in the sun. “Did you get a number for Sandy Otto?” She leaned against the car door, hope rising in her chest. “You did, didn’t you?”

“No. That’s what I came to tell you. My source couldn’t get access.” He leaned on the door beside her. “But you’ll be there for your friend, and I know that will be—”

She pounded a fist on Mona’s side. “Shit.”

“He’s only a backup shortstop but the teams take great pains to protect their players. There are lots of crazies out there.”

“Dammit. I’ll have to go to him.” The cogs in her brain whirred, considering the logistics.

“Why is this your problem?” He turned and took her sore hand, running his thumb over the back. “Look, I know you have a soft spot for the old guy and you’re a loyal friend. I admire you for it, really, I do. But, Priss, you’ve known this guy for, what, two months?”

His frown burrowed, digging into a place she didn’t want to go. She looked at her feet. “He’s a sad old man. Can’t you imagine lying in a bed all alone, waiting to die?”

“You’re right. It’s incredibly sad.” Adam’s regard illuminated her deep dark corners like an interrogator’s spotlight. “But you’re not normally the warm and fuzzy type so this makes even less sense to me.” He held out his hands. “I’m just trying to understand you.”

Suddenly the liquefied sludge of guilt, pain and regret that had heated in her gut the past few days pushed up through the crust she’d built over the years.

“So, what are you saying? I’m too tough?” The superheated words burned coming out. “I can’t be human? Care about other people? Oh, no, not Priss Hart. She’s a hard-ass.” She crossed her arms to cover truth. “She doesn’t have feelings like the ‘other people.’ You know, the ones who have money and class, and...what the hell are you looking at?”

“What is this really about, Priss?”

His dark eyes captured her and like the sun through a magnifying glass, the focus made her squirm.

“Why does this hurt you so?”

“Because I let my mother die, all alone!” Her shout echoed off the brick building, coming back to slap her in the face. “I left and never looked back. Oh, I made excuses. I ran her faults through my head over and over, until I brainwashed myself into believing that she didn’t deserve better....”

She hauled in a breath and tried to hold back the words, but what could stop lava?

“She didn’t deserve that. She was just a lost little girl in a woman’s body, trying to fill a hole in herself with the next man, and the next man. All she wanted was someone to accept her, to love her. I’m her
daughter,
and I walked away. I blamed her for everything shitty in my life. Don’t you see what a colossally horrific thing that was to do?” She wiped her sleeve across her nose. “The last few days, every time I close my eyes I see her lying in that hospital bed trying to pull in air like a fish flopping on a bank. And where was I? Off, flying blind, thinking I was a success. Thinking I was—”

He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

She’d have been okay if he’d just let her get mad. But nice was her undoing—always had been. Her eyes leaked onto his shirt.

After some time, he whispered into her hair, “Priss, you’ve got it all wrong.” His voice rumbled through his chest, against her cheek. “I’m sure your mother didn’t want you crippled and chained to her.”

His hand rubbed her back in soothing circles, and too destroyed to argue, she just listened, accepting the comfort that poured into the hole in her chest like cool water.

“Think about it, hon. If that were you, would you want Nacho hovering, suffering with you? Or would you want him out in the world, living a full life?”

The truth in his words trickled into her parched soul. She stayed in the caring circle of his arms only a few seconds more, afraid if she stayed any longer she’d never leave. She sniffed and backed up, wiping her cheeks. “How did you get so damned smart, Preston?”

“I’m not smart at all. You were just too close to see the truth.” He pulled an ironed handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her.

Grateful to have found the only man under seventy who still carried a linen handkerchief, Priss took it, mopping her face and his shirt with it. It gave her something to do to avoid looking at him. “You may be right, Adam, but I can’t see that part right now. Just let me hurt, okay?”

* * *

A
DAM
LEANED
AGAINST
the car, his brain considering and discarding excuses like a veteran postal employee sorted mail. Priss had given him another glimpse of the vulnerable woman behind all the tough. And he didn’t want to slam that door. But babysitting Nacho for two days was about as crazy an idea he’d ever heard. “I do understand why you feel the need to go, Priss, I do.” Head down, he walked away a few steps, then back. “But this guy could be a psycho for all you know.”

“Everybody knows the Cubs snatch up all the psychos.” She gave him a wan smile.

“How about if I go with you?” He stopped in front of her and took her hand.

“Thanks, Adam. But this is something I have to do. For me. Besides, you’re my babysitter.”

“What?” He backed up a step.

“I can’t ask your mother to take Nacho on. She’s off the walker now and she’s a love, but he’s too much for her.”

“How about...” His brain couldn’t fill in the blank. She sure as hell wouldn’t allow Nacho to stay with Bear. And after last weekend, Adam wasn’t going to suggest the Beauchamps.

She spread her hands. “See?” She pushed away from the car. “I’ve got to get back to work. I know I’m asking a lot. Just think about it, will you?”

She took the step that separated them, twining her fingers in his. When she looked up his heart kicked his ribs. Swimming in the depth of her sea-green eyes was that passionate, sensitive woman he’d chased. But now he saw more. He saw that she felt those same things for
him
.

Startled, he glanced at her expression. Still open and hopeful but what he’d seen in her eyes wasn’t there anymore. Could he have seen more than she’d allowed herself to?

Or was he putting his wishes into her eyes?

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, a soft, quick kiss. “No matter what you decide, thank you, Adam. For everything.” She turned and walked to the door, opened it and flashed him a Mona Lisa smile.

* * *

A
WEEK
LATER
, Priss threaded her arms through the straps of her duffel bag and shrugged it onto her back. “Now, Nacho, you’re going to take good care of Adam, right?” She lifted her fanny pack from the kitchen table and clipped it around her waist. “Remember, he’s a rookie.”

“Oh, yeah, don’t worry.” Nacho rubbed his hands together.

“Not funny, Nacho. I mean it.”

Luckily, Adam was smiling, even if it looked artificial. “We’ll be fine. Do you have my car keys? I gassed it up last night.”

He’d threatened not to keep an eye on Nacho if she tried to drive Mona to LAX, so she’d agreed to take his “reliable” car. She patted her pocket. “Right here.”

“I still wish you’d wait three weeks, when the Tigers come to San Fran. The three of us could make a weekend of it.”

“I’m not sure Barney will be around that long.”
And by then, Nacho and I will be packing to move.
“I’d better get going.” She walked over to where Nacho sat doing homework at the kitchen table, looking innocent. “Nacho, you’ve got my phone, right?” She’d insisted on leaving her phone with him, just in case he needed to call Adam.

He pulled the phone from his pocket and held it up.

“You behave, kid. I mean it. If I’m lucky, I’ll be back Monday night. But latest, Tuesday.” She gave him a quick, fierce hug.

He shrugged her off. “Yeah, yeah. I got it, already.”

Adam followed her out of the apartment, closing the door behind him. When she turned to say goodbye, he thrust a wad of neatly folded bills into her hand.

“I have enough money.”

“I know. But keep it, just in case. You can give it back when you come home.”

“Adam, I’ve got it. Promise.” She handed the bills back. “But thank you.”

“It’s just that Tropicana Field is in a crappy part of St. Petersburg.” His lips pursed.

“I’ve got reservations at the Holiday Inn, and I’ll take a taxi to the game. Will you stop worrying?” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him goodbye and hopefully distract him from his questions.

His lips distracted her
instead. He enfolded her in the familiar comfort of his arms and whispered in her ear. “I’ll hold you in my heart until you’re back.”

She squeezed her eyes closed and absorbed his words. They sank down deep, spreading like a warm blanket over her worries. She pulled in his comforting scent, and was flooded with reasons not to leave.

“Ah, excuse me, but shouldn’t you be getting on the road?” Olivia stood in the hall, watching them with a little cat’s smile.

They hadn’t even heard her door open. Adam’s arms loosened. “She’s right. You need to go. And I need to get Nacho to school.”

Nacho had the bike now but she still drove him to school; it made her feel “parently.” Besides, Nacho liked being seen in Mona. “I put your name on the school list so they won’t hassle you. You have the permission slip for treatment, in case—”

“I’ve got it. Will you stop worrying? Try to enjoy your time off.”

She’d been shocked when Floyd gave her the day off to help Barney, even if he’d made it clear it would be unpaid. “Okay, I’m outta here.” She ran her hand down Adam’s arm and squeezed his fingers once, hard, then forced herself to let go. “Olivia, you’ll make sure these two don’t blow up the building while I’m gone, right?”

“You know I won’t let my two best guys get into trouble.” She hugged Priss. “You just see that you don’t find any in Florida.”

“No worries.” She hiked her duffel higher, waved to Adam, then descended the stairs.

* * *

I
T
WAS
FULL
dark by the time Priss stepped out of the terminal and into Tampa’s damp blanket to flag down a taxi.

When she opened the taxicab’s door, the smell of cheap incense overwhelmed her, but she got in anyway.

“Where you to?” The driver nodded his head in rhythm to the sitar and drum music pounding from the radio.

She cracked the window. “Are there any cheap hotels within walking distance of Tropicana Field?”

His eyes lit up. “Oh, yes, mum. I know the perfect one.” He accelerated away from the curb before she’d even closed the door.

The next twenty miles, Priss alternated between worrying about her driver’s erratic lane changes and how fast the meter was racking up her fare. She’d dipped into her savings as much as she dared; if she used any more she and Nacho wouldn’t have enough to leave Widow’s Grove come June. She should have enough for the cab fare back—
if
she ate one very cheap meal a day.

Adam’s offer was sweet but she couldn’t take his money. Even if her debt wasn’t monetary, she owed him way too much already. The only other large amount of money she had was the wad she’d found in her mother’s apron...and she was saving that for Nacho. If he didn’t want to go to college, it would get him into a trade school. Or set him up with equipment, if this car-painting thing turned out to be what he wanted to do.

She sighed in relief when the cabbie slowed and took an off-ramp—but then she got a look at the neighborhood. Streetlights illuminated black-and-gray vignettes of cracked concrete and trash, neon and decay. Storefronts squatted behind metal accordion gates. The only sign of life was the men who slunk wolflike along the sidewalks and stood sentinel on street corners.

The taxi pulled into the drive of a long, low cinder-block building with yellow fluorescent lights under the eaves. The blinking neon sign out front announced it to be “The agoon Tr vel Lodg” over a hand-painted sign of a palm tree and blue water.

“Here you are, mum.”

She counted out money, handed it over the seat and stepped out. Angry men’s voices came on the damp air. Shouts rang out. She knew this place. The taxi pulled around and squealed out of the lot, leaving her in her past. Watching the shadowy corners of the parking lot out of the corner of her eye, Priss crossed the crumbly asphalt to the office, which turned out to be a four-by-four vestibule. On the other side of bulletproof glass sat a grizzled old man watching TV.

“How much for a room?”

He pulled the toothpick from the gap in his front teeth. “By the night or by the hour?”

“The night.”

“Thirty bucks.”

“Get out.” She put a hand on her hip and glared. “Do I look like a rich tourist to you?” Some things never changed.