Wild with You (13 page)

 

Chapter 15

T
WICE
A
MONTH
Kat sat down with her past. The crowded elementary school cafeteria in Brooklyn looked nothing like the small-­town lunchroom in Independence Falls, but the weary, yet hopeful expression on the fourth grader across the table was strikingly familiar.

“How's school?” Kat asked, setting aside her all-­beef organic burger. After her first visit, seven months ago, she'd learned to bring her own lunch, and one for Brianna. The smell of the cafeteria food made her stomach turn. Eating it was far worse.

The little girl shrugged, picking at the well-­seasoned french fries made from upstate New York potatoes. Kat waited, hoping for one of Brianna's rare one-­word answers. OK, good, sucks—­she'd take anything.

In the back of her mind Kat wondered if she was wasting her time. She'd flown across the country to have lunch with Brianna, and still the kid wouldn't talk to her.

“I spent the past few days on the West Coast. In Oregon,” Kat said, filling the silence. Brianna's eyes widened as if she had revealed her recent trip to Mars. “It's nice out there.”

Especially this one man. . .

But she couldn't tell the child who spent one hour twice a month sitting silently across the table from Kat about Brody. That would be crazy. Like taking two red-­eye flights to have lunch with a ten-­year-­old.

“After lunch, would you like to take a walk?” Kat suggested. The last time she spoke with Brianna's social worker Kat had begged for help. She wanted to make this work. This child had been placed in foster care after her mother died—­just like her. Brianna's father wasn't in the picture and her older sister was placed in a different foster care home. Every time she sat down with the quiet, sullen child, Kat felt like she was looking in the mirror. She wanted to wrap her arms around the little girl and promise to make it better, to tell Brianna that she wasn't alone.

But first she had to get to know the girl. And the social worker had suggested Kat “express an interest in her school.”

Brianna nodded, pushing the food away. “I'm ready.”

Words. Kat's mouth fell open, but she quickly masked her surprise and scrambled to pack up the leftovers. In the hall, Brianna took a left and Kat followed, walking slowly at her side, noting the bright, cheerful art displays on the bulletin boards.

“I'm moving.” Brianna kept her gaze on the polished floors.

“Oh?” The social worker hadn't mentioned anything.

“The family I'm with can't keep me anymore.”

“Brianna.” Kat froze and turned to the child. The way Brianna said those words, as if she were a pet who needed to be returned to the pound due to an allergic family member—­it tore at her heart. Logically, Kat knew it was more complicated. But still—­

“And I was thinking.” The child looked up at her, hope swimming in her ten-­year-­old eyes. “I was thinking you might want to adopt me. Because you keep coming back.”

Kat fought to hide her shock. But judging from the way the weariness returned to Brianna's face, she failed. She spent two hours a month with this little girl. They hadn't even graduated to weekend day trips. And still she qualified as the most steady presence in Brianna's life. Her stomach flipped and she regretted the few small bites of her burger.

The little girl drew a deep breath. “I'm smart, I stay out of trouble—­”

“I'll talk to your social worker. Mrs. Henly.” There were so many obstacles. Kat would need approvals. And with her job, the hours and travel . . . But she refused to stand here and listen to this child list her credentials.

“I can't make you any promises,” Kat said. “But I will do my best.”

The bell rang signaling the end of the lunch period. Children and teachers poured out of the cafeteria and classrooms.

“OK,” Brianna said.

Kat nodded. “I should take you back to class.”

Taking the child's hand, she navigated the busy hallway until they reached the door to the classroom. “Brianna?”

The child looked up her, her expression schooled into an impartial mask.

“For the record, I want to adopt you,” Kat said, offering the words no one had given her as a child. “No matter what your social worker says, please don't forget that.”

Eyes wide, Brianna nodded. “I won't.”

F
IVE
MINUTES
LATER
Kat walked down the streets, excitement driving her hurried steps. For years she'd pushed the idea of finding a husband and starting a family aside. In theory, she wanted children. But whenever she thought about meeting a man, opening up to him, trusting he would want her tomorrow and the day after that . . . fear rose up and she slammed the door on the idea of family.

But she wanted to be a part of this little girl's life. She mentally flung open the doors to her spare bedroom, painting the walls a bright pink.

Kat froze in the middle of the sidewalk, ten feet from the subway entrance. What if Brianna hated pink? She didn't even know the child's favorite color.

She reached into her purse and withdrew her phone. She could learn. And if the state agreed, if she passed the test, she could transform her apartment into a home. She could make this work. There was plenty of room in her two-­bedroom Manhattan apartment. She lived in a stellar school district, according to her neighbors with young children. And she could afford a nanny.

Pressing her cell to her ear, she called Brianna's social worker and left a message, making it clear she would do whatever it took to adopt the little girl.

After leaving the message, she headed for the subway, plans rushing through her head. She tried to set them aside until she heard from the social worker. Right now she needed to return to her patient—­and his brother.

Brody.

Her smile faltered. But only for a second. She'd known from that first night in the hotel that her fling with Brody Summers would lead to a dead end. It was a fantasy. Nothing more.

Today she would return to Oregon and enjoy one more week with Brody Summers. Bondage, blindfolds, and whip cream—­she wanted it all. Because when she came back to New York, her life would change forever.

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
, the cab company dropped Kat off in front of the Summers family farmhouse. Wearing the same skinny black jeans, long sleeve blouse, and ankle boots that she'd slept in on the plane, Kat headed for the front door. She needed a cup of coffee before she sat down with Josh and determined a plan for his future. One that hopefully included him telling his siblings about regaining his memory.

She knocked and heard Chad's voice calling for her to come in. Kat found the middle Summers brother in the kitchen with Lena.

“Hi, have you seen Brody?” she asked, heading for the coffeepot.

Chad hesitated.

“Did he get called out?” she probed, glancing at Lena. Even in her security uniform, her blond hair tied back in a bun, Chad's girlfriend looked like she belonged in a fashion spread with the golden retriever curled at her feet.

“He's headed to The Lost Kitten,” Lena said.

Her brow furrowed. The name sounded vaguely familiar. “The what?”

“The strip club on the other side of the university,” Chad said with a sigh. “About an hour from here.”

She let out a laugh. Forty-­eight hours had passed since she'd seen Brody and now he was at a strip club on a Friday morning? “Someone there called for search and rescue?”

“Josh. Though he didn't exactly call. The kid left a note,” Chad said. “And Brody flipped out.”

“Can you call Brody and ask him to turn around? I'd like to go with him.” She raised the coffee mug and took a sip.

“I can drop you off on my way to work.” Lena stood and Hero moved to her side. “I'm covering a shift for a coworker.”

“And working straight through the night.” Chad frowned. “You'll keep Hero with you?”

“Always,” Lena said, dropping a kiss on his lips before heading to the screen door. Kat took one last sip of her coffee and followed her out.

Ten minutes into the drive Lena glanced over at her. “You're worried about him. Josh.”

“He's making progress,” Kat acknowledged, knowing she couldn't say more without breaking the promise she'd made to her patient. “But this isn't a good side. Sexual promiscuity is often associated with brain injuries. Is this the first time he's run off to a strip club? Did he go before?”

“I wouldn't know,” she said. “I moved to Independence Falls not long before Josh's accident. But given the way Brody stormed out of the house, I doubt it.”

“Brody's overprotective,” Kat said.

“Of everyone he cares about. And I think you're on that list. I doubt he'll be happy to see you here.”

“We're not dating.” The words spilled out like a reflex.

“Do you care about him?” Lena asked, her gaze focused on the road. “If you don't, please do not lead him on. That man has given everything for his family, his work, this town. From what Chad's told me about his brother, Brody deserves to find someone who will give him everything in return.”

Kat looked at the dog lying on the truck's front bench between them, happily chewing a toy. “I don't have much to offer him. My life is on the East Coast. He knows that. We've been clear. This is just a fling.”

Lena shook her head. “That man looks at you as if you belong with him. Trust me, I know the look.”

“It's not what you think,” Kat insisted, folding her arms across her chest as she turned to the window.

He looks at me as if I belong in his bed, she thought. And she wanted to be there. For one more week.

A short while later they rounded the bend in a two-­lane country road and The Lost Kitten appeared. The two-­story structure looked like every other restaurant in the middle of nowhere Oregon apart from the neon pink sign on the edge of the parking lot. Below the club's name, the sign read:
LOCA
L
,
ORGANIC
FARE
.
SERVI
NG
BREAKFAST
,
LUNCH
A
ND
DINNER
.

“An organic menu at a strip club?” Kat glanced at the nondescript double doors.

“I've never been in. I'm not a fan of crowded indoor spaces,” Lena said, pulling up to the front door. “But I've heard the food is good.”

“If it takes a while to find Josh, maybe I'll see if Brody wants to join me for lunch.”

Lena laughed as Kat climbed down from the truck. “Good luck.”

Inside, Kat scanned the space. She'd expected a dive, not a classy club serving local eggs and grass-­fed bacon. A stage featuring three chrome poles and a long runway commanded the space. Tables with shiny black tops lined the dance floor. Three men sat at one, facing the stage, while a dancer wearing platform heels and a thong lay on top of their table. The woman helped herself to a home fry before turning her attention to the stage. The music shifted to a familiar upbeat song with a bump and grind rhythm. A pair of dancers appeared and began working the poles.

Kat glanced back at the men. Who went to a strip club for breakfast? And where was Brody if he wasn't staring at the stage beside Josh?

A topless waitress brushed past, her breasts bouncing as she slid steaming plates of potatoes and eggs in front of a gentleman. The food smelled so good. Her stomach rumbled as she searched the dimly lit space for Brody and found him by the bar.

Heading over, she noted the way he kept his gaze fixed on the hardwood floor. The tall, broad-­shouldered man who liked to lick her until she screamed refused to glance at the strippers.

“If you wanted a lap dance, you could have asked,” she said, moving to his side.

Brody looked up, his eyes widening in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

Before she could explain, a twenty-­something woman with long black hair approached. She wore a fitted black tank top with pink letters that read Naughty Kitty across her chest, jeans, and black cowboy boots. This was Kat's first visit to a strip club, but nothing about the woman screamed,
Put singles in my underwear
.

“I'm Daphne, the owner,” the woman said, offering her hand. “One of the servers mentioned you were looking for someone?”

“Brody Summers.” He took her hand. “I'm here for my brother.”

Daphne placed her hands on her hips. “Is he underage?”

“He was in an accident,” Kat jumped in, explaining her role as Josh's doctor and her concerns about his possible foray into sexual promiscuity.

The owner, who stood an inch or two shorter than Kat and barely reached Brody's shoulder, laughed. “Josh is in the back.”

“In the back?” Brody said. She could feel the tension radiating off him. And right now she couldn't blame him. A back room at a strip club suggested a very intimate dance.

“He's having breakfast with Megan, one of the waitresses. Sweet guy. Drove out here just to keep her company before her shift. I'll let him know you're here.” The owner turned and headed for the double doors leading to the kitchen.

“Since you hired a topless waitress to care for your little brother, you shouldn't be too surprised he's sleeping with her,” Kat said, taking Brody's hand.

“I didn't know,” he ground out. “She's a nursing student. I checked. She's enrolled part-­time. And she came highly recommended.”

She gave his hand a squeeze. “At least he didn't come for the show.”

“If I'd realized sexual promiscuity was a common side effect of head injuries, I would have hired a different nurse. Maybe tried to find a guy.”

“It's not your fault, Brody.” She glanced at the man who tried to shoulder the weight of everyone's needs. And she realized it was time someone rescued him right back.