Yours to Keep (6 page)

Chapter 5

Ethan climbed the stairs from the garage to the kitchen and discovered Ana and Theo at the table, their dark heads bent together over a textbook.

They looked up. “Hi,” Ana said. She smiled at him.

Man, she was beautiful. She had a wide mouth, soft lips, and white teeth that made a sharp contrast with her caramel-colored skin. Today she wore a pink V-necked blouse, and he had to make an effort not to let his gaze drop to where the shirt dipped. Because he’d already enumerated to himself all the reasons they weren’t going there. Still, his southerly blood flow had apparently not gotten the message.

Theo scowled, the expression he usually greeted his father with these days.

“Don’t let me interrupt.” Ethan set a stack of medical charts on the counter and pushed his fingers through his hair. He’d rushed out after his last patient and driven probably faster than he should have to make sure he’d be home to pay Ana.
Yeah, that was it
, he thought ruefully. He was all selflessness.

“We’re almost done.” Ana looked up at the clock on the microwave. It was a few minutes before six.

“Carry on.” He crossed to the sink and washed his hands then reached down to retrieve a large pot, which he filled with water and set on the stove to boil. He didn’t cook much, but he could handle spaghetti sauce.

She was quizzing Theo on something, their voices taking turns, a comforting counterpoint as he got out the cutting board and his onion goggles and the sharp knife.

“You have a good ear,” Ana told Theo. “Just trust yourself. If your grammar isn’t perfect, no one cares.”

“Except my Spanish teacher,” Theo said.

“Except your Spanish teacher.”

She burst out laughing. Ethan sneaked a look at her and found that she was laughing at
him.

He’d forgotten how ridiculous the red onion goggles looked. He’d have whipped them
off, but he figured he’d look even less manly with tears streaming down his face. “Onion goggles,” he explained.

“Seriously?”

She was gorgeous when her smile made it all the way to her eyes. He had to smile back. “They really help. They seal out the chemical that makes your eyes tear.”

She surveyed him critically. “You look like some kind of weird superhero. I thought maybe you were a superhero when you rescued me the other day. Now I know for sure.”

He tried not to be as thrilled as a thirteen-year-old girl. “Onion Man!” he said, throwing out his arms in flight, eight-inch chef’s knife still in one hand.

“I got them for him for his birthday,” Theo said. “He cries when he cuts onions.”

Great. Ethan lowered his arms and set the knife on the cutting board.

“My sister cries when she cuts onions, too,” Ana said. “Buckets. My eyes are tearing over here.” She turned to Theo. “I think we’re done, right?”

Theo started to get up from the table, but Ana touched his arm. The boy froze, and Ethan couldn’t make sense of the expression on his face for a moment. Fear?

“Ethan, Theo has something to tell you.”

Theo dropped back in his seat, shooting Ana a glare that could have burned through a brick wall.

Oh, hell, now what?
Ethan stepped around the island to get closer to where they sat, resting the flat of his hand on the countertop. He waited, aware that his heart had begun to race.

“The-police-picked-me-up-for-riding-my-skateboard-on-a-wall-and-not-wearing-a-helmet,” Theo said to the table.

In the otherwise silent kitchen, Ethan became aware of the whir of the range-top fan and another sound, the water beginning to boil on the stove. The bits and pieces of Theo’s run-together words penetrated.
Police.
“Say that again.”

Theo looked at Ana. So did Ethan. She shrugged. “This is your story,” she told Theo.

Theo took an audible breath. “The-police-picked-me-up-I-was-riding-my-skateboard-on-a-wall-and-not-wearing-a-helmet.”

“What?”
Ethan was still hoping he’d misheard.

“Tell him
which
wall.”

Theo glared daggers.

“On-Route-50.”

Ethan looked at Ana with an expression that was meant to convey
Help me understand this.

Ana shrank a bit in her seat, looking uncomfortable for the first time. “He wasn’t here when I arrived. Then he came home in a cop car. He’d been riding without a helmet on the wall by the side of Route 50, near the library.”

“Holy shit!”
Ethan said, unable to stop himself. He put both his hands on his head. “I’m sorry,” he told Ana. “But, holy
shit,
Theo. You could have been
killed.
What were you
thinking
?” The rush of fight-or-flight hormones had him rigid and shaking. He could see that stretch of road, cars whizzing by in both directions, could see Theo, not as he was now but as a younger child, slipping, falling, crushed, his little body—
Oh, fuck!
He took a breath. Another.
“What. Were. You. Thinking?”
He advanced on Theo.

Theo’s eyes were huge as Ethan got closer. He made a scrambling movement in the chair as if he were trying to escape. “I—”

Ethan stopped. Froze. “This is about that helmet slogan.”

Theo slumped. “No.”

“You did it just to piss me off. To make a point.” He prodded the air with his finger.

“I—”

“Are you crazy?”
The words came out before he could think better of them. Before he could think at all, pure reflex. Fear and rage, mingled. “Do you
want
to die?”

Theo’s eyes darted, and even through the miasma of his madness Ethan followed his panicked gaze to Ana’s face.

He had forgotten she was there, witnessing this. It was a good thing he’d already decided that there was no way on earth he could be involved with her, because after she’d seen him like this, livid and swearing, there was no way on earth she’d want to be involved with him.

She looked steadily back at Theo, as if telegraphing something to him.

Theo shook his head.

“Tell him,” Ana urged.

“There’s
more
?” Ethan demanded. His gaze darted between Ana and Theo.

His son took a deep breath, and his fingers toyed restlessly with the denim of his jeans while his eyes sought a safe corner of the room. “I lied to the police. Sort of.”

“You—” He couldn’t speak now. His emotions were a hot, tight ball in his chest that nothing could push past.

Somehow Theo was still talking, even though Ethan could see that he’d scared his son half to death.

“I saw Ana on the steps, and I didn’t think, I just said, it just popped out—” The words came out choked. Theo shoved his chair back from the table, ducked his head, and fled on a sob, out of the kitchen, up the stairs.

Ethan stared after him, paralyzed.

Ana cleared her throat.

He slowly turned to meet her gaze.

She didn’t look horrified. Or even particularly embarrassed. She looked—sympathetic. Her eyes were warm and, possibly, ever so slightly amused.

He crossed to the stove and turned off the boiling water and the vent fan. Then he leaned his elbows on the counter and put his head in his hands.

“You okay?” she asked. She got up from her seat and came to stand a few feet from him.

“I should be asking you that.” His voice was muffled. He lifted his head and allowed himself to look at her again. Yes, she was definitely amused. “I’m sorry for all the yelling.”

She took a step closer and patted his arm. “I would have yelled, too, in your shoes.”

“This all happened when you were here? The police?”

“Yes. I was here. Yes.”

“They brought him home in a cop car?” He wanted to know whether the lights had been flashing, whether the neighbors had seen, who else knew what a bad seed his son was becoming.

“Somehow the officer got it into his head that I was Theo’s stepmother,” Ana said. “And I couldn’t collect myself enough to correct him.”

He looked at her, startled. “Got it into his head that you—?” He shook his head in disbelief as it slowly dawned on him. “He told them you were. That’s what he meant. He lied to them and said you were his stepmother. Why?”

Her gaze flickered away from his. “I think he thought he’d somehow escape having to tell you what he’d done.”

“So they—?”

“So the cop just addressed me as Theo’s stepmom, and I didn’t—I didn’t correct him. I’m sorry about that.”

“
You’re
sorry?” He raised his eyebrows. “Geez, no, don’t be ridiculous.
I’m
sorry. You didn’t sign up for this. For any of this.”

“It wasn’t—” A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “After the initial bit of having no idea where he was, then seeing the cop car, it wasn’t so bad. He was—I made him apologize. To the cop. I hope that’s all right. I figured if he was going to pretend I was his stepmother the least I could do was some good, you know?”

Somehow her calm and amusement had managed to swallow up Ethan’s bigger, wilder emotions. He was starting to grasp what Ana had gone through, and with what grace, and he looked at her now with something akin to awe. “You made him apologize.”

She nodded. “And I made him thank the officer for going easy on him and promise him he’d never do it again.”

“And he did it.”

Another nod.

He knew for sure that he wouldn’t have been able to do the same. Wouldn’t even have thought of it in the midst of the storm of emotions that would’ve overtaken him at the sight of his son emerging from a police car.

She’d made Theo tell his father, had sat with quiet poise through the insanity of the past few minutes, urging the story out of the boy, tolerating Ethan’s ravings.

Oh, God.

She’d been a goddess, and he and his son had quite possibly been the worst-behaved clients one could imagine having.

As she stood there, cool and lovely, her long hair draped over the shoulders of her pink top, her dark eyes seeming to see beyond how incompetent they’d been to something more elemental, he liked her a thousand times more than he had before, when she’d been merely pretty and mysterious. Now she was … she was …

He remembered the irrational sense he’d had, when he flung open the door of Ed
Branch’s office, that it was Ana who was rescuing him.

“Ethan.” She took a step toward him.

All the moving parts in his body froze as she took another step and raised her hand to his face. Was she going to—?

The shock and fear and anger coalesced into something very different. Longing. Lust.

She stood very close, and, looking into her dark eyes, feeling the heat of her body inches from his, he wanted to reach for her, to lower his mouth to her slightly parted lips, to consume her. Screw all the reasons it was a terrible idea.

“You’re still—” She reached up and pulled the onion goggles off him.

He dropped his arms and let humiliation rush over him. “Did I have these on the whole time?”

“Yes,” she said.

And collapsed in giggles over the countertop.

She couldn’t stop laughing. Maybe it was post-adrenaline slaphappiness. Or maybe it was that if you stopped for a moment and forgot about the fact that Theo had nearly been killed and she’d nearly been detained—not that you could forget those things—it
was
pretty funny. She could perhaps see more of the humor, because she knew the backstory.…

Yes, in fact, she could definitely see more of the humor. Ethan wasn’t laughing at all. He’d picked up the onion goggles from where she’d set them on the countertop and was examining them as if they held the key to understanding what had happened.

“I had these on the
whole
time I was yelling at Theo.”

“Yes,” she said again.

She’d seen his gaze drop to her mouth and was pretty sure he was going to kiss her. She’d wanted him to kiss her. She’d watched him struggle with Theo and thought about how thoroughly in command of himself and the situation he’d been in Ed Branch’s office, and how she liked that contrast. Like the crisp chocolate shell of a DoveBar and the melting ice-cream interior.

Or maybe that wasn’t the best analogy, since it was making her mouth water, which made her want to step closer to him again, and it was clear that the onion goggles had stolen the moment. He was not going to kiss her, and she shouldn’t want him to kiss her, because it
could only lead to trouble. Potential heartbreak was the least of it. If anything went wrong, if they got together and then split up, if he got angry or vindictive …

“That’s just pathetic,” he said to the goggles.

“It’s not so bad.”

“No wonder he doesn’t take me seriously.”

“Oh,” she said. “I wouldn’t say that at all. What makes you think that?”

“Just … the behavior—forging my signature, getting dragged home by the cops. I should probably go up there and talk to him, huh?”

No. You should stay down here. Because I think you were about to kiss me, and I’d like you to pick up where you left off.

But, apart from the fact that she knew he needed to attend to Theo, she should not be thinking about kissing him. No matter how good he’d looked towering over her, no matter how good he’d smelled, leaning in, his breath touching her mouth …

She nodded.

“Can you … would you … does next Monday work?”

For a brief, dizzying moment, she’d thought that he was about to ask her something else. “Sure. Although, I do often recommend twice a week to start out. Then we can go to once a week if he seems like he’s on track.”

“Okay. What works for you?”

“Thursday?”

“Sure.”

He crossed the kitchen and opened a drawer. She watched as he pulled out a checkbook. Oh, hell: Here came the moment of truth. Her breath shortened. What would he say? Would he instantly make the connection? People were so much less naïve about what “cash only” meant these days than they’d been ten years ago.

He found a small clear area of countertop. He scrabbled in the drawer, extracted a pen. “How much do I owe you?”

“I prefer cash, if possible.” She held her breath.