Single (Stockton Beavers #1) (14 page)

"But, dude," Danny argues as Roberta takes the umbrella from him. "You can't leave in your uniform. It's against the rules."

Good
. Another infraction. I definitely won't be playing tomorrow.

I tuck Mom's arm under mine. "Oh, yeah? Watch me."

I glance at Roberta, but it's like she's lost somewhere inside her head. Yeah, she's disappointed in me for not copping to my fears, but it's not about me. It's about the safety of my teammates. I don't want them getting hurt in some brawl over me. But I wonder if that's all I did wrong. Is it also because I didn't kiss her out there? Luckily, I know how to rectify that. Just wait until we get home…

Chapter Twenty-Two

Roberta

My blood runs cold the minute we step out of Luke's Subaru.

"Hi, Mrs. Singleton! It's Heidi. Heidi Foster. Don't you remember me? I went to high school with your son."

"What's she doing here?" I mutter to Luke.

"I don't know, but she's not staying." He guides his mom over to me, letting his hands linger on both of our shoulders, like he's trying to draw whatever strength he can from us before having to deal with Heidi. "Take Mom inside for me, would ya? I'll get rid of her."

Up past her bedtime, Luke's mom nods against me, half asleep. She's basically incoherent at this point, and it's obvious she doesn't recognize Heidi. The last thing she needs right now is for her memory to be put to the test.

"What's wrong with your mom, Luke?" Heidi calls out as her heels click up the driveway. "She doesn't look too good. Is she sick or something?"

Luke reluctantly turns to face her. "Heidi, now's not a good time. You should go."

"But I came all the way over here to bring you these brownies." She holds up the box she's carrying. "I was slaving away all night. Aren't you at least gonna taste one?"

Under the porch light, the crease in Luke's brow deepens. "What did you do that for?"

I stick the key in the lock, but I turn back just in time to see her lay a hand on his arm. "To wish you luck, silly. You're going up against the guy who hit you tomorrow night, aren't you?"

He removes her hand from his arm. "Sorry, but I don't need a dozen store-bought brownies in order to do that."

She shoves the box against his chest. "So what if they are? You liked the one at Russo's well enough."

I snort from the porch, and she glares over at me.

"Who's she…the housekeeper?"

I stare her down, and she gives me a haughty little smirk through her perfectly applied lipstick.

But before I can really give it to her, Luke responds for me, "Drop it, Heidi. It's not your concern."

"So you're telling me she's your girlfriend? Funny how that never came up on our date."

"That's because our date wasn't real, Heidi. Or don't you know that?"

I wince; that's not the approach he should take with her. Getting her angry is only going to make her even more curious about me.

I open the front door for Luke's mom and let her enter in front of me.
Should I go back out there or should I just stay out of it
? Inwardly debating what I should do, I follow Mrs. S.'s shuffling feet into the living room and get her settled in front of the TV, keeping the volume on low so I can catch bits and pieces of what's going on out there through the partially open door. His mom's eyes are already starting to close as I draw an afghan over her legs. She's on the verge of drifting off. There's no way she's going to move from this couch, and I can't just leave Luke out there with Heidi as I listen to her fire off question after question at him. I have to help him get out of this jam. If I'm going to do this, now's the time.

With purpose, I stride across the room and back onto the porch. Shutting the door behind me, I interrupt her interrogation by calling out to her, "Yep, you guessed it. I'm the housekeeper."

Heidi raises her head and shoots me an icy glare, none too pleased with me for butting into what she assumed was a private conversation between her and Luke. "Really? Then why were you riding in the front seat of the car and not the back?" She smiles at me, her white teeth gleaming when I unknowingly fall right into the trap she set for me.

Luke fumbles for a reason. "My mom…likes to sit in the back."

"And you don't?" she asks, her attention riveted on me. "I'm sorry. What's your name again?"

Her phoniness sets my teeth on edge. "Roberta. Roberta Bennett."

She taps a finger to her lips. "Now why do you look so familiar? Have we met before?"

"I don't think so."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

She smiles smugly at me. "Interesting."

"What is?" Luke asks, getting overly defensive.

"I never forget a name, or a face. I'm sure I'll figure out how I know you eventually, Roberta. Then we'll have a good laugh over it, I'm sure."

A tremor of uncertainty enters my head.
She can't know who I am, can she
? It's not possible. Nobody knows that I was married to David, not even Landry.

She saunters closer to Luke, and before he even knows what she's doing, she places a hand on his shoulder, rises up on her toes, and kisses his cheek. "There's more where that came from." She steps back, grinning at him. "Call me."

Tossing her hair, she shoots me a contemptuous look, letting me know in no uncertain terms that it's on—
it is so on
. She's not giving up on Luke without a fight. She wants him, and she's determined to have him, regardless if I plan on stopping her or not. And a sharp stab of jealousy knifes me in the stomach when I realize she's so petite she had to stand on her tiptoes in order to kiss him. And that caveman side that's in every hot-blooded man had to find that flattering. Guys always prefer girls who are smaller than they are. It's Biology 101.

After she pulls away in a Volkswagen Jetta that's sickeningly the same shade of red as her lipstick, Luke strides down to the curb and throws the brownies inside one of the trash cans. He dusts off his hands, making me laugh. Okay, maybe he's not feeling her so much after all.

He stomps onto the porch, his jaw set in annoyance, and I can't resist teasing him, "I would've eaten those brownies if you didn't want them."

A welcome light enters his eyes as the corner of his mouth starts to twitch. "Now you tell me."

I laugh, and I'm glad when he does too. All I want to do is help him relax and not think about tomorrow. Lifting my arms, I grab on to his biceps and spin him around.

"What are you doing?" he asks, immediately tensing up now that my hands are on him.

"Loosening you up. You're a nervous wreck, Singleton." I grind my hands into his shoulders, ready to work out all the kinks.

As I continue to touch him, he takes on the same tortured stance that he did last night. I can feel the tension he's carrying in his muscles as I begin to give him a much-needed massage. It's like every time I go near him, he feels the need to hold himself back because of how I've been rebuffing his advances. With the thought of David coming to town, I've been feeling so unsure of myself, giving in to my doubts about pursuing any kind of relationship with Luke. Now on the eve of the biggest night of his career, I have the poor guy all strung out. I have to fix it. I have to make it right.

But as soon as I rub the side of his neck, he groans like a man on the brink. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, but not before a breathy sigh escapes my lips. Hearing it, he turns his head ever so slightly, allowing the soft ends of his hair to brush against my fingertips, and I feel it deep down inside me. Splaying my hands, I take hold of him, increasing the pressure of my fingers. I bend my head and sigh when the back of his shirt skims across my forehead. He remains stock-still, yet there's a slight slackening of his posture, so I know my fingers are working their magic. But when I run my nails down the length of his back, he spreads his legs far apart and starts shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Roberta," he whispers, fisting his hands at his sides. "Maybe we should…"

"Take this inside? I couldn't agree more."

In one fell swoop, he turns around and picks me up, and I blush when he cups my backside in his hands. I knew he was strong, but knowing it and experiencing it are two completely different things. I cross my ankles behind his back, locking my legs around his waist, and it's like I can't get close enough to him. I want more…so much more.

He opens the door and we step inside, and I can't help but whisper, "Luke, what about your mom?" My chest is pressed against his as he takes a deep breath, but he makes no move to put me down. Instead, he heads for the stairs. "Luke! We can't just leave her down here," I protest against his ear.

Reluctantly, he lowers me to my feet. "How long?"

I smile at what he's suggesting. "Twenty…thirty minutes, tops."

He runs his hand over his mouth as he stares at me. "Make it twenty."

I smack his elbow as my phone chimes through my handbag. "Ugh, I'd better get that. It could be Landry."

Knowing that Luke's watching me bend over, my face gets hot. I'm just about to answer it when a missed call message pops up onscreen.

"Was it him?" Luke asks.

"No," I reply, attempting to hide my phone from him.

But he's too quick for me. He takes it and studies it a moment before handing it back to me. "Rhode Island. Who do you know in Rhode Island?"

"No one. It's probably a wrong number."

He gives me a lopsided grin. "All right. Then why are you so freaked out about it?"

"I'm not!" I argue, backing away from him. "It's just that…"

He steps in front of me. "What?"

I pull my hair away from my face and flip it over my shoulder. "Maybe now's not such a good time. It's late. I have to get your mom ready for bed. You need to—"

He reaches for me. "What I need is—"

I place my hand over his lips. "Please…don't say it." A shudder runs through me when I feel his warm breath on my fingers, but I do my best to contain it. "Luke, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I can't…We can't."

I turn away from him, hating myself for it. But I'm not about to take the next step with him, not when I know very well who played in Rhode Island tonight.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Roberta

Seven years earlier

I pull the lasagna out of the microwave and smile. I've been looking forward to this all day. After working through a double shift at the nursing home, all I want to do is unwind in my new apartment with a glass of wine and the delicious takeout I picked up from the little Italian deli down the street. I'm still learning all that the neighborhood has to offer, but even so, it already feels like home to me, more than living with David ever did.

Placing my plate on the table, I sit down, ready to dig in. Tonight is all about celebrating being a single woman again since my attorney called today to tell me that David had been served with the divorce papers. It's official. I've taken the first step toward dissolving our marriage. Still, I'm a bit anxious, knowing that my current address had to be listed in order for the paperwork to be filed. I could've spoken up and raised concerns about my safety, but I was too embarrassed to explain to my attorney the real reason why I left my husband. No woman in her right mind would've stayed as long as I did, and I knew my attorney, along with the rest of the world, would probably judge me for losing our baby, thinking it was my fault.

It's been hard. I'm not going to lie. Starting over in a new place, working sometimes sixteen-hour days in order to make ends meet, well, I haven't exactly been living the life of Riley. But it's my life—
mine
—and no one can take it away from me. I'm free. I can breathe again. And even though I'm alone, with no one to depend on, I'm doing it. I'm supporting myself. I'm beholden to no one. And boy, does that feel good.

I raise the fork to my lips and blow, watching the steam curl away from the noodles. In the past, I would've burned my mouth in my haste to satisfy my rumbling stomach, but I know better now. I can wait. I've gotten quite good at being patient.

Then I hear a strange little noise coming from the back door.

I'm still getting used to the sounds of living in a new place, but I admit I've never heard anything like this before. It's a steady sort of tinkling sound, so faint I almost didn't hear it until the motor on the refrigerator kicked off. Lowering my fork, I stand up to investigate. Cautiously, I approach the door and stare through the curtain on the window, and for a moment, the noise stops. It's dark outside, and with the light on in here, it makes it quite easy to see in, yet almost impossible to see out.

I step away. I was probably just imagining things. There's no one out there. I'm just about to resume my meal when the jangling picks up again, this time louder. Unnerved, I creep back toward the door on my hands and knees, staying well below the vantage point of the window. And as I get closer, I notice for the first time how the knob is moving ever so slightly, like someone's on the other side of the door, attempting to pick the lock. And a chill runs down my spine.

Panicking, I stand up and rush toward the phone on the wall. And that's when the noise on the other side increases dramatically, going from a subtle jingling to a loud, heavy thud as something with force begins to strike against the base of the door. With my hand shaking, I punch the numbers on the keypad.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"I think someone is trying to break in to my apartment."

The pounding halts, as if whoever's out there is straining to listen to what I'm saying.

"Is your address…?" the operator begins.

But I can no longer hear what's being said when the entire doorframe starts to rattle and shake like it's being pulled off its hinges. I cower on the floor, clinging to the phone.

"They're getting in!" I scream.

"I have a trace on the call. An officer will be there momentarily."

"Oh, God…What do I do?" I wail.

"Stay on the line with me, ma'am," the operator commands, before she starts robotically reading off a list of suggestions to me. "Do not engage your attacker. If your attacker has a weapon, do not try to take it from them."

But at that point, I stop paying attention when a flash of red and blue lights reflects off the window, and the door goes still.

"Ma'am, our officer is on site. He'll be knocking on your front door. Please let him in when he does."

"Are you sure it's safe?" I whisper. "What if they're still out there? What if…?"

"Backup is en route, ma'am. ETA within two minutes or less. Can you please answer the door?"

I force myself up off the floor when the knock comes. "Okay."

"Don't hang up. Please let me know when the officer's inside."

I drop the phone and run toward the front of the apartment, disengaging the dead bolt and throwing open the door.

Upon seeing my terrified expression, the gray-haired officer gives me a reassuring smile. "It's all right, ma'am. I already had my partner check around back. Whoever was out there is long gone."

I take a shaky breath. "Are you sure?"

"Positive," he affirms. "Let's walk through and he can show you what he found." He taps his walkie. "Front of the premises secure, victim unharmed, 10-4."

I feel like I'm in a trance when he guides me through what I had already come to consider my sanctuary, the remainder of my dinner left on the table, the end of the phone hanging from its cord. The officer, knowing what to do, scoops it up and begins talking to the operator as he points at me to open the back door.

It's all such a blur as I untwist the lock with my heart in my throat, only to be greeted by the full, round face of the officer's partner.

"Good evening, ma'am. I already did an initial sweep." He scours the backyard with the beam of his flashlight before letting it come to rest on the base of the door. "And the only thing I found was this," he says, lighting up a series of muddy footprints, one overlapping the other. I gasp, and he gives me a sympathetic look. "Someone was determined to get in here. Do you have any idea of who it could be?"

I clutch my throat, hearing David's voice inside my head.
See, they already think it's your fault…your fault…your fault
…

When I start to tremble, the officer reaches out a hand to me. "It's okay, ma'am. You're safe now."

I shake my head. "No, I'm not," I mutter, looking up at him sadly. "I'll never be safe again."