Small-Town Redemption (14 page)

And she needed Justin to know she was single. Available. Interested.

She just couldn’t figure out why, if she was so interested in Justin—and she was—she wasn’t doing more to try to decline Estelle’s dinner invite.

Estelle wrinkled her nose. “You want to eat here?” she asked her father.

Kane nodded. “Upstairs.”

“Fine,” Estelle said, sounding about as far from agreeable as she could get. She turned to Char. “Does seven work for you?”

“Perfect.” And if Char was actually looking forward to it, no one had to know but her.

“Fabulous. Speaking of eating,” Estelle said to her dad, “I’m hungry. Can we get pizza?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll wait upstairs.” She smiled at Char. “It was so nice seeing you again.”

Char couldn’t help but grin back. It was like Estelle was half teenager with all the moodiness and chattering that went with it and half adult socialite complete with extreme politeness. “You, too. I hope you enjoy your stay in Shady Grove.”

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Estelle said. Then, pushing buttons on her phone, she left the bar.

Kane walked Charlotte to the door. “So...a rich boy from Texas, huh?” she asked, unable to stop herself. Unable to stop from being curious about him. She leaned against the door. “Not how I imagined your childhood.”

“I’m a born and bred Texan of the country club set. Grew up in a mansion big enough for five families, was educated in the finest private schools and had my own credit card with no spending limit when I turned twelve.”

“Sounds—”

“If you say nice, I may have to rethink you settling for the carpenter and his wages.”

“I was going to say indulgent.”

He glanced at her in surprise. “It was.”

“Must have been hard, growing up like that and not becoming spoiled.”

His grin flashed, fast and wicked. Her breath caught. “Who says I wasn’t spoiled?”

She laughed. “I can’t imagine you being pampered.” He was so controlled and hard, independent and aloof. She knew from Sadie he put in sixty-hour workweeks and never complained about taking a shift behind the bar, cleaning up or washing dishes. “You don’t seem like the type to ask for someone to bring you what you want on a silver platter.”

“I didn’t ask for it,” he said, his tone cool and dismissive. “I demanded it. I was a spoiled kid, a rebellious teenager. I lashed out at everyone and everything until I realized what I really wanted to lash out against was my entire lifestyle.”

“Is that when you became...involved in drugs?”

“I didn’t become involved in them. I lived for them. For the next high. The next time I could numb my thoughts. My feelings.”

How horrible. She wanted to touch him but didn’t dare. Not when he looked so angry and dangerous. “You must have been in so much pain.”

“I was bored,” he said flatly. “Looking for attention. It’s what happens when kids have too much freedom, too much money and not enough interest from their parents. I was an addict at seventeen. By nineteen I’d been to four different rehabs.”

“But you’re sober now.”

“I got clean, joined the service and learned what it’s like to work for a living, to make something of myself.”

“And you haven’t looked back since,” she said.

“No sense looking back or forward. Not when I learned it’s best to focus on getting through this day, this hour, this minute.”

He reached past her and opened the door. She turned. They were close, so close she could breathe in his scent, wanted to continuing inhaling it, if only for another indulgent moment.

She cleared her throat, but when she spoke, her voice was husky. “Are you embarrassed I now know all your deep dark secrets?”

“You don’t know half of them,” he told her quietly. “You don’t know anything about me.”

It wasn’t completely true, she thought, as she walked out into the twilight, the air cool and crisp. Behind her, he shut the door with a quiet snick. She refused to look back.

Heading toward her car, she dug her keys out of her purse. She’d been wrong about him. More than once, it turned out.

She may not know everything about him, but each time they were together, she got more glimpses of who he really was, what made him tick and why he was the way he was.

Each time they were together, she wanted to know more.

* * *

A
T
LEAST
THE
pizza was good, Estelle thought an hour later as she worked on her second slice. Her dad had taken her to a place downtown called Panoli’s. It was old-fashioned, and had dingy floors, a few rickety tables in the back and a jukebox. Behind the front counter, an old guy tossed pizza dough in the air, which was pretty cool. And it smelled amazing in there.

So if she ended up convincing her dad she should stay with him, she wouldn’t starve. That was a plus.

But there were so many minuses. For one thing, the town was small, not many restaurants were open on a Sunday. And as far as she could tell, there wasn’t even a decent mall, which meant she’d have to drive into Pittsburgh every time she wanted to go shopping.

She thought of her brand-new Jeep, her sixteenth birthday present from Granddad, sitting in her garage back in Houston. She hoped her dad would let her bring the Jeep to Shady Grove even though he hadn’t wanted Granddad to buy it for her. Oh, her dad said it was because she needed to learn the value of a dollar and how to earn her own way and work for the things she wanted and blah, blah, blah. But the real reason was he hated Granddad and didn’t like him doing anything nice for Estelle.

Which was just messed up. Yeah, Granddad had been married, like, five times and he had a hard time keeping it in his pants when he was younger—and she wasn’t even going to think about if he kept it in there nowadays because...yuck. But he loved Estelle and she loved him. It should be all that mattered.

She sighed.

“That’s the third time you’ve sighed since we got served,” her dad said, sipping his bottle of water. “What’s going on?”

She set her pizza down, wiped her fingers on a paper napkin. “Nothing.”

He just watched her, as though he didn’t believe her. But he wouldn’t bug her about it. Her mom would keep at her until Estelle had told her everything, and then she’d try to make her feel better with a shopping trip or an appointment at their favorite salon. But not her dad. He’d wait, let her come to him when she was ready, then he’d just...listen.

It was nice. Oh, she loved her mom, more than anything. But sometimes she liked not having to spill her guts or share every thought she had.

But she couldn’t ignore this forever. She’d have to bring it up sometime, and it might as well be now when he wasn’t still upset with her surprise visit. Using her fork, she stabbed at a piece of lettuce left over from her salad. “Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever...” She set the fork down and clasped her hands together in her lap. “Do you ever think about moving back to Houston?”

She already knew the answer was a big, fat no. She also knew it was a good segue into what she really wanted to ask.

“No,” he said. “Why?”

“Is it because of your family?” she asked, though she already knew that answer, too.

Her dad liked to move around. A lot. Plus, it wasn’t just his own father he didn’t like, it was his mom and brothers, too. Which wasn’t fair as Uncle C.J. and Uncle Oakes were both really nice and fun.

Her dad’s lips tightened. “It’s not someplace I want to be.”

Not even for her. But at least she got to see him and he paid attention to her and she knew he loved her. Some of her friends’ dads live in Houston and they didn’t have anything to do with their own kids.

“But if you lived in Houston,” she said, “you could see me every day.”

His expression softened. “We’ll figure something out, see each other more often.”

“Or, I could maybe...move here. With you.”

She held her breath. He didn’t look angry, more like stunned.

“I don’t even know how long I’m going to be in Shady Grove.”

“Oh, well, when you move, I could, like, move with you.” Hopefully to someplace warmer with more to do. And a mall.

He leaned forward, studied her as if trying to read her mind. He knew her too well. Knew she wasn’t being honest with him. Why couldn’t she have regular parents who either ignored her or were clueless when she fibbed?

“You love Houston,” he said.

She did love Houston. She loved the weather and the sights and sounds and everything to do there. “I could go back and visit.”

“What about school? Your friends? Your mother?”

That’s what she’d miss most. Her friends and, of course, Mama. She’d never lived anywhere else, never had to make new friends or be the new kid in school. Although she had already met Andrew. They’d been texting all day, making plans to get together sometime this week.

Maybe she could make new friends after all. She was already almost friends with Charlotte, despite Charlotte being a few years older than her.

“I’m sixteen now,” she told him, shoving her plate away. “In two years I’ll be at college, and I’ve never lived with you. This could be our only chance.”

He looked confused and, she realized, flattered. Also a little scared. “I didn’t know you wanted to live with me.”

She didn’t. Oh, don’t get her wrong. She loved her dad. But he had too many rules. He was always worrying about her making a mistake or a wrong choice just because he’d been wild when he was her age. As if she was dumb enough to get involved in drugs or let some guy get her pregnant.

She’d learned from her parents’ mistakes.

“It would be fun,” she said, trying to convince herself as well as him. It wouldn’t be so awful. Her dad was cool enough, and she really had missed him this past year. “We could move into a bigger place.” Because there was no way she was living above a dumpy old bar. “And I’ll go to school here. I could even get a job.”

He frowned and edged closer to the table. There were only two other tables occupied in the small dining room, one by an older couple, the other a family with three little kids. Still, he lowered his voice. “What’s going on? Is this about Adam?”

She got cold all over. “Wha...what do you mean?”

He couldn’t possibly know, could he? Had Adam gone through with his threat?

“Your mom said you’ve been acting strange ever since they got engaged. Are you worried you’re losing your mom to him?”

Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back. They thought she was jealous. Like some little kid who wasn’t getting enough attention. “No. I’m glad Mama’s so happy now.” It was true. Her mother hadn’t dated much until Estelle turned twelve, and then only sporadically. She didn’t want her mom to be lonely. And Meryl loved Adam. Estelle had never seen her happier or more content. “I feel like a third wheel. I think they need time together, without me, you know? To really get to know each other and stuff.”

Her dad’s eyes narrowed. “But you like him?”

She opened her mouth, but the lie wouldn’t come out so she nodded. She had liked Adam. At first. She’d wanted him to like her, too. But she’d gone overboard.

She could still hear his low voice; she’d never get his words out of her head.

Who do you think your mother is going to believe?

His question had terrified Estelle. Before Adam, she would have said her mother would believe her. Over anybody. But even if she did believe Estelle, what good would it do? Meryl would break up with him and then she’d go back to being alone.

“I doubt your mother thinks of you as a third wheel,” Kane said.

“I know. I just feel it’s time for you and me to be together. While we still can. Will you promise me you’ll at least think about it?”

He nodded. She didn’t need his words to know he’d keep his promise.

And for the next two weeks, she’d do her best to convince him that her staying with him was the best idea ever.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A
FEW
YEARS
AGO
, who would have thought skinny, nerdy Charlotte Ellison would have two dates? And on a Wednesday, no less.

Not that this was a date, Char thought as she climbed out of her car at O’Riley’s on Wednesday night. Even though it did include dinner with a gorgeous man. And his daughter.

A thank-you dinner he didn’t even want to have.

She picked up the bakery box from the passenger seat, shut the door and pressed the lock button on her key fob. Her car beeped, lights flashing once. She pocketed the keys and headed across the parking lot. There were maybe a dozen vehicles in the lot, and when she grew close to the building, the scent of chicken and tomatoes hit her, followed by a hint of spice. Her mouth watered.

She hesitated at the door leading to Kane’s apartment. Looked back at her car. It wouldn’t be a big deal to get in it and drive home. She could always phone, tell Estelle she got called into work or had come down with a sudden case of yellow fever. She wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to this dinner in the first place. Yes, she’d thought it was sweet of Estelle to offer, but mostly, she’d agreed because Kane hadn’t wanted her to.

She was getting to be quite the contrary person.

Char opened the door and climbed the stairs. This may not be a date, technically, but she could definitely count having coffee with Justin earlier as one. The two of them had huddled together in a secluded table in the back corner for two hours. He’d told her all about his family, how close he was to his sister, how much he enjoyed spending time with her kids, how he’d like a family of his own one day. There had been no long, awkward pauses, and she hadn’t had to search her brain for something to discuss.

It’d been...nice.

Not magical. Not spectacular or life-changing, which the first date with her intended future husband should have been. It was so frustrating when things didn’t work out the way she’d planned.

Made her worry she was doing something wrong. That she was making another mistake.

Her jaw tightened. No. She and Justin weren’t a mistake. They were meant to end up together. They had to. She couldn’t be wrong. Not again.

Besides, the afternoon hadn’t been a disaster. They’d gotten along well, had discovered they had quite a few things in common and enjoyed the same authors and movies. They also shared the same views on the hospital administration and politics. See? Meant to be.

And when they’d finally left, he’d pulled her into a long, warm embrace. And try as she might, she couldn’t work up one tingle, not an ounce of enthusiasm.

Pathetic.

It was just nerves, she assured herself. She’d been too conscious of the mistakes she’d made with James, of pushing too far, too fast. Of expecting too much. She’d been too cautious. Next time, she’d be more relaxed. Stop worrying so much about every word.

She’d make it clear to Justin she was interested in a relationship with him. A future. Their future.

With that thought firmly in mind, she switched the bakery box to her other hand and rapped on Kane’s door.

He opened it a moment later.

There was that damn tingle, starting at the base of her spine and climbing her back.

“Red.” He opened the door wider. “Right on time.”

She brushed past him. “You look better.”

His eye had turned purple, but his stitches weren’t so red and raw-looking. “I feel like shit.”

“Is the ibuprofen helping?” she asked, worried he was overdoing it physically, especially since he wouldn’t take stronger medicine.

“Some.” He nodded toward the box in her hand. “What’s that?”

“Brownies.” She lifted the lid showing thick chocolate squares with glossy chocolate icing. “I thought, with Estelle being here, it was a more appropriate hostess gift than a bottle of wine.”

“She’ll love them. She’s downstairs picking up our dinners since I only have one good arm. Mary Susan’s making her special chicken fajitas, black beans and rice, and corn bread.” His eyes narrowed. “Do you want wine? I can run down and get you a glass.”

For some reason, she wasn’t as nervous in this tiny, cramped apartment as she had been with Justin at the coffee shop. Weird. “No, thanks. Whatever you have up here will be fine.”

“I have water or milk,” he said, going into the kitchen. Estelle must have set the table because it was properly done, with a centerpiece of three white candles of various sizes, their flames flickering as Kane walked by. “And some of this juice Estelle picked up at the store.”

He opened the fridge door and pulled out a bottle of fruit juice, blended with vegetables to make it healthier. If you ignored the sugar added to make it taste good. “Water’s fine,” she said, setting the box on the counter. She leaned back, watched him as he pulled a glass from the cupboard. “You don’t keep alcohol in your place?”

“It didn’t seem like a good idea,” he drawled, his accent thicker than usual, “what with my being an alcoholic and all.”

“Yet you own a bar. Work there.” Serving drinks, being surrounded by it day in and day out. “Isn’t it difficult for you to stay sober?”

He lifted a shoulder, poured a bottle of water into her glass. “Some days.” His mouth lifting in a self-deprecating smile, he handed her the glass. “Some days it’s torture.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Let’s call it...penance. For my past misdeeds.”

She sipped her water, couldn’t imagine someone putting themselves in that sort of situation for any reason. “Maybe you’ve already made up for those misdeeds,” she said quietly. “And can stop punishing yourself.”

Surely that’s what he was doing. And she didn’t like it, didn’t want him to suffer. Bad enough that he was dealing with physical pain and was too afraid to take anything. But she could respect his willpower. His determination.

How he did it all for his daughter. To be a better man.

“Maybe,” he allowed, his deep voice filled with a combination of humor and resignation. “Or maybe I keep adding to that misdeed tally.”

Someone pounded on the door and he left Char in the kitchen to answer it. A moment later, Estelle’s cheerful voice filled the apartment. “You’re here!” she said as if Char had escaped from a maximum security prison. She carried several takeout containers, and Kane held one in his hand, a plastic bag dangling from his arm.

Estelle set down her boxes and gave Char a hug. “I’m so glad you could come.”

Char returned the teen’s embrace. Grinned down at her. “Me, too,” she said honestly. “Though I’m guessing you don’t get your obvious enjoyment of entertaining guests from your father.”

“You want entertained?” Kane asked. “Go see a movie.”

“Ignore him,” Estelle said. “He’s been a grump all day. He wouldn’t even let me buy decent dinnerware. I mean...look. Nothing matches.”

“The table looks very pretty,” Char assured her. The dishes may not match, but Estelle had managed to make it look charming by using dark green placemats. The mismatched plates were on top of those—white except one had green checks around the edge and one had a flower design in the center.

“Since it finally stopped raining, I went exploring today and found this cute shop downtown where I found fabric for the place mats,” Estelle said, taking the box from Kane, then the bag. “Material Girl?”

“That’s a great place,” Char said. “It’s actually just down the block from my mom’s boutique, WISC.” Irene loved running the upscale boutique and had made it quite a success.

“Ooh, I remember that store. Awesome front window display.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Mom you think so.” Char really did like this kid. She’d never met someone so open and friendly. It was hard to believe she had Kane’s DNA in her. “I really appreciate you going to all this trouble for me,” she said, realizing the teen had done just that. Made place mats and set the table, and she had cleaned the apartment, despite her earlier claim that Bartasaviches didn’t do dishes and, Char had assumed, other menial household tasks.

Estelle opened the containers and put serving utensils in each one. “It was fun. Even if Daddy doesn’t have any proper serving dishes.”

“This is fine and it smells fantastic.”

There were warm flour tortillas, grilled chicken, a large container of black beans and rice, and another of a crisp, green salad, along with smaller containers of salsa, sour cream, guacamole, shredded cheese and grilled peppers, onions and tomatoes.

“Still, he should have certain things. I mean, he owns only two bowls. What if I want to eat cereal for breakfast and he’s used them both?”

Kane set a bag of still-hot homemade tortilla chips in the center of the table. “Then you wash one of the bowls.”

Estelle shook her head sadly and sat down, started passing the food around. “That’s just silly when it’s much easier to buy more.” She scooped rice and beans onto her plate. Gave a small shrug. “Oh, well. I suppose it would have been a waste if he had let me buy him proper dishware now. He’d probably leave it all behind when he moved anyway.”

Char, in the act of placing chicken onto her flour tortilla, paused. Looked at Kane. “You’re moving?”

“Eventually,” he said, fumbling to roll up his fajita with his left hand.

“Daddy doesn’t like to stay in one place too long. He says he gets bored, but I think he’s just running from his past. Literally.”

Kane frowned at his daughter. “Have you been talking to your mother’s therapist again?”

“It doesn’t take a psych degree to know you have deep-seated issues regarding your childhood. Although it might take a therapist to help you figure out those issues so you can stay in one place longer than two years.”

“You’ve never stayed in one place longer than two years?” Char couldn’t help asking him.

“Not since I was discharged from the Army.” He held her gaze. “When it’s time to move on, it’s time to move on.”

Estelle changed the subject to how crazy her mother’s therapist was, but how much Meryl loved the woman and refused to believe she was a complete quack. Char listened and contributed to the conversation as it flowed from one topic to the other, usually due to her or Estelle asking the other a question or bringing up a different subject.

By the end of their meal, Char was relaxed and full, and had had a very good time. Watching Kane with his daughter was enlightening. He obviously adored the girl, and the feeling was clearly mutual. But through it all, Char couldn’t help but think about what Kane had said.

When it’s time to move on, it’s time to move on.

For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why the idea of his moving on bothered her so.

Why she wanted to ask him to stay.

* * *

“T
HE
RULE
,” E
STELLE
told Kane as they finished their brownies and coffee, “is whoever cooked doesn’t have to clean up.”

He leaned back, laid his good arm across his stomach. “You didn’t cook. Mary Susan did.”

“I would have cooked if you had more than one pot and a frying pan.”

“You can cook?” he asked. When he’d been sixteen—hell, when he’d been twenty—he hadn’t been able to do anything for himself. Everything had always been done for him.

Estelle hadn’t been as indulged as he’d been, but he’d had no idea she was competent in the kitchen. Maybe he didn’t know his daughter as well as he’d like to think.

One more reason to seriously consider her request to live with him.

“I’m not as good as Mama, and we both pretty much suck compared to Rosa—that’s our cook,” Estelle told Charlotte before turning back to him. “But I’m learning. And even though I didn’t cook tonight, I did all the prep work. I planned the meal, set the table, ordered the food and picked it up.” She pressed her finger against the brownie crumbs on her plate then put that finger in her mouth. “Besides, Andrew’s coming to get me in—” She checked her phone. Made a squeaking sound. “Any minute now.”

She leaped up, but at least she took her plate to the sink.

“Who’s Andrew?” Char wanted to know.

“Andrew Freeman,” Estelle told her. “He works at the diner.”

“What about your schoolwork?” Kane asked, standing to block her way before she could slip out of the kitchen. She was fast when she wanted to be.

She rolled her eyes. “I have two weeks to finish it. And I’m on vacation.”

“Your mother is on vacation. You were supposed to be in Houston in school, and I don’t want you waiting until the last minute to get your work done.”

He’d called the school and had them send the next two weeks’ assignments to her so she wouldn’t fall behind.

“I won’t. I promise. Andrew and I are just going to the movies. We’ll be back in two hours and then I’ll work on it. I’ve already finished three days of history lessons.”

He didn’t have a hard time saying no to her, but he liked to think he balanced those times out by letting her have her way, too. “Fine. But be home no later than ten o’clock.”

She grinned. Kissed his cheek. “I will.”

She scooted past him and out of the room.

“I’ve never heard of the Freemans,” Charlotte said as she closed the takeout boxes. “Is he from Shady Grove?”

“I don’t think so. I met him the other day when he came to get her to take her out for ice cream.” Ice cream. Had he ever done anything so innocent at that age? He didn’t think so.

“Did you do your best intimidating father routine? Growl at him? Give him one of those scowls you’ve perfected? Show him your gun collection?”

He realized he was scowling now so he smoothed his expression. Put the boxes of leftovers in the fridge. “I don’t own any guns.” Being a former Ranger, he was more than comfortable around firearms, but he didn’t like having too many possessions bogging him down. Made it too hard to pack up and leave.

“Is that what your dad did?” he asked, not stopping her when she ran water in the sink and squirted in dish soap. It was tough washing dishes with one hand. “Intimidate your dates?”

She laughed. “My dad’s about as mild-mannered as they come.”

He’d never met her parents, but he’d seen them once when they had come into O’Riley’s for dinner. He didn’t think his bar was the type of place they usually went to, but Sadie claimed they’d enjoyed their meal.