Part 12 (2/2)
The smile spread on her beautiful face but didn't reach her eyes. ”Oh, just peachy.”
”Not very convincing. Tell me. I know he's a big part of your life, but what happened with him? Really? I hear he's a phenomenal artist and a great guitar player. Although, I guess he has a bit of a wild side. That's what they say anyway.”
”Them. That amorphous blob of gossipers.” She took two short steps, stationed herself against the kitchen counter, and toyed with her hair.
”No, it wasn't gossipy. People really like him. It sounds like he's going through a rough spot.”
She snorted. ”Yeah. A rough spot.”
Kevan breathed in deeply. Maybe she was debating how much or what she could tell him. She could trust him. Didn't she know that? No, dips.h.i.+t, she didn't, considering they were going after the same goal. So, no, she couldn't trust him. But for some reason, he really wanted her trust.
”Tell me. I want to know you better,” he said before he realized what he was saying.
”Oh, really,” she said, dragging out her words in disbelief. ”The only thing you need to know about me is I'm going to kick your a.s.s and send you home wiping tears from your face with your Hugo Boss tie.”
Regret burned in his gut. f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, would she ever lower her guard? ”Tell me.”
”No. G.o.d, you're the bossiest man I have ever met.” She frowned. ”I don't work for you.”
Pus.h.i.+ng his laptop aside, he stood and grabbed her hand. It was small and soft in his much larger, rougher palm. When she pulled back slightly, he held firm. ”Tell me.”
She sighed so deep and long he could almost see the fight leave her, an unwelcome ghost that she nevertheless clung to out of habit.
”Bowen is awesome. After my mom died and my dad was anywhere but at home, my brother practically raised me. He sounded so much stronger, healthier on the phone, but addicts are natural liars. Fish swim. Addicts lie.” She tried to hide the tears welling in her eyes again by pivoting toward the window, but it was too late. ”I'm so afraid I've lost him this time. He's terrified he's like our dad. And I think he might be right.” She turned back and glared like she expected him to agree or condemn her for her honesty.
He moved to the built-in couch and patted the seat next to him. When she sat, he covered her bare knee with his hand, the action meant to comfort, but instead it felt more intimate. She didn't respond, but she didn't pull away this time. He squeezed gently, the familiar zing traveling between their touching skin. Come back to me, Kevan. She faced him with a small, shy smile.
”Go on, darlin'.”
”My dad turned into another person after my mom died. He was never superdad or anything, but after mom pa.s.sed away, he was always drunk or on pills. And he could get mean. Bowen tried to s.h.i.+eld me from my dad's toxic bitterness, but...” Her haunted gaze drifted back toward the window.
What she didn't say filled the RV with more truths than the few short words she had said aloud. Mason ground his teeth and felt like punching the wall. Knowing his rising anger would send her skittering away, he schooled his features and waited for her to continue.
As if in a trance, she said softly, ”The anger wasn't as bad as the unpredictability. We never knew when he'd go off, or if he'd forget to leave money for food, or if he'd show up at school totally wasted. More than once he stole the money Bowen made cleaning up nights at the Tatuaggio.”
Lost in the past, she didn't speak for a minute. He covered her hand with his and rubbed his thumb over her delicate bones, tracing each b.u.mp and fighting the urge to take her into his arms and wrap her in his warmth. If only he could go back in time and ease her suffering.
”His abuse was mostly verbal.” She looked up and smiled weakly.
Mason tried not to hold his breath and asked, ”Mostly?”
She nodded. ”One time. About ten years ago. He was probably coming down, tearing up the house looking for booze money or a hidden stash. He started choking me, when Bowen came in and beat the s.h.i.+t out of him. Told him to never come back or he'd kill him. Haven't seen him since.”
Motherf.u.c.ker.
”And now you're afraid your brother is turning into your dad?”
She shook her head and then nodded slightly. ”He's so lost right now. When my dad left, Bowen promised me we'd always have each other. That he'd never leave me. He worked hard to take care of us. He sacrificed a lot, and now it's kind of taken its toll. He's had a drinking problem for a while, but the speed is new.” She shrugged.
”Booze and speed? That's why he's in rehab? To straighten out and be there for you?”
”I guess. But it's h.e.l.la expensive. And he's having a hard time.”
Cold fingers of dread wound around his heart, making it difficult to breathe. ”Are you paying for Bowen's rehab?” he asked quietly.
”Yes. And the first full payment is due soon.”
Mason sighed. It was getting worse and worse. He wondered if the reason Tina was her former a.s.sistant had anything to do with her money problems. On top of that, Kevan was struggling to help the one person she loved get well-and Mason knew he stood in her way.
Kevan smacked Mason's knee and jumped up before he could stop her withdrawal. She grabbed his hand to tug him after her. ”Let's get the show on the road, Gloomy Gus. I've got to start getting ready. Need to look my best while I'm kicking your a.s.s and signing Manix Curse.” She winked and started off toward the tiny closet pretending to be a bathroom.
”Hey, Bettie?” he called after her.
She turned, hip pushed out and her eyebrow c.o.c.ked.
”Go to dinner with me.” So much for keeping his distance.
”Are you asking me out on a date?”
d.a.m.n, the warmth was creeping up his neck, again.
”Yes, I suppose I am.” Her agreement meant everything.
”Like a date date?” She raised her eyebrows in confusion.
”Yep. Well, no. Just as colleagues.” When her face dropped, he added, ”Whatever you want it to be. No expectations, I promise.” He placed his gla.s.ses on the table and scrubbed his hand down his face. Maybe it hadn't been such a great idea after all.
She looked at the ceiling of the bus and tapped her plump bottom lip. ”I'm not saying no, but how would that work? I mean, we don't have an off night for a couple of days.”
A warm glow filled his chest, feeling something like hope. ”We have a night in San Francisco. We can go to dinner or go dancing or walk along Pier 39 and eat shrimp. Well?”
”Yeah. Maybe.”
”Yeah? I'll take that maybe.” And he smiled, even though he knew he was breaking every one of his d.a.m.n rules. And for once, he didn't really care, as he stood and stepped toward her with one long stride. Her eyes widened-either in fear or arousal-it didn't matter. Instead of giving in to his maddening desire to pick her up and drag her into the back room, he wrapped his hands around the sides of her face, cradling her head in his palms and caressing her jawline with his thumbs. Her clear blue eyes softened as he leaned forward and brushed his mouth across hers, sending s.h.i.+vers of arousal straight to his c.o.c.k.
Kevan's dilated pupils and breathy sigh betrayed her rigid stance. She was all in, just like he was. But he didn't want to scare her off-because he finally realized that's exactly what she was. Scared. He wanted only to give her a taste of what they'd been missing since that first night. So he kissed her lips fully and pulled free before pressing his mouth to the heated skin of her forehead.
”You are so beautiful,” he said. Then with the strength of a circus strongman, he turned and walked into the back room, shut the door, and dropped his head forward with a thud against the hollow wood of the wall.
An hour later, Mason read emails while Kevan put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on the night's look, when his phone rang. Without looking up from his computer screen, he hit the speakerphone b.u.t.ton. ”Dillon.”
”This is Cora Taylor from h.e.l.lfire Energy Distribution, Mr. Dillon. I'm calling to confirm your meeting with Mr. Carver. He'd like to meet you at the armory back door at six.” Mason glanced at his watch. He had ten minutes.
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