Worth the Risk

by Kay Lyons

  She crossed to the kitchen and swiped a spoon from the drawer. "Shame on you."

  She lowered herself to the floor with her back propped by the couch behind her, wineglass in hand because she was apparently more screwed up than her dog because she not only fell for unavailable men but she also catered to demanding dogs who ruled her with sad eyes and growling stomachs.

  Tank lifted his head from his paws and bit down on his kibble bowl, carrying it with him to where she sat. "You are a needy hound, you know that? It's not attractive. How did you ever make it through basic?"

  Tank set his bowl down on the floor by her hip before settling on his haunches to wait.

  Frankie took a hefty sip of wine and played stare down with Tank, but they both knew who'd already won. Grumbling under her breath, she dipped the spoon into his kibble and lifted it for him to accept. "I'm the one who's upset here, you know. You should be feeding me."

  Tank's large mouth opened and she dumped the spoonful inside. He chomped and swallowed and waited again.

  Frankie glared at him, took another sip of wine, and filled the spoon. "It's a good thing you're cute. Otherwise you'd be sleeping on the couch tonight."

  Chapter 5

  Grayson sat outside on the entry porch of the house and stared down at his laptop. He hadn't allowed himself to search for Frankie since he'd moved to town because he'd told himself he'd only do it if—like in the past—life brought them together again.

  He'd learned a long time ago that life often surprised him, and as of tonight, he wasn't disappointed. Circumstances had literally brought Frankie to his doorstep, and this time he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass or screw it up again, no matter the tension between them.

  He'd made a huge mistake by keeping his marital situation from Frankie and then trying to break it to her the way he had. He'd tried so hard to free himself, but Daria had made it impossible, especially from half a world away. It had been over between them for years, but Daria had made a game of avoiding the court papers asking for a divorce. And in the midst of war, his priorities had been on the soldiers in his care.

  Gray typed in Frankie's name and location and hit enter. The screen immediately filled with articles about her family, but he wasn't interested in those. She had been honest with him, told him about her military father and how her family had come to settle in Carolina Cove. No, he wanted to see her because like a man in the desert who sees an oasis, the single glimpse of her earlier wasn't enough.

  Once more the screen filled with images, faces of people with Frankie's name or some version of it. He quickly scanned them until he found her, smiling, beautiful, holding a large fish as part of a tournament at the pier. "You and those boots."

  The photo revealed Frankie wearing combat boots despite the sun blazing overhead. Not the most attractive feminine footwear but, for her, perfect. He'd teased her about favoring them even in her off-duty time. She'd said they tended to do some men-weeding for her so she didn't have to bother.

  "I'm back," Christopher said.

  Grayson looked up and realized he'd been so engrossed in the images and memories that his son had nearly made it into the house without him noticing. Not going to win best parent award doing that. "Stop. We have to talk."

  "I have homework."

  "It can wait," he said, closing the laptop and carrying it with him as he stood. "We have to talk."

  "I have stuff I need to do, remember? My room?"

  "It can wait." Gray locked eyes with Christopher and motioned for the boy to enter the house ahead of him. "Kitchen. Now."

  Christopher did his usual eye roll and groan of complaint but did as ordered. Grayson followed him and saw the moment Chris spotted the bike part on the countertop.

  "What's that?"

  Gray had to give it to the kid. If he'd stolen the part and sold it to Frankie's garage, he didn't reveal it. "Bike part I ordered."

  Christopher didn't say anything else but went to the fridge to search out the pizza leftovers and find himself a drink. And since the kid was going to play dumb, Gray decided to wait him out. Accusing Christopher of stealing wasn't the way to get on his good side, and while he was fairly sure Chris was the guilty party, the part could have been stolen off of the porch. He'd been meaning to get one of those door cams but hadn't gotten around to it. Now it was a priority.

  "You just gonna stare at me? I really do have a lot of homework."

  "Then maybe you should've stayed home instead of going out with your girlfriend."

  Chris shrugged. "She asked me to walk on the beach. She was sad and she’s been there for me when I’m sad. I was just being a good friend."

  As a physician's assistant now working in the public sector, Gray knew the statistics for teens and depression. Knew Christopher was at high risk for issues due to his mother's death. "I'm glad you have someone to talk to, but you know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

  Chris made a sound and shoved half a piece of pizza into his mouth.

  "Look, Chris, I know things have been weird between us because of me being deployed so much of your life. I get it, but I'm home now and I want that to change. Especially with your mom gone—”

  "Don't," Christopher said around a mouthful. "She’s not gone—she’s dead."

  "Chris—"

  Christopher swiped another piece of pizza from the box atop the counter and bolted for the door. Ah, man. "Chris—"

  "I have homework to do."

  "Christopher, come on. Let's talk about this."

  "Leave me alone!"

  Christopher tore out of the kitchen with his pizza and drink in hand and ran up the stairs as fast as his long legs could carry him. Gray watched him go, torn between letting Christopher calm down and following him.

  Gray walked over to the part and opened the box to stare down at it. Obviously it wasn't safe to keep things like this around the house without Christopher or the porch pirate potentially stealing them so—

  He smiled, an idea forming as he left the box behind to return to his laptop. Finding Frankie's garage wasn't difficult. Especially when the owner was as beautiful and talented, not to mention pro-community and military. Business hours on Saturday, too.

  He clicked back on images and stared into Frankie's angled face.

  Step one for gaining her forgiveness formed in his head, and he toasted her photo with his water bottle. "Here’s to next time, Frankie."

  Frankie walked into London's Lattes around one the following afternoon with one thing in mind—work. She liked to immerse herself in work, and fixing things channeled all of the pent-up energy and frustration boiling inside of her since spotting Grayson on the other side of his front door.

  "Hey, Tank. How's my boy?"

  Frankie let go of Tank's required-by-law leash, which signaled his release to go greet her twin. London slipped Tank a treat, and Tank carried the gift with him to the floor below Frankie’s chosen seat at the bar. "You by yourself today?"

  "For a bit. The gang will be in soon. Looks like you had a rough night."

  "Couldn't sleep."

  "What are you doing today or do I even need to ask? You know you are still on vacation and—"

  Something must have shown in her expression, because London broke off with a gasp.

  "What? What's happened? Something to do with what you told me yesterday? Well, say something."

  Frankie pointed to the coffeepots. "Fuel first."

  "You haven't had coffee yet?"

  "Didn't fall sleep until really early this morning so no coffee or food. Where's the kid?"

  "Who? Oh, Joey? He was here around nine but not to work. He paid me cash for the stuff and left."

  London hastily poured a large glass mug full to the brim, no doubt so Frankie couldn't take her to-go cup and go. "He probably told his helicopter parent and they caved. Who knows?"

  "Here,” London said as she set a mug in front of Frankie. “You want a sandwich? Muffin?”

  “No. Just this.�
��

  “Start talking."

  "It's him."

  "Well, I figured that much just by your expression, but how did you find out for sure?"

  Frankie explained about Steve purchasing the bike part and how the slip had led her to Grayson's door.

  "That is… That is beyond bizarre."

  "Tell me about it."

  "I mean, why does it keep happening? Are you sure he's not stalking you?"

  "Yes, Londy. It's just… What am I going to do? He lives here now. Works here."

  "And you truly believe it's all a coincidence?"

  "It's happened so many times before, so yes. I do."

  "Okay, so you show up, part in hand to return, see that it's him, and then what?"

  The door opened again with a jingle of the bell above it, and Frankie automatically bent to secure Tank's leash, because when people saw him, mothers of children especially, they tended to give the large shepherd a wide berth.

  Frankie waited while London filled the family's order and cashed it out, sipping her brew while petting Tank, who seemed to be giving the wall connected to the counter his attention.

  Frankie leaned sideways on the stool, but her view beyond the wall was of an empty chair and part of the table. Her guess was that, farther down the area, one of the patrons had a snack-size dog tucked on a lap or something.

  "Okay, I'm back," London said. "Now tell me everything. Don't leave out a single detail."

  Frankie inhaled at the demand and tried hard not to remember how Grayson's handsomeness had nearly floored her upon sight. "Well, he said his son can't seem to stay out of trouble, so I'm guessing he's the kid who sold to the part to Steve, but that hasn't been confirmed. Gray asked me to come inside to talk, but I said no. He grabbed my arm—didn't hurt me," she rushed to clarify when London's expression changed to one of fiery protection, "and Tank rushed to the rescue."

  "Good boy, Tank," London said to the dog. "I hope you got a good taste."

  Tank turned his head from the direction he still stared to glance at London, but just as quickly went back to whatever it was that held his attention.

  "Yeah, Gray was afraid of losing a hand, so he let go and… I left. End of story. Oh, and he said his wife is dead."

  London leaned her elbows against the counter and stared at Frankie.

  "Wow."

  "I know."

  "No, I mean, how can you drop a bomb like that and say that's it? End of story? Aren't you curious? Didn't you ask what happened?"

  "No. I don't care because what does it change?"

  "Maybe it doesn't change anything but there's obviously a story there. Maybe she was sick? Like, terminally sick? Not that that's an excuse for lying to you."

  "Exactly. It's not. So what could he possibly say to make any of that okay?" She shook her head and took a long pull from the cooling coffee. "No, I think it's best if I don't know. It's… Londy, I really, really liked him and it was all a lie."

  "I know. I'm sorry. But I wonder…"

  "What?"

  "I just wonder about the details. Nothing is ever black and white, and I get the feeling you're not telling me everything about his reaction to finding you on his doorstep."

  “There’s nothing left to tell.”

  "You're scared," London stated abruptly. "Oh, hon, I see it. And you have hard-core legitimate reasons to be. I get it. Obviously you aren't meant to be together despite the number of times he's appeared in your life. But I know you and you don't fall for anyone that easily, so there was something tangible there. Something worthy. Maybe talking to him and learning the actual details could help you? Give you some closure so you can move on?"

  "I'm not sure I want to know, though. How do you believe someone after they've lied to you?"

  "True.”

  Frankie downed the lukewarm coffee and stood. "I have to get to work."

  "But—"

  "I can't think straight right now, Londy. I'm too weirded out by the fact he's here."

  * * *

  Grayson waited until Frankie and Tank left the coffee shop and he heard the sound of her powerful Jeep drive away before he stood from the table he occupied in London’s Lattes. He'd stopped into the coffee shop a half hour or so before Frankie’s arrival to get some lunch and gather his thoughts before going to her garage.

  He left the table and went back to the counter, waiting patiently for London—Frankie's twin—to look up from her task.

  "Can I help you? Oh, hi, again," she said, having waited on him earlier. "Can I get you something else?"

  "Two large coffees, both black, to go. And a half dozen of those chocolate oatmeal cookies."

  "Someone's getting a nice surprise," London said, pouring the coffees and arranging them on a carryout tray before getting cookies from the display case.

  He smiled, knowing they were Frankie's favorite. "I hope so."

  London rang up the purchase and gave him the total, but instead of using cash as he had earlier, he pulled his debit card from his wallet and handed it to her.

  She swiped his card without looking.

  "Thank you, Mr.— " She gasped sharply, her gaze moving from the slip to his face. "You're…?"

  "Grayson Carter," he said, dipping his head. "It's nice to finally meet Frankie's twin. Thank you for what you said earlier. The details are important."

  London's beautiful face flooded with hot color, and Grayson waited for her to come at him with a feminine barrage of sibling protectiveness.

  "Well, we can add eavesdropping to your flaws."

  "Sorry. But when the conversation is about me, I tend to listen. I don't intend to hurt Frankie."

  "You already have—are—just by being here."

  He picked up the coffee and the cookies. "I'm not a stalker. The company I hired into is based out of Virginia Beach."

  "But you're here."

  He smiled and nodded. "I was just as surprised as you look right now when they asked me to relocate."

  "Because you knew she was here."

  He gave her a short nod. "I knew she planned to return home once she was out of the military, but I didn't know anything beyond that when I moved. I… hoped, though."

  London shoved her hair away from her face and stared at him with open-mouthed bemusement.

  "Hoped," she repeated. "That’s a bold sentiment coming from a man already married to someone else."

  "It's—"

  "Complicated. Yeah, she told me."

  "She couldn't have told you everything, because she wouldn't listen to me long enough to hear it for herself. But I ask that you give me a chance to make things right before you judge." A smile pulled at London's lips and Grayson frowned. "Something funny?"

  "No. Not at all. But you don’t expect Frankie to accept an apology after you lied to her, do you? You broke her trust and she doesn't take that lightly. None of us do."

  "No one should." He lifted the coffee and cookies in his hands and nodded. "But I plan to make up for it somehow. I'll let you know how it goes," he said, holding Frankie's favorites in his hands. He turned to leave but paused, nodding to one of the items on display. "That friend of hers have any favorites?"

  London followed his gaze to see what he referred to and gave him a narrow-eyed glare.

  “Come on. I just want to talk to her.”

  Frankie’s twin muttered to herself but retrieved a bag and filled it with several dog treats.

  Gray emptied his hands and pulled out his wallet. "Thanks."

  London cashed out the payment.

  "You seem to be working awfully hard at this."

  He gathered up his purchases again. "She's worth the effort."

  "That she is. Wish I could believe the same about you."

  * * *

  Minutes later Grayson pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the garage and took a deep breath before he cut the engine. He gathered the coffee and bags and left the vehicle, more nervous than a teenager on his first date.

  "Sorry, we
just closed. You can make an appointment for next week though," a man said. The name sewn into his shirt read Toby.

  "Thanks, but I'm here for her," he said, spying a familiar sight of tan legs and combat boots sticking out from under a Camaro.

  Grayson was aware of the man's narrow-eyed perusal as he made his way into the bay. He'd no sooner walked up to where she lay on a mechanic's creeper than Frankie's grease-covered hand emerged and felt around on the concrete for a tool two inches from her reach. He used his foot to nudge it closer, and in the process, her hand landed briefly atop his shoe.

  "Thanks."

  "No problem."

  Her lower torso and legs tensed. A second passed. Two.

  "Yo, Frankie, you have a visitor," Toby called from one of the other bays. "And I'm outta here. Gonna shut it all down but the one you're in."

  "Yeah. Thanks, Tobe," she called from under the car.

  "I'll open the office door, too," the man said.

  Frankie didn't respond and the bay doors lowered under Toby's direction. Grayson stood there, coffee and bags in hand, wondering why the office door needed to be open. He quickly found out when Tank appeared and planted himself beside Frankie's legs while giving Grayson the evil eye. "You, uh, going to come out from under there any time soon?"

  "No. Don't think so."

  "Do you think I won't climb under there with you? Wouldn't be the first time." Once, in Kabul, he'd gone to see her and found her working on a decades-old Army Jeep in her downtime. Rock music played, her boots had tapped to the beat, and he'd spent two hours in 110-degree heat beneath the vehicle helping her go over every inch of it. Just to spend time with her.

  Now, though, he wondered if attempting such a move would get him a nice-sized dog bite. He carefully set the coffee tray and cookies atop the roof of the car and opened the second bag, keeping a sharp eye on Tank. The dog's nose twitched and he lifted his head to get a better whiff. Without a word, Gray broke the favored treat in half and slowly flattened his left palm toward the dog, willing Tank to take the offering.