by Jaycee Clark
“No, that’s okay. I don’t know why I make such a big deal out of it anyway.” Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug. Finally, her eyes lifted back up to his. “Charles and I were married for almost eight years. Got married in college.”
Ah, the elusive Charles. “What happened?”
A rueful smile frowned her mouth. “Oh, the normal, I guess.”
“Normal?”
“I don’t know, exactly. We were both busy in work. I thought we should start working on starting a family, and he kept putting me off . . .” Her voice trailed off as her finger slid through the condensation on the side of the glass. Just before she looked away he saw the pain flash into her gaze. “But anyway, between both our jobs, we didn’t. Ryan came along and we adopted him. Then, the divorce was finalized and a few months later Ryan and I moved here. That’s it.”
“I doubt that. What was wrong with the guy?” This is none of your business. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I actually never told anyone. Just let everyone think what they wanted to, or rather what he led them to believe.” She said the last part almost to herself. “It didn’t matter then. Doesn’t matter now. The adoption was finalized and Ryan was all I cared about.”
Gavin opted to just stay silent. The more she talked, the more questions arose.
Her voice continued, but it no longer sounded like a gentle summer breeze. There was no emotion there, nothing. “But, looking back, it was for the best, I think. Charles didn’t want a family and I did.”
“Then why did you adopt Ryan?”
The more he learned of her, the more questions he needed answered. Like yesterday. The more time he spent with Taylor and Ryan, the more he found he liked spending time with them. Yesterday evening and last night they’d stolen his thoughts. Ryan was a cute and intelligent kid and Taylor . . . Taylor fascinated him. She was gentle and caring, not his usual ilk of women. He went for the fun-time type. Classy and polished usually, like Scarlett. None that he would consider anything serious with.
Then what exactly was he doing with Taylor?
Gavin guessed the conversation was over since she hadn’t answered him yet.
“I adopted Ryan because I had to,” she whispered, finally answering his question. A watery laugh and a wipe under her eyes gave him another glimpse into her, as did her words. “I can’t go into what happened to him, not now. Not today. But when I saw him, the more time I spent with him . . . Well, I fell in love with him. I know that makes no sense. None at all. I never could get Charles to understand it. And then I just quit trying. He waited on the divorce until after the adoption and that was all I wanted. Time enough for Ryan to become mine. Then, as far as I was concerned, Mr. Charles Shepard could do whatever the hell he wanted.”
Anger and a bit of resentment there. “He hurt you.”
She shook her head at first, then stopped. “Yeah, a bit. Or maybe I let myself get hurt. It’s more the hindsight thing, if you know what I mean. Charles is Charles and always will be. Now, I don’t know if I’m angrier at him or myself.”
Gavin took a chance. “There is more to this story than you’re telling.”
Again, Taylor shifted. “Probably. Suffice it to say, I have a hard time getting over infidelity.”
He ran his tongue over his smooth teeth. “Idiot guy.”
“Oh, but Rhonda doesn’t think so.” A sugary smile deepened her dimples.
“Rhonda?”
“The newer model. You know, buxom, curvaceous, without a cluttering thought in her head. Perfect for Charles, actually.”
“So you divorced the two-timer.” He made it a statement, not a question. “Can’t say as I blame you there, the divorce and moving and all. I have a problem with infidelity myself. Guess I’m either old-fashioned or just selfish. But what is mine stays mine.” He looked straight into her brown eyes. “I don’t share.”
Fidelity was at the top of his list. He figured if a woman cheated on him, he didn’t need her. If he hadn’t meant enough to her for her to remain faithful, then she wasn’t worth his time. Then again most women would see his occupation as his mistress; colleagues of his had warned him.
“Neither do I, but he wanted to file long before I walked in on his sideshow. He filed a month after the adoption was final, and as soon as the divorce was stamped, sealed and notarized, he flew to Mexico and married Rhonda.”
Gavin knew there was even more here than she was telling, but the waitress chose that moment to bring them their food.
Taylor picked up her fork. “So what happened with Miss Scarlett?”
Gavin speared himself a golden fried shrimp. “I told her from the beginning that I wasn’t looking for a serious relationship right now. And after canceling plans again on Saturday in lieu of family obligations . . . Well, Scarlett had enough.” Though she had called him last night to gripe at him some more for being more interested in his job and family than sex with her. No, Scarlett was no longer a problem.
“Wow, a free man. You must be so happy.”
His next forkful stopped midway to his mouth. “You have no idea.”
Her dimples winked at him before she took another bite.
The rest of the lunch seemed to fly by. On the way back to her car he asked if they could swap phone numbers. Why he asked was beyond him.
“Hmmm.”
He pulled up behind her car.
Gavin got out a business card and scrawled his home number and mobile on the back. Ignoring her comment, he said, “If you ever need anything, just give me a call. I’m not promising that I’ll be able to get to you right away, tend to get called away sometimes, but . . .” He took a deep breath.
Her shades hid her eyes from him. She reached up and grabbed his card, glanced at it, flipping it over to look at the back.
“Anything?”
When he’d met her, she was all spit and fire, and the other night she’d been annoying and snappy. But now, Taylor was such a composed woman that he couldn’t help but be intrigued. He wondered if he preferred this soft, composed side of her, or the angry, insulting woman he’d met on Saturday.
“Of course,” he answered.
“Well, then.” She riffled through her purse and came out with a card of her own, scrawling her numbers on the back. Handing it to him, she said, “I guess you can call me sometime too. I’m usually home during the evenings, but I too tend to get called out or away sometimes. But I’ll tell you right now, I think you’re arrogant—”
“I know.”
“—and rude—”
“Got that already.”
“I have neither the time nor the inclination for a relationship of any kind.”
“Not even a long night of sweaty sex?”
Her eyes rounded.
He laughed. “My feelings are really hurt, Taylor.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I try to be, but it’s good to know where the other stands, so I should be honest and say I’m not looking for anything either. I just split from one clingy woman who couldn’t respect what I do. I’m in no hurry to tangle with another one.”
Her grin flashed. “But I think that might depend on the tangle. Does sweaty sex count as tangling?” Her eyes narrowed on his. “And just for the record, I have never been clingy, nor would I be with men like you.”
“Men like me?” he asked as she started to get out.
“Rude, self-absorbed men who know their appeal to the opposite sex.”
He grinned. “Find me appealing, do you?”
She ignored his remark. “Thanks for dropping by today.”
“You’re welcome.” He stared at her and wished he could clearly see her eyes. “Just for my side of the record, I enjoyed today.”
Taylor opened the door and hot air sweltered in. He was already rolling down her window, leaning over the console into the passenger seat. Her door shut with a soft click.
“Try not to provoke anyone today, Taylor.”
Her laugh danced out. “I
know. You don’t count towards my daily goal.”
She began to straighten, but then leaned back into the window, giving him a glance down her shirt. “By the way, I enjoyed today with you too.”
Before he could compute that, Taylor was already at her car and behind the wheel.
Gavin smiled all the way to his office.
Chapter 5
Texas was hot in June. Hotter than hell. In fact, it was rumored through the prisons that Satan made Texas as a vacation spot. Apparently, the devil decided even he didn’t care for the place, leaving the land to its prickly pears and rattlesnakes, scorpions and other assortments of lovely things. Nice load of bullshit, but Nina Fisher didn’t care either way.
Large, circulating fans swirled the hot sticky air at Valleyview State Penitentiary near Gatesville, Texas. The female population contained some really bad bitches. A few were even on death row. Nina didn’t care to think about them. If Ryan ever remembered everything that went on that last night, she might be one of them.
Damn Johnny Hayes. That bastard was still out on parole. He’d left out the window when he’d heard the sirens the night Ryan fell through the damn glass. Nina really wanted to nail Johnny’s ass for killing that narc agent—which in her opinion started the entire nightmare—but it was hard to do that without nailing her own. No, she’d bide her time. He was another one that she owed. Johnny, Ryan, the judge, and of course that social worker slut and her husband. Yeah, one day she’d get them all.
“Fisher.”
Her name jerked her attention back. The guard, Rod, held a package up. All of the packages were sniffed and X-rayed before the inmates got them to make certain nothing was in them. That was all well and good, but once the package was past the checkpoint was when you could get the goods.
A book. Hot damn. She hurried through the melee of bodies.
“Fisher’s got a boyfriend on the outside,” someone said.
“Wonder what the idiot sent the bitch.”
Nina ignored the comments of the other inmates and walked on. Just as she grabbed the book, she caught the slight wink Rod gave her. Thank God! She was starting to wonder. She looked at the title and tried not to laugh out loud. Living With Addiction: Making a Life from the Hollows.
Yeah, right.
Nina hurried over to a window set high and narrow in the wall. No bars, but that didn’t matter, couldn’t get out if she wanted to. The light outside was a dull gray color tinged with a murky green. Thunder occasionally disturbed the sultry air. Maybe a freaking tornado would come and blow the damn building away.
Prison life sucked. It sucked big. Who in their right fucking mind got up at three-thirty in the morning, every morning? Inmates, that’s who. Breakfast at four, and work started at six. They had three hours a day for “personal” time. Basically, the hour for recreational activity, weights, walk around, exercise, and the two hours for classes. Nina was enrolled in Substance Abuse Education and Spiritual Growth. Both were a complete joke. Just about every damn person in her Sub class was either stoned or jonesing when they got there. Everyone knew how to score a hit, to get a bump, regardless of whatever rules and regulations there were. Money and other things were available. This was a woman’s prison, so if there wasn’t money, other “favors” could be given.
And Nina was currently working on that. Rod would be her ticket out of here. She was sure of it, but she’d have to be careful. It was frowned upon for the guards to fraternize with their female inmates. ’Course most of the guards and workers here were female, but a good many of them were males. Thank God.
Again she looked out the window. Why in the hell was it called Valleyview? Was there a single damn valley in sight? Not that she could remember from her trip here, or from what she could see once she’d gotten inside.
There wasn’t much about the trip from Austin to here that she did remember, save for the blinding rage she’d felt. But she’d quickly learned to hide that after she’d gotten here. It had only taken a few cell times for her to live for the recreation hour. The weights gave her focus on something other than her shitty luck and whose fault that was. The classes were earned through good behavior. Cell time restricted all an inmate’s time to the cell. You even had to eat in the damn thing.
’Course it could have been worse, she could have gotten solitary that time after she’d gotten in the fight, but thank God she didn’t. God and Rod. Yeah.
Nina laughed at her little rhyme.
• • •
Later that night she lay alone in her small cell. The walls were so close she could have touched them both at the same time if she’d so desired, which she did not. Nina held the book under her pillow waiting for lights out.
After the noises died down and turned into those of nightly prison life, Nina got the book out. Someone, probably a newbie, cried out in their sleep, or maybe they weren’t sleeping after all.
The book’s spine ripped away, and she could feel the small plastic bag in her hand. As quietly as possible, she opened it up and sniffed it in the pale light.
This was good, she would bet it was. Please let it be. That was all she needed, some cut meth. Yeah, nothing like snorting laundry detergent or horse tranques, or God knows what else. Nina hoped to hell Rod knew his contact and that this was legit shit.
The tear of several pages ripped the air. She rolled one up and used the others to straighten her carefully measured line. She’d have to save the rest. Who knew when Rod would come through again.
Anticipation raced through her as she leaned down and snorted the powder up the make-do tube. It hit her nose, burning until the numbness set it. With her head tilted back she waited for gravity to help. Finally she felt the shit drop, the back of her throat burned like it was on fire. Sweet pain.
Ahh . . . A moan sighed out. About damn time. On a contented, almost sated sigh, she leaned back and enjoyed her well-earned bump. Her world was as it should be again.
Well, almost. The meth straightened her head, giving her clarity, so that her plans and ideas solidified within her mind.
No, it wouldn’t be long now. While her high lasted, she plotted, planned and thought up and discarded half a dozen scenarios.
Stick close to the truth, yeah. She’d win Rod over that way. Cry and plead and he’d probably buy it. No doubt he would. Then she’d get him to help her figure out how in the hell to get out of this place. Maybe if she was really good she could apply for one of the other classes, those in the fields. Might work. She’d have to get closer to Rod first, figure out exactly how things played. No way she was leaving all the planning up to a dick. No, she did that already and look where it got her. The trick was to play him, play on his weaknesses, drop little ideas, plan most of it and make him think he was doing a great thing. Righting a wrong.
A soft chuckle escaped. Righting a wrong.
Oh she couldn’t wait to start righting.
Chapter 6
“I’m going to go practice my music while dinner cooks,” Ryan said as he started down the hallway. They’d just finished setting the table.
“Okay.” Taylor ruffled his hair. “What are you playing?”
He shrugged. “Ms. Johnson gave me an Irish reel. It’s really fast and neat and I’ve already got it mostly figured out.” Ryan stopped, cupping the newel post with both hands.
“Goodness. You got it today and have it mostly figured out?”
Again he shrugged, then turned and raced up the stairs.
That boy never ceased to amaze her.
Taylor watched him go, heard the click of his door. She turned to the entry table to check the mail and realized she hadn’t gotten it yet. Swinging the door open, she almost stepped into the raised fist. Taylor swallowed the yelp.
“Good evening.” Gavin Kinncaid stood on the porch, lowering his hand back to his side.
“Umm . . .” Would he always take her completely off guard? She hated that. Well, mostly. What was he doing here? “Hi.”
His smile tugged a
flutter from her stomach. “I probably should have called, but I was wondering if you wanted to, or if you could, go out tonight.”
He wanted to go out with her? As in a date? “What happened to no time for us clingy, stupid women?”
“Never said you were stupid.”
Stepping back, she gestured for him to come in. “Good answer. Well, I do thank you for the offer, but I’ve already started dinner. In fact, it’s in the oven.”
“Oh,” he said.
He walked past her and she couldn’t help but admire the way his dark trousers fit against his behind before falling down those long legs. She wondered if he was a boxer or brief kind of guy. Jerking her eyes up, she decided it didn’t matter and shook her head at herself. She caught his speculative reflection in the mirror studying her with a quirk of brow and smirk. Her cheeks flamed. Taylor started to shut the door before she remembered the mail. The man made her forget her own head half the time. And why was that? Had absolutely nothing to do with those muscles or the perfect body or that wicked smile or the eyes . . . oh, God, those eyes. She needed help. Lots and lots of help. She reached around and grabbed the mail out of the slot. One letter got hung on the metal mail slot, and she heard it tear as she ripped it free.
As she shut the door, a quick glance at him showed her the single Gerber daisy he carried. Pumpkin orange petals surrounded the yellow face. He bought her a flower? Her stomach did another roll.
Taylor licked her lips.
“I should have called. Sorry.” He jerked his hand and a single petal fell to the floor as he held the blossom out to her. Something inside her smiled as deeply as she knew the dimples creased the sides of her mouth.
“Thank you and what do you want?” She reached for the flower and her fingers brushed his, sending a little jolt through her system. Her eyes flew up to meet the dark blue of his. God she could get lost in those cobalt depths, just lost and lost. A moment passed and then another and all she could think about was how incredible his eyes were, how his gaze could capture hers with the least bit of effort, or how the slightest meeting of touches made butterflies dance in her middle. A soft sigh escaped as he gave a small smile.
