She wasn’t going to ask. She wasn’t going to ask. She was not going to...
Oh, who was she kidding? “What’s that?”
His gaze pinned her to the spot. “Why you kissed me back.”
Her face flamed. How could she not kiss him back when he was so good at it? She’d never been kissed like that before, as if every thought he had, every minuscule part of his being, was focused on her.
As if he wanted her, bedhead, shapeless scrubs and all.
“I was still half-asleep.” It wasn’t quite a lie. More like a half-truth. “I wasn’t completely sure what I was doing. Plus,” she hurried on before he could say something else guaranteed to make her feel like even more of an idiot, “I was surprised you’d kiss me. What with your daughter sleeping down the hall and all.”
Pouring more coffee into his mug, he jerked, had the hot liquid puddling on the counter before making a mad dash for the edge and dripping over the side. “What?”
His face was white, but she didn’t think it was from his injuries.
“You didn’t know,” Char said. She shook her head. “She told me you were expecting her.”
“She’s here?” He looked around, expecting the teenager to materialize out of thin air. “Estelle is in Shady Grove?”
Char almost felt sorry for him, he seemed so shocked. So out of his element. “She’s in your bedroom.”
He slammed the pot down and hurried out of the kitchen. Charlotte tossed a few paper towels over the mess on the counter before easily catching up with him at the end of the hall.
“Estelle.” Using the flat of his hand, he pounded on the door. “Open up.” He juggled the knob—locked—before knocking again, this time with the side of his fist. He whirled on Charlotte. “You saw her? Spoke to her?”
“Yes and yes.” She frowned at him. “You don’t look so good. Why don’t we go back to the living—”
“Estelle,” he called again, turning back to the door. Amazing how angry he could sound when he barely raised his voice. If she was Estelle, she’d be mighty worried about now. “If you don’t open this door by the time I count to three, I’m going to kick it in. One...”
“Do you really think threats are the best way to go?” Char asked. “She’s not a toddler.”
“This doesn’t concern you,” he told Char tightly. “Two...”
“True, but I feel I have a certain vested interest, what with me making sure you survived the night and all. I’d like to make sure your daughter survives the morning.”
“I only beat her on alternating Tuesdays,” he said drily. He raised his voice. “But I might add in a Sunday whipping if she doesn’t get her butt out here. Thr—”
The door opened. “Good morn...” Estelle’s eyes widened and the serene—probably practiced—smile on her face slid away. She swallowed. Her lower lip quivered on a soft sob. “Oh, Daddy!”
And she threw herself into Kane’s arms.
With a grimace and a grunt that sounded as if he’d been tackled by a 300-pound linebacker, Kane stepped back before regaining his balance. Estelle clung to him, her arms around his neck, her face buried in his good shoulder.
He lifted his arm and wrapped it around Estelle’s waist. Sighed the heartfelt, resigned sigh of fathers of teenage girls everywhere and kissed the top of her head.
He was obviously in pain. Just as it was obvious he wasn’t going to do anything about it. Such as tell Estelle to stop squeezing him like a boa constrictor.
Charlotte tugged on Estelle’s elbow. She didn’t so much as lift her head. “How about we ease off a bit?” Char asked, then gentled her voice. “Honey, you’re hurting him.”
Estelle loosened her hold enough that Kane was able to extricate himself. “I’m sorry,” Estelle cried softly. “It’s just...” She raised her head, her eyes swimming in tears. “You look so awful!”
“You saw him earlier this morning,” Char reminded her.
“I know.” Estelle sniffed. “But he looks worse now.”
“Well, that is true. What?” Char asked when Kane glared at her. “It is.”
He turned his scowl on his daughter—his daughter. Char could hardly believe it. But the proof stood before her in an oversize jersey and bare feet. And she didn’t have to worry about Kane following through on his threat to beat the girl, either. The way he looked at Estelle, as if she was a precious gift he’d been given and had no idea what to do with, told Char as much.
“What are you doing here?” Kane asked Estelle.
She chewed on her thumbnail. “Maybe you should sit down.”
“What did you do now?”
“Nothing. God. I just meant you know—” She gestured at his broken arm. “Because of your injuries and everything. I want you to be comfortable.”
“I’d be more comfortable if you were back in Houston where you belong.”
“Dad-dee,” she said with an eye roll and a toss of her snarled hair before she brushed past him and padded down the hallway.
Kane went after her as fast as his healing body would let him. Char couldn’t help but follow along.
“Don’t you have any flavored creamer?” Estelle asked, sticking her head in the fridge, which made her jersey ride dangerously high.
“Use milk,” Kane said. “And put some pants on.”
Another eye roll, this one accompanied by the slamming of the refrigerator door. “Milk?” she asked, as if he’d suggested she put a drop or two of arsenic in her morning cup of joe. “Yuck. You know I like flavored creamer.”
“I do know that,” he said as he gingerly lowered himself to the couch. “What I didn’t know was that you’d be in my apartment this morning.” He turned to Char. “You knew she was here.”
“Hey, don’t start growling at me. She told me you were expecting her. Plus she has her own key.”
“Daddy always gives me a key to his place,” Estelle said, having relented and poured a good amount of milk into her coffee. She sipped it. Made a face. “This is the first time I’ve used one, though.”
“Really?” Char sat on the opposite edge of the couch. It was her day off and she had tons to do, not to mention she could use another hour or so of sleep, but this entire scene was fascinating. And way too interesting to walk away from. “Why is that?”
They both ignored her.
“I’m not going to ask again,” Kane told his daughter. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to come,” she said, flopping onto the chair and tucking her legs underneath her. “If I had to stay at that bitch Pilar’s house one more day, I’d die. I’d seriously die!”
“Who’s Pilar?” Char asked.
“She’s Estelle’s best friend,” Kane said.
Estelle crossed her arms. “Not anymore, she’s not.”
Kane’s lips pinched. “You two had a fight?”
“A fight? I wouldn’t waste my precious time fighting with her. If she wants Chandler so badly, she can have him.”
“Your best friend stole your boyfriend?” Char asked. “That’s low.” She reached over and patted Estelle’s knee. “I don’t blame you for leaving her place.”
Estelle leaned forward. “I know, right? I mean, I was going to break up with him anyway—all he ever wanted to talk about was baseball. So boring. And then I find out he and Pilar have been, like, hooking up behind my back!”
At the mention of his daughter’s ex-best friend and ex-boyfriend hooking up, Kane turned green. “No hooking up for you,” he ordered roughly. He jabbed his finger at Estelle. “Not ever.”
Her innocent expression was a work of art. It was as if the heavens had opened up and holy light shone down on the teenager’s head. “Of course not, Daddy.”
Char glanced between daughter and father. Couldn’t help but grin. She s
hould be horrified to find out these secrets about people she barely knew. Not eating up every word and wondering what they’d be serving for dessert.
After Kane kissed her, she’d thought for sure she’d never get over her confusion and, yes, her disappointment that he’d ended said kiss rather...abruptly. Despite his confession last night, how he’d asked her to stay, she’d still considered him hard and rough and dangerous. Their kiss only proved how dangerous. But somehow, witnessing him in this new light—this new, amazing paternal light—made him seem less of a rogue-seducer-slash-breaker-of-female-hearts and more vulnerable.
She wished she knew what to do with all this newfound insight.
“This is so much fun,” she was surprised to hear herself admit. She shouldn’t take such enjoyment from his discomfort. But boy, oh, boy, she did. “I’m glad I stayed.”
Kane obviously didn’t agree. He stood—albeit painfully and slowly—then tugged Charlotte up by her elbow. “Time for you to go.”
“Daddy,” Estelle cried, leaping to her feet. “That is, like, completely rude.”
“Charlotte’s used to me being rude,” he told her. “Now toss her those shoes so she can be on her way.”
“This is exactly the reason you don’t have any friends,” Estelle told him as she handed Char her sneakers.
Char grabbed her purse from the end table, having no reason to stay—having many reasons to go—but reluctant nonetheless. “She’s right.”
“She’s always right,” Kane muttered. “Just ask her. Or her mother.”
“Goodbye, Estelle,” Char called over her shoulder as Kane led her to the door. “It was nice meeting you.”
“You, too.”
Kane opened the door, but Char just slung her purse over her shoulder, then pulled on her shoes. “You sure you don’t want me to stick around?” she asked. “I think Estelle and I have bonded. And now, in the way of women everywhere, we’ll probably be BFFs before the day is through.”
He sent a beseeching look at the heavens. “Just kill me now.”
“Not sure you’re looking in the right direction for that request.” Her shoes on, she straightened. And was practically pushed out the door. She stood there for a moment, frozen in time, her mouth open. When he started shutting the door, she slapped her hand against it. “You know, just when I start to think you’re not as big of a jerk as I initially thought, you do or say something to prove me right. I mean wrong.” She waved a hand in dismissal, irritated with herself for not making sense. Wanting to blame him for that as well. “Oh, you know what I mean.”
He didn’t respond. Just shut the door in her face.
The ass.
And to think, she’d actually wanted to stay so she could learn more about his relationship with his daughter. Their history. What Estelle was doing in Shady Grove.
She’d wanted to learn more about him.
If he was an ass, then she was a fool.
She turned on her heel and stomped down the stairs, resolved to forget every moment of their time together and move on with her life.
* * *
“START FROM THE beginning,” Kane said.
Estelle ducked her head to scoop up a bite of vegetable omelet—and, okay, to hide an eye roll. “Can I at least eat before you start interrogating me?”
They’d just gotten served and she really was starving. After Dad kicked Charlotte out, he’d demanded—yet again—to know what Estelle was doing there. As if she could get into the whole story without proper nourishment.
Especially as she was making up said story on the spot.
She’d told him there was no way she could get into all the details without some breakfast first. And, since all her dad had was an almost-empty box of generic corn flakes and stale white bread, he’d brought her to Wix’s Diner. It was a dump, but not as bad as some of the dives he took her to when he visited her in Houston.
At least the silverware was clean. She shoveled in another bite of omelet. And the food was good. Best of all, they had lattes. Not real ones. Just the kind you got from one of those machines, like at the convenience store. But at this point, begging couldn’t make her choosy.
Or something like that.
“Estelle,” her dad said in the deep, serious tone he used when he was trying to intimidate her. “I know you’re smart enough to figure out how to eat and talk at the same time.”
God, did he have to be so grumpy? Even on his best days, he was never exactly cheerful, and yeah, he had the whole “I’m recovering from a motor vehicle accident” thing going on, but please.
He didn’t have to be such an old grouch.
“You’re mad I’m here.” She set down her fork, worked a good amount of vibration and pitifulness into her voice. “You could at least pretend you’re happy to see me.”
He sighed. Looked tired. And way older than usual. “Of course I’m happy—”
“You don’t want me.” She added a loud sniff, which had several other diners turning their heads her way. Managed some moisture in her eyes, though try as she might, she couldn’t get a single tear to fall. “You wish I was never born!”
He didn’t so much as blink. Didn’t seem to care about the attention they were attracting, just set down his coffee and leaned forward. “Knock it off or I’m putting you on the first plane back to Houston.”
He meant it, too. Her dad never said anything he didn’t mean. And he always, always followed through, always did what he said he was going to do.
It was so annoying.
Not that she was afraid of him—even if he was totally scary-looking. Especially now with his too-long hair, bruised face and grim expression.
“I already told you,” she said, spreading jelly on a piece of toast. “I couldn’t stay at Pilar’s so I came here. It’s not like I could go back to my house or anything, since you and Mama banned me from my own home.”
“No one’s banned from anything. Your mother and I decided it’d be best if you stayed with someone while she and Allan were in France.”
“Adam,” Estelle corrected. “And Mama didn’t decide that. You did.”
She’d almost had her mother convinced to let Estelle stay home alone while Meryl and Adam enjoyed a romantic getaway. Instead, Meryl had to “run it by Kane” who’d given it the big veto.
He never wanted Estelle to have any freedom. Or any fun.
“Your mother and I decided—together—that it’d be best for you to stay with someone while she’s away.”
Yeah. Someone. Just not him.
She shrugged. Bit into her toast. “I am staying with someone. I’m staying with you.”
He could at least pretend to be okay with it.
“If you were upset with Pilar, you should have gone to Clarice’s house. Or Gwen’s.”
“Nana’s still wintering in Santa Barbara,” she said of Meryl’s mother. “And you don’t even stay with your mom when you come to Houston. Why would you want to torture me by making me stay with her for two whole weeks?”
Torture it would be, too. Grandma Gwen was nothing if not uptight, abrasive and bossy.
“My point,” he said, though his lips barely moved, “is you should have called your mother to find somewhere else for you to stay. In Houston. Instead of flying halfway across the country by yourself, without permission or even letting anyone know. What if something happened to you?”
“Nothing happened. I’m not six, Daddy. I’ve flown by myself before. And I didn’t want to stay in Houston. I missed you.” She stuck out her lower lip. Too bad pouting didn’t have any effect on her dad. “I haven’t seen you in, like, forever.”
Oh, he visited her often, at least four times a year. Usually. But he’d been so caught up in this new bar he owned, he hadn’t been back to Houston since last spring.
&n
bsp; He exhaled, his expression softening. “I missed you, too, brat.”
She grinned. “Then I can stay with you until Mom gets back?”
She’d never stayed with him before. He always came to her.
“You can stay,” he said, not sounding too happy about it. He stood and pulled out his phone. “If your mother agrees.”
Estelle kept right on smiling as he excused himself to call Meryl. It wasn’t until he pushed through the diner’s front doors that she slumped back into her seat.
Please, please let Meryl agree. There was no reason she shouldn’t. Then again, Meryl always cautioned Estelle not to ask too much from Kane, not to expect too much.
But shouldn’t she have some expectations? Such as him stepping up when Estelle needed him?
When Estelle discovered those texts from Chandler on Pilar’s phone yesterday morning, it had hit her that this was her opportunity to escape Houston without her mom becoming suspicious. Then, in a few days, when Estelle told her parents she wanted to stay with Kane permanently, they wouldn’t ask too many questions.
She swallowed, but it still felt as if there was something stuck in her throat, so she gulped her lukewarm latte. Stay here in Shady Grove permanently. Or, at least until she turned eighteen and went to college.
Chewing on her thumbnail, she watched out the large window as her dad paced the length of the sidewalk in front of the building, the phone to his ear. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her dad. She did. It was just that she was going to miss Houston and her friends.
She was really going to miss her mother.
A tickle formed in the back of her throat. She had to stay strong. To remember she was doing this for her mother.
“You done with that?”
At the deep voice, Estelle twitched in surprise and glanced up. Frowned at the dark-haired guy standing next to the table.
“Excuse me?” she asked. Done with what? Her thumbnail? Her little inner whine-fest?
“Your food. Are you done with your plate and stuff?”
Small-Town Redemption Page 12
