by Reina Torres
Normally, that would have been a dream come true, but he had already had a good old fashioned tongue lashing by his grandfather an hour before denying him a home cooked dinner, leaving Kyle to fend for himself. But after seeing Nora’s sharp glare and the averted eyes of Marilee Craver behind the register, he'd given up trying to figure out what to make for dinner and drove to the next town for a burger. At least they hadn't heard about him at the Sonic Burger just south of the Tempo gas station.
Similar scenes had been repeated over and over until he began to realize that he had indeed stepped his size fourteen boots in it big time. Now, walking into town hall, his back ramrod straight and his chin a little too high, he felt his resolve waver just enough that made his jaw clench in response.
Just outside the hearing room, he saw just how alone he was in this. Seated on one of the plain wooden benches that were most likely original to the structure, was Stella Vincenzo. On one side of her sat her father, and on the other side of her, sat his grandfather.
Determined to act like an adult, rather than the guilty little boy the town was trying to make him feel like, Kyle walked toward the trio.
He'd expected Nico to step in front of him and bar his way. The man may have the sweetest temperament in town and had earned his status as one of the most loved Santa Clauses in St. Helena, right up there with his grandfather, but he had no problem grabbing Kyle by the collar when he was a child.
But the man that got up into his face as he approached Stella was his own grandfather, Stan.
“Now, son,” Oh boy, those words didn't bode well, “I think it's best that you keep to your side of the line.”
“My side of the line?” Kyle felt silly repeating the words, but he was struggling to understand exactly what was happening to his ordered life and his hard won control.
“Yes, that's what I said.”
Kyle recognized the look on his grandfather’s face. It was his papa bear look, the same expression Kyle had seen a number of times when he was younger. But this time was different. Before, when his grandfather had gone toe to toe with someone, it was usually in his defense.
“You’ve picked the wrong fight this time, Kyle.”
The words weren't loud and they weren't even angry, but the quiet tone of Stan’s voice had the same effect of putting him on the defensive.
“This is my fight.”
And there it was, Kyle digging his toe in the sand and drawing the line even deeper.
“It doesn't have to be either or, son.”
“He’s right, Kyle.”
Stella.
Her voice had always been quiet, almost a whisper, but it had aged. No, ‘aged’ made it sound like a criticism. Her voice had matured? Nope, still more than a little condescending by accident. Her voice had become warm, he decided. Warm like honey and twice as sweet, even if her eyes looked at him as though she was ready to cry at any moment.
And he felt like a complete ass for that alone.
“I have a business to run, Stella.”
“So do I.” She stepped around her father and moved closer until she was nearly toe to toe with him. “Please don’t do this. We can work something out.”
“Stella,” he heard the plea in his voice and wanted to shake himself. No matter how much of a bad ass he’d been when they’d been on rescue missions in warzones, he was a mess when it came to women. No, that wasn’t the case either. Women he could handle, he had a way with women, enjoying his time with them, and making sure they enjoyed every minute as well. But Stella, her hands folded before her, her eyes searching his, struck a chord inside of him that made his insides twist.
His collar suddenly felt a few sizes too small, especially with Nico and his grandfather staring at him.
The door behind Stella opened up and Walt Larson stepped out into the hall. “Hey folks, we’re getting everyone in their seats, so go ahead and come on in and we’ll get things underway.”
Nico took hold of Stella’s arm and she looked up into her father’s face with a smile that had Kyle’s knees going weak where he stood. He still couldn't believe that scrawny little Stella had grown up to be such a stunningly beautiful woman. And a woman with enough bravery to go toe to toe with him.
A few steps away she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “I'm sorry, Kyle.” He heard the melancholy tone of her voice and knew she meant it. “I never meant to cause you trouble.”
He opened his mouth to answer her back, but the front doors of The Town Hall burst open and he heard the polished squeak of dress shoes on the laminate flooring as someone ran up behind him.
“Boy, I'm glad I made it in time.” Alan stepped up beside Stella, a roll of papers under his arm. “How are you, Stell?”
Stell? Kyle wanted to tell him her name was Stella. The only one who ever called her a nickname was her father.
Well, he had, a long time ago, but it had been a long time since he'd called her Stick.
The thought left him mute as Alan switched the roll of paper under his other arm, and gently prodded her toward the meeting room.
“Don't worry, Stell,” Alan gave her a big grin that was white enough to be a flood light, “it will all work out and after the hearing, maybe you’ll let me take you out for lunch.”
“Well,” Stella’s steps slowed, forcing Alan to turn and stop to keep her arm tucked in his, “don't we need to get back to work if the commission says we can?”
Kyle had a front row seat for Alan’s big sure-of-himself grin. “Sweetheart, if this works out the way I think it will, I’m going to take you out for the fanciest meal you’ve ever had.”
Alan led Stella into the hearing room, leaving Nico and Stan in the hallway with him.
When Kyle started to move toward the door, he caught the ‘harrumph’ from Nico who gave him a glare before following his daughter into the room. Kyle started to speak to his grandfather, but the older man held him off with saddened look. “Let’s just get this over with and we can talk about how to pull your head out of your ass later, okay?”
When they walked out of the meeting room, Stella couldn't help but feel like she'd been through some kind of earthquake and was still suffering the aftershocks.
Growing up in California, she'd experienced her share of tremors and shimmies, but never had she felt as though the ground under her feet was about ready to crack and drop her down into a canyon.
Dramatic? A little. But the feeling was pretty accurate.
The hearing, at least that's what Walt Larsen kept calling it the whole time, had gone relatively well. ‘Relatively’ in that there hadn't been an official decision from the Building Commission yet. They'd taken comments and arguments on both sides, with Kyle and Alan doing most of the arguing. But still, Stella felt she'd explained her side of it well. Still, she couldn't explain why she felt so unsure of herself around Kyle. She'd known him forever and they'd grown up together, so really she should be able to tease him like she did the Santini boys. Even Lorenzo, who was as big and as brash as Kyle was, she could cut him down to size with a look or a well-placed verbal barb.
Kyle would always hold a place in her heart. She doubted that he remembered it. He’d always been in the center of all the action and all the fun, but when she’d skinned her knee on the playground after school one day, there hadn’t been an adult around. Kyle had come to her where she was huddled beside the swings, and he’d taken out the first aid kit from his backpack and had her bandaged up in no time.
And from that moment on, Stella had been more than a little in love with Kyle O’Malley. Call it puppy love or whatever you’d like, but it had felt real to her and had continued until she’d convinced herself that it was all some childhood fantasy.
The door opened behind her and she knew that it was Kyle coming out of the hearing room. No, she couldn't see him, but she didn't need to. The hard look on Alan’s face was enough confirmation. He started to open his mouth to say something but he stopped when she touched his arm. His dark glare tur
ned into a smug smile instead.
Shaking her head, Stella gave him a small hopeful smile of her own. “They said,” she addressed all three of the men that stood around her in support, “that things will go on the way they have been, until they give us their decision. So I think I have enough time to go and change my clothes and get back to work.”
She saw Kyle walk past her on his way toward the door. “Kyle?”
He stopped a couple of steps away and turned to look at her, a phone in his hand. He ended the call and dropped the phone into his pants pocket. There was something in his eyes, a kind of defeat that didn’t look good on him. No, Kyle was the kind of guy that wore confidence like a second skin. It hit her unexpectedly in the center of her chest. She wanted to pull him aside and talk to him, she wanted to smooth things over, but even when she took a step closer, his eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down, keeping her in place.
She tried to reach him with her voice. “I was wondering if you have a lot of patients this afternoon?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked, and his gaze slid over her face. “I had Mrs. Darby cancel them. I guess I’ll have to wait and see how long this is going to go on.”
He started to walk toward the door and Stella felt her knees buckle. “Kyle, wait.”
She didn’t make it a step before she felt Stan’s hand on her shoulder.
“Stella, let me.”
She heard the earnest plea in Stan’s voice and knew that she should let him go and speak to Kyle. He knew him better than anyone, certainly better than Stella could ever hope to. “Please tell him,” she felt tears gather on her lashes, “that I’m not trying to hurt him.”
Stan gave her a small smile, his eyes bright and gentle. Taking her shoulder in his hand he leaned closer and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “You’re a good girl, Stella.”
He walked off after Kyle, leaving her in the hallway with her father and Alan.
“Hey,” Alan’s tone was just a little too bright, grating on her nerves, “you can take off a little time. Let me take you out for something to eat.”
She shook her head. “There’s no reason to celebrate, Alan. The Building Commission didn’t come to a decision, and they could decide that I need to find someplace else to build.” She turned back and saw Stan and Kyle talking outside the doors, or rather, Stan was talking and Kyle looked like he’d turned into a statue. A really muscular, hot, and angry statue.
With an effort, she turned back to look at Alan and noticed the dark shadow that crossed over his features. “So maybe we should just get back to work?”
“Sure,” Alan’s gaze flickered from her face to her father and back again, “sounds like a good idea. I’m sure you’re anxious to get this all done.”
Stella nodded slowly and made sure to meet his eyes before she began to speak. “We should probably talk about those other ideas you had to get this finished on time, just in case.”
Nico stepped in, taking hold of Stella’s arm. “Well, if you two are going to get some work done, I should get her home so we can change. We’ll meet you at the site, Alan.”
That seemed to snap Alan out of his strange mood. With an open smile, Alan headed out the door toward the street.
Kyle heard the door swing open and hoped that it was Stella. She’d wanted to talk to him earlier and somewhere in the back of his head and somewhere a little south of that, and in the center of his chest, he was wondering if things would have been different if he’d set aside his gut reaction instead of using it to shove a wall between them, and they’d had a chance to talk.
Raising his gaze over his grandfather’s shoulder he saw Alan emerge from the building. The other man’s expression was tight, his eyes narrowing on Kyle’s face.
Taking a sharp right, Alan headed to the curb and the large extended cab truck that barely fit into the regulation size space. Walking around to the driver’s side he wrenched open the door and tossed the roll of plans into the cab and climbed in after it.
Kyle couldn’t help the smirk that pulled his lips up at the corners. “Poser.”
A long sigh met his ears. Without looking at his grandfather he knew that the sigh was meant for him.
“What? I can’t have a little fun at his expense?”
“What you need,” Stan leaned back and folded his arms across his chest, “is to challenge him to some kind of arm wrestling contest. Or maybe take him out to the shooting range and show him who’s boss.”
Kyle heard the heavy dose of sarcasm in his grandfather’s voice and knew it was directed right in the ‘center mass’ of his own chest. “You think that’ll do it?”
“Of course not.”
Kyle knew what his grandfather was waiting for, so he turned to look at him. “Then what do you recommend?”
“Maybe grow a pair?” Stan didn’t wait for the words to sink in. “Why do you insist on making this so difficult?”
Kyle felt a muscle pinch at the back of his neck and reached a hand back to press into the knot. “I have to give my patients a healing atmosphere. And moving my patients from the hospital was supposed to help give them a calm, less clinical setting. They don’t need someone pounding and sawing just outside the window.”
“The construction won’t last forever, Kyle. Even with your ears stopped up with your fingers, you have to understand that by fighting this and making her slow things down, all you’re doing is drawing out the distraction for your patients.”
Kyle blew out a breath. There was a lot of truth in what Stan was saying, but he wasn’t quite ready to hear it, yet. “Okay, sure,” he shook his head, “I’ll think about it. But what really bothers me?” Kyle folded his arms over his chest and spoke again. His tone was tight, as if he wasn’t quite ready to say the words. “Is that you seem to be siding against me! Is it too much to ask that you back me, even if it’s just a show in front of Stella?”
The door opened again and half of the Building Commission filed out of the front door and headed around the side of the building toward the parking lot.
Stan looked back at Kyle, a determined look in his eyes. “You want it, you got it, Kyle.” Clapping a hand down on Kyle’s shoulder, Stan’s smile almost seemed a bit mischievous. “I’m going to go talk to the guys and see what I can do.” He held up his hands to ward off the next question. “I won't make any promises, but I will do what I can.” His grin was easy and for a moment Kyle relaxed, knowing that his grandfather was back firmly on his side. And that, he reasoned, made all the difference.
Chapter 4
Stepping out of the exam room, Kyle pulled his phone from his back pocket and tapped a speed dial button. The phone rang a few times before the line picked up. “Ummm… Stan’s Soup and Service Station. ‘Soups or Coupes’ I’ve got you covered. How may I help you?”
“You must be busy. I'm just calling to ask about that conversation we had yesterday outside of Town Hall.” Kyle’s laugh was a little rough like his patience. “And I want to know why they’re still running a band saw outside my office window.”
A spate of noise on the other side of the connection was followed by a warm chuckle. “Nice to hear from you, Kyle. Well, I’m doing fine. Thanks for asking.”
Scrubbing his palm over the smooth plane of his freshly shaved cheek, Kyle counted backwards from five to one. “Hello, Granddad. I know how you are. And I don't think I'm in the mood for the normal societal niceties.”
“Sure, sure,” Stan’s voice was a little distracted, “so what can I do for you today.”
“Today,” Kyle shook his head, “you can tell me why they’re still building outside my office window?”
He could almost hear the shrug in his granddad’s voice. “Because they have a deadline.”
Kyle turned and faced the pristine expanse of white wall in the hallway. “I thought you said you would put a stop to this?”
“No,” Stan replied, with the same calm he used when Kyle was young and angry about something, “I said I would see wh
at I could do about it and I think we came up with a solution to keep the peace.”
“And just what does that mean?” The loud sheering sound of a saw buzzed outside his window and Kyle turned away, moving a few feet down the hall to avoid the noise, but the sound didn’t abate. Kyle squeezed his eyes shut and continued to walk. The sound didn’t fade but continued to gnaw through his remaining bits of calm.
“What is all that noise on your side of the call?”
“Kyle, I have to go.” Stan’s snappish tone poked at Kyle. “I have work to do.” And then the noise in one ear started to echo the noise in the other, a feverish percussion that had Kyle’s head pounding in syncopation to the noise as he ran down the hall toward the front door. “What kind of work, granddad?”
Nearly jogging through the waiting room to his office door, Kyle pushed it open and ran outside to look at the construction area. There were now half a dozen men working on different aspects of the train car. Standing at the center of the activity was his grandfather.
Once he saw Kyle staring at him, Stan turned off his phone and dropped it into the pocket on his overalls. “No need to waste my minutes if you're coming out to talk.”
“Your plan gives you unlimited minutes.” Kyle came to a stop a few feet away. “What are you doing out here?”
Stan shook his head at his grandson. “All that fancy education is wasted if you can't see what’s in front of your face. I'm helping you.”
The saw bit into another piece of wood and Kyle felt the vibrations up through his spine. “Helping drive me out of my mind. You're working for Stella?”
“We all are.” He gestured at the site and Kyle took a good look, everyone working on the train car were on the St. Helena Building Commission.
“Looks like some of the men avoided this ridiculous mess.”
Stan’s glare was telling. “This is just the morning shift. The others will get here around lunchtime and start after they eat.”
