by Alyssa Kress
~~~
Nice set of wheels. Erica was envious of the soft leather seats and smooth ride of Brennan's Toyota 4Runner. The only downside had been the difficulty of climbing into the high seat; her dress had hiked up rather high on her thigh.
The way Brennan's gaze had watched the proceedings had made the inconvenience worthwhile, however. Whatever this was, she was not alone in it.
"Where are we going?" Erica asked. Not that she would know what restaurants still existed in the area.
Looking forward as he drove, Brennan cleared his throat. "It's early still. I, uh, thought we might drive around a little first. Talk."
"Oh." This was weird. Why should they talk while driving around instead of while seated comfortably in a restaurant? Was he unsure he actually wanted to go out with her?
Erica concentrated on even breaths while her old insecurities bore down on her. She'd grown up constantly worried, constantly fearing it was some flaw in herself that made her father drink and get angry with her. As she got older, she'd come to understand this was not true, but the insecurity remained, the fear she somehow did not come up to snuff.
Now she wondered if she'd roped Brennan into this date. She'd ambushed him in his store. Perhaps he hadn't thought he had a choice but to ask her out. And that kiss—maybe she'd thrown herself at a reluctant man.
At least Brennan seemed to have a destination in mind. He took a right on Mountaintail Road and began going up the hill. But he didn't speak.
Confused, Erica gazed out at the increasingly mansionesque houses as the big SUV continued its ascent. He'd said he wanted to talk, but he wasn't talking. All he was doing was driving up and up—as if he meant to go all the way to the top.
A happier thought managed to sneak past her crippling insecurity. Was he planning to neck? Carefully, she slid a peek at him as he drove. He wore an intent, concentrated expression. Determined, even.
A thrill slipped past her doubts. She'd never been kissed by a man who looked quite so determined to do so. Everything about him—his features, his confidence, his intensity—it was all so attractive.
Almost too attractive, in fact. How could this perfection be attracted to her?
Her heartbeat picked up speed and force as he continued driving upward, though she wasn't sure if she were more excited or frightened. Whatever her perceptions were, she was sure they were wrong.
Finally, he arrived at the stretch of empty road at the top, right before the closed gates of the state park. He pulled to a spot overlooking the valley below, shifted into park, and after a brief hesitation, turned off the motor.
Erica's heart was beating very fast as she gazed out at the view—a jewel box of colored lights twinkled across the dark bed of the valley. No doubt about it. This was a spot for necking.
The brief rise in her confidence loosened her hitherto paralyzed voice box. "It's beautiful."
Brennan released a long breath. "When I first moved here, I went looking for places that would be...inspiring."
An odd word to use for a come-on. Did he need inspiration beyond her presence? Or perhaps he was looking for encouragement.
More nervous than ever, she undid her seatbelt. No longer restrained, she turned to face him. God, he was handsome. Looking at him made her body feel soft, warm, and inviting.
He glanced briefly toward her, a muscle ticking in his jaw. But he didn't remove his hands from the steering wheel.
Okay, she was officially confused. Her body language couldn't be any clearer: she was open to a move.
Instead of taking her up on the implied invitation, he faced forward again. "It was a big step for me to move here four years ago." His voice was pitched low, serious. "I wasn't sure I'd be able to stay."
He was not interested in necking. That was clear. But what surprised Erica more than this realization was the way he was talking. Not sure he'd be able to stay— It sounded as though he'd been frightened and insecure. That didn't seem like Brennan.
Frowning, she asked, "Why wouldn't you have been able to stay?"
She'd thought he'd begged the question with his statement about needing inspiration, but Brennan didn't answer. He simply sat with his hands on the wheel, staring forward.
She was wondering what was going on when he finally spoke.
"Meeting your father was very important to me." Brennan pursed his lips as he continued gazing forward. "I give him credit for me being able to stay. It's because of him I was able to handle managing the branch for Livestrength."
O-kay. He definitely didn't intend to come on to Erica if he was going to bring up her father. So Brennan had brought her up here for some other reason, something not romantic. Disappointment and embarrassment warred for predominance and made her feel annoyed.
Meanwhile, she wondered how Brennan could be giving her father this kind of credit. For one thing, even if Richard Carmichael had truly changed into this amazing helper sort of person, why would Brennan have needed his assistance?
"I don't understand." Though she was still facing him in her seat, she no longer felt warm and inviting. The chill from the night outside was starting to invade the car.
Finally lowering his hands from the steering wheel, Brennan heaved a deep sigh. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me. Things I wouldn't normally dump on a woman on a first date. But..." He finally turned to look at her. His expression was resigned. "Our situations aren't equal. I know too much about you. You should know more about me."
The dread that had already started swirling around the car tightened into a knot in Erica's stomach. He wanted to tell her more about him, things he obviously thought she wasn't going to want to hear.
He was now gazing steadily at her.
She gazed back, feeling numb. She wanted to order him to stop, to leave everything the way it had been, with him being a great guy and her liking him. She wanted to hold onto the attraction and excitement of a promising first date.
But it was already too late.
She sucked in her lips. "What do you think I should know?"
He visibly swallowed. "How I met your father."
The knot of dread inside her grew. Brennan and her father had lived next door to each other. Wasn't that how they'd met? But apparently not. Apparently they'd met in some dreadful way that was going to ruin the promise with which Erica had climbed into this nice car of his and felt the happiness of sitting next to an attractive, successful man. Her voice came out scratchy. "How?"
His gaze was so steady now it bore into her. "We met at an AA meeting here in Palmwood."
He might as well have shot a bowling ball at her. All Erica could do was stare at him as his words echoed hollowly in her head. AA. Alcoholics Anonymous.
Letting out a breath, Brennan turned back to gaze out the windshield. "By the time I met your father, I'd been sober for five years. But that wasn't long enough for me to feel confident about moving away from my support group and starting over in a place that might not provide the right sort of friends." He smoothed a hand over the steering wheel. "It was kind of a condition I had in my mind that if the AA group in Palmwood didn't meet my needs, I wouldn't stay. Even if it meant giving up my promotion at Livestrength."
Alcoholics Anonymous. That's where Brennan had met Erica's father. Brennan was a drunk. Like her father. Oh, sober five years, ten years—what did it matter? Erica still remembered the fear, horror, and gut-wrenching disappointment of the night her father had ended his eighteen months of sobriety, the eighteen months during which Liam had been conceived and born. Her dad had woken her from sleep with the sound of glass breaking against the stair wall and the roar of his voice demanding something unintelligible.
Oh, no, she'd thought, the fear like a vampire inside her, sucking away the brief span of safety she'd enjoyed. He's back. The monster is back.
Now in Brennan's car, Erica felt echoes of the same dread chill. This man was not who she'd thought. Not even a shadow of him.
"Your father became my ment
or," Brennan went on. "Encouraged me. The voice of experience." A soft, rueful laugh came out of him. "Everything he was not for you."
Damn straight he hadn't been any of that. And neither could Brennan. "You're a drunk," Erica said.
She was pleased to see him flinch.
"I'm an alcoholic," he corrected. "That's something that's never going to change. But I haven't been a 'drunk' for nine years." He shook his head. "I'll admit, I was a pretty pathetic drunk, though. Lost a job and a significant relationship by the time I was twenty-three."
Anger began to burn through Erica's numb horror. "I thought you were a together guy." She'd been looking up to him, for God's sake. Envying and admiring him.
He tilted his head. "Is anybody really together? Once you peel back the layers?"
Her anger was a heat in her forehead. She'd thought he was dependable. Instead, he had feet of clay. "Not everybody is a monster underneath those layers."
He stilled. "You're right about that."
So. He admitted it. He was a monster. Just like her father, with all the roaring and unpredictability, the complete self-absorption. All he could be depended on to produce was fear.
It was hard to believe that just a few minutes ago she'd felt any warmth toward this man. Now all she felt was fury and fear.
"You were right that we needed to have this talk first, before going out on a date." Erica was surprised and pleased by how calm her voice sounded. Inside, she felt like a screaming madwoman. "I would like to go home now."
Had she surprised him? Surely he couldn't have imagined she'd be able to accept his confession. But for a moment he didn't move.
Then, without a word, he turned and pressed the button for the ignition. In no other way did he respond. He didn't try to stand up for himself or argue. Perhaps he hadn't been surprised, then, after all.
In silence, Brennan drove the winding road back down the hill. Erica looked out at the houses lining the way: large and palatial up near the top, growing progressively smaller as they descended. She found herself wondering how many of these supposedly normal houses actually harbored families with fear and dread on their faces.
Only as they were turning onto the block back home did Brennan speak. "I do have a request."
Erica pressed her lips together. He had no right to request anything.
"I understand you don't want to have anything more to do with me, but Liam and I do have a relationship. I hope you won't prevent that from continuing."
Liam. Erica breathed through her anger, trying to think. "Does he know about your past?"
"Yes."
Then Liam had known as Erica was going out the door tonight, as she was stressing about impressing Brennan. But he hadn't said anything.
He'd apparently wanted it to work out.
Naive child. He'd been too young to remember their father at his worst.
Meanwhile, Erica had to make a decision. Liam liked Brennan, looked up to him. He barely knew Erica and wasn't about to believe she knew better than he did.
"Fine," Erica stated. "Continue your relationship with Liam." She gave Brennan a stern look. "But I'll be keeping a close eye on you."
He offered no protest or defense of himself. All he did was incline his head. Then he pulled to a stop at the curb in front of her house.
Anger was like a burning blaze all over her as she opened the door and hopped out—on her own. She didn't look back as she slammed the door closed and then strode up the walkway to her front door.
She'd thought Brennan was a rock, but he was a swaying willow in a breeze.
If she had trust issues, perhaps they were justified.
