The Summer House

by Susan Mallery

  “I wanted to think about things.”

  “Care to be more specific?”

  “Evaluate my life.”

  “Care to be more specific?” she asked again, tilting her head to look up at him.

  “To quote my mother, I’ve been crabby, cranky and a couple other things she’s too much of a lady to say. She suggested I come up here, get in touch with my roots and figure out why I’ve been so ornery.”

  “Have you come up with anything yet?”

  “I got here forty minutes ago,” he answered wryly.

  “Oh. Yeah. But you always were a gifted over-achiever.”

  “Not this time. I’m evaluating the offer of a partnership in the firm.”

  “Kyle, that’s great. Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What took you so long?” Although she shielded her eyes from the sun, mischief lurked in their depths.

  “It took me a while to figure out where I wanted to specialize. Considering that, it actually happened quickly.”

  “So they’ve obviously recognized your genius. I’m not exactly sure what you’ve got to evaluate. But maybe I could help—be your sounding board.”

  He glanced at her and could have sworn the vibrancy emanating from her actually touched him. She was a small woman and a sensation of protectiveness for her swept over him. Along with something else that sent blood racing through his veins, pooling south of his belt line when a sweet smile made the corners of her wide mouth curve upward. The warmth spread to her big, bright blue eyes. He’d known her since they were kids and he had to admit she’d filled out nicely in all the right places. He was no carpenter and didn’t work with wood, but he couldn’t imagine anyone who looked less like a board.

  “Sounding board? As in be my shrink?” he asked.

  “As in being your friend. Look, if it would make you feel better, we’ll set a time limit.” She stared down the beach and pointed. “See that big rock formation? You only have to talk about yourself until we get there. Deal?”

  “It’s not far. Okay,” he agreed. “That was pretty fair negotiating. You should have been a lawyer.”

  “Not on your life. Lawyers are life’s bottom-feeders and divorce—”

  “Attorneys are the bottomest of the bottom?” He watched her tug on the corner of her lip with her teeth. “Don’t stop now. You’re on a roll.”

  “I seem to have inadvertently hit a hot button.”

  “The general public sees my profession as a downer, the butt of jokes. I’ll admit that I see the worst part of a relationship—the bitter end.”

  “Your profession isn’t a downer.”

  “Nice of you to say that. But it’s my job to make sure the other guy gives up as much as possible. Sometimes it goes easy, sometimes not and I get a lottery of billable hours. In a divorce situation, I’m the only winner.”

  “If you really believe that, why did you go into divorce law?”

  “My dad once told me there are three things you can count on in life. Death, taxes and relationship meltdown.”

  “So you specialized in divorces for the money?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I wanted to prevent people like my dad being taken to the cleaners. Mom got the house, the duplex here at the beach and pretty much all of the terms she wanted as part of her divorce settlement. Since then, I’ve lost track of how many times Mom and Dad have remarried and divorced. He made the remark recently that he would never have anything as long as he was with a woman.”

  “Did you tell him he should pick someone his own age with similar interests who can tolerate his penchant for self-absorption?” she asked sweetly.

  “It never occurred to me.” Although it was damn good advice. Obviously she knew a thing or two about his father.

  “First, it doesn’t take a mental giant to see why you picked the law specialty you did. You’re trying to save your family over and over again—with every client you represent.”

  He laughed. “Oh, please.”

  “Think about it,” she said. “Every man or woman who hires you becomes your mother or father and you’re trying to protect them.”

  “Way too noble, not to mention just plain weird. And for God’s sake, don’t make me out to be more than I am.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you. It’s irrelevant to my point, and I do have one. I sense that you’re no longer getting satisfaction from your profession.”

  “I take satisfaction from the fact that I’m good at what I do. I know the law. What’s that saying? You have to know the rules before you can break them.”

  “You break the law?” she asked.

  “Of course not. I manipulate it. I’m committed to doing the best I can for my client. I like the challenge, the give-and-take battle. It’s like a chess game—move and countermove. When I win, it’s exhilarating.”

  “I’m guessing you win often or they wouldn’t be offering you a partnership.” She stopped walking suddenly and turned to him. “You’re not thinking of turning it down, are you?”

  “I’m not stupid,” he said wryly. He stuck his hands in his pockets and they started walking again. “The offer felt like a turning point for me and seemed to stimulate some personal reflection. I just thought there would be more.”

  “Are we talking professionally or personally?”

  “Take your pick.”

  Looking straight ahead, she said, “I can’t comment on your personal life, but in case you’re having a crisis of conscience about what you do for a living, rest assured it’s very necessary. You’re the rose between two thorns.”

  “I’m not especially comfortable being compared to a rose, but thanks. I guess.”

  “Think about it. Two people on opposite sides, warring. Prickly. The thorns. At such a volatile time, a couple needs someone objective, someone with a clear head. The rose,” she said. “Divorce is an unfortunate and ugly fact of life. Your skill is essential, especially when there are children involved.”

  “I’m a well-paid referee.”

  “No. Expert representation. You said yourself that you know the law. I wouldn’t call it manipulation that you’re aware of every protection it provides.”

  He glanced at her until she met his gaze. “What happened to the whole ‘lawyers as bottom feeders’ thing?”

  “I was kidding.”

  “Okay. I guess I didn’t recognize it, because who knew Florence Nightingale had such a sarcastic sense of humor.”

  “Oh puhleeze. I’m no Florence N.”

  “But you are a nurse. I admire what you do. Working to make sick people better. I bet you’re very good at it.”

  “Easy for you to say. You already know I was offered a job that’s a big step up.”

  “Yeah, but knowing you, I feel they’ve chosen wisely.”

  “Since when are you a shameless flatterer?”

  “The truth is never shameless nor is it flattery.”

  “We’re supposed to be talking about you,” she said. “So how’s your love life?”

  “That was blunt.”

  “No, merely curious. You’re here to evaluate your life, and there’s more to it than work. Since we already talked about the work portion, there’s still the other part.”

  “Time flies when you’re having fun.” He pointed to the rock formation they’d seen from far away that now seemed to appear out of nowhere to signal he was off the hook. “How fortuitous I don’t have to talk about myself anymore. But speaking of love life…I seem to remember Dan telling me you’re engaged.”

  All too well Kyle recalled his reaction to the news. He’d felt as if his best friend had sucker punched him. Stupid really, because he and Cassie would never be a twosome. Her brother had made that clear a long time ago. If Kyle asked Cassie out, his friendship with Dan was over.

  At the time, the choice had been a no-brainer. Dan was the best friend he’d ever had, the one who was always there for him, the one he could count on above everyone else—incl
uding his own parents. Kyle couldn’t chance having no one. After that, whenever he saw Cassie, he ignored her. Over the years, it had become harder to do that. She’d changed from a plain, skinny girl into a beautiful woman—inside and out.

  “When’s the wedding?” he prompted.

  “When hell freezes over.”

  “Don’t sugarcoat it, Cass. Tell me how you really feel.”

  “We broke up.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Interesting how the rules change when you’re on the psychiatrist’s couch,” he commented.

  “I’m not the one who’s here to evaluate my life. I’m the one who’s here to spend time with her best friend who found something better to do and stood her up.”

  “So you’re between significant others?”

  “I’ll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours,” she offered.

  “I don’t have one.”

  “Me, either.”

  Kyle didn’t realize he was holding his breath until he was forced to suck air into his lungs. And the strange feeling that boulders the size of Texas were lifted from his shoulders—was that relief?

  “You expect me to believe you’re not involved with someone?” she asked.

  “I don’t expect anything. It’s the truth.”

  “You always have a Barbie, Bambi or Brandi with an i in your life. Come to think of it, I thought Dan said you were engaged.”

  “I was. I came to my senses and broke it off.”

  “Cold feet?”

  “Yeah.” He glanced at her. “You look surprised. Is it that I had cold feet or because I was engaged?”

  She shook her head. “I’m shocked you admitted to cold feet. Although, I don’t know why I should be. It’s not a stretch. Everyone knows you’re commitment phobic.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I’ve heard through the grapevine—aka Dan Brightwell—that you’ve told more than one aspiring Mrs. Kyle Stratton not to expect more than a physical relationship. And I never saw you bring the same woman around twice.”

  “Twice implies a pledge to the future.”

  “I rest my case. You don’t want to get married.”

  Odd, he didn’t mind talking to her about all this. Maybe because she knew his history. She’d been there through the ups and downs. Or maybe it was because she was safe.

  “It’s not marriage I object to. It’s the divorce when it doesn’t work out. I don’t want to end up broke like my old man, or going through the relationship revolving door like Mom.”

  “What about kids?”

  “What about them?”

  “Don’t you like children?” she asked.

  “I like them very much.”

  “Me, too. I can’t imagine my life without children.”

  “In spite of being the forgotten middle child? Even after what your sister Megan went through with Bayleigh?”

  “The problem with Bayleigh’s eyes isn’t genetic. And, by the way she’s doing fine since her transplant. But that isn’t the point. Megan loved her daughter’s father and the guy walked out on her because of Bayleigh’s health problems. But she wouldn’t change anything if it meant not having her child. I want to be a mom more than anything.”

  And she would make a wonderful mother, he thought. All she had to do was pick the right man. He recalled offering to bring Bayleigh’s father back and make him pay support. Dan had suggested a well-placed fist, but Megan had nixed all the ideas. She’d said the jerk was being punished enough. He was missing out on a relationship with his daughter and the privilege of watching her grow up.

  Kyle looked at Cassie. “Would you still want to be a mom if you had to raise the child alone like Megan’s doing?”

  “It’s not my first choice. What about you? How would you feel about raising a child alone?”

  “What you really want to know is if I want to have any kids—period. And the answer is no.”

  Cassie couldn’t have looked more shocked if he’d dropped his shorts and hollered, “Nude beach.” “Don’t you feel the need to have a child to carry on the Stratton name?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  He stopped walking and picked up a smooth stone, then tossed it sidearm into the ocean. “It should be obvious to someone who’s known me as long as you have.”

  “I’m slow. Spell it out for me,” she said, hands on hips.

  “Okay. You always complained about being the forgotten middle child—not the oldest or the youngest. The one in the middle who wasn’t special in any way.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “I was just forgotten. My parents were too busy separating, dating, marrying, divorcing and separating—not necessarily in that order—to give a damn about me. Don’t you remember that Christmas Dan brought me home from school with him because they each thought I was with the other one and they were both out of the country?”

  “I remember him bringing you home. I don’t know if I knew why.” She met his gaze. “You need to take a page from Megan’s book. It was your parents’ loss.”

  Debatable, he thought. “After that, I spent most holidays with your family.” He studied her, the clouds in her eyes blocking out the earlier brightness.

  “Is there a point to this trip down memory lane? Other than whining? In case you didn’t recognize it just now, that was tough love.”

  “Is that how you help your patients?”

  “If that’s what they need,” she answered.

  “That wasn’t whining, merely an explanation for why I wouldn’t be a good parent. I pity any kid who got me for a father. He’d best be prepared to raise himself.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’ve seen you with Bayleigh. You’re wonderful with her.”

  “It’s easy to look good on a short-term basis. But twenty-four seven?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t take a Ph.D. in child rearing to know the seeds of parenting are sown in childhood. Based on that, I have no training. My folks were never around.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you spent a lot of time at my house, hanging out with Dan,” she added.

  “He’s my best friend. I’d do anything for Dan.”

  “Including being a mercy escort for his little sister so the two of you could double-date?”

  He knew right away what she was referring to. About ten years ago, Kyle and Dan had been home from college. Their alma mater was in the football playoffs. Dan had a date for the game and wanted Kyle to ask someone. He’d come up empty on such short notice and the two of them had talked Cassie into going along. It had been one of the best nights he could remember.

  “It wasn’t a mercy date,” he said.

  “Then why didn’t you call me again?”

  Chapter Two

  Under normal circumstances, Cassie would have wanted to disappear after saying something so bold. But this was the new-and-improved Cassie, the one determined to not have any regrets. She wasn’t exactly sure how his aversion to having children had segued into her question, but she refused to regret it.

  In her head, she understood his reasons were firmly rooted in his unstable childhood environment. In her heart, the idea of Kyle all alone made her inexplicably sad. If she couldn’t have kids, she knew there would be a hole the size of the Grand Canyon in her life.

  She’d always thought the instinct to procreate irrepressible. Of course with Kyle it was all about sex. She’d heard her brother say more than once Kyle was a playboy. When he got what he wanted from a woman, he walked away. That’s what had prompted her question. He hadn’t gotten anything from her and maybe it was time to find out why.

  Why didn’t you call me again?

  Or maybe it was time to head into the sun. She did an abrupt about-face. “I have to go back now. Feel free to keep going in the other direction,” she called over her shoulder. “Smooth, Brightwell,” she muttered to herself.

  “A gentleman always escorts a lady home.” Kyle
fell into step beside her.

  “Really? And where did the man raised by wolves learn that?” She hoped that would distract him from her last question.

  He squinted into the sun as he thought. “From my father actually.”

  “So he was around at least once.”

  “Apparently.” He took her arm to steady her as she stumbled over a rock half-submerged in the sand. “Are you sure I never called you?”

  “Positive. And I distinctly remember you promised to.”

  She’d stayed home waiting for his call, certain it would happen the next day. It didn’t. After that, she’d slept with the phone, eaten with it as her companion, studied with it staring at her. She even took it with her when she showered. Her mother joked about having it surgically removed from her hand and the behavior had continued for a month or more. Until Dan had let it slip that Kyle was dating yet another girl he’d met in college. A regular Casanova. And the news had broken Cassie’s eighteen-year-old heart. Oh, yeah, she was sure he’d never called.

  He looked down at her and reached over to remove a strand of hair from her eyes and tuck it behind her ear. “It was important to keep my grades up to get in to law school. I must have been busy studying.”

  “I bet you were. Female anatomy.”

  Frowning, Kyle stuck his hands in his pockets. “It was for the best, Cass.”

  He didn’t even bother to deny it one more time. She should have let it drop. There wasn’t a decent reason to put herself through this. Then she realized that was wrong. She had a very good reason. The question hadn’t come out of nowhere. She’d always wondered. One of her most profound regrets was that she’d never confronted him about it. After her disastrous romance in Phoenix, she’d promised herself a new start in California. That included no more regrets.

  “Whose best was it for?” Certainly not hers. She would always wonder what might have been. “I asked Dan about it and he wouldn’t say anything.”

  “I’m not the kind of guy your bro—Your family wouldn’t want you to get mixed up with someone like me.”

  Pressure started in her chest and grew to an ache deep inside her. He’d all but admitted he’d ignored her on purpose, which put her smack dab in the emotional abyss she’d experienced ten years ago.