by Bella Andre
It took two tries on the doorbell before anyone answered.
The man wasn’t precisely what he’d expected either. He’d envisioned the guy drinking his way through daytime TV while sitting in a stained, threadbare lounger. But Greg Littman was dressed in brown slacks and a yellow polo shirt. His face was clean-shaven, his clothing uncreased and stain-free. He was fairly trim with only a slight beer gut, and at least ten years younger than Theresa.
But despite the clothes and the fresh shave this morning, he smelled like the inside of a brewery. His eyes were bloodshot, and his nose had the fine red lines of someone who drank too much. Or snorted too much cocaine.
“Who the hell are you?” His words ran slightly together. Drinking his way through daytime TV wasn’t a bad guess after all.
“You recognized me easily enough on TV a couple of weeks ago.”
Greg’s bloodshot eyes widened with dawning realization, and Evan identified the meanness Kelsey had seen. “Mr. Money Bags,” he drawled.
“Yeah. So invite me in,” Evan said, like a vampire who needed an invitation before he took your soul. He intended to crush this guy if he ever went near Theresa again.
“Sure, why not?” Greg backed up and allowed his own personal devil into the living room.
The room had a big leather sofa and a large flat-screen TV, its volume muted on the replay of a hockey game.
“As I understand it, my mother—” Evan used the title only for effect. “—has ended her relationship with you.”
“I apologized,” Greg said with a shake of his head meant to correct Evan. “She forgave me.”
“You apologized.” Evan gave the appearance of mulling it over. “So you believe leaving bruises on a woman is fine as long as you apologize.”
“It was an accident. Didn’t realize my own strength.” Greg puffed up his chest. “Told her it wouldn’t happen again.”
“You’re right. It won’t happen. Because you aren’t seeing her again.” He stared the guy down. “Ever.”
Greg snorted, then bunched his fists and clenched his teeth with all the bravado he could muster. “That’s up to her to say.”
“She’s already said it. You just don’t listen well.” Evan crowded a step closer. Greg stumbled a step back. They were the same height, over six feet, but Greg was stooped, and Evan towered over the older man. “Don’t go near her. Don’t try to talk to her. And especially don’t touch her.”
“I didn’t do anything.” The skin beneath Greg’s eyes sagged from the abuses to his body.
“Right. Her bruises just magically appeared.” Evan took another step, until Greg backed into the coffee table. “I see who you are. A pathetic loser who takes his frustrations out on women. The only way you can feel like a big man is to rough up someone smaller than you.”
“You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’ve been through. You’re rich as Bill Gates, and you got no idea about having it tough.” Spittle appeared at the corner of Greg’s mouth, and his pupils had dilated with fury.
“I know exactly what it’s like. And I know that only weak men hit women and children. Only weak men can’t control their drinking or their anger. Only weak men have to use their fists on their wives and their kids.” He pointed his finger in Greg’s face. “You yell and you browbeat and you enjoy everyone’s fear of you. It makes you feel big, like you’re important. But inside you’re just a scared little wuss who can’t even handle his liquor.”
“I’m not pathetic. I’m just having a hard time right now because I lost my job.” The man’s expression set sullenly. “So, fine, you want me to leave your ma alone. Then pay me to get out. Isn’t that what rich guys do? They write checks to get rid of their problems. Write me a check, and I’ll leave her alone.”
The man actually had some balls left. But he used them in all the wrong ways.
“I’m not giving you a dime,” Evan said, his voice terrifyingly soft. “But I am going to keep my eye on you. Someone will always be watching you, Greg. When you wake. When you sleep. When you go out. When you come home. Who you talk to. Who you piss off. If you make a move on her, I’ll know.” He paused to make sure the guy didn’t miss a word. “And I’ll grind you into pulp.”
Greg swallowed, his Adam’s apple struggling to get the spit down. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. “You don’t scare me.” Even though Evan thought the guy might pee his pants in another second.
“Here’s the truth, Greg,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You aren’t worth scaring. But I will protect my family any way I have to. I don’t give a crap if you drink yourself to death, but you’re not going to take her down with you.”
Greg’s mouth opened, sucking in air. “I just need a little cash, that’s all.”
“Then get a job. Now repeat after me: I will leave Theresa alone.”
Greg’s voice rose to a whine. “I already told you, I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“All that matters is you did hurt her.” He cupped his ear and leaned closer. “I don’t hear you repeating those five important words yet.”
The beads of nervous sweat on Greg’s forehead suddenly let loose, cascading down his face until one hung on the end of his nose. “I’ll leave Theresa alone.”
“Don’t forget, I’ve got my eye on you.” Evan picked up a half-full bottle of beer from the coffee table, two empties beside it. The rest of the six-pack was on the carpet by the sofa. “Maybe you oughta think about throwing the rest of these out. The beer is rotting your brain.” Then he shoved it into the asshole’s hand.
Evan left him in the living room, clutching the beer bottle to his chest as if it were an elixir to ward off evil.
* * *
Back in his Tesla, Evan contacted an acquaintance high up in the ranks of the San Francisco Police Department. With his help, it didn’t take long to arrange for a Modesto patrol car to drive by Theresa’s house occasionally. If there was any trouble, Evan would get an immediate call.
Once he hit the Bay Area again, the traffic stopped and started, but the Tesla zipped through every small break, easing ahead faster than the rest of the cars. And somehow, instead of ending up at home, he found himself outside Paige’s condo.
Walking beneath an overhang of trees to her first-floor unit, he took in the little brook that babbled over river rocks. Ivy spread its fingers across the ground, and ferns sprouted. It was pleasant, calm, restful. While his house was a showplace, Paige’s home was comforting. It showcased, yet again, the differences between the two sisters—ostentatious versus homey, gaudy versus warmhearted.
Climbing the wooden stairs to her front porch, he pushed the bell, the tinkling sound of it ringing through the interior. She opened the door, looking both beautiful and surprised to see him.
He didn’t want to desire her. He didn’t want to need her.
But, God help him, he did.
Chapter Seventeen
“Paige.” Evan’s voice was deep. Warm. Hearing him say her name with such feeling was nearly as good as his lips on hers. “I hope it’s okay I didn’t call first.”
Between the flowers and this unexpected visit, Paige couldn’t suppress her smile. Or the quickening of her breath, awareness tingling on her skin. No matter how tense things had been when she’d left his place on Sunday. “Of course it’s okay. Come inside.”
Her home was so small that the intimacy of having Evan in her living room was overwhelming. Yet she’d felt such a thrill the moment she found him standing at her door.
Paige truly believed there was nothing wrong with what she felt for him. Nothing sinful. Not when Whitney had thrown away her claim to Evan with the first lie she’d told—and all the lies after that. If only he’d see things the same way. Paige hoped he would one day soon. Maybe even tonight?
“Have you eaten?” There was so much they needed to talk about, but she wanted to give him a few minutes to settle in first. Especially after his long drive to and from Modesto. “I’m planning a stir fry.
”
“Actually—” With his hands shoved in his pockets, she could almost believe he was nervous. “—I’d like to take you out.”
“Out?” Would this be a date? Or was she mistakenly attaching the label she wanted to what was, for him, nothing more than an impromptu dinner invitation?
He swallowed, gestured off toward the main drag of Menlo Park. “There’s a great place just around the corner. The Grand Pacific. I know how much you love Pan-Asian food.”
“I’ve always wanted to eat there.” The Grand Pacific’s menu wasn’t just legendary, its prices were too. What’s more, Whitney hated Chinese food, so they’d never been there as a group.
Yet again, Paige was amazed to realize he’d actually been paying attention to her all these years. To the flowers she preferred. To her favorite kind of food. And to the fact that she loved to try new places and things.
What else had he noticed?
“I’d love to. Just let me grab a sweater.”
They could have driven. It was still early for dinner, and there were a few parking spots available as they approached downtown. But she enjoyed the walk, her shoulder brushing his occasionally, the backs of their hands bumping, his clean, masculine scent teasing her. The restaurant was full, but for Evan, an empty table magically appeared. A romantic spot in a candlelit corner.
Despite telling herself not to read too much into it, Paige’s heart beat a little faster.
Everything on the menu looked amazing. They ordered salmon and avocado rolls dipped in wasabi, followed by a dumpling soup, then dishes with duck, filet mignon, and sea scallops, each prepared in divine sauces using ingredients like tamarind and coconut milk. They’d never eat it all, but she was dying to try every bite. A couple of glasses of Sullivan Cabernet complemented the food perfectly.
“So tell me,” she said after the waiter left. “What happened with the boyfriend?”
“I told him not show his face again. Then I called the cops to have them do some drive-bys at Theresa’s.” He shrugged nonchalantly, as if it didn’t mean much to him.
But she knew it did. And it was obvious she’d have to pull the details out of him. “Did he put up any sort of fight?”
“He asked for money.” When she made a sound of disgust, he shook his head and said, “It could have been a bluff. A way to test my resolve. Who the hell knows? Just like an abusive, out-of-control drunk, he said he was sorry and it would never happen again.”
“That’s not what your father used to say, is it?” Though she was poking a raw nerve here, she wouldn’t be timid with him. After all these years of holding her truest feelings, her most real emotions inside, she couldn’t do it anymore. Not even when it came to his mother. “He never said he was sorry. Never said it wouldn’t happen again.”
Evan stared at the wine glasses the waiter had swooped in and deposited on the table. “You’re right. We always knew it would happen again when he got mad or drunk. When he didn’t have any reason at all, actually.”
Abuse occurred at all socioeconomic levels, in all neighborhoods, even in Paige’s neighborhood. It was committed by men, women, sometimes even teenagers. She’d heard the same tale so many times. She’d talked with abusers as well as the abused. She understood frustration and pain and anger and hopelessness and the need to lash out, yet there was always a part of her that absolutely could not fathom how anyone could ever strike a child. Or hit someone weaker and incapable of defending themselves.
But knowing Evan had been that child? It tore her up inside.
“How did you feel? Confronting him. Protecting your m—” She quickly changed the word to, “Theresa.”
“In a way,” he said slowly, “telling the asshole boyfriend to lay off was like telling my dad what I thought of him.”
“That had to feel good.”
“You know what?” His brow creased, and he looked pensively at the utensils in front of him on the table. Then he cocked his head slightly, his gaze rising to hers as a surprised smile took over his face. “It actually did feel good. Damn good.”
It was a huge step for him. A ghost he could begin to lay to rest. She sensed the infinitesimal lifting of something dark off his shoulders, saw it leaving his eyes, making them a little brighter. Even when he clearly thought the safest thing was to keep his distance from his mother, he’d obviously found it impossible to stay away. Because he was a born protector.
She wanted to risk touching him, but didn’t. Not yet. Not until she could believe he wouldn’t beat himself up for his reaction to her. For wanting her the way she wanted him. As much as he would deny it if she asked him outright, it seemed that he was finding it impossible to stay away from her too.
“I’m so glad, Evan.”
“I am too. It’s good to have that duty out of the way.”
“Duty?” The word bothered her. Was she seeing only what she wanted to see—healing that hadn’t actually happened?
“I’ve done what I can for Theresa.”
“What are you saying?” The waiter brought the salmon rolls and soup, and she waited until he’d left to add, “Now that you’ve dealt with her boyfriend, you don’t want to see them again?”
Evan concentrated on the food. “I just mean that I’ve done what Tony and Kelsey wanted.”
How could he not see that what they wanted most of all was to get to know their brother?
Before she could point that out, he told her, “They’re good people. Responsible. Hardworking. I thought I could introduce Tony to Matt, since they’re both into automation.” He dipped a roll in the wasabi. “Kelsey might be interested in touring my headquarters.”
He wanted contact. Future contact via businesses that meant so much to him. It was a monumental sign. One that made her heart swell with optimism for him and his family.
“It would be nice to invite them over again.”
He shrugged to downplay the idea. “Maybe.”
But she could see how much he wanted to. His desire was in the slight upturn of his lips, the overly casual tone of voice, the almost boyish way he talked of his brother and sister.
He loved the Mavericks, and Susan and Bob, but the twins were his.
She decided to go for the toughest issue. “You could invite Theresa too.” She was careful not to say your mom.
He spooned soup into his mouth, probably so he didn’t have to answer. But she didn’t offer a single word once he’d swallowed, and he was forced to say, “They probably wouldn’t come without her.”
“Probably not.” She let the thought hang a moment. “It would be good for you both if you could reach some sort of—” She searched for the most innocuous word. “—balance with her.”
“I don’t know if balance is even possible. She runs away because of all the crap my father did. Then she ends up with a sleazebag who’s pulling the same kind of stuff.” The set of his jaw said how much that pissed him off.
“People sometimes fall into a pattern. They don’t always realize it until it’s too late. But she did tell us she wanted to try.”
He set his spoon down, put his elbows on the table, and looked at her over his laced fingers. “I don’t trust her not to find another sleazebag even worse than this one. And I’m also not sure I trust her to slam the door in Greg’s face if he comes back begging for another chance.”
“I’ve seen it happen with a few of my patients.”
“So you get my point.”
“Yes.” But this was about more than just his mother. It was about Whitney too, the damage she’d done. His mother and his wife had both betrayed him, committing horrendous acts against him. So he was no longer willing to trust. Not even Paige. Maybe because he saw her as just another woman wanting something from him. Whitney wanted his money, his contacts. Theresa wanted his forgiveness.
And Paige wanted the biggest thing anyone could ask for.
His love.
Chapter Eighteen
“Thank you for dinner,” Paige said as they strolled b
ack to her place. It was full dark now, and despite the fact that it had been a relatively warm day for January, the night had a definite chill. “It was even better than I imagined.”
“It was my pleasure.”
And it was true. Paige had asked tough questions and made him think about stuff he’d rather forget, but he liked that she wasn’t afraid to challenge him. He liked that she cared enough to take the risk of pushing him past his comfort zone. He liked how comfortable it felt to walk beside her, even when they didn’t say much at all. He liked her smile, her fragrance, the color of her eyes.
He couldn’t think of a single thing he didn’t like about her. Apart from her relation to his soon-to-be ex-wife, that was.
Noticing when she tucked her hands into the sleeves of her sweater, he asked, “Are you cold?”
“A little.”
He reached out to touch her fingertips. “You’re freezing.” Stopping, he slid both her hands between his palms and rubbed them for warmth.
Her chocolate eyes seemed to grow darker. “That feels nice.” Her voice was low and husky. “Really nice.”
Despite the danger that touching her posed to his self-control, he didn’t let go of her hand as they started walking again.
He couldn’t help but relish the feel of her so close to him, the sound of her voice as they small-talked about nothing earth-shattering or deep, the kinds of things they wouldn’t even remember the next day. But he knew he would recall the peacefulness of it, even in the midst of the sparks that kept shooting off between them.
All too soon, they were back at her condo. He wasn’t done yet. He wanted more. Being with Paige was so good. So right, despite everything.
She turned at her door and let go of his hand to take out her key and put it in the lock. She smiled at him. “Thank you again for dinner.”
He wanted to beg her to let him in. Wanted to beg her to let him love her. Tonight. Tomorrow.
Forever.
Working to shake off the crazy thoughts, he said, “Good night,” then forced himself to back up.
