A Safe Place

by Margaret Watson

  “Who knows what was going on in his peanut brain? The woman was half his size, and I wasn’t about to stand there and let him whale on her.” Cal leaned closer. “Anyone who picks on someone smaller or weaker is a worthless piece of trash. Trash needs to be disposed of. Like the guys who hassled Sean.”

  Cal’s eyes glittered. “The guy who tried to crush you?” His voice dropped. “I would have done the same thing to him.”

  “I, uh, managed by myself,” she said. “But I appreciate the sentiment.” Maybe she shouldn’t have asked about Cal’s club incident.

  “You shouldn’t have had to.” He touched her cheek, then slid his hand through her hair to cup her head. His palm was warm and strong. Huge. But his fingers were gentle. Tentative. Careful not to hold too tightly.

  His eyes darkened as they stared at each other. A hint of blond whiskers gleamed on his cheeks, and she wanted to reach up and feel them rasp against her fingers. She wanted to touch his mouth and see if it was as soft as it looked.

  Slowly, he lifted his other hand to her head. He touched her hair, rubbing his palm over the ends, then caressed her scalp. Heat rushed through her, and she swayed toward him.

  “Frankie?” he murmured, and his voice broke the spell. She backed away abruptly, and he let her go. They stared at each other for another heartbeat, before she spun around and yanked open the door.

  “Frankie, wait,” she heard him say, but she focused on the kids still bent over their homework. Not on the man behind her.

  She and Cal had been in her office less than five minutes.

  It felt as if she’d been gone for hours.

  Cal was still in there. Was he tweeting again?

  Maybe he was shaken up, too, an evil voice whispered. Maybe he’s trying to compose himself.

  Which was ridiculous. Cal knew better than to try to start something with her.

  She knew better, too.

  But he’d handled Sean perfectly. He’d made sure Sean would be safer, and did it in a way that made the boy feel good about himself. She had to respect that.

  She didn’t want to. It was easier to think of Cal as a publicity hound with the depth of a puddle. She wanted to assign him simple chores and dismiss him.

  It was one moment, she reminded herself. One time he’d stepped up. If it happened again, she’d have to rethink her opinion of him.

  Until then, he was just the guy doing community service at her place. A guy who’d even tried to bribe his way out of it.

  A guy who was sexy as hell.

  But no more than that.

  Voices rose from the computer area, and she turned to see three kids arguing over who got to use the two computers. By the time she had sorted it out, her head was pounding.

  As she watched the teens settle down, she felt Cal come up behind her.

  “Everything okay?”

  She sighed. “I put in a grant request for three more computers over two months ago. Damn DCFS is dragging their feet.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “If there was something to do, I’d be doing it,” she said, watching Jesse’s fingers fly over the keyboard while Lissy hovered, waiting her turn.

  “Well, if anyone’s ass needs kicking, I’m your man.”

  She spun around, appalled, to find him grinning.

  “I’m going to find another victim,” he said. “You’re way too easy.”

  He strolled away, and she watched him go. Easy?

  CAL FELT FRANKIE’S GAZE follow him, but he wasn’t going to look back. He’d managed to lighten things up, and that’s the way he wanted to leave it.

  What the hell had he been thinking in the office? He’d been ready to devour her.

  She hadn’t seemed interested in stopping him.

  Exactly what he needed right now—do something stupid with the woman supervising his community service, get tossed out of her teen center, go directly to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not make it to training camp.

  Not going to happen.

  He knew what was important.

  Football. It was all he had, all he knew how to do.

  Nothing could make him screw that up.

  FOR THE NEXT WEEK, Cal kept his eye on the prize. Training camp. He got to the weight room even earlier than usual, did more reps than usual. He put in his time at FreeZone, left as soon as the kids did.

  He kept his distance from Frankie, too.

  She’d gone back to her baggy pants and T-shirts. Her hair was spiky again, and the hoops were back in her ears. He could almost believe he’d imagined the business suit. But the memory of her bent over the table in that tight skirt was burned into his brain.

  He stayed out of the office. There would be no repeats of that too-intimate moment.

  Not that she showed any inclination to repeat it. She’d been distracted all week. On the phone more than normal. And she’d spent a lot of time on that laptop of hers, with the office door closed.

  Her eyes were shadowed, as if she wasn’t sleeping at night.

  As he helped another kid with homework, only a small part of his mind was on the math. The rest of him wondered what was going on with Frankie. What had taken her intense focus off the kids? What had turned her fierceness into weariness?

  He wasn’t going to try to find out. Getting closer to her was a slippery slope that could end only in disaster. No matter how hot she’d looked in that suit.

  Three more weeks. That’s all he had to survive. Then he’d be gone, and Frankie would be a distant memory.

  As he stood up to move to another kid, a basketball rolled to a stop against his foot. Angry that the thought of not seeing Frankie again depressed him so much, Cal picked up the ball and threw it back at Julio, who turned with a nod and began shooting again.

  The kid was pretty good, but basketball was all he did. He needed to diversify a little.

  Why? a tiny voice asked. Cal hadn’t diversified. He’d been as single-minded as Julio, and he’d made it.

  For a moment, Cal let himself wonder what would have happened if he’d tried something else besides football. Another sport, maybe. Or avoided athletics altogether. What would his life be like today?

  He couldn’t imagine it. And he didn’t need to. He was a star. Millions of people knew who he was. The cheers from the crowd on Sunday afternoon were all he needed.

  Three weeks. Three weeks and he’d hear those cheers again.

  The door opened and Ramon came in. He hadn’t shown up since the day the windows had been tagged, and Cal had taken that as an admission of guilt.

  What was he doing here now?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WHILE LISSY WORKED on a take-home history test, Frankie sat beside her and waited for the girl’s questions. Lissy was a smart kid, but she had no self-confidence. Frankie spent time with her almost every day.

  Today, though, she was distracted. Her gaze kept drifting to Cal as he moved from one teenager to the next, helping with math homework. Every time he stood, he winced ever so slightly. When he was standing, he often shifted from his left foot to his right, and it seemed as if he wasn’t bearing much weight on his left knee. His bad knee.

  Frankie had looked him up on the internet and seen a gruesome YouTube video from the game where he’d been injured. He’d leaped up to make an interception and had been tackled from the side. The two men had hit the ground, tangled together.

  Cal hadn’t gotten back up.

  She’d found the details of his injury, descriptions of his surgeries and status reports from the Cougars. She’d read everything and wondered if he’d be able to play football again.

  It hadn’t been snooping. He was working for her, after all, and it was her responsibility to find out as much as
possible about him. She was entrusting him with her kids.

  She’d found pictures of him at rehab, as well. The photos had been snapped with a cell phone, but they’d been clear enough to see the sweat rolling down his face and his mouth twisting with pain. Feeling like a voyeur, she’d shut down her computer.

  “I think I got them all right, Ms. Devereux,” Lissy said, and Frankie dragged her attention back to the girl.

  “Great. I knew you could do it, Lissy. You’re a smart kid. Do you have any other homework?”

  “I have to read a short story for English.”

  Frankie put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Good. Why don’t you finish that?”

  As Lissy opened another book, Cal pushed away from the table again. Because Frankie was watching for it, she saw the tiny wince when he put his weight on his left leg. Her chair scraped against the old linoleum as she stood, and the door of FreeZone opened at the same time. Ramon walked in.

  Cal intercepted him before she could. She reached them in time to hear Cal say in a low voice, “You hear what I’m saying, man?”

  “You crazy, dude,” Ramon said, holding up his hands. “You gotta chill.”

  “You better chill, too.” Cal leaned forward just enough to make Ramon retreat. “Dude.”

  Cal’s back blocked the light from the door as the man and the boy stared at each other. Then Ramon glanced at her. “I ain’t a Viper no more. Tell him, Ms. D.”

  Cal hadn’t moved. She stepped between him and Ramon, and the tension burned. “Lay off, Cal. Ramon, you go sit down.”

  Cal widened his eyes. “Ramon and I were just getting reacquainted. Right, dude?”

  “Whatever.” Ramon began to shuffle away, keeping up his baggy pants with one hand.

  Frankie held Cal’s gaze for a long moment, but he merely raised his eyebrows.

  She turned to Ramon. “Where have you been? We haven’t seen you for a week.”

  “I got stuff to do,” he said, avoiding her eyes.

  “What kind of stuff, Ramon?” she asked, dreading his answer.

  “Family stuff.” He scowled. “I ain’t gone back to the Vipers. I promised, Ms. D.”

  “Yes, you did.” She studied his expression, wondering if he knew about the graffiti. If he did, he was good at hiding it. Finally she said, “Okay, Ramon. Get started with your homework.”

  “We still good for tonight?” he asked in a low voice.

  “I’ll be there.”

  Ramon nodded, smirked at Cal, then sauntered off. Red boxers showed above his waistband, and the laces on his basketball shoes were untied. When the youth sat down at the end of a table, Cal turned his gaze on Frankie.

  “Are you going somewhere with him tonight?” he asked, his voice rising as if he thought she was insane.

  “No, I’m not.”

  He stared at her, as if expecting her to explain what Ramon had said, but she just waited. Finally he said, “Do you have a job for me, Frankie?”

  “What did you say to Ramon?”

  “I was welcoming him back.”

  “A friendly chat.” She narrowed her eyes.

  “Yep.” Cal didn’t say anything more, but she was aware of the kids watching them curiously. She grabbed Cal’s arm and dragged him to the corner of the room beyond the couches. As soon as they were far enough away to avoid being overheard, she let him go.

  “You’ve been doing a good job here,” she said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. The disappointment she didn’t want to acknowledge. “You figured out what Sean needed last week. The kids think you’re some kind of math genius. Then you went all Neanderthal on Ramon. What’s wrong with you?”

  “Neanderthal? I told him I’d be watching him. That’s it.” He rocked back on his heels. “I didn’t threaten him. Didn’t accuse him of anything. I simply pointed out that he’d been gone, and welcomed him back.”

  Frankie closed her eyes and massaged her temples. “Butt out, Cal. I’m handling Ramon and the gang thing.”

  “Sure you are.” His expression cooled. “That’s why they’re tagging you. Targeting your kids. Showing up here to talk to one of their ‘former’ members.” Cal edged closer, using his foot to shove aside a wastebasket in his way. “You’re handling it just fine.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” she said through clenched teeth. “I live in this neighborhood. I’ve been on the str—” She snapped her mouth closed, horrified at what she’d almost revealed.

  That’s what happened when you didn’t keep a tight rein on yourself.

  His gaze sharpened. “You’ve been where?”

  “Never mind. It’s not important. What I’m trying to say is I know about the real world. I have no illusions.”

  He didn’t take his gaze off her face. “That’s not what you were going to say, Frankie.”

  “It’s all you’re going to get.”

  After a long moment, he nodded. “Fair enough. I’m here because I don’t want to go to jail. You’re letting me stay because you need help. We both know where we stand.”

  His expression changed to the one he’d worn when he arrived at FreeZone. Impersonal. Unruffled. His celebrity face.

  The private person she’d seen earlier had vanished. It was as if the man who’d been angry about the graffiti, worried about Sean, having a serious conversation with one of her kids, had never existed.

  All that was left was his public persona. The football star.

  “I’ll see if anyone needs help with their math.”

  He moved past her toward the kids, but she grabbed his wrist. It was thick and muscular, and the fine hairs on his arm tickled her palm.

  He glanced down at her hand, then slowly met her gaze.

  She let him go. “Cal, I… Never mind.” She closed her eyes. “Math help is great. Thank you.”

  He strolled over to the kids without looking back, then paused with his hands on his hips. His chest rose and fell too fast.

  The kids had been watching them, but when Cal stood there, motionless, they all bent their heads to their books. Even Ramon.

  Finally, Cal glanced at the textbooks open on the table and sat down next to Alysha. He said something to the girl, and they began poring over the page together.

  Half an hour later, when homework time was almost over, the kids had calmed down. Frankie wished she could say the same for herself.

  As she worked with the teens, she always knew where Cal was. Whenever she glanced at him, he was listening to what a kid was saying, explaining something in a low voice or scribbling on a piece of paper.

  Willing. Helpful. Apparently knowledgeable about math.

  Impersonal.

  He didn’t have conversations about anything other than math, as far as she could tell. He didn’t joke with the kids or even look at them as if they were individuals.

  He was doing his job.

  That was it.

  All because of her slip of the tongue. And her refusal to tell him what she’d been about to say.

  She didn’t tell anyone about her past. Her brothers knew some of it, but even they didn’t know everything.

  Now that past had come back to bite her, and there was no way she was sharing it with Cal.

  For the first time that she could remember, she wasn’t enjoying her afternoon with the kids. She wanted the day to be over.

  She glanced at her watch. “Okay, everyone. Time for snacks.”

  Chairs scraped as the teens pushed away from the table, and the thuds of textbooks closing filled the air. Alysha and Julio went into the back for the milk, carrots and fruit. Harley opened the cupcakes. Tyrone got the glasses and napkins.

  Cal glanced at her from the other side of a table. “You
’ve got a well-oiled machine.”

  “It’s good for them to have responsibilities.”

  “Yeah.” He shoved his hands into his pockets.

  The silence grew heavy, and she wondered what he was thinking. “Help yourself to a cupcake,” she finally said. “Or some fruit or vegetables.”

  “I’ll wait until the kids have had theirs.”

  “Trust me, there are enough cupcakes to go around.”

  As Cal strolled over to the case, Lissy passed him, heading toward Frankie. He said something to her, and she started, then juggled the cupcake she was holding.

  Lissy glanced at Frankie, then said in a low voice, “They’re usually a lot better. But they’re still pretty.”

  Ouch.

  Lissy had been practically whispering, but sound echoed in the huge room. And she was right.

  Today, the cupcakes were ordinary. She’d been too distracted to concentrate at the bakery lately. Even her never-fail designs had deserted her.

  A week had gone by since her confrontation with Bascombe, and she hadn’t heard a thing from him. She’d give him a few more days, then she’d start researching some local reporters.

  As the kids ate, Frankie gathered scraps of paper left on the tables. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Cal wait until all the kids had taken their snack, then he selected a cupcake. Blue-and-violet piping crisscrossed the top of the icing.

  Really boring.

  He took a big bite as he headed toward her, then stopped dead. He stared at the dark brown cake, white icing and stupid piping for a moment, before taking another bite.

  “Exceptional cupcakes,” he said when he reached her. One more bite and it was almost gone. “You know how to bake.” His words were polite. Well mannered. He could have been speaking to anyone.

  “Glad you like them.”

  “I do. You ever think of setting up one of those fancy cupcake shops?”

  “Nope. I bake in order to keep FreeZone open. If I had my own bakery, FreeZone would disappear.”

  “Maybe—”