Lifetime Risk (Pelican Bay Security Book 7)

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  “Listen, Josie, I understand you’re upset, but don’t worry. We’ll figure it out. Okay?” Nate sounds so sure of himself and promising that I nod even though I can’t see it. There is no easy fix to this.

  I breathe deeply once, trying to calm myself and think of the Oreos, and then agree before we say quick goodbyes.

  “You know what we should have done?” Katy asks, popping up from the bottom of the bakery counter where I didn’t even see her before. “Saved one of those boxes of drugs. We could have sold it on the side and made a killing.”

  “Katy!” Anessa says, shaking her head at her friend.

  It’s not the advice I want or need to hear, but it brings a smile to my face. I don’t know Katy well, but I know her enough that I should question whether she’s serious. I can’t imagine the medium height woman selling drugs, even if it meant paying the bills. But if anyone would, my money is on Katy.

  “What? It’s the truth and if Pierce raises the rent anymore, we’ll all have to get into the drug trade to pay the bills.”

  Anessa shakes her head. “Did Pierce raise the rent?”

  Katy narrows her eyes at her. “No, but he threatens.”

  “So sorry about the job, Josie,” Winnie says, not giving Katy any extra attention.

  I take a bite out of the cupcake and sit quietly chewing for a moment. “Ugh… I don’t know what I’ll do. Nate says don’t worry about it, we’ll figured out, but I don’t know how.”

  Winnie nods like she understands. “If I were you, I’d let the big guy handle it. Life always works out somehow.”

  “I can’t let Nate help me out when we’ve just met and started dating.” I’m already asking him for so much. I can’t add more. My luggage cart is full. Any more baggage will topple it over.

  Winnie laughs. “He’ll enjoy getting to save the day.”

  “Oh.”

  Annessa sighs. “I argued with Bennett for so long about whether I could handle it on my own, and it was stupid. I wish I would have let him take care of things in the beginning. Sometimes we need help in life and it doesn’t make it less or anything.”

  Katy looks at her dreamily, nodding her head. “If I had a man offer to pay for all my bills, you can bet I would take him up on it. Whatever his credit card could handle.”

  “I fell for Bennett so hard and fast. I swear it happened the first time I met him. It was fate.”

  I pull off the bottom of my cupcake and shove it in my mouth, staring at the woman. “He hit me with his truck.” Was that fate?

  “From what I hear, Huxley almost hit Winnie with his truck. And look at them.”

  “Don’t give the men any more ideas. Next thing you know they’ll be knocking women over with vehicles all over Pelican Bay,” Katy says, rearranging a few trays of cookies and bagels in the top row of the rack.

  “Fate is fate.”

  “Not when it’s vehicular manslaughter,” Katy says, wiping her eyes.

  Anessa shakes her head. “Katy, how can you be such a romantic and such a cynic?

  “It’s easy. First, I remember what I want my life to be and then I realize what life is actually like,” Katy replies.

  The two women go back to squabbling back and forth over whether Katy needs a man in her life and I study my cupcake, hoping Nate’s cameras can’t see into my brain to figure out what I’m thinking. It would be so easy to let him take care of things, and I’ve had a few moments where that was my entire plan, but letting go is a lot harder than people realize. Being the damsel in distress looks better on paper than in real life.

  I just came out of a relationship where I trusted the man with everything and he left me for another woman, literally out in the cold. There’s no way I can allow that to happen again for me or Emma’s sake. I’d love to believe Nate is the one for me, but I’m not sure if I’ve gotten better at reading people. I certainly haven’t done such a good job in the past.

  But I want to be because a lot of what Anessa says rings true. I’ve fallen for Nate hard. Like way hard. He could be the one I see myself spending the rest of my life waking up next to every single morning. I promised the next time I dated someone I would take it slowly, but everything with him happened so fast. Nate is everything I dreamed about having in a man when I was married, and I want to stick him into our family like superglue and make sure he can never get away.

  After a quick car switch at the Pelican Bay Security office where I managed to swap cars with Nate before he saw me, I picked up Emma at daycare. Wanting to get us home for the night so I could continue on with my pity-fest. Emma’s car seat buckle is difficult, and today is no different as I work to jab the metal into the bottom connector. The five-point harness might be safer for children, but does a number on parents’ nerves.

  “We’re going home to get some dinner,” I say to Emma, trying to maintain an upbeat personality. I faked it for the last few hours, sitting at the bakery and listening to the general chatter of bakery customers. The time to go came upon me quickly. I needed to leave, pick up Emma, and come home to face the fact that tomorrow I didn’t have a job to go to anymore.

  And Emma doesn’t have a daycare provider. They weren’t too happy when I explained I needed a few more weeks of time off until I found a new job. There are four more days left on our contact and then I’m sure when I find a new job, I’ll need to locate a new daycare center too.

  The drive home is congested — at least what we consider congested in this area — and takes longer than I’d like. This end of Pelican Bay has seen growth in the last ten years and the streets weren’t planned out to handle so much traffic. It makes even the few cars I’m sharing the road with feel like an all-out traffic jam.

  Nate parked in a spot close to my building’s entrance and I park beside him. Even though he already knows I lost my job, dread still fills me. Now I have to see him in person, and he’ll want me to explain why I’m such a screw-up in person. I’ve never felt like such a loser. Why would someone as good as Nate stay with me? I’m a single mom who can’t even hold down a job.

  The apartment smells like an Italian grandmother stopped by and opened a restaurant. Emma wiggles to get out of my hands and I set her down, watching her trollop away in search of toys.

  “You’re cooking dinner?” I ask Nate, when he steps out of the kitchen holding a wooden spoon with red sauce dripping from the end.

  He smiles, and his eyes travel me up and down. It wasn’t that he was checking out my outfit, but since he knows the drama I’ve had this morning, I’m more concerned he’s checking to make sure I have all my body parts. “I making my famous spaghetti. Extra cheese.”

  He knows I love cheese. “Why?”

  I don’t know why I ask because there’s a million reasons he can do something nice like this. He’s a good guy. He’s cooked meals for me before and I’ve never questioned those motives. But tonight is off. This is a pity meal and I don’t want Nate’s pity.

  I don’t want anyone’s pity ever again.

  “Because I’m taking care of you, Josie,” he says like the answer is obvious.

  In the kitchen he stands by the stove, stirring a pot of red bubbling sauce.

  “You don’t get it, Nate. I don’t need a man to take care of us. Everything was fine before you hit me.”

  Let’s not forget I wouldn’t have needed the time off work if he had paid attention in the parking lot that day rather than staring at me. It’s his fault any of us are in this mess.

  “Josie, I thought we were past this?”

  I huff. He’s right, I thought we were too, but it’s been hiding in my subconscious, and today we’re going to fight about it. It had to happen sooner or later.

  “Why are you being this way?” he asks, giving his attention back to the pot on the stove.

  Isn’t it obvious? “We didn’t need your help before and I don’t need it now. I don’t get how you cooking dinner is going to solve my problems.”

  Nate turns to me with an incredulous
expression written on his face. “Who said spaghetti dinner had to solve all your problems? I just thought I’d feed you.”

  “I don’t want you to feed me.”

  Nate rolls his eyes and goes back to stirring. “Actually, you kind of do.”

  “I do not. I did fine on my own before you and I will after you.”

  Nate’s face twitches and his head tilts to the side. Annoyed. He lifts the spoon from the sauce, tapping it on the side of the pan twice before putting it in the little spoon holder in the middle of the stove. When he turns to face me, our eyes connect.

  “Let me tell you something, Josie. I thought you’d gotten this by now, but we mis-communicated. Any woman I’m going to call mine will let me take care of her.”

  My mouth falls open in shock but he holds up a finger to silence me.

  “Now, if she wants to go to work, and that’s important to her, fine. I prefer she didn’t, but whatever. My woman has a bad day and I want to make her dinner to help her feel better? I don’t expect her to get on my case about trying to be a nice guy. She says thanks.”

  A second of silence spills between us and I don’t comment, so Nate keeps talking.

  “I mean you could pay me back later… In the bedroom. And that would be okay, but sometimes people do nice things for one another because they want to.”

  “I’m not your woman,” I spit out.

  Nate’s eyes widen. “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not and I never will be. I won’t be anyone’s woman ever again. I’m taking care of myself.” The only person who won’t let me down in life is me. There’s no one else I can depend on and I won’t let my heart get hurt by another guy ever again.

  Nate and I stand off as our eyes glare at one another, neither of us willing to give in.

  He cracks first. “Fine, that’s the way you want it? To be alone?

  I nod. Being alone has become my mantra. It’s not an easy one to give up. Why accept help now when I’ve done such a wonderful job of screwing everything up on my own? There’s no point in bringing Nate on my spiral downward. He still has a chance of a normal life and he should get to go out there and live it without all the added weight of my problems.

  13

  He dusts his hands off on the top of his pants and turns the oven burner to low. “Give the sauce another five minutes, top off the noodles, and stick it in the oven for twenty-five. I like to top it with cheese.”

  “Where are you going?” I ask as he stomps past the kitchen table.

  “I’m letting you take care of yourself. Good luck, Josie,” he says, looking back once before opening the apartment door and walking out.

  The door bangs hard against the frame and Emma cries out in shock. I turn to where she sits in the living room, watching the whole scene as tears form in her eyes.

  Great. I’m off to a wonderful start being my own woman.

  “Give me just a minute, Emma.” Not listening, she continues yelling in the middle of the room because the television show I turned on to entertain her switched to something new. I don’t know what that child has against Pirates, but she does not like them.

  The toaster pops and I reach behind me to grab two slices. They’re hot and burn the tips of my fingers. “Ouch,” I fumble with them, dropping one piece on the floor. “You asshole.”

  The toast doesn’t seem offended at my choice of vocabulary as I drop it in the trash. I guess it’s off the menu.

  The eggs in the pan on top of the stove crackle, and when I use the spatula to flip them over, most of them stick to the bottom of pan becoming a burnt brown crisp that will need to soak for days.

  Why was this so easy yesterday morning and so hard today?

  It’s a question I don’t want to answer. Today is different because it’s missing one of the key components. He was also missing from my bed last night. It’s a hard adjustment when you go from sleeping alone, to sleeping with someone wonderful, to sleeping alone. Not having Nate here doesn’t feel right or natural.

  “It’s cereal for breakfast, Emma. Come on,” I try to coax her to the table while dropping the scorched pan in the sink. She doesn’t care at all.

  I pour a bit of the sugary cereal I vowed I’d never feed my children if I had any into a bowl and top it off with milk, setting it in front of her highchair.

  “Emma, come here. We need to eat.”

  It’s not that I’ve anywhere special I need to be today, but I’ve got things to do. I have jobs to apply for and even though I’ve already paid for the daycare today since they wouldn’t let me out of my contract with them, I’m keeping Emma home. Not having a job wasn’t a good enough excuse. I considered putting her in for the last four days, but then they called and said they’d given our opening to another client so they didn’t have room. How can a daycare kick us out but still charge us? Something seems wrong with that racket.

  Emma still hasn’t moved from her spot on the floor, so I walk over and pick her up. She hits my back with her tiny hands, complaining about missing the princesses.

  I fight with her to get her in the highchair as her feet kick out. She pulls on my hair and I struggle. Her foot kicks and connects with the bowl of cereal, flipping it and sending the milk and sugared coated marshmallows over the both of us.

  “Emma!” I scold, putting her back on the floor and doing my best to stop up the milk before it gets to the carpet. They don’t make spoiled milk candles for a reason. It will stink up the place if it’s allowed to stay in the carpet. No one wants to wake up to that in the morning.

  A second stream of milk puddles as it falls from the top of the table, and I rush off to the bathroom to get towels to soak it up.

  With one hand holding the towels, trying to get as much milk as possible without crunching the cereal into the fabric, I take ten deep breaths while watching Emma stare at the television in search of her princesses.

  Even with my ankle healed and no place to be this morning, I still suck at this adult thing.

  My heart hurts and not just because I worry I can’t make it on my own. It’s also pounding because yesterday I sent away one of the best people I’ve ever met in my life. What’s so wrong with the fact someone wanted to take care of me? Am I so jaded I can’t ask for a little help from someone?

  “Emma!” I yell, as she knocks off the two television remotes from the coffee table.

  “Princess!” she yells back. Well, it sounds like “pin trees,” but she gets the point across.

  I stalk to her and grab her up from the floor, carrying her into her bedroom to change her clothes. “You don’t get any princesses today.” Who wants to watch some beautiful skinny chick with great hair fall for a super-rich prince who lives in a castle with servants to do all their laundry? It sets an unrealistic precedent.

  Emma looks at me and her face falls as her eyes narrow and her lips pucker. She’s unhappy about my decision.

  I feel bad. It’s not her fault my life is a mess. Every choice that got us to where we are right now is one I made. This problem is one of my making. I pat her on the back, taking off her milk-soaked shirt. “It’s okay, baby. You can watch all the princesses you want in a minute.”

  “Princesses?” she asks.

  Screw it. “We’ll spend all day with the princesses.”

  I’m sure my mother brought her the Disney princess collection DVDs before she was out of the womb. If Emma wants a day watching the ladies in pretty dresses fall for their princes, I’m okay with that.

  I’m just tired of always needing someone else. First, I had my parents, and then I moved in with my husband, and for a few months Emma and I were here. We were doing okay on our own and then out of the blue Nate barreled into my life causing mass destruction and chaos. He’s a wonderful man and a great guy. I was stupid to let him go, but I can’t continue to run to somebody else every time I find myself in a little of trouble.

  At some point I have to stand up, accept my life, and prove — not only to myself but to the world —
that Josie Summerton can make it on her own.

  I’m going to do this. I’m going to get my shit together and provide a stable home for Emma and me. And when that time comes, only then will I consider looking for someone new to share my life with. By then I’m sure Nate will have found a better woman than me to make lots of babies with. The thought threatens to tear open my heart, but I refuse to give it time to fester. I can only hope that by then I’ll be able to find someone like Nate. Not as good as Nate because he is a class of his own, but maybe half as good. Even half of Nate would be better than most of the men in the entire world.

  My phone pings with a notification from the kitchen table where I left it, and my first response is to jump up from the floor where I’m organizing Emma’s toys and grab it. But I don’t. Yes, I hope it’s Nate, but even if it is, I won’t rush over there and beg him to take me back. I have standards.

  It’s been two days since he walked out. You don’t leave a woman waiting and then text her out of the blue. So if Nate is my text message, he can stay there.

  Emma and I are doing fine.

  Perfectly fine.

  Okay, to be 100 percent honest, we’ve been better. I may have survived the last two days, but they sucked. Even if Nate no longer wants to see me — which I’m fine with — we’ve been cooped up indoors. I, however, have applied to fifteen jobs. It may not seem like a lot, but there are not many jobs in this area. It wasn’t something I thought about when I moved to Pelican Bay since I wasn’t planning to get fired.

  I drop the last of Emma’s dolls at the bottom of the row so her purple dress was in the group with all the other purple dress dolls. It’s a rather unbalanced rainbow I’ve created with each doll stacked in order of their color-coordinated outfit. She has no blue dolls and only one little girl not wearing a dress. It’s time as a mother I work a little more variety into her playthings.

  I also need to find a hobby. Take up knitting or something. The only thing I’m excelling at now is training for an Oreo eating competition. That and tracking Nate’s phone location from his fancy app. He’s been all over town – not missing me at all.