Can't Hardly Breathe Page 18

  If she wanted to stay with him, he'd offer the family money. An obscene amount, if necessary. He would empty his savings. Anything to keep her.

  Couldn't keep your mom. Couldn't keep the friends who died in battle. You think this will be any different?

  The pain in his chest only worsened.

  Vandercamp's expression brightened at the same time Daniel caught a whiff of his favorite scent. He whipped around. If he'd been standing, he would have stumbled back. Thea's dark curls tumbled to her waist. The sides were pinned back, revealing delicate earlobes pierced by silver roses. She wore a pretty top that fit her pinup body to perfection, and short shorts that revealed glorious mile-long legs. Cowgirl boots only added to her appeal.

  Tonight her nails were yellow. She was hopeful. Hopeful--for Vandercamp.

  Would the guy get to see her tattoo? Her exquisite curves?

  Daniel bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.

  Never had Thea looked more like a living doll. The only thing he didn't like, besides her nail color? A thick layer of makeup masked her freckles.

  Hell, maybe the makeup was for the best. The freckles were his and his alone. They set every inch of him on fire.

  Would she make Vandercamp laugh tonight? Charm and enchant the bastard?

  Her eyes remained downcast during Daniel's inspection, but it wasn't long before she gathered her courage and looked up. At him, not Vandercamp. He wanted to cheer. And then he wanted to moan. Sizzling awareness arced between them.

  "You look..." he began.

  "Amazing," Vandercamp interjected.

  Understatement. "Amazing" didn't do her justice.

  She cast her gaze to her date, causing Daniel's hands to fist. He could flatten the vet with a single punch...but then he'd have to watch Thea's features darken with horror.

  "Thank you," she said, and walked around Daniel. She stopped and backtracked, her brow furrowed. "I've been meaning to ask. Has anyone called about the reception position?"

  He gritted his teeth. "I haven't set up any interviews." A misleading answer, yes. But the truth? Also yes. She didn't need to know there'd been interest. She'd try to get rid of him, and she'd stop saving the money she so desperately needed.

  All about the money, he told himself. Had nothing to do with his feelings.

  "Dang. Okay." She brushed her fingers across Princess's fur as she walked away, but she might as well have palmed Daniel's length.

  Sweat beaded on his brow. Do not touch her. Do not yank her against you.

  The good-looking couple strode out the door, out of sight, but Daniel's hunger only increased.

  "Well, well. If it isn't the man who stole my job."

  The voice came from the door Thea had just vacated. Holly. The sister. The girl who had never deigned to speak to him until now. She'd picked the wrong time. "Had you actually done any work, I'd agree. Since I had to pick up where you never started, I'd say I'm the man who finally did your job."

  She flinched, as if no one had ever dared feed her a taste of her own medicine. Then she flipped him off.

  "So mature." He placed Princess on the floor and filled her bowl from the box of food he kept inside the cabinet above the desk. "Did someone put on her big-girl panties today?"

  "Someone is about to find his big-girl panties wedged permanently in the crack of his ass."

  "And now, in the midst of her hissy fit, she spits out threats she can't possibly enforce," he told Princess. "Do you think she's...you know...so dumb she could throw herself on the ground and miss?"

  Princess was too busy inhaling her dinner to respond.

  "Dumb! I am not dumb." Holly stepped toward him as she drew back her fist. But she caught herself midway and stopped. "You aren't welcome here. You need to go."

  "And you certainly aren't smart. Otherwise you'd be nice to your sister."

  She scowled up at him. "Is this a bonding moment? Because I'd like to pass."

  "Then why are you still here?"

  "To make sure you quit."

  "Why would I quit? I promised your sister I'd help out for the next three weeks."

  Holly crossed her arms over her middle, almost as if she were--no, impossible--but...almost as if she wanted to protect herself from an emotional blow. "Why did you promise her, huh?"

  "Because I like her," he said softly. "We're..." Well, hell. There was no way around it, was there? "We're friends."

  The girl bristled for no apparent reason. "Do you usually violate your friends with your eyes?"

  Wow. Okay. How to answer that?

  Needing a moment, he petted Princess behind the ears. She finished her meal and trotted to her pillow under the counter, where she curled into a ball and promptly fell asleep. If only it were that easy for him.

  "She's taken, you know," Holly said, a tremor in her voice. "She's still in love with her ex-husband. He's awesome. The best thing to ever happen to her. He wants her back, and he'll get her."

  The guy might want her back. Check that. The guy definitely wanted her back--who wouldn't?--but she wasn't in love with him. Daniel had held Thea in his arms as she'd told him about her ex-husband's infidelity. He'd heard hurt, shame and self-recrimination in her voice, but not love.

  He straightened and faced Holly straight on. Tread carefully. Do not piss off Thea by spanking the hell out of her little sister. "You're wrong. But then, you don't really know your sister. She reaches out to you, and you ignore her or insult her. Those are your only settings."

  Her eyes--so like Thea's--widened.

  Tread care--Oh, who cared. In about an hour, he was going to lose custody of Princess. He would have to play nice with her owners and maybe even smile when they called her Splenda.

  Then he would spend the rest of the evening speculating about what was happening between Thea and Vandercamp, and would probably end up blackout drunk right alongside Brock.

  "You can't talk to me like that," Holly said.

  "Oh, but you can talk to me like that?"

  "You're an adult," she spat at him. "You can handle it."

  "So can you. You're old enough to know better, so act like it. And cut your sister some slack. I've never seen a woman work so hard to please a less deserving person."

  "You have no idea what's happened between the two of us. No idea what she did to me!"

  "Did she murder your best friend? Steal your boyfriend? Run over your dog?" He put just enough derision in his tone to piss off a saint. "Did she burn your favorite collection of bubble chews?"

  Holly--far from a saint--took the bait. "She left me, you bastard! She abandoned me. There. Are you happy now?" She threw the words at him as if they were weapons. "I needed her and she...she... You know what? Screw you! You've noticed my settings, well, I've noticed yours, too. You only want what's new and exciting, and you forget the one who's waiting for you. The one who's good for you, who would treat you like a king!"

  "No one is waiting for me," he told her, but there was a strange churning in his gut.

  "And that just proves how stupid you are."

  Enough! "Grow up, little girl. You're a hypocrite. You accuse your sister of abandoning you, but what have you done to her? That's right. You've abandoned her."

  She huffed and puffed like the big bad wolf. "You don't know what you're talking about." Then she spun, ran away, and--damn it--a whimper escaped her before she was out of range.

  He almost went after her. Not to comfort her. There was no way she'd accept comfort from him. To explain a few things about Thea. Abandonment wasn't in her wheelhouse. She'd left for college. She'd gotten married. Holly had somehow equated the two with my sister doesn't love me anymore. And Thea had, too. She clearly carried a boatload of guilt about it.

  He was also curious about the woman Holly thought was waiting for him. Couldn't be Thea. He'd offered his best, and she'd turned him down flat, choosing to be with Vandercamp and Hillcrest instead.

  In the end, he stayed put. Holly's problems weren't his con
cern, and he wasn't going to interfere.

  Daniel picked up Princess and sat on his chair, glaring at the front door, daring the family to return for his--their--dog.

  Everyone was getting a happily-ever-after. Except him.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  DOROTHEA SAT ACROSS from Brett at Two Farms, Strawberry Valley's only "five-star" restaurant, according to the owner. Try three and a half! Overhead, an antler chandelier flickered to mimic candlelight. Around them, walls were nothing but retractable black panels. Not that they had much privacy. Their waitress had banged into the panels every time she'd come over, causing the gap between them to widen.

  Now the prying eyes of other guests watched Dorothea and Brett interact. And that wasn't even the worst part! Upon their arrival, an earthquake had shaken the building, rattling the dishes, and Dorothea's only thought had been: if the end of the world comes, I want to be with Daniel.

  A thought she had to ignore as Brett explained the meaning of Dutch treat. Basically, he would pay for his food and she would pay for hers. Anything they shared, they would split in the middle. It ruined the he'll do anything to have me vibe. But then, he'd selected a restaurant in the heart of Strawberry Valley. He wasn't afraid to show her off, as if she was a prize, so how could she complain?

  Daniel looks at me like I'm a prize. Like he'll die without me.

  A lie. Only a lie.

  Seeing ain't believin', Grandma Ellie used to say. Believin' is believin'.

  As they sipped wine--thirty dollars a bottle, whimper--Brett asked her about the inn, and she asked him about his veterinary practice. They kept up a steady back-and-forth chatter, and she soon discovered he had a dry wit underneath all his cragginess. A cragginess she suspected he used as a shield to protect himself from emotional harm.

  When she attempted to gently lower his shield with talk of his past, he shut her down with a firm "That part of my life is off-limits."

  "No problem," she said, and she meant it. The loss of Rose and Dorothea's inability to have more children without a one in a million miracle was never up for discussion, either. "Trust me, I understand."

  Her words took him aback, as if he'd never heard them before. "I'm sorry if I was rude. It's just, every time I discuss the past, I feel like I'm reliving it."

  "I understand that, too."

  They shared a small smile.

  Their food arrived a short while later.

  Brett dug into his chicken potpie, saying, "Will you miss Princess or will you be happy to see her go?"

  Confusion struck. "Why would I miss her? Where's she going?"

  "Oh, did I forget to mention her owners have been found? They're picking her up at the inn this evening."

  Poor Daniel. Whether he'd admit it or not, he'd grown to love that dog. And so had Dorothea. She adored the way Daniel kissed and cuddled the little darling. Adored the fact that he sometimes even cooed at her but usually talked to her as if she were a human. The last few days, the inn had been more than an inn; it had been a home.

  He must be sick with sorrow. And oh, crap, Dorothea had just left him there to deal with the pain on his own.

  The urge to go to him, to go to him now, overwhelmed her, and there was no fighting it.

  "I'm so sorry, Brett, but I can't stay here." She folded her napkin and riffled through her wallet. After a quick calculation in her head--fifteen for the wine, ten for the Stroganoff, and thank the good Lord this wasn't a legit five-star place or she'd probably have to double the amount--she said, "Twenty-five should cover my portion, yes?" Twenty-five hard-earned dollars.

  Dutch treat was fair and practical, but it kind of sucked butt.

  Next time, she'd insist on eating at the inn.

  Live and learn.

  "You're going to Daniel." He leaned back in his chair, his expression inscrutable. "You told me you weren't seeing him."

  "I'm not." She wanted to add, "It's complicated," but that would imply something was going on--it was--which would get back to Mr. Porter, which would violate the secret she'd never agreed to keep but would anyway, because anything else would hurt Daniel. "He's my friend."

  "So what does that make me?"

  "A very nice man," she said in a soft, quiet voice. She'd never rejected a date before. But as decent as Brett was, as handsome as he was, he did nothing for her. She'd known it the moment she'd stepped into the lobby, and her gaze had sought Daniel. She'd hoped attraction to Brett would grow, but her body had no desire to wait. Only Daniel would do.

  That didn't mean she was going to date him. His we-must-stay-a-secret rule would still trample her hard-won self-esteem. But she wasn't going to date Brett, either. They had no future. She wasn't a prize to him. She was a distraction.

  There was hope for John!

  "I'm so sorry," she repeated. She stood, walked around the table and kissed his cheek. "I wish you all the best."

  He nodded stiffly, but he didn't say a word to stop her as she rushed from the restaurant.

  The sky was filled with cumulonimbus clouds, or thunderstorm clouds. They were tall, wide and heavy, shaped into clumps; if they floated down and settled over the land, they could pass for snowcapped mountains. The tops were smooth and flat with points at each side, like an alien spaceship had landed, and the bases were dark and ragged as precipitation was produced. Rain was possible tonight. Actually, rain was highly probable. Hail and tornadoes were possible.

  Since she'd ridden in Brett's sedan, she had to walk the four-block stretch to the inn. Not usually a problem for her. In brand-new cowgirl boots? A huge freaking problem. Blisters had already formed on her pinkie toe and heel.

  The chilly breeze caused goose bumps to sprout over every inch of exposed skin. She should have worn a jacket, but she hadn't wanted to cover up her new outfit. She looked good, dang it.

  As she marched forward, her head high, she felt as if shackles of an unchangeable past were falling off her. Her dad's rejection. Jazz's infidelity. Neither was her fault. Neither was her shame.

  Next, shackles of unreasonable ideals and expectations concerning her appearance fell. Before she'd known the perceived ideal of beauty, she'd been happy with her appearance. Why had she cared what anyone else thought? Happiness wasn't found in other people, especially people she didn't know or even like; happiness was found inside herself.

  Finally, shackles of worthlessness fell. Her worth wasn't based on someone else's actions. How a person treated her did not speak of her value but of theirs.

  I'm Dorothea Freaking Mathis. There's not another one out there. I'm one of a kind.

  A raindrop splattered her forehead, the opening act. Thunder boomed, and the clouds released their bounty. A deluge poured over her, quickly soaking her hair and clothes. Laughing, she twirled. I'm free!

  Then her teeth began chattering, ice seeming to sheen her skin and absorb into her bones. She rushed the rest of the way to the inn.

  A car she didn't recognize was parked up front. Princess's family? Dorothea's newfound exhilaration received a quick kick in the nuts. As she entered, the bell tinkled, but no one noticed her, giving her time to scan the lobby.

  A husband and wife in their early thirties stood off to the side, talking to a stone-faced Daniel. Two little kids, probably under the age of ten, sat on the floor, playing with an excited Princess. Oh, yes. The family.

  "--morning when I made my coffee," the mom was saying, "I'd tell the kids Splenda makes everything better. So when we decided we were ready to take on the responsibility of a pet, they begged us to name her Splenda, because she made everything better." A tear rolled down her cheek. "Thank you for keeping her safe for us."

  "Why isn't she wearing a collar? Or chipped?" There was no emotion in Daniel's voice. He looked cold and hard, nothing like the flirtatious charmer she'd come to know.

  "Anytime we go out, we make sure she's wearing a collar. Someone could have taken it off her to use her as..." The dad coughed into his hand, probably to hide his tears. "Afterward, she
could have escaped. Or, if no one found her, whatever attacked her could have gone for her throat."

  "We'll get her chipped, Mr. Porter," the mom said. "I promise you."

  Daniel faced the children and finally spotted Dorothea. Their gazes locked. For a moment, his mask fell away, and it was like a bandage had been ripped from a festering wound. Raw agony obliterated his calm facade.

  She experienced a visceral reaction and covered her mouth with her hand, afraid of what she might say if she didn't.

  The couple noticed her, too, and introductions were made; their names never registered. She moved to Daniel's side and twined her fingers with his. He held on to her as if she were the only life raft on board a sinking ship.

  "The storm is going to worsen and last for several hours," she said, and offered the family a room, free of charge.

  For the safety of their kids and Princess--Splenda?--they agreed and thanked her profusely.

  As soon as they were settled in their room, Dorothea locked the front door and flipped the sign in the window to Closed. She led Daniel up the stairs to her private chambers.

  Outside, the storm continued to rage. The barrage of raindrops hit the tin roof, creating a melody she usually found soothing and even magical. She pushed Daniel onto the edge of the bed, and he sat without protest.

  "I'm going to make you a cup of golden milk." Something her mom used to make her whenever she'd come home from school crying because someone had called her an ugly name.

  No response.

  No matter. She bustled around the kitchen, gathering turmeric and ginger powder, cinnamon, nutmeg and cardamom. After measuring the proper amounts, she mixed the spices into a pan of hot coconut milk and honey, then added half a teaspoon of virgin coconut oil to enrich the flavor.

  "How was your date?" he asked. Once again, there was no hint of emotion in his voice.

  "Brett and I...we decided we're better off as friends."

  Some of the tension drained from him. "You mean you decided."

  She frowned. How did he know?

  "Did he make you pay for your food?" he asked.

  Again she wondered how he could know. "He did. Why?"

  "I read people. He's a penny-pincher. I'm not. If you were mine, I'd pay for everything. It would be my honor. My privilege."