Bourbon Street Blues (12 page)

“A bay window at the front of the house.”

“Cracked.”

She dug in her purse and came up with an old, tarnished brass key ring. “I’m going in.”

“Are you nuts?”

Finally she stopped, yanked her arm free and whirled around to face him. “Why are you still here? You gave me a ride, you apologized. Again. Go away.”

Frowning down at her, he said, “And leave you alone here? I don’t think so.”

“I don’t need your help and I don’t want you here.”

“You’ve made that clear enough,” he admitted. “But I’m still not letting you go strolling through this death trap on your own.”

“It’s not a death trap,” she snapped. All the old house needed was someone to love it again. It needed to become a
home
again. To have laughter and shouts echoing through its rooms.

It was as if the old house was calling to her, asking her to rescue it from the silence.

And that’s just what she was going to do.

“It’s
mine
.”

She hurried up the cracked sidewalk, stepped onto the porch and grinned at the sound of her heels on the worn boards. Turning the key in the lock, she opened the door and stepped into the shadowy cool.

“Holly.”

She glanced back at him over her shoulder. Her excitement at finding this old jewel was only slightly marred by knowing that Parker would never be a part of her life. That they would never sit together in the big old living room and listen to the sounds of children clattering up and down the staircase.

But when she’d first conceived this dream, he hadn’t been a part of it. The fact that he still wasn’t didn’t change anything, did it?

“Don’t look so worried, Parker. I’m not crazy. I’m just
home
.”

“Why would you want to buy this old place? It’s huge, for one thing, and falling down for another.”

“It can be fixed,” she said, nodding as she walked through the main hall and stepped into the empty, cavernous living room. She ran one hand across the peeling paint on the wall and smiled as if looking at an original Gauguin. “It just needs to be loved.”

“But why’s it so important to you? Why this house? Why now?”

P
ARKER LISTENED
to Holly talk as he followed her through the house. Her voice rang with excitement as she outlined her plans for a permanent home for foster children.

“Kids deserve homes, Parker,” she said wistfully, her gaze moving over the walls, the scarred floors, the broken windows.

And he knew she was seeing the house as it could be, not as it was.

“I didn’t have that,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice belied by the pain in her eyes. “I never had the feeling that I belonged. That I mattered. As soon as I was old enough, I split. Went out on my own and made my own family.”

“Holly…”

She shook her head and gave him a small smile. “Don’t. That wasn’t a bid for sympathy. It was a long time ago and I’m over it.”

He didn’t think so, but doubted she’d want to hear that at the moment.

“But the kids who are out there today, waiting, hoping that someone will want them…they matter.”

Her voice was soft but firm, and he knew that no matter what she had to do, she would find a way to make other children’s lives better.

While they walked through the house, he only half listened to her, thinking instead about the childhood she’d described so briefly. On her own at sixteen, she hadn’t given up, but had made a life she could be proud of. And now she wanted to share that life with kids who might not have her tenacity and self-confidence. He admired her for it. For all of it.

And once again, he felt like the worst kind of ass for everything he’d said to her on their last night together. For insinuating that she was trying to use him to ensure herself an easy life.

Their footsteps echoed weirdly in the emptiness, but as Holly continued to describe, explaining her dream, her plans, the house began to change in Parker’s mind.

He began to see it as she did. He could almost smell the fresh paint and see the sun glinting on the now dusty, hardwood floors. When he looked out the windows, he didn’t see the years of grime caked
on the glass, he saw sunbeams splintering through them to shine down on a well-tended lawn with a swing hanging from one of the tree branches. The house needed a lot of work, true. But in the end, it would be a special place.

She started up the stairs, mindlessly dragging her left hand along the filthy banister, her attention focused on the second-floor landing. “It’s perfect. Or it will be,” she said, as if convincing herself as well as Parker. “With a house this size, I can take in at least six kids. Maybe more.”

“And who’s with them when you work?”

She flashed him a grin. “I’ll hire help. Maybe a nice grandmotherly type who can use a home to love as much as the kids.”

“House is gonna need a lot of work.”

She frowned. “I can see that. But it’s going to be—”

“Perfect?” he finished for her.

Holly’s smile took his breath away.

“You catch on quick,” she said, then yelped as her right foot went right through one of the stair treads.

The old wood splintered as she fell, her leg sinking up to her knee. She wobbled, flung her arms out for balance, but Parker was too fast for her. He took the two steps separating them and caught her as she went down.

Heartbeat thundering, he cradled her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and holding on. “You okay? God, Holly, are you hurt?”

“My foot hurts,” she admitted, and tried to pull her leg free.

“Wait, wait,” he ordered, right hand sliding down into the gaping hole and checking for breaks in her leg. “I think you’re okay, but pull it out slowly, all right?”

“Right.” Carefully, she did as he asked, and when her foot was free, she groaned.

“What? Are you in pain?”

“My
shoe,
” she whined, and wiggled her bare toes as if to show him that she’d left something behind. “These shoes are brand-new and they cost a fortune and—”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered, choking back his worry. Still holding on to her, he reached down into the hole and fished around until he finally came up with a ridiculously flimsy-sandaled heel.

“Thanks,” she said, and stood with his help. As soon as she put her weight on her foot, she yelped again and instantly lifted it up.

“It
is
hurt.”

“Guess so.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck.”

“Born under a lucky star,” she muttered. “That’s me.”

He swept her up into his arms and tightened his grip when she tried to wriggle loose. “Forget it. You’re not walking down these stairs again.”

“Down? No!” She made another futile attempt to escape. “I want to see the rest of the house.”

“The rest of the house,” Parker said, heading for the front door, “will most likely fall down on top of you.”

“Parker, stop.”

“Not a chance, Holly.” His heart was still beating frantically at the thought of what could have happened if he hadn’t been with her today. She could have been stuck in this damn house for hours. Days, even. His arms tightened around her until she squeaked in protest. “Sorry.” He loosened his grip on her slightly. “But no way are you trooping through this place anymore today.”

“Since when do you get to tell me what to do?”

“Since now. Deal with it.”

“This may come as news to you, Parker, but I don’t really go for the Tarzan kind of man.”

“I’ll make a note.” He stepped onto the porch. “Close the door and lock it.”

She did, muttering a stream of words that he figured he was better off not hearing. When she was
finished, he carried her out to the street and settled her into the passenger seat of his car.

“I’m calling a cab, remember?”

“No, you’re not. You’re coming with me.”

“Fine. Take me home then.”

“I intend to.
My
home.”

S
TILL SPUTTERING
angrily, Holly glared at him on the short ride to his house. She didn’t want his help. Okay, she might need it at the moment, but she didn’t
want
it. But arguing with him was as pointless as trying to talk a tree into moving from one side of the lawn to the other.

So instead, she settled into sulky silence.

Even when he’d parked in front of a beautiful but small home on a wide, neatly tended lot, she refused to speak. Childish? Maybe. But it was the only weapon she had left.

He came around the car, opened her door and scooped her up again before she had a chance to slide out on her own.

“I’m capable of walking, you know.”

“Your foot is hurt. Let’s clean it up and check it out. See if you need a trip to the ER.”

“The hospital?” She pushed away from the broad expanse of his chest, even though her instincts were
to burrow closer. He was being high-handed and bossy, and a part of her was really enjoying it. Of course, she hated to admit it, but, oh, how she loved the feel of his arms around her. “I don’t need a hospital, for heaven’s sake.”

“We’ll find out in a minute or two.”

He stalked up the flower-lined walk, crossed the porch and had the door unlocked and opened in a few minutes. When he carried her over the threshold, she tried not to think of it in just those terms. Impossible, though. She couldn’t keep her mind from drifting in the direction it preferred. But she could do her best to combat it.

“Nice place,” she said as he carried her down the hall and into a guest powder room. She didn’t get to see much more of the house than the hall and a quick glimpse of the living room. But what she did see was neat and very plain. Cream-colored walls, brown couches, a few paintings adding a splash of color. The man clearly didn’t put a lot of effort into decorating.

“Thanks.” He set her gently on the sea-green granite countertop, stepped back and cradled her injured foot in his big hands.

Goose bumps raced along her flesh and she tried not to focus on the feel of his hands on her. But, Lordy, it wasn’t easy.

“So, Doctor?” she quipped with a forced lightheartedness. “Will I live?”

“There’s a bruise already blooming on the outside of your ankle,” he said quietly, fingers tracing over her injured flesh. “Can you move your foot?”

“Of course I can—
ow!
”

One dark eyebrow lifted as he looked at her. “I don’t think it’s broken, but it’s a good sprain.”

Pain still shimmered along her nerve endings. “That’s great. That’s terrific. Won’t I look gorgeous up on stage with a cane and my foot all wrapped up in some tasteful bandage?”

“Yeah,” he said, running his hand up from her ankle, along her calf to the back of her knee. “You will.”

At his touch, anticipation exploded inside her and Holly felt her body begin to hum. His fingertips were feather-light against her skin and every cell in her body ached for more. Oh, she wanted to touch him again. Wanted to feel his body along hers. Taking a deep breath, she swallowed hard before trusting herself to speak again.

“Parker…”

“Holly, I want you to know you…mean something to me,” he said, and she could see that he was biting off every word as though forcing himself to say it.

Pain lanced through her, almost making her
groan out loud. He
cared.
What a pitifully shallow emotion. It cost a person nothing to care. There was no risk to the emotions. No reward. The feeling was tepid at best and warmed neither giver nor receiver.

Maybe someone else would have been satisfied with “you mean something to me.” But not her. She’d been down this road before and she wasn’t willing to travel it any farther this time.

Jeff had “cared” for her until she had wanted more. Now Parker was looking into her eyes and telling her pretty much the same thing. She wouldn’t hang around long enough to watch him walk away.

“Parker…”

“I’ve missed seeing you,” he said before she could go on. “I think about you. Hell, I
dream
about you. I’m not sure how I feel about that.” He raked one hand impatiently through his hair. “But I wanted you to know.”

“You wanted me to know that you ‘care.’”

“Well,
yes
.”

“God, Parker…” She swallowed hard past the knot of misery in her throat. How could she have set herself up for this yet again? How had she stumbled blindly into a situation that was as risky to her heart as the emotional minefield she’d survived three years before?

Worse, how could she have allowed herself to feel
so much more for this man? To let desire become affection? To let affection become
love?

Regret swelled inside her. He cared, but didn’t want to. He dreamed about her but didn’t sound happy about it. While her emotions were like a raging inferno, his were barely lukewarm.

Shaking her head, she said softly, more to herself than to him, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” he asked, gently releasing his hold on her foot.

“This.” She waved both hands between them and looked him square in the eye. Oh, she’d be seeing those eyes of his in her dreams for years. The color of a cool, mountain lake, they held depths that she was willing to bet even he didn’t know about.

And as she watched him, she knew just how deeply she loved him. Knew that every day without him was going to be a lonely one. Even walking away from him wouldn’t spare her heart the pain that was already blossoming on her horizon.

“I can’t, Parker. Seeing you, wanting you, fighting with you. I just can’t do it. It hurts me.” She fisted a hand and held it at her breast. “And if I stay, it’ll destroy me.”

He took a step back, his mouth working as if he were chewing on words that wanted to get out.
Finally, though, he said, “I’m not trying to hurt you, Holly. I’m only trying to be honest.”

“I know that. I do. Really.” She scooted off the edge of the counter and kept most of her weight on her good foot. It would have been easier to say what she had to say sitting, but she needed to be on her own two feet—well, one and a half feet.

He reached for her, but she lifted one hand to keep him at bay. If he touched her now, she’d shatter. “No, please don’t touch me. I won’t be able to think. Worse, I won’t
want
to think.”

“Holly…”

“Just let me talk.”

Shoving both hands into his back pockets, he nodded and waited.

“God, this isn’t easy.” He looked lost, she thought. And worried. His eyes shone in the glare of the overhead light. Holly breathed in the homey scent of pine cleaning solution and knew that she would always associate that scent with this moment. This memory would be with her forever. She wished it could have been a happier one.

Hoping her thoughts and feelings would meld together and become the words she wanted—
needed
—to say, she started talking and hoped for the best. “You say I mean something to you—”

“You do.”

“That’s not enough, Parker.”

He looked down and his dark hair fell across his forehead. It was all she could do not to reach out and brush it back.

“Holly, I don’t know if I can give you anything more,” he said, focusing on her once again.

Regret shone in his eyes and she wanted to weep. He couldn’t give her what she wanted from him. And if she hung around waiting, hoping, she’d only end up more wounded than she had been when Jeff had left her.

She had thought, three years ago, that the pain engulfing her couldn’t have gone any deeper. Now she knew she had been wrong. This pain was so much more…because what she was feeling was so much more.

Like the sun bursting out from behind a bank of gray storm clouds, the truth shone down on her, and it amazed her that she hadn’t recognized it sooner. But then, maybe she hadn’t wanted to. Maybe it had been easier to pretend differently.

But in the end, the truth was all she had. And better to face it now than later.

“You can’t give me more, and I can’t settle for less,” she said with a small shrug. “You see, Parker, I don’t just care for you. I love you.”

Parker backed up until he was flat against the bathroom wall. If he’d had room, Holly was sure he would have bolted. She buried the hurt inside her, unwilling to let him see just how close to tears she really was.

“I—”

“Don’t, okay?” She found a smile somewhere and plastered it on her face. It felt false, almost painful, but she kept it there with determination. “Don’t say you’re sorry, or you wish things were different. It won’t change anything.”