Falling For Nick (6 page)

"Oh!" John said, shaking the hand-held controller. His brow creased, his eyes focused on the TV screen. She had to tell him about his father, but how could she do that now, when she'd just sent Nick back to jail? John would never understand.

Sighing, Clea went over and sat on the sofa next to her son. He snuggled against her side, still playing the game. Together they had survived. Nick had no idea what he'd missed. He was the loser in all of this. Love for her son filled her. She ran her fingers through his silky hair. John meant everything to her.

"Mom." He groaned at the gesture.

"Sorry." She couldn't help but smile. More than ever he needed a male influence in his life, someone he could count on. John needed Robert. The two had bonded since they'd come back to Port Bliss; John looked up to Robert as a father figure. She liked watching the two of them together. Robert possessed integrity and honesty, two traits she wanted John to possess. Nick could offer John only a scandalous past. The phone rang and Clea snatched up the receiver. "Hello."

"Clea, it's Judge Payne. I understand you want to speak with me about Nick Lombard."

"Yes." Clea glanced at John. "Can we meet privately?"

"I'm at the jail now," he told her.

"I'll be right over," she said.

"See you in a minute." The line went dead. Clea dialed Mitzi.

"Mitzi," she said, when her friend answered. "Can you come over and watch John for a little while? I have something important to do."

*   *   *

Nick paced back and forth in the tiny cell. It hadn't taken him long to land back in jail. This cell bore little resemblance to the one he'd lived in for close to ten years. This one didn't have a toilet or sink. It was a simple room with beige flooring, beige walls, and a double metal bunk bed with a mattress so hard and thin he thought it might be made of plywood.

A slow anger still burned in his gut when he thought of Clea's betrayal at the café. He didn't belong in this cell, and they both knew it, yet she'd kept quiet, her lips clamped shut. Did she hate him that much? Could he blame her if she did? The instincts he'd sharpened in prison had urged him to fight back today, to put his hands around Boomer's neck and choke the life from him, but he'd held back. Keeping his hatred in check had taken every ounce of control he'd possessed. Thoughts of his son had kept him from making one more mistake.

Unable to sit still in the confining cell, he'd spent the better part of the afternoon pacing, thinking about the words he'd exchanged with Clea at the caf
é
. He'd been about to kiss her when Boomer had intruded. He replayed the scene between the two of them. He still had no idea how they'd wound up that close together.

They'd been arguing, hadn't they? He never should have looked into those emerald eyes of hers. The minute he had, he'd been lost. He'd never been able to explain his attraction to her. It was almost like a sickness he couldn't shake, an obsession he couldn't ignore.

The woman set him on fire.

Nick sat down on the edge of the bunk and ran his fingers through his hair. How had Clea wound up with Boomer? There was no way in hell he would let Boomer Bloomfield raise his son.

He had no idea what to do next. He'd tried calling Billy, but hadn't been able to reach him. Billy had mumbled something that morning about going out of town, but Nick had no idea where he might be and he was scheduled to go before the judge in the morning.

The only thing that had gone right since he'd hit town had been talking with Mr. Mullin today. Mullin had welcomed him back, giving him a job. Getting a job at the garage brought Nick one step closer to putting his own plans into action. He'd already asked Mr. Mullin about renting one of the bays from him. One bay would be enough to get his business started. He'd given a lot of thought to how he'd advertise, and he itched to put his plans for a website into motion. For a few minutes today things had finally been going Nick's way. Now, everything he wanted was in jeopardy.

The rattling of keys caught Nick's attention. He went to the cell door, his fingers curling around the cold bars. Footsteps echoed down the hall. Soon the sheriff appeared. He stopped at Nick's cell, opening the door.

"You're free to go," he said.

His heart jerked in his chest. "I'm free?"

The sheriff nodded. "Follow me."

Sheriff Kincade had run this town for at least twenty years. Nick remembered him as a fair man, even when the cards had been stacked against Nick. Time had taken some of the sharpness from the sheriff's features, his brows were bushier, his mid-section a little softer. Streaks of gray colored his blond hair now, but his face still gave nothing away. He hadn't wanted to arrest Nick today, but the No Contact Order had been clear. Nick didn't know what to think about this sudden freedom, but he wasn't going to ask any questions.

He left the cell, heading for the front of the building where the sheriff had his office.

"I'm going to need your signature on some documents," Sheriff Kincade said from behind him.

Nick nodded. At the counter, the sheriff had him sign a paper that listed the personal items they'd taken from him: his watch, his wallet, his jacket. Nick looked around the office, expecting to see Billy. "She's gone." The sheriff glanced toward the door.

"Who's gone?" Nick signed his name to the form the sheriff slid toward him.

"Clea. She left right after she told Judge Payne what really happened today. She's taking steps to have the No Contact Order withdrawn, said the whole thing was a mistake. Judge Payne has waived the hearing and signed your release."

Nick eyed the sheriff with suspicion. Was it a trick? "Are you telling me that Clea Rose was here? That she's withdrawing the No Contact Order?"

"Yes, sir." The Sheriff put Nick's paperwork in a manila file folder and laid it on his desk. "You're free to go."

"Am I free to come within one hundred feet of Clea or her son?" Nick asked, wanting to make sure he understood what was happening.

"You might not want to do that until she makes it official," the sheriff told him, his bushy brows drawing together. "But remember this, Nick. There are a lot of folks in this town that don't like you and don't want you here. They will look for any excuse to lock you back up. Keep your nose clean, boy. I don't want to have to bring you in again. Next time you might not be so lucky."

"Thanks for the advice, Sheriff," Nick said on his way to the door. He remembered another time when the sheriff had tried to help him, to urge Nick to tell the truth, but Nick hadn't listened. Had Sheriff Kincade been on his side ten years ago? Did it matter? Nick couldn't change the past. He had no idea why Clea had dropped The No Contact Order, but he intended to find out. There had definitely been some tension between her and Boomer at the café. Maybe things weren't as good between them as Clea claimed.

With each step Nick took his heart sped up in anticipation of his freedom and a second chance here in Port Bliss. Outside, he took in a hit of clean air. Clean air was something he couldn't take for granted. He'd always loved the outdoors, but prison life had put him off on fresh air. Life in the prison yard was rough and dangerous. He'd learned to do without the fresh air in order to survive. Now, he savored each breath, each stretch of his leg muscles during his walk down the street to his temporary home.

At the tavern, he took the steps two at a time and let himself into the dank apartment. The stench of cigarette smoke still permeated the air, so he made a beeline for the window and opened it, letting the frosty air into the already cold room.

The curtains to Clea's place were open and he could see her talking to someone, another woman - Mitzi? It had to be, all that black hair. She didn't look like she'd changed much since high school. Mitzi and Clea had stuck together like crazy glue.

Mitzi left his view and a child ran up to Clea.

Nick's heart stopped beating. His son. Johnathan Rose. A tightness spread through Nick's chest and the fresh air froze in his lungs.
His son
. Damn, he couldn't breathe. John looked so much bigger than he'd imagined. He wasn't a baby any more, but a boy with dark hair like his. Did he have Clea's green eyes, or his blue ones? Did he smile easily? Did he laugh? Did he wonder about his father? How much did the kid know?

Nick leaned closer to the window, trying to get a better view, but he was too far away. Frustration ate at him. It wasn't fair. He'd been robbed of the chance to know his son, now Clea was about to marry the man responsible for putting him in prison. He couldn't let that happen. He needed to level with Clea. For the past ten years he'd done nothing but think of his regrets and heartache. He'd been too stupid to realize what he was throwing away when he'd pushed Clea from his life. Instead, he'd felt he'd done the noble thing by letting her go.

If he'd told her truth - that he wanted her and their baby more than anything else in the world - could they have made it through the ten-year separation? He didn't know. He'd only known that he'd had nothing to offer them.

Tonight Clea had changed her mind about the No Contact Order. Why? If she'd been worried enough to have the papers drawn up in the first place, why have them revoked? It didn't make sense, unless she'd had a change of heart. A tiny flutter of hope beat in his chest, hope he had no right to feel but couldn't ignore. He needed to talk to Clea. It was time to clear the air between them.

*   *   *

The minute Mitzi left, Clea changed into her most comfortable pair of flannel pajamas, the ones with the cowboys all over them. After slipping her feet into her bunny slippers, she checked on John. The sound of his deep, even breathing put a smile on her lips. It sure hadn't taken him long to fall asleep. She knew sleep wouldn't claim her as easily. It had been a long, emotionally charged day.

And tomorrow would be even longer once Robert and her mother discovered that she'd had the No Contact Order removed. She prayed she'd done the right thing. Would Nick seek her out and demand to know why she'd helped him? The thought made her pulse race, but with dread or excitement? She didn't know.

Clea dropped down on the sofa and picked up her cup of peppermint tea, taking a sip. Mitzi had made it for her, telling Clea the tea would calm her nerves. So far it wasn't working. She sought out the photos that lined her mantel; photos she'd taken of John as a newborn, a toddler, and on his first day of school. Her stomach ached. God, she had to tell him about Nick. Nick was right. She was a coward.

A knock sounded at the door. Clea jumped. Her body tensed. She wasn't expecting anybody. Surely her mother and Robert couldn't have learned of Nick's release already? Pulling herself together, she walked to the door and looked out the peephole. Nick. Her heart sped up. The sheriff must have told him she'd dropped the No Contact Order.

He knocked again, louder this time. She stole a glance at John's door. The last thing she needed was for him to wake up. Making her decision, she unlatched the dead bolt and pulled the door open.

Nick's stare moved from her face, to her pajamas, to her bunny-clad feet before meeting her eyes again. "I saw John's light go out. Is he asleep? Can I come in?"

"He's asleep, but you can't come in," she said, wishing she'd grabbed her robe. Even fully clothed, she felt naked. He had a way of looking at her that left her feeling like he could see into her soul.

"I just want to talk," he said.

He didn't seem angry and a little of her fear subsided, but there was no way she'd let him in. She couldn't risk John seeing him.

"I'll come out," she said. "Just let me grab my coat." Clea took her pink sweatshirt jacket from the coat rack and shrugged into it, zipping it up to her neck as she stepped outside onto the enclosed landing. A dim porch light burned overhead, bathing Nick in faded yellow light.

"It's cold out here." Nick cupped his hands over his mouth and blew on them to warm his fingers.

Clea thought it seemed stupid to discuss the weather when they had so much of importance to talk about. She closed the door behind her, but didn't shut it all the way in case John woke. "What do you want, Nick?"