Harlequin Superromance September 2014 - Bundle 1 of 2: This Good Man\Promises Under the Peach Tree\Husband by Choice (9 page)

“I get that,” he conceded. He was frowning, though. “Do you have any foster parents who grew up in abusive homes themselves?”

“Yes. Several. One who has cigarette burns all over his back. He's the kindest, gentlest man I've ever met.”

“You're friends.” His tone was impossible to read.

“Insofar as it's possible, when I have to keep some distance as a supervisor.”

He drove in silence for a few minutes. “I look like my father,” he said out of the blue. “Gives me a chill sometimes, when I see my face in a mirror.”

Didn't he know what an extraordinarily handsome man he was? But, no—to him, that didn't matter. He saw a face he hated—and, in that complicated way abused children think of their parents, possibly loved, too.

“I don't think appearance is one of the more important things we get from our parents,” she said very carefully. “Quite often kids don't look much like either of their parents, or they take after one but not the other. But musical or athletic ability, a sense of humor, a gift for words, a tendency to like to think twice before speaking or, in contrast, to blurt out every little thought, those will be there anyway.”

“I could make an argument about nature versus nourish.”

She had relaxed enough to laugh. “You could.”

They were entering the outskirts of Angel Butte, and traffic had picked up on the slushy roads. Reid drove with such relaxed competence, she guessed it was second nature.

Sneaking a look, she saw the moment his face tightened again.

“Physically, Caleb took after our father, too.”

He might be hiding it, but she could hear how disturbed he was by what he'd said anyway.

“You could say he looks like you instead.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

“What were you thinking?”

Reid grunted. “I was going to ask if that was any better.”

“You look so confident,” she said after a minute. “I'd never have guessed...”

His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. “That I'm a mess, like anyone else?”

“No, I knew that.” The words out, she heard herself in horror. Dear lord. Had she actually
said
that? “I mean—”

To her astonishment, he was laughing. “No, don't spoil it. I like knowing you stick your foot in it sometimes like the rest of us mortals.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, cheeks burning.

“Although I have to ask.” A smile still played at his mouth, but he sounded thoughtful. “How did you guess?”

Did he really want to know? But Anna suspected it was too late to be mealymouthed. “You're so good at suppressing emotion,” she said straight out. “Too good. Most of the time, when you smile, it's only your mouth smiling, not
you.
It's like...you're faking it.”

He wasn't smiling anymore. In fact, his expression was so unreadable—no, his face was so
lacking
expression—that she thought she'd offended him.

“I am,” he said abruptly. “I thought I was damn good at it.”

“You are. I've had a lot of practice.”

He made a sound she couldn't quite interpret.

They were only a couple of blocks from her town house, and she didn't know whether to be relieved she'd be able to escape, or to wish she had longer to somehow redeem herself.

Neither of them said another word until he turned into the alley that ran behind the block of town houses where he'd picked her up. The garages were accessed from the alley rather than the street, and she kept her ski equipment on a rack on one wall of the garage.

When he braked, she reached for the door handle, but paused. “I'm sorry.”

“Sorry?” He looked at her, his eyes darker than usual. “You don't have any reason to be. I prefer hearing the truth. I've known since I met you I was risking having you see right through me.”

“Is that why—” Oh, ulp. There she went again, not stopping to think before she opened her mouth. It wasn't like her.

His eyebrows climbed. “Why what?”

“Um. That time we had coffee. I don't know what I said, but you just...turned off.”

“Ah.” It was obvious he was debating how much to say. “I guess it was something like that. You sent up a flare for me.”

Her heart beat so fast she felt a little light-headed. “But you keep coming back.”

“Yeah.” Slow and husky, his voice made her tingle. “I...can't seem to help myself.”

Her lips parted, but she didn't know what to say.

He never looked away from her when he unfastened first his seat belt, then hers. Finally, he leaned toward her, his mouth catching hers in a quick kiss that seemed almost angry.

Before she could know what expression was on his face, he'd presented her with his back as he opened his door and climbed out. Anna's fingernails bit into her palms as she closed her eyes for a moment before getting out, too.

After she used the remote to open the garage, Reid carried in her skis and poles and hung them in place.

Whatever he'd been feeling, he had succeeded in pushing it down out of sight. “I enjoyed today,” he said.

“I did, too.”

This smile was one he didn't mean. She wondered how exposed he felt, knowing she could tell.

He kissed her cheek lightly, said, “Hope your afternoon goes well,” and left.

She stood in the garage, waiting for the door to roll down, as she heard the sound of his SUV receding.

At least he hadn't lied and said he'd call.

* * *

F
EELING
RESTLESS
AND
claustrophobic in the small cabin at the old resort, Reid decided to take a walk around. He'd been in place out here at the youth shelter since a little after ten, once darkness had fallen. His watch told him midnight neared. The witching hour, time for him to be out and about.

He'd lied to Anna this afternoon; after leaving her, he'd gone straight home. Usually he didn't have much trouble falling asleep on demand; over the years, he'd worked erratic enough hours, and he'd learned to sleep when he could. This was an exception. Unsettled from talking to her and from thinking about that kiss—no, damn it, those kisses—it took him longer than usual to force himself to let go enough to drop off.

He'd gotten enough sleep, though, to be fine through the night. Since he'd slipped into the vacant cabin, boredom and cold had been more of an issue than drowsiness. This was the third night in the past week he'd managed to spend staking out the place, and he hadn't been spotted yet by any of the boys. Tonight, as usual, he had parked in the driveway of a neighboring house, currently unoccupied and for sale, and slipped through the woods to the cabin he and Roger had decided offered the best view of the old resort. By the time he got here, most of the boys had already been in their cabins, although they did some hooting and calling to each other from porch to porch. A couple of them didn't leave the lodge until after midnight, letting themselves out the back door. He hadn't needed the porch light to identify the two he knew were roommates. Apollo was black, and Isaac's beaky nose was distinctive when seen in silhouette. They talked as they walked past the cabin where Reid sat hidden, but their voices were quiet and he couldn't make out anything they said.

Roger, he knew, considered Apollo and Issac to be the least likely to be responsible for setting the fires. Isaac had been here for three years and would be turning eighteen in June, at which point he'd take his GED, then the SAT or ACT, and start applying to colleges. He was the math genius, Reid recalled. Apollo had been here for two years and was a steady, mature kid who'd stayed in touch with an older sister who hadn't been able to protect him from their father but had tried. Their longevity was a good argument in favor of both.

Problem was, most of the other boys had also lived here for a year or longer. Palmer and Diego had been here ten months, TJ five and Caleb just over three months.

“TJ's attitude is the worst,” Paula had admitted, but reluctantly. She didn't like to say anything bad about any of “her” kids.

He thought he had to be the one to say this. “Caleb isn't going out of his way to make himself liked, either.”

“No, he isn't,” she agreed, “but that's normal under the circumstances.” She'd given him a wry smile. “You weren't loaded with charm your first few months here, either.”

Reid had allowed himself a smile. “Was I ever loaded with charm?”

“I suspect most women would say you are.” With a laugh, Paula had kissed his cheek. “You have your moments.”

He had thought about Anna immediately. Reid doubted she would describe him as charming. Even now that she had been frank about seeing beneath his surface, he had no idea what she thought of him. Of how much she actually did see.

Obviously, a whole lot more than he'd have liked her to. All he could hope was that it wasn't as much as he feared. The truth was, he sometimes wondered who he really was, deep down. He'd hate to have to ask someone else to find out.

While he waited for all the lights to go off, he jiggled in place to keep warm. He forced himself back to business and mulled over what he knew about the boys who lived here.

Diego sounded like another good kid, always friendly and welcoming to newcomers. His roommate, Trevor, was a little more of an enigma, according to Paula. Reading between the lines of what she would and wouldn't say, Reid guessed Trevor might have been sexually molested, which could screw a kid up even more than physical brutality did.

Jose, Truong and Palmer hadn't taken on a lot of personality in Reid's mind yet. Neither Paula nor Roger wanted to see any of them as being twisted enough to threaten the existence of the shelter with arson. The only other kid they had grudgingly agreed harbored some real anger was Damon, the bullish-looking boy Caleb had fought with.

So far, the Hales were refusing to give Reid the full names of their resident boys. While respecting their reasons, he was becoming impatient. What would it take to push them into admitting that the boys' backgrounds needed to be investigated?

Reid stepped carefully as he crossed the small porch, having already discovered that one board creaked. A faint smile crossed his face. Maybe he'd ask Caleb if the stair near the top in the lodge still did the same.

Moving quietly in the darkness, he patrolled as far as the last cabin to the west, then retraced his steps. Twice he froze in place, once when a toilet flushed, a second time when he heard a thump. It was followed a moment later by a light coming on inside one of the cabins. Through the small-paned window, he saw a boy—Truong, he thought—lift a glass to his mouth and take a drink. A moment later, the light went out. Reassured by the continuing silence, Reid resumed his rounds.

Down to the end of the line of cabins, the last several decrepit enough Roger was thinking of demolishing them. The moonlight picked out the charred hole in the roof of the damaged one, and the black fan on the side where fire had burned through the dry old logs.

Reid had turned toward the lodge when he heard the muffled thud of a vehicle door closing. Not right out in front, but not far away, either. At a neighbor's? Could be, but it also might be out at the road.

His hand slid toward the butt of his weapon—“Habit,” he heard himself saying—as he ran around one side of the lodge, cutting between it and the half-burned woodshed.

He stopped at the corner and scanned the front of the property, his gaze moving carefully over the black hulk of Roger's truck and several rusting pickups and cars Roger had the boys working on, the vast porch with its deeper darkness that spanned the front of the lodge, the driveway disappearing into overgrown woods.

Nothing. Not a hint of movement.

But as he waited, an engine started. And, God damn it, he'd swear it was at the road. Before he could move, the vehicle was already driving away.

Maybe a smaller SUV, but he suspected a full-size SUV or pickup truck. The sound was too deep.

“Shit,” he muttered. If he'd started out five minutes sooner, he might have caught someone prowling.

Or, hell, it was equally possible that a couple of teenagers had pulled over to neck, or the sound really had come from the neighbor's driveway to the east.

He decided to risk using his flashlight and turned it on, scanning the yard and front steps. More nothing.

Turning off the light, he rounded the lodge. Just as he neared the back corner, he heard a sound that kicked up his pulse: a soft thud that this time he felt sure was the lodge's kitchen door closing.

Reid broke into a run, but when he reached the back of the lodge, the night was utterly still. No lights came on inside; he heard nothing from any of the cabins.

He turned on his flashlight again and swept the beam over the surrounding woods and the shadows between cabins. He tested the back door to the lodge and found it locked.

So somebody had been entering, not leaving. Sneaking back inside, he thought bitterly. Twice tonight, he'd been in the wrong place. Was it sheer chance that two people had been on the move, or had they been meeting? The timing suggested as much. And if so...one of those two people was either TJ or Caleb.

If there'd been a meeting at all, there were explanations that had nothing to do with the recent fires. Either boy could have told a friend where he was or conceivably have met a girl who had driven out here.

Brooding, he knew the possibility still existed that the sound of the car engine had come from a neighbor's or had been a vehicle stopped along the road for an innocent reason.

Given what had been going on here, though, Reid wasn't inclined to buy an innocent reason for either of the boys sneaking out in the middle of the night.

So—there had to be a reason.

With fresh resolve, he began walking again, worrying less this time about staying unseen and unheard. He checked every one of the cabins, the woodshed, the new pile of firewood along one wall of the lodge. And finally, he climbed the front steps to the deep front porch and swept the flashlight beam in a slow arc.