Authors: Brenda Rothert
“Quinn, it’s Kate.” I was
sobbing before he even answered my call.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“I just . . .” I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to not say the words. To not be living this nightmare. “I thought I should call and tell you that I lost the baby.”
A few
seconds of silence passed. “So, you’re not pregnant anymore?”
“I guess not. I have to go to the hospital tonight to . . . deliver.” I was crying hard now, wiping my hand across my nose and wondering why Quinn seemed so cold about this. He didn’t want the baby, and we hadn’t talked in more than two months, but still. Surely the death of our baby made him feel something.
“Okay,” he said, pushing out a breath that sounded dangerously like a sigh of relief. “Hey, thanks for telling me.”
We both said goodbye and I stared at the phone in my hand, numb. He had to be the most callous, unfeeling bastard I’d ever known. Good fucking riddance.
“Quinn? What do you want?”
My mom’s eyes shot to mine across the table when she heard me say his name.
He sighed
. “I just wondered if we could maybe get together and talk sometime. I feel bad about things, Kate. I thought that with time I’d just forget about it, but I can’t.”
“
What things?” A sick sensation washed over me just from knowing he was on the other end of the phone. All the anger and hurt came rushing back.
“You know, just . . . everything. The way I treated you. I freaked out and left and then I was a dick when you called to tell me you lost the baby.”
“Do you think you can call me up and say sorry and everything will be okay?” My voice rose with emotion and I clenched the edge of the table.
“No. I just wanted to talk to you. Can we do that?”
I shook my head, though he couldn’t see me. “No. I’m hanging by a very fine thread myself some days, Quinn, and I couldn’t care less about making you feel better. I have to go.”
“Hang up the phone,” Mom whispered across the table. Dale was nodding vigorously beside her.
“Where are you living?” Quinn asked.
“None of your business.”
He sighed again. “Kate—”
“He’s got a hell of a lot of nerve
calling you,” Dale said, his cheeks flushed. It was the first time I’d seen Mom’s mild-mannered boyfriend upset.
“That’s right,” Mom said
, pursing her lips. “Tell him I’d like to talk to him.”
“Who is that?” Quinn asked.
“That’s my family. You’re not very popular in our house. Can’t imagine why.”
“Are you back at home?”
“Quinn, seriously. Go to hell. And never call me again.”
I pressed the button to end the call and rubbed my temple. Mom and Dale just looked at me, lines of concern showing on both their faces.
“I need to be alone,” I said, pushing my chair back from the table. I loved that they both knew me well enough to let me go without arguing.
***
Ryke
I took a final glance in the mirror, as nervous as a high school kid on prom night. My tux had been altered to fit my shoulders, which had gotten wider from my summer workout routine. I’d shaved and gotten my hair trimmed. This was about as good as it got. But still I wanted to make sure I looked just right.
Kate wasn’t like the women I screwed in my hotel room after games. Even though she was my assistant and I didn’t want to get into a relationship, I wanted to show her a good time tonight. She was like me: too wounded to be blindl
y optimistic anymore. But I’d seen a spark in her a couple of times and I wanted to see it again.
The elevator took me d
own to the garage and I tossed my jacket onto the passenger seat of my Mustang. My satellite radio was already set to the sports talk station, and I listened to a show about the upcoming hockey season as I drove.
The neighborhood Kate lived in reminded me of the one I’d grown up in. Lots of ranches and two stories, and kids riding their bikes or playing catch in yards. After I pulled into the driveway, I par
ked and walked to the front step, where I could see her through the screen door. She was trying to shove something into a tiny purse.
She looked up,
saw me and approached the door. I really was a high school kid on prom night; my palms broke out in a sweat at the sight of her. She wore a simple, sleeveless dark burgundy dress that fell to the floor and covered her all the way up to her collarbones. Even if I couldn’t see lots of skin, the way the dress molded around her tiny curves got my blood flowing.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi. You look great.”
She gave me a bright, warm smile that made my palms even sweatier. “Thanks. I’m trying to fit everything into this tiny bag, and it’s not working.”
“I can carry something for you.”
She raised her brows with amusement. “You want to carry tampons and lipstick?”
“Uh . . . if you need me to, sure.”
“Ryke!” Another
voice made me look to a doorway, where a woman a little taller than Kate with chin-length blonde hair stood smiling. “I’m Kate’s mom, Lynn.”
“Great to meet you,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand.
“If you’ll just take my wallet, I can get everything else,” Kate said, turning to walk back to the chair where she’d left her bag.
“Oooh.” The guttural sound of appreciation escaped my lips before I had time to think about it. The open back of Kate’s dress had surprised me. The creamy
skin of her delicate, beautiful back was bare nearly all the way to her tailbone. She turned and I felt my cheeks warming.
“Sorry,” I muttered, scrubbing a hand down my face. “That dress . . .”
“Is it okay?” Her brows furrowed with worry and she stopped walking.
“It’s perfect,” I said. “You look perfect.”
Her shoulders dropped with relief as she reached for her bag. When she met me at the door, she handed over a shiny turquoise wallet that was worn through in spots and hung open because the strap was broken.
“Can you carry that?”
“Sure.” I slipped it into my pocket and she headed for the door.
“Have fun,” her mom said, a wistful expression on her face.
“I’ll take good care of her,” I said, kicking myself inside as soon as the words were out. She was a 22-year-old woman, not a kid.
“Wow, nice car,” Kate said, admiring my black Mustang.
“Thanks.”
“I figured you’d have an expensive Jag or something
.”
I shook my head and laughed as I reached for the passenger side door. “Wel
l, I don’t have a vagina, so no. And my Dad’s a mechanic, so I grew up admiring muscle cars.”
“Your Dad’s a mechanic? Where?”
“Humboldt, Iowa. He owns Jim’s Garage.”
Kate
met my eyes as she slid into the car and a charge of arousal ran through me. She really was beautiful. Instead of the sultry, overdone and obvious women who usually threw themselves at me, she was innocent and hopeful. Those huge, warm brown eyes seemed to be inviting me to remind her that she, too, was sexy.
I pushed the mental image of her
flawless back from my mind as I reached for the handle to my door. We were going to a fundraiser for a diabetes foundation, and I couldn’t walk in with wood.
“Your car smells so good,” Kate said as I drove a lit
tle faster than I should’ve. Was I subconsciously showing off?
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It smells like leather and . . . you.”
“And that’s good?”
“Yes. So, when I meet people, should I introduce myself as your assistant? Or your personal assistant? What should I call myself?”
“Don’t worry about al
l that. Just throw back a glass of champagne when we get there so you can relax and enjoy yourself.”
“Do I seem nervous?”
“No.” If anything, I was the nervous one. Kate’s hair was pulled back in a loose, curly bun at the nape of her neck, and her lips were a bright berry shade. Her glamorous side was incredibly sexy. I wanted to slide my hand onto her lap, between her thighs, and tell her all the dirty thoughts running through my mind about her.
But the night was young
. Right now I needed to make polite conversation, and I couldn’t think of a single decent thing to say. The only thing I could think about was how bad I wanted to turn her on. I was pretty sure she didn’t have a boyfriend, but what if she had a fuck buddy? I could feel my blood pressure rising at the thought of some other guy making her moan.
“So what did you do today?” I tapped my fing
er against the steering wheel and kept my eyes on the road.
“Not much. Laundry, yoga and lunch with my friend Kylie.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” I had to know for sure.
“No. If I did, he probably wouldn’t be keen on this,” she said, smiling when I glanced over.
“When was the last time you had one? If you want to say.”
She took a breath and it felt like forever until she answered. “I haven’t had a boyfriend since
August, when I got pregnant.”
Did that mean she hadn’t slept with anyone since then? I couldn’t bring myself to ask, but I really wanted to know.
“That asshole you mentioned at the group who ditched you?”
“Yeah. Quinn. He randomly called me last night even though we haven’t spoken since December.”
“What’d he want?”
“He asked if we could get together.”
“You said no, right?” When I looked over, she was staring at her hands in her lap.
“Yeah.” Her hollow tone hit me like a solid punch. I wanted to drive the car to the nearest hotel, take her to bed and run my mouth over every inch of her.
Peel her clothes away slowly and let her anticipation build by bringing her to the brink over and over again.
She stared out the window, and I left her alone with her thoughts. Why had I brought that shit up?
The downtown hotel hosting the event had a row of cars in the valet line, and I sighed as we waited in silence.
“Did I say something that upset you?” I looked over and Kate’s eyes warmed as her mouth quirked up in a smile.
“No. It’s not you. I wasn’t expecting to hear from Quinn ever again, and I’m upset about that.”
I clenched my hands around the steering wheel as she spoke. “Why?
Don’t let that asshole get to you. He’s a worthless piece of shit and you’re a great person. He doesn’t deserve the time of day from you.”
“I know I shouldn’t let him get to me, but he did,” she said, looking back at her hands. The blare of a car horn behind us made me look out the windshield and see I needed to move ahead.
“Why?”
She shook her head, her brows knitted together with frustration. “I don’t know. I guess . . .
I’m still hurt about him leaving me like he did. It’s not like I wanted to get married or anything, but he could’ve still been a part of things. Part of me hates him because of it, and part of me wonders what it is about me that made him leave.”
I felt my nostrils flare the way they usually only did during games, when someone really pissed me off. “It’s not about you, Kate. You can’t think that. Some guys are just stupid, spineless assholes. He bailed because he didn’t want to man up – not because of you.”
“You don’t even know him, how can you know why he left?”
“Trust me, I know. And are you . . . do you want to get back with him or something?”
“No! God, no. He wants to get together because he wants my forgiveness.”
I shook my head with disbelief. “Unbelievable. He had the balls to call and ask you to forgive him? I want his address. He needs his ass kicked.”
Kate’s light laugh penetrated my anger. “You don’t need to do that. I’ll be okay.”
We were almost to the front of the line, and she looked at the front entrance of the glitzy downtown hotel, smiling.
“Thanks for inviting me tonight,” she said, turning to me. “It does feel good to be dressed up and all. You were right about that.”
I wanted to respond, but the valet was glancing at me through the window, and we needed to exit the car. I met Kate on her side and wrapped my arm around her waist. This girl broug
ht out something new in me. My fierce desire to soothe and protect and entice her all at the same time was almost overwhelming.
“I’m nervous,” she murmured as we walked into the posh marble lobby.
“Don’t be. You look amazing,” I said, rubbing my palm against her hip to reassure her.
“But I don’t know—”
A silver haired man with a short beard cut her off by stepping in front of us.
“Mr. Ryker, may I take a photo?” he asked.
“Of course.” I pulled Kate against me and smiled as his camera flashed a few times.
“I’ll be right here,” I said in her ear as the photographer nodded and depa
rted. “I won’t leave your side.”