Текст книги "About that Night"

Автор книги: Beth Andrews

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

C.J. STEPPED INSIDE O’Riley’s the next afternoon, tipped his hat back and scanned the bar for his brother. Pearl Jam’s “Even Flow” played over the jukebox in the far corner. It wasn’t nearly as crowded as it had been when he and Ivy had been there for dinner. Only a few tables had customers, while the booths lining the wall were empty.

C.J. would have thought the bar would be busier on a Friday, but maybe midafternoon was slow no matter what day it was. Then again, today was July third. Maybe people were at home, gearing up for the Fourth, getting ready for picnics, parades and fireworks. All of which he would like to share with Ivy. If he could convince her to spend the holiday with him. He thought he could. Especially after last night.

Ivy had opened up to him. Had trusted him with a piece of her past. And since he hadn’t pushed for more, the rest of the evening had been relaxed and fun. They’d eaten a delicious dinner then watched the latest Tom Hanks movie. It’d all been very normal. Almost as if they were a couple.

But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to spend more time with her. And what better way than celebrating their country’s independence?

He’d call her about it, maybe charm her into having dinner with him tonight, as well. Right after he figured out why his brother had texted him and invited him for a drink.

He didn’t believe for one minute that the impromptu invitation was Kane’s way of extending an olive branch. For one thing, Kane didn’t drink. Not since becoming clean and sober over fifteen years ago. For another, Kane had never reached out to C.J. first, preferring to stay hidden. Letting his family make all the moves.

Now suddenly Kane wanted to pal around?

Something was up. Whatever it was, C.J. figured there was a good chance he wasn’t going to like it.

He started walking across the room, spied Kane in the last booth. Kane looked up, caught C.J.’s eye and gave him a smug grin that set all of C.J.’s instincts humming. Had his footsteps slowing, his muscles tensing as if waiting for a blow.

A blow that landed squarely in his midsection when he reached the booth and saw Ivy sitting across from his brother.

“Look at that,” Kane said. “You’re right on time.”

C.J. couldn’t take his eyes off Ivy. “What are you doing here?”

She scowled. Then turned that glare on Kane. “Did you call him?”

Kane lifted a shoulder, all badass in his white T-shirt, with his tattoos peeking out from the sleeves. “I may have sent him a text inviting him for a drink. But only because I thought it would piss him off to find you here. I didn’t think he’d actually show up.”

“God save me from idiot brothers and their stupid sibling rivalry,” she muttered.

“You want to avoid idiot brothers and sibling rivalry,” Kane said in a slow drawl, “you’d best keep away from any and all members of the Bartasavich family.”

Ivy sighed. Patted her stomach. “Hard to do that now.” She stood and met C.J.’s gaze. “Did you need something?”

You.

He frowned, hoped like hell the word that had popped into his head hadn’t also popped out of his mouth. But neither Ivy’s nor Kane’s expression changed, so he guessed it hadn’t.

“What are you doing here?” he repeated. “With him?”

“He,” she said with a nod at Kane, “is doing me a favor.”

C.J. stepped toward her. “Anything you want from Kane,” he said, his voice a low growl, “you can get from me instead.”

She raised her eyebrows, her expression cunning. “I doubt that,” she purred. She trailed her hand up his chest. Gave his cheek a pat. “What I want from him is a job.”

C.J. blinked. Shook his head. “What?”

“He advertised for a bartender. I applied for the job, and you—” she gave him another pat, this one harder than the first “—are interrupting my job interview.” She turned to Kane. “Do you want me to come back?”

“I don’t mind finishing up now, if you don’t.” Kane stretched his arm across the back of his seat. “You can head on over to the bar, Junior. I’ll join you as soon as we’re done.”

Ivy sent C.J. a glance, but as he was still standing there like an idiot, she just lifted a shoulder. “Okay.” She retook her seat. “As I was saying before we were so rudely interrupted, I have a bit of experience behind the bar, enough to cover the basics, but I’ve mostly waited on tables.”

Kane nodded. “I’ve already got enough waitresses. My future sister-in-law worked behind the bar but decided during her maternity leave she’d rather take interior design classes in Pittsburgh than come back to O’Riley’s.”

“I’m a quick learner,” Ivy told him, sounding desperate to work at Kane’s dive bar. “And I’m good with people.”

“Wait a minute. Wait a minute,” C.J. said, shoving Kane over so he could slide into the booth next to him. “I won’t stand here and listen to you beg this moron to hire you.”

“Then leave,” Ivy told him in a tone so sweet, it had to be fake. “Because I need this job.”

“You already have two jobs,” C.J. pointed out. “At Bradford House and King’s Crossing.”

“Yes, I do. But since I’m no longer employed at the River View—”

“What’s a River View?”

“The River View is a very nice family restaurant over on Rockland Avenue, where I used to waitress a few nights a week until I told the owners I was pregnant.”

“You work three jobs?” Why hadn’t he known that? Was this information in the private investigator’s report? What else would he have learned if he’d read it?

“I used to work three jobs,” she corrected. “Like I said, Mr. and Mrs. Mongillo didn’t like the idea of having an unwed, pregnant woman working for them, so they let me go.”

C.J.’s hands fisted. “They fired you? That can’t be legal.”

“Probably not,” she said as if it didn’t matter that her civil rights had been violated, “but it’s what happened.”

“You should sue them.” He took his phone out. “I’ll call Oakes—my brother. He’s an attorney. He can—”

“Simmer down there, cowboy,” she said, her tone amused, a smile playing on her lips. “I can’t afford an attorney and, honestly, have no desire to fight a legal battle. I’d much rather just find another job. Which is why I’m here.”

He didn’t know what to do with his phone. Settled for holding on to it. “But you already have two jobs.”

“Yes,” she said slowly as if he wasn’t all there, “that’s right. One job plus one job equals two jobs. Math’s not your strong suit, is it?”

“He would have failed it freshman year,” Kane said, feeling the need to put his two worthless cents in, “but our father stepped in. Donated a new gymnasium to the school and Junior here suddenly got a passing grade.”

“Junior,” C.J. repeated, his jaw tight, “studied his ass off for the final.” The seventy-five he’d gotten had been enough to save his ass. Though his father liked to take credit for it.

“I guess maybe adding isn’t something those Texas schools focus on?” Ivy said. “To make it crystal clear, yes, I work two jobs and will hopefully be adding another to that. As soon as I find a third one.”

“Why?” C.J. asked.

“Why what?”

“Why do you need a third job?”

“How else could I afford to buy all the pretty, sparkling things I love?” she asked.

Something wasn’t adding up—and it wasn’t because of his less-than-stellar math skills. “I gave you money. Fifty thousand dollars.”

Had she spent it already?

“I remember the amount.” Her shoulders stiff, her voice sharp, she glanced at Kane. “You really want to discuss how you paid me to take my pregnancy claims and get out of your life in front of your brother?”

He realized his mistake immediately, but it was too late.

Kane leaned back, a mean grin on his face. “Junior’s a chip off the ol’ block. That’s for sure.” He turned to Ivy. “If you still want the position, it’s yours.”

“She doesn’t,” C.J. ground out.

“She does,” Ivy said. “When do you want me to start?”

Before Kane could answer, C.J. got out of the booth, took a hold of her arm and pulled her to her feet. “I’ll be damned if you’ll work for my brother.”

She didn’t try to tug free. Just smirked at him. “Then I guess you’ll be damned because, in case it’s escaped your notice, I’m not your property. I’m not your wife. I’m not even your girlfriend. I’m just some random woman you slept with.”

“Who is carrying my child,” he reminded her. “That takes the randomness out of it.”

“Not really. What do you think is going to happen here, Clinton? Do you think that I’m going to suddenly roll over and do everything you want? Because I’m not. That’s not how I’m made. I’m going to continue living and working here in Shady Grove while you go back to Houston and your regular life. Back to your fancy position at your father’s company, back to your heiresses and country-club dates and fund-raisers and black-tie events. And I’ll be here, raising my child and probably waiting on people just like you.”

Her words hit him like sharp jabs and he let go of her. He hadn’t thought it through, he realized. And now he had to wonder if she was right. His life was in Houston. Hers was here. That wasn’t going to change because the baby was his. He wondered, though, if it should.

“I’ll take care of you and the baby,” he told her. “I’ve got the means to make sure you never have to work again.”

“How nice for you,” she said drily. “But while I appreciate you wanting to support your child, and I’ll definitely take you up on that offer, I take care of myself. Always have.”

Because she’d never been able to count on anyone to take care of her? If so, he wanted to change that. Wanted to be the one to prove to her there were still people who kept their word. People she could count on.

He edged closer. Lowered his voice. “You can count on me, Ivy. I’m not going to leave you out to dry.”

Something flashed in her eyes, something that looked like hope, but then the cynical glint he was so used to returned and she shook her head. “Who are you kidding? You’re not going to stick. This is just one more thing on your to-do list. I have no desire to be one of the many, many people you take care of.”

Damn it, he was sticking. Why couldn’t she see that? He’d thought they were getting closer, that she was finally letting him in, opening up to him the way she had at her apartment last night. If she’d needed help, she should have come to him. Instead, she tossed his offer back in his face, refusing to believe he wasn’t going to abandon her or their child.

Instead of turning to him, she’d gone to his brother.

It stung. More than it should have. Somehow, he’d given her the power to hurt him.

And wasn’t that what this whole episode was about? Power. Control. This was Ivy’s method of pushing him away.

Kane joined them, seeming to enjoy C.J.’s pain and suffering way too much. “I have some paperwork you need to fill out,” Kane said. “In my office.”

“Lead the way.” She turned back to C.J. “See you later, cowboy.”

The hell she would. They weren’t finished. Not by a long shot. Kane brushed past C.J., heading toward a set of swinging doors behind the bar. Before Ivy could follow him, C.J. snatched her wrist and pulled her through the first door he came to.

That it was the men’s room and possibly not the best choice didn’t occur to him until he’d slammed the door shut behind them and locked it.

Too late to go back now.

Ignoring the three urinals lined up against the wall, he widened his stance in front of the door and crossed his arms. “Now. Let’s talk about this.”

* * *

“YOU MUST BE wearing your cowboy hat too tight,” Ivy said as she gaped at Clinton. “Because you have done some serious damage to that brain of yours.”

He didn’t look mentally deranged, she had to admit. He looked...well...hot was the only word to describe it. He was all glowering and broad-shouldered and sexy as he blocked her path to the door. The door he’d locked.

Okay, maybe she was the mentally deranged one for finding it sexy that he was taking control like this. She wasn’t afraid of him. She knew he’d never hurt her, but she had to admit having him all alpha male was sexy.

Except for the part where he dragged her into the men’s room, of course. That part was just disgusting.

“You are not working for my brother,” he said as that brother pounded on the door.

“Damn it, Junior,” Kane called. “Open the door.”

But Clinton didn’t even glance back, just kept advancing on her as if he was some well-groomed lion and she one of those baby gazelles or whatever it was lions stalked in the savanna. “I don’t know how the hell Kane convinced Charlotte to marry him,” Clinton muttered.

Ivy couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Yes, that’s a toughie. Let’s see, your brother is extremely good-looking, completely sexy and has that dangerous, bad-boy vibe girls—especially good girls like Charlotte—can’t resist. It truly is a mystery.”

Clinton went still, his eyes narrowed. “You think Kane’s good-looking?”

“Have I gone blind? Of course I do.” She gestured to the door where the knocking had stopped. “The man is a walking fantasy.”

“He’s an ass,” Clinton spit out. “He’s irresponsible and cocky and needs a goddamn haircut.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re jealous.”

The idea was completely crazy and absolutely wonderful.

“I’ve never been jealous of Kane, not once in my life.” But he frowned thoughtfully, as if considering her words and his own. “All my life I’ve heard about how wild he was, how dangerous, how magnetic. That go-to-hell attitude and the huge chip on his shoulder has attracted women to him his entire life, but it never mattered to me because any girl I wanted wasn’t interested in him. But now, hearing you say that...” He shook his head. Lowered his voice. “It kills me, Ivy.”

She blinked. Holy cow. She’d been right. Which wasn’t all that horrible, but she’d also hurt him. She hadn’t meant to, hadn’t realized she had the power to, but seeing his reaction... Well, she didn’t like knowing she could make him feel bad.

Liar, her inner voice whispered. She’d known what she was doing by coming to Kane. Knew it would upset Clinton. Wasn’t that part of the reason she’d done it? To let him know, in no uncertain terms, that she was going to do what she pleased, whether he liked it or not?

“Kane is sexy, and he’s exactly the type of guy I’ve avoided most of my life,” she admitted. “Men like that, they’re heartbreak waiting to happen.”

Clinton edged closer, his voice a whisper. “And men like me?”

Men like him? There was no other man like him. Not to her. She’d never had this much of an attraction to a man last this long, never had it grow. “You’re the most dangerous of all,” she heard herself admit.

“I won’t hurt you, Ivy.” He touched her hair, his fingers trailing along her jawbone and down the side of her neck. “I would never take the baby from you.”

“You would,” she said, “if you thought I wasn’t a suitable mother, and honestly, I may not be. At least by your definition.”

And that was the rub. If she did something he didn’t like, if she acted in a way he deemed unacceptable, he’d swoop in with his team of high-priced attorneys.

“You’re never going to give me a real chance, are you?” he asked quietly.

She couldn’t. It was too dangerous. There was too much at stake. Her child. Her heart.

“If you need help, financial or otherwise,” he said, his voice all growly, his brows lowered, “you will come to me.”

“First of all, Junior,” she said, realizing she was backing up and she couldn’t do that. She had to stand her ground. “You are not the boss of me.” And, dear Lord, was that the sort of attitude she was going to have to put up with from her own kid someday? Worse, did she have to resort to acting like a teenager, just because she was out of sorts? “I do what I please. I would have thought you would have figured that out by now.”

“I’ve figured out that you’re incredibly stubborn,” he said. “That you’re so worried about someone taking advantage of you that you don’t trust anyone.”

The words stung. Possibly because they were close to the truth. “I trust people who have earned it. You are not on that list.”

“What do I have to do to get on it?” he asked, frustration clear in his tone. “What, Ivy? I’ve apologized for my reaction when you told me you were pregnant. It was just that—a reaction. I’m here, trying to get to know you, trying to work with you so we can come up with an agreement, some sort of relationship that works for the baby and for both of us, but you insist on throwing my mistakes in my face, pushing me away in every way you can.”

She went still because he was right, but she was too scared to admit it. Too scared to change. “We don’t need to have a relationship of any sort as far as I’m concerned.”

“Because you don’t want me to have anything to do with this baby. You want me to be some asshole who’s more than willing to just throw some money your way and leave you and the baby alone.” He looked and sounded frustrated, his mouth a thin line, his shoulders rigid. “But that’s not going to happen. I’m not going to walk away from my own child.”

But when he was tired of her, when he was done with her, he’d walk away from her. And she couldn’t risk getting close to a man, couldn’t risk giving him that much power over her. The power to break her heart.

“If you didn’t trust me to be a part of the baby’s life,” he asked, “if you didn’t want money, why did you tell me about the baby in the first place?”

“Because I didn’t want my child to grow up like I did, wondering who I came from, who my father is,” she admitted starkly. “I don’t even know his name. My mother refused to tell me. I was a mistake, something that ruined her life, took away all her choices, all her chances.”

“That’s bullshit,” Clinton snapped.

Ivy nodded. “I know that, but she had all the power. While I’m left wondering what happened between her and my father. Was he an asshole? Did she love him? Did he love her? What would he do if I found him now? I didn’t want my child to grow up with those questions. Good or bad, it will be better for the baby to know the truth.”

“Admit it,” Clinton said softly, “part of you wanted me to brush you off. That way, you wouldn’t have to deal with me and you could go on being completely independent and running things all on your own. Part of you hoped I’d want nothing to do with you or the baby.”

“You’re right. Can you blame me? We didn’t know each other. I told you because it was the right thing to do, but yes, I’d hoped you’d want nothing to do with us. That I could come back to Shady Grove knowing I’d done my best, that I’d done the right thing and leave it at that.”

She wasn’t proud of herself, but she couldn’t apologize for it. Couldn’t show any weakness.

Though she wished she could.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I wonder why I even bother.”

She winced, his quiet words feeling like a slap to the face. She wanted to say something but wasn’t sure what.

The door opened and Kane walked in, casual as you please, a key in one hand, papers in the other. He glanced between them. “You okay?” he asked Ivy.

Clinton’s lip curled, but he didn’t say anything, just watched her.

“I’m fine. Your brother and I just had a few things to discuss.”

“Well, now you’ve had your discussion,” Kane said, crossing to them. “I got the papers. You can fill them out now or at home and bring them back when you start. I’ll need you here Monday night by six.”

She felt Clinton watching her, waiting for her to make her choice, for her to say she’d changed her mind, that she didn’t want the job, after all. That she trusted him to help her. To be there for her. To take care of her and the baby.

But she needed to take care of herself. Couldn’t count on anyone else to do so for her.

So she nodded at Kane and held her hand out for the forms. “I’ll fill them out now, and I’ll be here tomorrow night.”

Clinton’s expression went stony, then he turned on his heel and walked out.

Leaving Ivy to wish she could call him back.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

FRIDAY NIGHT GRACIE was on the couch at Luke’s sister’s house, a tidy one-story ranch on the outskirts of town with high ceilings and a huge yard that looked into the woods. The TV was on, some show about people doing an obstacle course for superheroes or ninjas or something.

Luke came in from the hallway, his shirt wrinkled.

She smiled. “Rough time?”

They’d tried putting his nieces to bed together, but the girls had wanted Gracie to play with them some more. So they’d had to pretend that Gracie had left before Luke could get them settled down.

He flopped onto the couch next to her with such force, she actually bounced. He leaned his head against the back. “I thought I was going to have to drug their milk or something.”

“They’re just excited to have you hanging out with them.”

He snorted. Sent her a lazy grin that made her heart skip a beat. “They couldn’t care less about me with you being here. At least they didn’t act like little monsters.”

Gracie tucked her knee under her other leg. “Please. Compared to my brothers, your nieces are angels. If this is what it’s like to babysit girls, I’m going to suggest that if Molly wants to get pregnant again she does that gender-selection thing.”

He laughed. Sat up. “Thanks again for coming.”

“It was fun.” That was the truth. The girls were adorable and funny and, despite a few minor pout sessions and one crying jag that lasted twenty minutes, were well-behaved.

Luke leaned forward and grabbed the remote from the coffee table. “Want to watch a movie?”

When he settled back, he was closer, his muscular thigh just an inch from hers. She shifted slightly away, masking the move by pretending to stretch. “Okay. You sure your sister doesn’t mind if I’m here?”

His sister and brother-in-law had already been gone by the time Gracie had pulled up in her dad’s pickup.

“Nah, she’s cool with it.”

Which only proved what Gracie had been telling Molly the other day, what she’d been trying to convince herself of for the past week. She and Luke were friends. Just friends. If he had...feelings...for her, there was no way his sister would let him have her over, right? His parents had to be home for him to have a girl in the house.

Gracie’s parents weren’t that strict. They wanted her to make her own decisions. Her own mistakes.

Sometimes she wondered if it was laziness on their part. If they’d watched her more closely, she wouldn’t have made such a doozy of a mistake with Andrew.

Luke’s phone buzzed, and he took it out, glanced at the message. His expression darkened as he tossed the phone onto the table.

“Is everything all right?” Gracie asked.

“Yeah. It’s nothing.” He flipped through channels, seemed focused solely on the shows flashing by. “What do you want to watch?”

Before she could answer, his phone buzzed again, showing a picture of a smiling Kennedy.

Gracie’s throat tightened. “You can get that. If you want.”

He gave one quick shake of his head. “I don’t have anything to say to her.” He shut his phone off. Tried to smile, but it looked forced. He turned the TV off. “Want to sit out on the porch?”

“Sure,” she said as the house phone began to ring. And ring.

He jumped up and grabbed the receiver, looked at the caller ID and swore. “It’s Kennedy,” he said, staring at the still-ringing phone. “She must have talked to my mom and found out I was here.”

The phone rang twice more, then stopped. It was silent for thirty seconds, then rang again.

“You’d better answer it,” Gracie said gently. “Before it wakes up the girls.”

He nodded stiffly. Clicked a button and lifted it to his ear. “Hello?” He began to pace while, Gracie assumed, Kennedy spoke. Gracie wished he’d left the TV on. At least then she could pretend great interest in whatever was on. Without it, she was stuck on the couch while he walked around the living room, his head down, his knuckles white. “No.” More silence. “No. Do not come over, Kennedy. I mean it.”

Gracie’s head snapped up. Kennedy wanted to come over? Here? Now?

She watched him, wide-eyed, while he listened to whatever Kennedy was saying. “Because I don’t want to see you or talk to you.” More silence. “And I don’t want to hear what you have to say.” He laughed harshly. “You screwed my best friend,” he said flatly in a tone Gracie had never heard him use before. So angry. “As far as I’m concerned, we have nothing to say to each other. If you call here again, I’ll shut off the phone and my sister will get pissed. And don’t even think about coming over.” He looked at Gracie. Held her gaze. “I’m not alone.”

He hung up. Carefully replaced the phone. “You want a drink?” he asked, as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just told his ex-girlfriend he was with someone—a female someone, as even an idiot could infer.

“Uh, sure. Whatever you’re having is fine.”

One side of his mouth kicked up. “As long as it’s not milk, right?”

He remembered she was a vegan. For some stupid reason, that meant a lot to her. “Right.”

While he went into the kitchen, Gracie held her breath, but the phone remained silent. He came back a minute later with two glasses of iced tea. Handed her one, then set the other on the coffee table and retook his seat, once again sitting close to her.

“Sorry about that—” He gestured to the phone. “I don’t want to drag you into my drama.”

“It’s okay.” She sipped her drink, stared at the glass. “Has Kennedy tried to talk to you before this?”

“Yeah. She’s been bugging me for days, trying to get me to see her, saying she has some of my stuff—sweatshirts and things. That we should meet up to exchange them. I told her just to drop them off at my house, and I boxed up all the shit she gave me and left it on her back patio the other day.”

“If you want her to come over,” Gracie said softly, setting her drink down. “I can leave.”

His head whipped around. “No. I want you to stay. Unless...unless you want to go?”

He looked nervous. Sounded worried.

“I want to stay.” And wasn’t it her honesty that had gotten her into trouble with Andrew? She’d been too open. Had said what she thought, giving him everything she had, sharing her feelings with him, and he’d used them to his advantage.

But Luke wasn’t Andrew, she reminded herself. Luke was her friend. He liked spending time with her. Wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed of her.

Except they hadn’t actually been seen in public, a little voice reminded her. They’d snuck out of her house the other day so no one would see them. Even now they were alone at a house at the edge of town.

“That is,” she continued, worried she’d said too much, that he would see how much she was starting to like him, “if you want me to stay.”

“Yeah,” he said quickly. “You know I do.”

She didn’t. She didn’t know anything. Wasn’t good at these games, preferring honesty and openness. Wasn’t like other teenage girls who lived for drama, who wanted the heady rush of love, the heartbreak of hurt feelings and arguments. “I’m sorry Kennedy upset you,” she told him.

“I shouldn’t let her get to me.”

“It must be hard. You two were together for a long time.”

He sighed. Scooted back. “Since the beginning of sophomore year. I feel stupid, though, because now that I look back, especially the past year, I can see the signs. Her flirting with Drew, him watching her.”

“Things like that are often clear in hindsight.” Hadn’t she looked back and seen the signs with Andrew? How he’d treated her, how he hadn’t wanted to talk to her, hadn’t wanted to get to know her, even though she’d given him everything?

“That’s what sucks,” Luke said. “Looking back and seeing everything so clearly. I want to kick my own ass for not doing something about it, for not calling either of them on it, but especially for not saying stuff to her about all the crap she pulled during the time we were together. The head games she played, how she loved to try to make me jealous, how she’d sulk if she didn’t get her way, if I wasn’t showing her enough attention.”

“You can’t blame yourself for her and Andrew cheating.”

“I don’t, but I should have seen it coming. Should have broken up with her months ago. I mean, I loved her. I thought I loved her, but there were times, too many, really, where I didn’t like her.”

Gracie set her hand on his knee. “I’m sorry she hurt you,” she whispered, hating that he, too, had suffered.

He looked at her hand, then into her face. Something in his gaze warned her, told her she needed to move back, to do or say something to remind them both that they weren’t a couple. That they were too different. That she had no desire to get hurt again.

But he leaned forward, slowly, so slowly she certainly could have stopped him. But she didn’t. She sat there, still as a statue as he brushed his mouth against hers. He kissed her again, moving in closer, his hands on her face. She kissed him back, her heart racing, but when he deepened the kiss, when he tried to sweep his tongue into her mouth, she jumped up.

“I—I can’t do this,” she blurted, then remembered the girls were sleeping and lowered her voice. “I don’t want to be...” She waved a hand vaguely. “A replacement or consolation prize.” She looked around, had no idea what she was looking for and crossed her arms. “I think I should go.”

He was on his feet in a flash. “No...I mean...I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, I just...” He shook his head. Shoved his hands into his pockets. “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done it.”

She nodded but noticed he hadn’t refuted her words about being nothing more than a possible rebound. “A mistake. Yes.” Because he was lonely? Trying to get back at Kennedy, and Gracie was available? Because she was easy? Her stomach turned. “I really have to go.”

She ran out, feeling like a fool. Wondering why he’d kissed her. Because he was using her? Or because he felt bad for her? Poor Gracie with her weird clothes and crazy hair. A pity kiss.

She wasn’t sure which one was worse.

* * *

IVY TOOK A DEEP BREATH, then knocked on the door to Clinton’s room. After the ugly scene at O’Riley’s last week, he’d returned to Houston. For work, he’d said in the voice-mail message he’d left her, though she’d known that was only partly true.

He’d wanted to get away from her.

Hadn’t she known it would happen? That eventually he’d leave? He’d proved her right. She’d tried to tell herself she didn’t care. Had even forced herself to attend Fay’s family’s Fourth of July picnic to prove how unaffected she was by anything Clinton said or did.