All of You (2 page)

“Pops and those Camels might be a lost cause,” Stellan replied. “But Christopher says Stella only does it sometimes. And we all have our bad habits. The other day I watched Christopher eat an entire baking dish of lasagna.” Stellan gestured wide with his hands. “And I mean the
whole
thing. Then there’s me with my bottles of wine on the weekends.” He shrugged. “Like I said, we all have our stuff. Everybody’s got their vices, right?”

Kat racked her brain for a past, present, or possible future vice, but came up with
nada
.

That was, of course, unless a voracious appetite for books, a gluttonous need for comfy yoga pants, and an insatiable appetite for take-out were vices.

Tame and lame, as usual.

Kat left Stellan to his texting conversation and made her way out of the lab and into the hallway. She got about halfway to the elevator when a door opened behind her. “I thought I saw you walk by,” a deep voice called out.

Kat turned to find Ben Forster’s head poking out from behind his lab’s door.

She lifted her hand in a wave. “Yes. Hi.” Kat cleared her throat and gestured toward the elevator. “Just leaving for the night.” She glanced down at her winter jacket and purse and then up at Ben. “Obviously.”

“Another late night for us both,” Ben said, slipping out into the hallway. He held onto the door until it shut with a quiet
snick
behind him. “It seems like we’ve been making a habit of it lately.”

By regular guy standards, Ben would have been considered really good-looking, but, by biomechanical engineer standards, Ben was – as her sisters would have said –
smokin’ hot
. He was over six feet tall, with dark brown hair, nice hazel eyes, and a great smile.

During a tour in Afghanistan ten years ago, an Improvised Explosive Device had eviscerated his left leg below the knee, which was why he now had a prosthetic beneath his khaki pants and shoved into his brown leather boot. After his recovery and discharge from the Marines, Ben put himself through engineering school at Ohio State University and now designed and implemented limb prosthetics for other veterans.

Kat and Ben had been making small talk in the research facility hallway several times a week for about a year now.

Well, Ben attempted small talk while Kat stood there awkwardly. Outside of her male colleagues and the guys in her family, Ben was one of the few men Kat ever interacted with and she wasn’t very good at it.

At all.

They stood there silently for a few long moments before Ben finally spoke.

“I’ve, uh, noticed you haven’t been using your cane for the past few weeks,” he said. “Probably safe to assume the neurologist made some headway with your meds?”

Kat nodded. “Yes, actually. We’re trying a different combination of medications and they seem to be working relatively well. Either that, or I’ve slipped into another dormancy.” She shifted her weight to her left leg, as if to prove it to him.

Ugh.

Why. Are. You. So. Awkward?

It was 70 degrees in the building, Kat was wearing the stylish plum-colored coat Fi had bought her for Christmas last year, and she was trapped in the 7
^th
level of small-talk Hell.

Cue the deluge of sweat.

“That’s great. I’m glad to hear that.” Ben cleared his throat. Again. “Listen, I’ve been meaning to ask you…well, if you’d like to, I don’t know…maybe go out to dinner together sometime? Or maybe catch a play or…” Ben angled his head back toward the lab. “I was just reading that
La Traviata
is playing at the Bohemian National Hall next weekend. I thought maybe we could go…that is, if you like opera. Which I thought maybe you might.” When Kat didn’t reply, he exhaled a nervous laugh. “Or not.”

Ben was a very nice, very smart guy. They shared a background in science and an obvious affinity for the medical profession. Kat had a wide-open social calendar, loved eating, and could tolerate opera.

But there was no way in
hell
she was going on a date with this dude. For a bunch of different reasons.

Kat shifted her weight again, but still didn’t speak.

Ben’s smile faded. “No big deal.” He nodded slowly. “Okay, so…”

“It’s not you…” Kat swallowed hard, searching for a way to get out of this awful situation without looking like a heartless, rude bitch. “I just have a lot going on right now, Ben, but maybe some other time. Thank you, though.”

Ben searched her face thoughtfully. “You know, I get it, Kat. I know what it’s like, the things that go through your head when you’re…well, I hate the word ‘disabled,’ so let’s go with ‘medically different.’”

Ben shifted his weight, unconsciously reminding Kat that he
did
get it. That he knew what it was like to wake up one day totally different than you’d been the day before.

Ben was missing a limb and Kat had limbs she couldn’t control.

Now that Kat thought about it, they were like two peas in a frickin’ pod.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with you going out with me or not, by the way,” he continued. “I just wanted you know that I understand what it feels like to have that guard up and that I respect your feelings completely. But I would like to get to know you better, if possible.”

Ben shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, shifting his weight again. When Kat still didn’t speak, a flush crept up his neck.

He exhaled a hard laugh. “Or did I completely misinterpret that and succeed only in making an even bigger ass of myself?”

Kat shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “No, you pretty much got it spot-on, I’m embarrassed to admit. I had no idea I was so transparent.”

Ben laughed and Kat’s muscles loosened up. A little.

“We don’t have to call it a date. Hell, it doesn’t have to
be
a date. Maybe we could just go do something fun together,” Ben said. “Because I don’t know about you, but my social life could use a real boost.”

A boost? Kat’s would need a rocket launching to get anywhere near acceptable societal standards.

Before her multiple sclerosis diagnosis, Kat’s social circle had consisted of immediate family, work colleagues, school associates, and a small circle of friends she’d made in college. But since her diagnosis six years ago, Kat had pulled that circle even tighter.

It hadn’t been a conscious decision at the time, but, looking back, Kat could see the direct correlation between her diagnosis and people she’d allowed in. She’d slowly distanced herself from her small group of friends, with no plans to change that or replace them. Kat couldn’t eliminate work associates from her life, but she could keep those relationships strictly professional (aside from Stellan, who was now like family since he was dating a childhood friend).

And her family?

Well, those people she couldn’t do a damn thing about, because God knew she’d tried.

All-of-a-sudden and for no reason other than the human brain was a fickle bitch,
he
popped into her head. Just as he’d been popping into her head every day since the day she’d met him eighteen months ago.

He was egotistical.

A man whore.

And annoying as hell.

So why Kat spent so much time trying to extricate him from her frontal lobe was anyone’s guess.

Probably because his ridiculousness baffles and offends each of my brain cells. They are probably just trying to make sense of the inexplicable before moving on to more stimulating pastures.

Too bad there was no understanding a thirty-three year old man – a
police officer
, no less – who drank like a fish, screwed like he was trying to whittle his bedpost into a toothpick, and strutted around like he was God’s gift to women.

Ugh.

“Kat?” She looked up and met Ben’s concerned expression. “You okay?”

She’d drifted again.

Must read less. Must sleep more.

Kat shook her head. “Yes. Sorry.”

She quickly dissected what Ben had said.

You don’t have to marry him, bear his children, or wash his socks. An outing or two – as
friends
– might be okay.

More than okay. Might be good for you.

Why build another bridge, though? Why create more connections when they cannot last?

Because you are lonely as hell and this is a guy who gets it.

“As friends?” Kat asked. When Ben smiled and nodded, so she did she. “Well, I guess that would be okay.”

Ben laughed and said, “I’ll take it,” which made Kat blush.

Way to slap another spoonful of awkward onto this clumsy shit-show.

Kat quickly plugged Ben’s info into her phone and gave him hers. They said their stilted good-byes and, a few seconds later, Kat finally made it into the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed, she loosened stomach muscles she’d been clenching since Ben had appeared. With a quick wave to the old security guy behind the desk, Kat trudged out into the snow, got into her sensible Chevy Equinox, and headed home…

The entire time regretting her acquiescence to Ben’s offer.

And chastising her gray matter, once again, for continuing to harbor thoughts of
him
.

‡

“I
never thought
I’d see the day.” Danny MacDonough pointed to the greenish splotch on his partner-in-fighting-crime’s tee shirt.

Nathan Drazek looked down. “Yeah, Gia got me again. And she’s a damn sneak about it, too.” He swiped at the dried stain. “Never gives us any warning, no burp or anything. Just spews the baby food all over and smiles like nothing happened.”

“Judging by your shit-eating grin, you don’t seem to mind at all,” Danny said, grinning himself.

“Nah.” Nathan tilted his head toward the bedroom where his wife, Stella, and their eight month old baby, Gia, were sleeping. “For whatever reason, when it’s your kid, you think it’s cute. Stupid, but true.”

Danny drained the rest of his Heineken. “Yeah, well, that kid
is
abnormally cute. And I’m not usually a baby kind of guy.”

“That’s for damn sure. Not unless you’re talking about women 18-25, anyway.”

“Nope, that particular age range is what I like to call ‘Good Time Girls.’ All they want to do is drink, party, and maybe text a few times afterwards. No commitments, no drama – just some no-strings-attached screwing and a nice breakfast at Denny’s before heading home.” Danny grinned. “Heaven, right?”

Nathan’s upper lip curled.

Danny laughed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know – not your style. But, like I always said, that means more ladies for the rest of us.” He stood and grabbed his jacket. “Speaking of which, I’ve gotta head out. I’m meeting Rochelle and her friends at some club downtown.”

“Who is Rochelle and what kind of club?”

“She’s the dental hygienist student I told you about. And who knows. She gave me the name and said to be there at ten o’clock,” Danny said, pulling on his jacket. “I am praying to God it’s not techno. The rest of ‘em I can handle, but techno is
killer
. I had a headache for a week last time I went to one of those fucking places.”

“One of these days, CPD will bust a club for something and you’ll be there. They’ll flip on the lights and there you’ll be: on the dance floor, bumping and grinding with a twenty year old,” Nathan said.

Danny scoffed. “What is this, amateur hour? Give me some credit, will you? I’d be bumping and grinding with at least
three
twenty year olds. And probably a waitress, too.”

Nathan grunted. “Just be careful out there. If you need a lift, call me. And you know you can stick around here. When Stella gets up, she’s gonna heat up some ziti and we’re gonna watch a movie. You’re welcome to stay. Stella would love shoving food down your throat. You know how she worries you don’t eat enough.”

Danny considered it, but then thought about how nauseating it would be to watch Nathan and Stella fawn over each other and Gia. It made Danny an asshole of the highest order, but he wasn’t up for being third wheel to their domestic bliss tonight.

“Nah, but thanks. You guys have fun, though.”

Danny left and drove through steady snowfall toward downtown Cleveland. Twenty minutes later, he was pushing his way through a sweaty throng of twenty-somethings who had, if they were male, showered in Abercrombie & Fitch cologne and, if they were female, depleted area craft stores of glitter, which was now spread all over their bodies.

Danny caught sight of Rochelle at a table full of people and lifted his hand in a greeting. She grinned and waved him over.

Rochelle leaned over and whispered something to a blonde-haired woman as Danny approached and they both giggled.

Rochelle gestured to the blonde. “Danny, this is Sarah. Sarah, this is the cop I was telling you about, Danny.”

Sarah’s light blue eyes were glazed over and her posture off-kilter as she extended her hand.

Danny’s off-duty assessment?