And Then He Kissed Me (8 page)

It made him the worst kind of jerk. He groaned, wishing instead he’d complimented her on her insight. On her strategy. On all the brightness and cleverness she’d always shown—ever since they’d met.

Instead of cowing her, he should have just done what he wanted, which was to pull her to him and kiss her until the past was so far behind them that all they had was the pleasure of the present.

He hadn’t, of course. Because Audrey didn’t want him.

He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror—hard jaw, even harder eyes—and told himself he deserved it. He’d left like a coward five years ago, and insulted her five minutes ago. She had every right to be angry and to want nothing to do with him.

His leaving had been the best thing that had ever happened to her—she’d said it herself.

He leaned against the porcelain sink and fought the shame bubbling up from deep within. People around here called him “sir” and they saved the seat at the head of the conference room table for him, but Audrey was a reminder of who he really was—someone who’d barely clawed his way out of hard times.

He tried to picture the diploma on his office wall, the glowing reviews he’d received from his own managers in the past, and the ever-growing numbers on the calendar marking his time in recovery.

But all he could see was the dark shame that followed him around like a cloud. His face was shadowed enough to remind him of his childhood days when he and his older brother, Auggie, used to go hungry, bones jutting at all angles. There were grim weeks when his dad would lurch away, leaving only his mom to try to scrape together enough for all of them. She’d pull Auggie and Kieran close and kiss the tops of their heads, whispering her wish to be able to fill them up with love, because then they’d never be without. She’d sew, clean, or do anything she could for money or food, all of them waiting for their dad to come stumbling back, hopefully with a pocketful of winnings but, if not, he’d eventually go back to delivering furniture with his cousin’s company.

Kieran closed his eyes, tired of his reflection. Auggie had pulled out of the tailspin of their childhood early on, first by joining the navy, then by going immediately into the police academy. Today, he was an officer in the Boston Police Department. Kieran grimaced, knowing his own transformation had taken much longer, and it had come at a terrible price. It had involved not only losing his mom, but carrying a secret he could never tell Audrey, which meant he could never be honest with her.

And if his addiction meetings had taught him anything, it was that honesty was a pillar of any strong relationship. As much as his fingers yearned to touch her cheek, as much as he longed to pull her close to his chest and feel her warmth against him, and as much as he wished he could atone for the past, it could never be.

He sighed, wishing Audrey could just evaporate, like mist when the sun warms the air. It seemed unfair that his heart could swell so much in her presence. It was a wonder that it didn’t come exploding out of his chest.

He turned off the tap, listening to the water drip, trying to focus on the sound.

The longer he was around Audrey, the more he wanted to atone for his actions. But coming clean with her would mean she’d find out that he was once an addict who, five years ago, had accepted a terrible deal at a desperate crossroads. It would also ruin her closest relationship—and he wasn’t about to go causing any more damage to Audrey than he already had.

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror—all angles and edges. Not soft with emotion. Not soft with
anything
.

There had once been a day when he’d been good at bluffing. Good at pretending.

His gambling days were behind him—he’d made damn sure of that—but he needed one more lie. He told himself he didn’t care for Audrey Tanner one whit.

And as he stared at his shadowed face in the bathroom mirror, he almost believed it.

C
HAPTER
FIVE

T
he next morning, streetlight reflections glimmered on the wet blacktop as Audrey jogged through her neighborhood. The rain shower from the night before had cleared the early May air, leaving the smell of fresh dirt and pine and grass on the wind. Audrey inhaled deeply as she wove her way through streets lined with still-sleeping households. In the east, the sky was transitioning from black to a dim rose, and stars were fading above.

It was her favorite time to get a workout in—to be alone and let her legs move while her brain unfurled its coiled ideas—but today she wasn’t so sure she liked how much her focus kept shifting back to Kieran Callaghan.

She desperately wanted to think that after five years, her searing desire for him would have cooled a little bit. She’d always told herself that she couldn’t resist a bad boy—but Kieran wasn’t acting like a bad boy now. And a prickling unease reminded her that she wasn’t sure he ever had been. Sure, he had ridden a motorcycle and didn’t seem to have any kind of full-time job when she first met him. But he’d never seemed downright…nefarious. She’d stereotyped him that way later, after he’d left her. Her hurt had rewritten the story of their brief time together, and after a while she’d figured she must have imagined his blend of tenderness and muscle, and how a jumble of contrasts could exist in one man: strength and softness, intelligence and bravado.

Audrey wiped her forehead and hoped her thoughts of Kieran would be wiped away, too. All these mental gymnastics and flutters in her stomach didn’t mean anything, except maybe she needed to get laid. Never mind that she’d never had a one-night stand in her life. Even after such a short time with Kieran, when they came together, she’d believed she was in love. But if there was any time to shake things up, it was now.

Not that it had to be sex that changed things. She pushed a strand of sweaty hair away from her forehead. When it came down to it, there were thousand ways to change her life that didn’t have to involve a man. She could change out her wardrobe, or take lessons of some sort. She could get another degree, or train for a triathlon.

She could learn to ride a Harley.

The options pumped through her in time with her heartbeat.

Audrey crossed the Birch River, its water dark and rustling, and then headed toward the high school. If she kept going straight, she’d hit downtown. After that, up a gentle hill, was Willa’s neighborhood, where White Pine’s biggest homes were built. Audrey lived on the other side of the river—in a simple one-story house she loved and had bought herself—though she favored runs through Willa’s quiet streets where ancient oaks arced over her like protective giants. Many of those grand homes had been built by White Pine’s early bankers, lumber barons, and railroad executives. The structures were still stately and lovely, with old ivy crawling up the sides and long, curved driveways that seemed to smile as she raced by.

Not today, though. Audrey was going to hit the track at the high school and do sprints, then run the metal bleachers. She needed to squeeze into her work attire every day, and the regular recipe exchanges—especially the ones to which she brought donuts—weren’t going to help anything stay buttoned or fastened.

As she ran across the damp football field toward the track, she thought she saw a dark figure silhouetted in the shadows of the bleachers. She blinked and tried to focus, but it was still too early—there wasn’t enough light to really tell. Nevertheless, she pushed her shoulders back and kept her head high.
Look strong so your attacker will think twice,
she’d read once. She’d never felt unsafe running alone in her beloved small town, but it was good to be aware nevertheless.

Thinking ahead. Covering her bases.

She exhaled, suddenly frustrated with being so logical and practical and predictable. She had forced herself to play by every rule in life, and it had left her single and fired from her dream job. Irritated, she pushed herself to sprint the last bit of distance to the track, then went right for the bleachers. Up, up, up to the top—her legs burning and her lungs heaving.

When she turned to trot down and do it again, she screamed at the hooded figure standing at the bottom of the stands, waiting for her.

“I am armed!” she cried, glancing around for an exit strategy, “and I will hurt you.”

The figure waved its hands. She couldn’t make out exactly what it was saying, but when it finally pushed its hood back, she relaxed. A dark ponytail cascaded from the top of the figure’s head, curling at the ends around the shoulders. From Audrey’s vantage point, it looked like Alexis Belten.

“Ms. Tanner!” the figure called. “It’s just me! Sorry if I scared you!”

Audrey trotted back down the stairs, her heartbeat slowing and her muscles relaxing.

“Alexis?”

Sure enough, the track team member and one-time volleyball player was standing there in the dark, nervously shifting her tall, lean frame from one foot to the other.

“I’m so sorry,” Alexis said, “but I had to make sure that it really was you out here, and then you screamed and I was like,
oh crap
she thinks I’m a
murderer
, but then I remembered my hood was up so I pushed it back so hopefully you’d know it was me and not, like, Jack the Ripper.”

Audrey nodded. “That’s all fine. But what are you doing here? The sun’s not even up.”

“No, I know,” Alexis said, twisting her hands together. “That’s the point. Not that it’s dark, I mean, but that you’re here and this is when you work out sometimes and I want to work out with you. I came yesterday and the day before, because I know you do bleachers at least one day a week, I just didn’t know which day. I wanted to join you is all.”

Even in the dark, Audrey could see Alexis’s forehead crinkling with nervousness and something else. Worry? Why hadn’t the girl just called or e-mailed her?

“Of course you can run with me,” she replied. “We could tackle these bleachers together if you wanted.”

The pretty, rounded apples of Alexis’s cheeks plumped with happiness. “That would be awesome. Hard, but awesome.”

“Why don’t we walk around the track once, just to get you warmed up,” Audrey suggested, her heart pinching at how easily her coaching instincts kicked in. And at how happy it made her.

The pair set off, taking the quarter-mile in quick, brisk steps. “So is everything all right?” Audrey asked after a moment, glancing sideways at Alexis. As she did, the screen lit up on the slim phone tucked into the running band on the girl’s arm. It glowed eerily in the fading darkness. Audrey figured it for a text message. Her students texted like they breathed. “Things okay with you?”

Alexis’s ponytail bounced as she worked her arms and legs. “Um, I guess they’re okay. The new coach, Mr. Frace? He’s
such
a joke. He barely makes us do anything, like he’s so worried that we’ll break a sweat or something. It’s like he thinks we’re swooning ladies in those books he teaches—
Pride and Prejudice
or whatever.”

Audrey smiled, though her chest tightened to think about the girls’ track team barely practicing. They’d never make it to district finals at this rate—never mind State.

“You’re signing yourself up for two practices today, you know,” Audrey said. “Just because you’re running with me this morning doesn’t mean you get out of Mr. Frace’s practice later, no matter how lame it is.”

“I get it,” Alexis said, her mouth pulling downward.

“If it’s too much, you can always run with me on the weekends. I always get a good workout in on Sunday mornings.”

Alexis flashed a smile, which disappeared as quickly as it came. “That would be great. Because the whole team misses you, you know. It’s stupid what they did to you. And I…”

Audrey arched a brow as the girl’s words faded. Alexis bit her lower lip and appeared to have more to say.

“And?” Audrey prompted gently.

“Nothing,” Alexis replied, shaking her head. They were back at the bleachers, and the slender girl put her hands on her hips. The screen on her phone lit up again.

“Is someone trying to get in touch with you?” Audrey asked. “Seems awfully early for texting.”

“No, it’s fine.”

The screen lit up again. Audrey paused, inviting her to say more, but Alexis pushed past it.

“God, running these bleachers is going to suck,” she said instead.

“Sure you want to?” Audrey asked, allowing Alexis to change the subject. She figured out early on in her career that pushing teenage girls to talk would get you nowhere. Best to let Alexis reveal what she had to say in her own time.

“Oh, heck yes. And I bet I can beat you.”

“Oh, you think?” Audrey asked. “On your mark, get set—”

“Go!” Alexis cried, taking off ahead of her. On her arm, her phone’s screen glowed again, dimming as the girl raced away.

Audrey followed, letting Alexis get a big head start. She watched Alexis hurtle herself up the bleachers, and couldn’t help but be impressed. Alexis would win their race today for real.

And Audrey figured she’d find her own way to win today, too—or, at least try something totally new—at the dealership. She was going to shake up her life somehow. It was time.