No. Ethan Tanner wasn’t capable of pity. This had to be something else. The awkward look on her father’s face as he watched her, then Ethan, then back to Audrey, was…anticipation.
For what? A fight?
The light in Ethan’s eyes shifted, watching her with some feeling she couldn’t identify. A warm touch grazed her palm, and she saw his fingers trying to interlace with hers. Her heart skipped. She didn’t realize she’d taken her hand out of her pocket.
Wrapping her fingers around his hand felt instinctual, a reflex. As if their skin were meant to connect and electrify their senses. His fresh, woodsy aftershave blended with the strong coffee under her nose, and it hit her.
He’s not drinking. Who comes to a bar to drink coffee?
Audrey pulled her hand out of Ethan’s fingers and shoved it back in her pocket.
Someone who wants to remain sober when he investigates his target.
“It’s time to go,” she said sharply.
“Now?” Ethan asked, his eyebrows raised an inch while the muscles on his face contracted from the rejection.
“Damn right,”
another murmur, less hushed than before. Audrey ignored it.
“Surely the great Ethan Tanner has the info for his article by now. I want to hit the road before it gets dark.”
“You and your brother have your little chat?” her father asked, holding his beer a hair from his lips.
Audrey glanced at him and bit the inside of her cheek. “We…understand each other perfectly. Which is why we need to go.”
Ethan stood, but didn’t grab his jacket from the back of the chair. Instead, he leaned into Audrey’s ear and his warm breath sent ripples of goose bumps down her neck.
“I really think we should stay a little longer.”
“Why, so you can dig up more dirt? If you want to stay, fine. Walk home.”
“Come on. Order a drink and sit with us. Tell me what Adam said.”
“Like you care what happened between me and my brother.” She glared at him. She wouldn’t fall for the concern in his eyes or the gentle hold he had on her elbow. Ethan Tanner would do anything to get the info for his article. He didn’t really care about her. That toe-curling kiss in her bedroom last night was a ploy, she was sure of it. Just to soften her up to get the dirt he wanted. The ache filled her heart more as he continued to look at her with tenderness. Because she knew he didn’t mean it.
“I can tell you need it. Just one. Bartender?” He raised his hand, simultaneously pulling out the chair in front of Audrey. “One merlot, please.”
He knows my choice of wine. After one drink.
“Sorry, city boy,” the bartender replied gruffly, arms crossed and leaning against the back counter. “All out.”
“What about the Kendall Jackson bottle behind you?”
The bartender sighed and stared straight through him. “Won’t serve her.”
Audrey cringed inside.
Would this humiliation ever end?
“What?” Ethan stopped, just as the rest of the bar silenced once again.
“You heard me.”
Ethan squeezed Audrey’s elbow, another moment of support from the one she expected it the least.
“
I’m
asking for the wine, pal.” Ethan spoke quicker, voice tinged with irritation.
The bartender grunted. “I doubt even a city boy like you drinks red wine. Sorry.”
“Ethan, forget it. I’m driving anyway.” Audrey took a deep breath and pulled her keys from her pocket. “You coming?”
“Can’t even order a drink in her home town.” Ethan bit between gritted teeth. He kept his fingers glued to Audrey’s elbow, refusing to let her go as he glared at Paul. “No wonder she left.”
Her father hung his shoulders over the table, the wrinkles on his face deepening, as he gripped his beer. Shame. Silent shame. He finally raised his eyes enough to see Audrey’s heart crack in two. Again.
He took a slow, deliberate sip on the bottle and glanced back at the bartender.
“Just one glass, Barnes. Let me have a drink with my daughter.”
“Have it at home,” he replied.
Nothing changes,
Audrey thought as she fought back a tear that she couldn’t blame on wind chill.
He suffers a similar disgrace, only lives with it daily.
Before Audrey could turn and march out of the bar, pretending not to notice everyone’s fury-filled eyes or the humiliation crawling up her spine, the bell over the door rang.
The air in the room seemed to suck in at once, oxygen levels fell and it became impossible to breathe. Audrey’s heart ceased to exist as even the pulse between her ears stopped.
A tall, less-than-brawny man with foggy glasses stepped through the door and ran his gloves through his short chestnut colored hair. Water droplets fell from the silver tinges above his ears as he pulled off his gloves and removed his glasses.
Audrey couldn’t inhale. An older image of Jack lifted his head and peered into her face.
Carl Davis.
If Audrey were the fainting type, this would have been the moment to lose all consciousness. Had Jack lived, she was sure he would have looked just like his father, staring back at her with those dark almond eyes, strong angled chin and gently sloping jaw line. Like Frank Sinatra with sparkling baby brown irises.
When Carl smiled, directly at her, Audrey’s knees buckled.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Had Ethan not been holding her elbow, Audrey would have fallen to her knees. Right in front of Jack’s father. She quickly recovered her balance, but held onto the back of the chair just in case her legs betrayed her again.
She hadn’t seen Jack’s parents since just after the accident. And not while she was entirely lucid. They’d visited her in the hospital while she recovered and she had been on strong pain medication. When Mrs. Davis stepped into the room, carrying a bouquet of roses, Audrey wanted to be dead and instantly healed simultaneously. The pain of knowing her only son was gone consumed her, but the urge to show her respect by standing and hugging her battled against it.
But she couldn’t. For days, Audrey thought she’d hallucinated when Jack’s mother hugged her in the hospital room, either woman unable to speak.
Now those feelings flooded over her once again, looking into Jack’s father’s face. Carl slowly moved to the back table, a slight limp in his left leg, but the smile firmly implanted on his cheeks. “I heard you were back in town, Audrey,” he started, a joyful ring in his voice. He turned to her father and held out his hand. “Paul, good to see you.”
Somehow her father had made it to his feet and she hadn’t noticed. Probably when she almost collapsed on the floor. Her father shook Carl’s hand wearing a sympathetic smile.
“Same to you. How’s your back treatin’ you in retirement?”
“Cold days like this don’t help, but I’m chuggin’ along. I’m looking forward to Tuesday. Claire and I are excited to vote for you, Audrey. How’s the campaign goin’?”
Audrey blinked. She must have hallucinated.
Mr. Davis intends to vote for me?
This was the point where her Peacemaker hat should have been firmly shoved back on her head, thanking him for his vote and schmoozing for more support, but the words didn’t make its way past her tongue.
Judging from the baffled half-smile on Ethan’s face, he was just as surprised. But the open jaws around the room unsettled her stomach more.
“Thank you,” she managed to stammer out. “It’s…been a rough one with Wyatt Williams, but…”
“But that’s politics,” Carl finished for her. “Well, Claire and I are real proud of you. You must be her boyfriend.” He stuck out his hand, waiting for Ethan to shake it. “Carl Davis. Nice to meet you.”
“Ethan Tanner.” He shook his hand.
“You’ve got a good woman here. Be good to her.”
“Carl,” Audrey’s father interrupted. “He’s not her boyfriend. He’s a journalist for the
Dallas Mornin’ Journal
. Writin’ an article on Audrey’s campaign.”
“Oh.” The man released Ethan’s hand. “Well, then that should be a piece of writing that truly glows about her.”
From the corner of her eye, Audrey saw Ethan throw a look at her father. Carl stepped forward and pulled her into a loose hug and kissed her on the cheek.
“Don’t be a stranger, darlin’,” Jack’s father smiled again. “Come see us when you’re free. Claire would love to catch up.”
Ethan couldn’t believe his ears. Carl Davis, the father of the boy that died right next to Audrey, pledged his vote for her. As a journalist, he should have wanted some other reaction, something negative, uncomfortable, possibly violent. Something readers would sit on the edge of their seats with. But another side of him filled with warmth. Is that pride?
What he wouldn’t give for an interview with this man. The real thoughts and feelings of the victim’s family. The perfect full-circle for his article.
“Actually, we’re free now if you’re available.” Ethan couldn’t help himself. If this was the lead-in for his questions, he’d do whatever it took. Audrey’s stunned face couldn’t keep him from it.
“Wonderful,” Carl replied, eyes alight with joy.
“Actually…” Paul dropped his hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “I’ll be taking this man back to the house so he can pack. Audrey, why don’t you follow Mr. Davis back to their house, and we’ll see you home in a bit.”
Shit.
Ethan tried to keep his smile intact, but the disappointment raged through his mind.
How am I supposed to get the information I need if I’m not there?
Bose was going to wring his neck if he didn’t get this interview. But not just that.
He
had
to know what this man thought of Audrey. A town full of people who clearly hated her, and the one person with the only legitimate reason to despise her, instead showered her with praises.
And he was right. In the brief seconds in which Ethan locked eyes with Audrey, the full truth slammed him in the gut. Had there not been any question over Audrey’s past or lack of attention to family, this brilliant woman would be winning the election by a volcanic explosion. Had Audrey Allen been a male candidate, there would have been no need for a runoff election. She would have been voted the next Texas state senator, lovingly embraced by her district, and all of the other senators as well.
But life was a bitch. A bitch with double standards. Ethan knew that better than anyone. And it was just as brutal to Audrey as it had been to him. Maybe more so to her.
But
we’re not responsible for the bitchiness of life, only for reporting it
. His boss’s words echoed in his thoughts. He used to repeat it to himself during every story and pushed on with his career, but now it sounded more hollow than a marble mausoleum.
“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Ethan asked Audrey softly, brushing his fingers against her palm. Although he couldn’t tell who was more stunned by his tender consolation: her or himself.
The confusion in her eyes was unmistakable, clearly wary of his intentions. Which agenda was Ethan after: his story or her wellbeing? If only Ethan knew himself.
“I’m fine,” she breathed wearing a cautious smile. She slowly curled her own fingers into his, and squeezed with a feather’s strength. “I’ll see you back at the house.”
When she turned to leave, his grip tightened on her hand and pulled her back. He couldn’t explain where the urge came from, or why he felt if he didn’t he’d be losing something precious. But he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and watched her eyes widen as he pressed her close. A heartbeat later, he tucked his head in and kissed her cheek, so close to the corner of her mouth that the warmth of her lips and breath danced across his.
Though it might have been a gasp. Her blueberry eyes deepened into something he couldn’t identify. Paul and Mr. Davis looked more surprised than her, standing there and waiting for a punch line. Or just a punch.
Ethan’s eyes lingered on the pair as he watched Audrey and Mr. Davis stroll out of the bar, the ache in his chest stronger than ever. The emotional blitz of Audrey’s life was just ahead, and Ethan could hardly bear standing on the sidelines and let her struggle through it alone.
Turning back to Paul made him stop and hold his breath. The tight jaw and lowered stare gave the impression of a bull ready to charge. Instead, he slipped his hand into his coat and flipped a few bills on the table.
“They’re gonna be a while, city boy.”
Ethan shrugged on his jacket, staring into the empty coffee cup on the table. Would he be there for Audrey when they were finished? Would she need a lap to cry on, an ear to vent into, or a heart to connect with?
Knock it off, Ethan. There’s no way in hell she’d pick you
.
You’re the enemy to her.
He’d be as useless as the empty cup.
Clunking his feet across the wooden planks and watching every hostile pair of eyes follow him out the door felt like an old Western showdown. To think he was a bigger enemy to Audrey Allen than these vicious folks throwing daggers with their eyes. It nearly crippled him inside. He didn’t want to be compared to these heartless cretins.
Then you chose the wrong line of work,
his father’s voice answered his thoughts. The last words he’d ever heard from him, to which he’d slammed the phone against the wall and swore he’d never talk to him again.
Ethan climbed into Paul’s truck and slammed the door behind him. He pretended not to notice the old man toss him a glare.
“Can we make a quick stop at the store? I need to pick up a wireless card for my laptop.”
Paul gave a slight nod and turned the ignition. Ethan continued to fume his hatred through the foggy window.
Screw you, Dad.
I made it this far without you, and I’ll finish this the same way.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The words flew from Ethan’s brain and onto the keyboard faster than his fingers could manage. The aluminum laptop could have been flimsy plastic from the anger with which he punched every key.
When he and Paul had arrived back to their house, Ethan marched upstairs without greeting Myrna and closed the bedroom door. He’d ignored the half-dozen voicemail messages on his phone. No doubt from Bose, chomping at the bullhorn for his article.
The suitcase sat open on the floor by the window, empty. The rage pouring through Ethan’s veins erupted and he yanked his clothes from the hangers in the adjacent closet and tossed them in the suitcase. When the fire still raged inside, he knew the only thing left was to write.