Giving It Up: Pushing the Boundaries, Book 1 (7 page)

Except for tonight. Tonight, his face had softened. He’d looked at her with appreciation and desire, even if he had also shown confusion and a little shock.

It made her want to tell him more. About her dream of someday being an artist, of having her work displayed on its own, with no accompanying reporter’s byline, or facing a full-page ad for a Labor Day sale at the department store. She wanted to tell him how she was worried she’d never reach that dream.

But she stayed silent. That wasn’t why he was there.

A moment later, he took a deep breath and pulled away, throwing his legs off the bed and standing up before he turned to say, “I’d better get going.” He strode over to the couch, scooped up his shirt and pulled it on, then stepped into his shoes.

She slid off the bed and followed him to the door. He opened it and was about to walk out when, on impulse, she rose up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you next week.”

“Next week.” He smiled, and her knees buckled a little. God, he was handsome. And now that she’d actually talked to him, held him…for the first time, she wondered whether these five weeks wouldn’t end up costing her more than he was paying her.

Chapter Seven

On Thursday evening, Warren pulled his cruiser into the driveway at home after a long day of too many difficult arrests and a mound of paperwork. A routine traffic stop half an hour before his shift was over had turned into a full search, which meant he was late getting home and Mom had already left for her night shift at the hospital. He would be the one to field Nate’s and Dad’s needs until bedtime, even though right now, all he could think about was getting out of his uniform and into something comfortable. Comforting.

Like Beatrice.

Last night had been so good he’d had to fight the urge to call her up this afternoon—after Horowitz had called him over to help pin down that raging, bug-eyed meth head so they could get his prints—and beg her to let him come over again tonight.

Wouldn’t that be humiliating.

Not that he would have actually done it. He had other responsibilities that kept him from considering it too seriously. But he wasn’t sure whether he should be grateful or resentful that he’d promised Kelly he’d fix the loose drawer on her dresser this evening while she was in class.

He could have said no. He
should
have said no. Half the time he didn’t have to say yes, in fact, and that would certainly make his life a lot easier. But it was hard to turn down a request for help from his own family. They were all he had. The only ones he could count on if he was ever down. His shitty experience with Jen had proven that.

He’d fix the damned drawer.

But when he walked into the house, Kelly was there, standing at the kitchen island, chopping carrots, while Dad and Nathan were sitting at the table. He stopped for a second, confused. Why wasn’t she at her class? It had already started half an hour ago.

“Welcome home, son,” Dad called out, and Warren returned the greeting with a nod.

“Where were you last night?” Kelly asked.

“Hello to you too, Kel,” he grumbled. He could already feel that all-too-familiar tension rising in his body.

She puffed out an exasperated breath. “Cut me some slack, okay? I’ve had a rough day.”

Fine. He didn’t doubt for a second that she’d had a hard day too. At only twenty-nine years old, his little sister had been dealt her fair share of hard knocks from life. He could see it in the lines around her eyes, the gray strands already appearing in her dark hair and the sag to her shoulders. Being on her feet all day in her waitressing job was exhausting, and a single mom on top of that…it wasn’t easy, he knew.

But was it really so much to ask for a little care for himself?

Warren scowled. He immediately hated himself for thinking such a thing, for whining about the life he’d dealt with for years already without complaint. One night with Beatrice and he’d turned into a needy baby.

And yet he wouldn’t trade last night for anything. Not even a trip to Italy.

“I found guns in the trunk of a guy’s car after he ran a stop sign and he confessed that he was selling them to middle school kids. Why aren’t you at class?”

Kelly paused in her work and blinked at him. Fuck. He hadn’t wanted to be an asshole…

No, no excuses. He shouldn’t have been, even if she was pissing him off. But before he could apologize, she looked down at the cutting board and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “Dropped out.”

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

How much had he shelled out for that course? And she’d dropped out?

But before he could follow up on that comment, Nate piped up. “Hey, Uncle Quinn!”

Shit. He’d already forgotten about the kid. Getting on Kelly’s case would have to wait. No way would Warren criticize his sister in front of her own son.

He walked over to ruffle the boy’s hair. “Hey, tough guy. What are you working on?”

“Fractions.”

He looked over Nathan’s shoulder. Good God, the kid was terrible at math. Kelly hadn’t stayed in school long enough to learn much more than Nathan. It had taken her a while to finally get her GED and apply for the adult degree program…and now she’d dropped out again.

Which meant it was up to him. “Looks like you have a couple of answers that might need some fixing up. Why don’t I change and then come check your work?”

Nathan beamed. “Yeah, cool. I could use some help.”

Dad spread his hands out apologetically, ruffling the paper in front of Nate. “It’s been too long since I learned this stuff. I even had to look up what a remainder was.”

Dad’s hands were shaking even worse than usual. Warren had to look away.
Damn it.
Now he felt guilty for not being there earlier to help Nathan
and
for making Dad feel even more helpless. And he’d have to tell Mom about the shaking and see what was going on with Dad’s medication…

“Give me a minute,” he said.
I need a minute.
He turned away to go upstairs, but Kelly’s raised eyebrows stopped him on the way out of the kitchen.

“So are you going to tell me where you were last night?” she asked in a low voice.

It’s none of your business
, he wanted to say.
Go the fuck to class!
he felt like shouting.

But they had to live in this house together, and hurting her feelings like that wouldn’t make anything easier. Besides, the truth was that even a week ago he probably would have told her without hesitation. But tonight, something stopped him. Not just because he wanted to keep his time with Beatrice for himself. Because, in some way, he wanted to be worthy of Beatrice’s trust.

He sighed. “I had to run a few errands and didn’t get home until after you were asleep.”

She scooped up the carrot circles and dumped them into a bowl, then started cutting a bell pepper. “Does this have anything to do with that woman you were talking to on Sunday? Nate said you were holding hands.”

Fuck.
He cut a glance at Nathan, who was talking to Dad. Not that Warren blamed Nate. The kid was only thirteen. But they would still have to have a talk about gossiping.

“I don’t think that’s important, Kelly,” he told her quietly.

She stopped what she was doing and looked him square in the eye.

Do not ask me about this, Kelly. Don’t take this away from me
, he silently warned, looking back at her with so much intensity that she finally swung her gaze away, returning to the task at hand.

Jen’s name hung in the air as though Kelly had actually spoken it, a reminder of how letting other people into his crazy life could cause so much pain.

“Can you take Nathan to baseball practice tomorrow evening? Maureen traded shifts with me, so I’ll be working until close,” was all she said.

Warren relaxed a little. She might be stubborn, but despite what she thought of herself, Kelly wasn’t stupid. He wished she would finally believe it enough to get her degree and stop quitting every time things got tough. A bachelor’s degree would mean a little more confidence, and that would do wonders for her life…if she could just stay in the program.

But he chose not to push her about how she’d dropped out, since she’d given him a reprieve about last night. Instead, he asked, “Why did you trade shifts?”

“Dad has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning and Mom can’t take him because she has to stay home to let the plumber in—”

“Wait. Why is the plumber coming?”

“The hot water isn’t working.”

Goddamn it.
So much for a soothing shower after a long day.

But Warren didn’t complain. This was his normal, he reminded himself. He hadn’t complained in years. Doing so now would be ridiculous. Ridiculous. And yet…he wanted to. He wanted so badly to say no, and leave this house and go to Beatrice’s apartment, to clean the hours he’d lived today off of himself and lie on her bed and feel her hands on his body.

He shook his head. This was a five-week deal, not a long-term relationship. He
didn’t have time
for anything else.

“Okay,” he told Kelly, not bothering to say any more or ask questions that would only be answered in unsatisfying ways. Accepting was all he could do in the end. Accept that this was his life and try to manage the chaos as best he could. He started walking again, staring at the doorway to the hall as though it were salvation. Temporary, but still.

“I brought home some real estate brochures for you. I left them on your desk,” Kelly called after him as he walked away, and Warren nodded his thanks before escaping up the stairs and into his room, where he shut the door and stared at the stack of glossy booklets sitting on the chipped veneer.

It had become almost a ritual for them. Kelly would pick up any new housing brochures from the stands outside her work and bring them home. Warren loved to flip through them and find the kinds of houses he might like to own someday.

Not this house, though. He owned this house but it wasn’t really his. He’d grown up here, and it had some great memories because of that, but it wasn’t who he was. Mom and Dad had to remortgage all those years ago after Dad had his stroke and retired from police work and everything got more expensive, but by then everything had been so maxed out to help pay the bills that their credit was shot. Warren had bought it from them so they could get back on their feet. But he knew it was only extending his stay in this prison that had somehow become his life.

He didn’t
want
to own this house. He wanted one he got to choose and make into something for himself, like Beatrice had done with her small space. Her studio apartment was like her, beautiful and artistic and alluring. Last night, he’d wanted to spend forever looking at the photos on her walls, the glimpses of different lives, different places, like he stared at pictures and floor plans of homes he would never own.

Today, though, he couldn’t muster any excitement for the real estate listings. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine anything in those booklets being even one bit better than Beatrice’s apartment.

Six days
, he reminded himself, and took himself to the shower.

Chapter Eight

“Something’s different about you.”

Beatrice pulled out two plates from the cupboard and set a scone on each before placing them on the dinette table in Nana’s kitchen. “What do you mean?”

Nana rolled her wheelchair forward until it bumped gently against the table. She waited until Beatrice had sat in the adjacent chair, then gave her granddaughter a small smile. “You didn’t bring your camera, for one.”

Beatrice laughed, but Nana didn’t, just kept that little smile in place. Nana was right. Beatrice usually brought her camera when she came to visit on Saturday mornings. Sometimes, she would leave it in her bag by the door, but other times, when she was feeling particularly tired or put-upon, she would take it out and snap photos of Nana as they performed their Saturday ritual. Tea and muffins, talking, playing a game and watching a movie until it was time for Beatrice to pack up and go back home. Taking photos soothed her.

Today, though, she had only brought herself.

“Is it broken?” Nana asked.

“No.” Beatrice shrugged. “I didn’t feel like lugging it around today, I guess.” She poured tea into each of the waiting cups set on the retro white Formica and added sugar and cream to Nana’s, milk and honey to her own.

Nana arched one white eyebrow. “Exactly. You’re different.”

Beatrice took a sip of her tea, trying to buy time before she replied. Nana was a perceptive woman and on top of that, she had been one of Beatrice’s closest friends for her entire life. But Beatrice didn’t want her to figure out she was doing…something…with Warren. It would sound shady and unpleasant if she had to explain herself, even though that was far from what she felt.

“I guess I’m starting to feel a little burned out. I figured a day or two away from taking pictures might be exactly what I needed.”

Nana gave her an arch look but didn’t say anything more. Both women sipped their tea and nibbled at their scones in companionable silence for a bit, until Nana spoke again. “Are you going to Rose’s wedding?”

Beatrice sighed. Two months ago, she had received a lovely, simple invitation in the mail for a wedding in a couple of weekends. Her
sister’s
wedding. Rose hadn’t phoned when she’d gotten engaged, but Mother had—an out-of-the-blue call that had been surprisingly pleasant. It had made Beatrice feel like maybe they weren’t so at odds as it seemed.

But afterward, when she had received a formal invitation like any other unrelated guest…that hadn’t been quite as pleasant. It had been hard not to feel vulnerable, too open to being hurt by people she loved, despite their differences. Not that her parents were horrible people, but they were never going to change.

It had taken her a few years after she’d left home, but she’d eventually found a way to let go of her anger at them for simply being who they were. Maybe she hadn’t chosen the path her parents had wanted for her, but they were still her family.

After college, Beatrice had been lucky enough to get an incredibly competitive position as an intern at the newspaper, and she’d tried to reach out to her younger sister, to see if Rose might be interested in exploring life outside of the strict confines of their family’s beliefs. But Rose hadn’t wanted to choose the same path that Beatrice had. She’d done two years of junior college and now she was getting married at barely twenty-one years old.

Not that Beatrice expected her to do any differently. It was what her parents had raised them to expect out of their lives. It would have been Beatrice’s fate, if she had only been a more conforming daughter. If Rose had ever dreamed of breaking out of that life, seeing Beatrice rebel had probably scared her into submission. But still, Beatrice had hoped. Some part of her would never forget how close she and Rose had been as little girls, before the strange expectations of their parents had taken over.

What was really surprising about all of it, though, was that Beatrice had been invited while Nana had
not
. Beatrice had tried not to talk about the wedding, but she still felt hurt on Nana’s behalf.

“I don’t know,” Beatrice replied with a sigh. “I sent in the response card and said I would attend. So I feel like I should go, not really because of that, but more because she
is
my sister, but then—” She stopped, trying to figure out how to explain it without sounding like a fool.

“You get scared,” Nana finished.

“I do.” Beatrice was whispering now. “I feel like I’ve finally managed to feel good about what I’ve done with my life, and when I don’t think about them, I am proud of myself for managing to make a living and be independent and trying to be more than that life would have made me.”

She looked down at her hands. “But there’s a petty part of me that wants them to see it too.”

“What happens if you go to the wedding and they don’t see it at all?”

Beatrice traced a flower on her teacup. “I don’t know. I mean, I’m not going to go for that reason. It’s not right. Maybe a month ago, I think I might have. Then, if they hadn’t even acknowledged that I’m happy where I am and I did okay outside of their lives, it might have crushed me. But now…now, I don’t know.”

A month ago, I hadn’t seen Warren Davis with his shirt off.

Nana looked at her curiously. “What’s happened in a month? Does it have anything to do with you not bringing your camera today?”

Oh crap.
She shouldn’t have let that slip. Beatrice blushed, searching for an excuse, but Michelle’s words poked at her.
Never lie.

“I-I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it. Yet, anyway,” she told Nana, feeling awful.

But Nana simply nodded and moved on. “Fair enough. You were always the only one in your family who actually saw things for what they were, you know. I think that’s why you’re so good at photography. You can look at any person and know what drives them. You can look at any situation and know why it was created.
You’re
the one who sees things, while the people closest to you are blind.” She threw up her hands. “I wish I understood more about what made your mother the way she is now. She was always a scared person, though. Even when she was a child, and it got worse when she married your dad. And now it’s like my own daughter is a complete stranger.”

That was how Beatrice felt about her mother too. Like she was a stranger. Mother would never have accepted Beatrice’s request to let a topic drop. She would have been angry her daughter was keeping secrets. Secrets that were part of her, that defined her, and were all her own.

Beatrice especially hated the way Nana’s eyes were sad and hurt. She rushed to comfort her grandmother. “We have each other, at least. I’m so glad we do. And we get by, right?”

Nana nodded. “You’ve come a long way, my dear.” Beatrice dipped her head shyly, feeling overwhelmed by the praise—words that hit home, especially right now, when she was starting to see she might have done so in the past few years, but she still had so far to go. “It takes a lot of courage to leave such an extreme version of life, but sometimes things are actually better here in the middle.”

The middle…a balance.

She thought about Warren, and how hard he worked for his family. How much he cared about them and struggled to help them, day after day. She admired that. But she worried about him too. If she visualized the scales of his life, it made sense he was looking for recalibration.

But when they were done with…whatever it was they were doing…how long before they would tip again? And what if they finally just broke, and something drastic happened? The mere thought of it scared her.

She cared too much about him already.

“Where did you go?” Nana’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Daydreaming about your camera?” Beatrice shook her head, opening her mouth to apologize, but Nana laughed. “Like I said, something’s different about you. Even after you left home and went to school and got a job, I still didn’t see you actually get
involved
in life. Not even your own. But now, it’s almost as though something has finally lit the fire inside of you that you’ve kept banked for so long.”

Beatrice blushed, thinking of Warren and the heat he inspired in her. But like she’d said earlier, she didn’t want to talk about him. She wasn’t ready. Not only because it felt weird, sharing such intimate details with Nana, but because he felt too special to share.

One hour with him and he feels too special? You’re so screwed.

She shrugged. “I guess I got tired of waiting for things to come to me and decided to go out and get them myself.” It was true, even though she was talking about Warren and whatever had prompted her to go temporarily insane in the hallway outside the ballroom at Ben and Nina’s wedding. She’d certainly seized that moment with a vengeance.

But it had paid off.

Nana gave her a strange look, like she didn’t quite believe Beatrice, but thankfully she didn’t press the topic. Instead, she pursed her lips, as though suppressing a smile. “Well, speaking of going out and getting things, have you been sending your work out to museums and those kinds of places?”

Beatrice clutched her teacup and let the warmth run through her, sighing. “No, not yet. I don’t have anything to send. I need to focus on building my portfolio. My photos aren’t good enough yet. I’ve actually been considering taking a class in the fall in order to—”

“Are you
crazy
?” Nana’s loud interruption startled Beatrice. “Your photos are more than good enough. They have been for a long time. It’s your belief in yourself that hasn’t caught up. You should be sending out what you already have.”

She gave a weak smile. Sometimes Nana was blinded by too much faith in her granddaughter. “I’m working on it. I need to improve my composition skills, and there are a few—”

“What you need to
improve
is your confidence.” Nana snorted.

Why does she keep interrupting me?
Nana almost never did that. Beatrice could only stare now, perplexed. She rarely saw her grandmother so worked up over something. It almost made her think that maybe
she
was the one who was wrong.

I want more from myself…to own my own life…

The thoughts reverberated through her mind.

But she shook them off. It didn’t matter, anyway. She was focused on getting Nana’s overdue bill paid right now.

Nana sighed. “I’m sorry, honey. I worry about you. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Beatrice waved her hand in the air as if to say it didn’t matter, but she couldn’t help but wonder how long Nana had been keeping those thoughts to herself. It bothered her, that her grandmother might have thought Beatrice couldn’t handle hearing something like that.

But then Nana cleared her throat and leaned forward. “I promise I’m not trying to tax your nerves today, but I have a favor to ask.”

Beatrice snapped upright, forgetting her own worries. Nana needed something. That took priority. “Of course. What is it?”

The older woman hesitated for a second, as though reluctant to share, but then she said, slowly, “Well, a few months ago they raised the price of one of my medications that isn’t covered and—”

“Oh God. A
few months
ago? How have you been covering the difference? I know you don’t have any room in your budget for surprises and—”

“Hush, Bebe.” Nana sighed. “For heaven’s sake, I’m really not trying to make you feel bad. You’re doing more for me than anyone else ever has, and you’re doing your best. It makes me angry that your parents taught you that girls should apologize for simply living, but only you can change that now.”

Nana’s words sounded a lot like Michelle’s interpretation of femininity. The idea that women could—and should—be strong enough to own their lives appealed to Beatrice.

She nodded. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ve saved some money that I was going to put toward your bill, but I’m happy to give it to you now. I don’t have my checkbook but can do a bank transfer when I get home. In fact, I can go right now and take care of it.”

Nana held up a hand. “There’s no rush. I don’t have to refill this one until next week. Really. You don’t have to be at my beck and call.” She leveled a serious look at Beatrice, obviously trying to remind her granddaughter of their earlier conversation.

And she was right. Even after so many years of living away from her parents and that whole oppressive life, Beatrice still struggled against the desire to please. Was this thing with Warren about fighting the quiet, controlled girl she’d been, or possibly becoming a different woman altogether?

No. It was more than that. For her, anyway. She never would have attempted such a thing with anyone else.

But now that she had…now that she’d taken the steps to see Mistress Michelle and learn, for Warren’s sake, what it meant to dominate…

To engage.

Own your life… Only you can change that…

She couldn’t wait for next Wednesday. The desire to see Warren again was intense. And now that she’d done it once and gotten her nerves out of the way, she was sure she’d do a better job next time.

Next time, she’d look him in the eye right from the start. Next time, she’d make him submit completely. Next time—

“Daydreaming again?”

Beatrice jerked in surprise. Her cheeks had to be bright pink. She gave Nana a weak smile. “I’m sorry. Really. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.”

Nana took another sip of tea and winked at Beatrice. “Oh, I have a feeling nothing is wrong with you, my darling heart. In fact, I have a feeling that, for once in your life, everything is actually very right.”

* * * * *

“I’m running out for ten minutes.” Beatrice stood up from the large desk she shared with Dennis, another of the staff photographers, and grabbed her purse. “Call my cell if anything comes up.”

Dennis nodded. “Aye aye, Boss Lady.” He grinned when she rolled her eyes at him. Dennis was three years younger and new to the paper, eager to make a name for himself but respectful of Beatrice’s seniority. Nina had been trying for months to get Beatrice to date the poor kid, but there was no way that was going to happen. Not just because Dennis was technically her employee, but also because she had already known, even then, there was only one man she was interested in.