Authors: Jennifer Bernard
She forced a smile. “Sure thing.” Crouching down to Danielle’s level, she made lion’s paws out of her hands. She clawed at the air. “I’m gonna get you.”
Danielle shrieked and took off through the living room. Katie chased after her. She wondered if Ryan would have asked Logan Marquez to play with his boss’s kid. Of course not. Girls like that got the date-night, tiramisu, seduction treatment. She got to run in circles with Danielle.
Which, if she was totally honest, she’d pick over tiramisu any day. She loved kids. When they grew into adults, that’s when the problems started. Besides, she got a whirlwind, fast-forward tour of Ryan’s house this way. His place didn’t feel like a hottie bachelor pad. It had comfortable old thrift-shop furniture, more books than she would have guessed, an avocado growing in an old salsa container.
Before long, she and Danielle had formed an unbreakable bond over their desire to bring chaos into Ryan’s orderly home. By the time Ryan called, “Dinner’s ready,” every couch cushion had been thrown onto the floor and a pile of books had been knocked over during a ticklefest.
“I think our job is done.” Katie winked at Danielle and hauled her to her feet.
T
he evening didn’t quite qualify as a disaster. But it came close, in Ryan’s opinion. Katie paid more attention to Danielle than she did to him. Ryan had never been jealous of a four-year-old before. But Katie didn’t scowl at Dani once. And her face kept lighting up in that adorable way, like when he found the two of them giggling hysterically on the floor, surrounded by his binders.
“You two going to clean up that mess?”
“Nope. We’re doing you a favor.” Katie helped Danielle up and gave Ryan a playful poke on the chest. “You’re too tidy. It’s not healthy. Right, Danielle?”
“Too tidy!” Danielle bounced around like a bunny. “Too tidy!”
“Firemen like order. We’re trained that way.”
“That’s why we’re here to mess you up. You can thank us later.” She winked at him. He still felt the imprint of her finger on his chest.
“I’ll consider it. You hungry?”
“Nothing gets me hungrier than a tickle fight,” said Katie.
“Me too! I’m really really hungry too. I like fish sticks. Or tuna. But you have to cut off the bread crust. I like candy too.”
Ryan checked his watch. Melissa ought to be here by now. He couldn’t really get down to some serious discussions with Katie until Danielle left. “Let’s wait a few more minutes.”
“Good. Then you can tell me what all these books are for. They looked interesting as I was tripping over them.” Katie bent down and picked up the Rules and Regulations binder.
“That book—known as the Manual of Operations—is my ticket back onto the force. Brody, hard . . . um . . . captain that he is”—he’d come awfully close to saying “hard-ass”—“wants me to study up before I come back.”
“Wow.” Katie flipped through some pages. “This looks as hard as my grad school exams.”
“I used to know it inside out. Still do, but some of the details are fuzzy. Things I know how to do in my sleep look different on paper.”
She looked up, an eager light in her eye. “I’ve always loved studying.”
“You love studying?”
“Yes. That’s why I was in grad school until my dad had the heart attack. I was studying French literature.”
“French literature?” Ryan knew he sounded dumb, repeating everything she said. He didn’t think he was dumb, but damn, graduate school . . . French literature. All he knew about French literature was . . . well, it probably came from France.
“If you need any quizzing or anything, you should let me help. In college I was the one everyone begged to help them before a test.”
Ryan pictured Katie curled up on his couch, tossing him questions about burn ratios and pump pressure requirements. He opened his mouth to jump on her offer, then remembered Melissa’s words.
Why don’t you let her see the other side of you?
Let Katie see the side of him that read at the speed of an eighth-grader? The side that sometimes had to sound out words to make sure he’d gotten them right? She’d lose all respect for him.
“No, thanks. I got it.”
A stricken look flashed across Katie’s face. Or maybe it was hunger, because in the next instant she bent down to lift Danielle into her arms. “Dani and I are starving. We tried to eat a pillow but it wasn’t filling enough. Right, cutie?”
She carried the giggling child into the dining room while Ryan trailed behind.
“What’s that yummy smell?”
He must have imagined that hurt look. He didn’t want to cause Katie pain—that was the whole point of this dinner. But how could they get all this figured out with Danielle here?
“I made Thai food. Hey Danielle, you ever tried coconut milk? Can you believe they make milk from a tree?”
At dinner, Katie helped convince Danielle to try the curry, and said all the right things about his cooking. But she seemed distracted. Distant.
As soon as they’d finished, Katie said she had to get back to the bar to check on her father. When she left, all the fun went too, and Danielle pouted. He knew exactly how she felt. It took a round of who-can-make-the-funniest-face to cheer her up. When Melissa finally arrived, full of apologies, Ryan felt lower than he had in a long time.
“Where’s Katie?”
“She left.”
“Oh Ryan.” Melissa’s comforting hand on his arm made him feel ten times worse. Where had he gone wrong? He still didn’t have things straightened out with Katie. She’d practically sprinted out the door. Which might have been a good thing—at least she wasn’t pining over him. Except it didn’t satisfy him. Not one bit.
O
n her way back to the bar, Katie got a text message from her mother.
We’re at the hospital. Your father had a relapse.
She turned her car around and raced to the San Gabriel Good Samaritan Hospital, guilt coursing through her.
This was all her fault. Why had she let her father come back to the bar? Why hadn’t she stayed to watch over him? Was dinner at Ryan’s house more important than her dad’s health? Her dad’s
life
?
She found her family clustered around a hospital bed on the second floor.
“I’m fine!” her dad was yelling. He looked red in the face and irritated. “Bunch of damn fuss about nothing.”
“Is he really fine?” Katie slid next to Bridget and whispered in her ear.
“It wasn’t another heart attack. But I guess his blood pressure went super high and he fainted.”
“
Fainted?
”
“Yep, I keeled over right there behind the bar. Usually it’s the customers who do that.” Her father let loose his familiar belly laugh.
Katie dropped to his side and snuggled her face against his shoulder. She inhaled the comforting smell of him, now overlaid with hospital disinfectant. “I’m so sorry. I never should have left you alone at the bar.”
“Bull crap. It was fine. The Drinking Crew knew exactly what to do. Sid pressed his Life Alert button, and Dr. Burwell was all set to give me CPR.”
Her father winked at her. They shared a confidential snicker. Katie realized no one else knew the people they were talking about. She hadn’t had a secret with her father since they day she turned thirteen and he took her to a Green Day concert. She let out a shuddering sigh of gratitude.
Nina Dane, puffy-faced from crying, stroked Katie’s hair. “Don’t blame yourself, Gidget. If he wants to be a stubborn ass, what can the rest of us do?”
“Now, now,” said Frank peaceably. “Be nice to the guy on the gurney.”
“You have to promise. No more Hair of the Dog.”
“I promise. At least for the time being. Anyway, my Katie girl’s got it handled. Right, honey?” He chucked Katie under the chin in a way that made her feel about twelve.
“Right. No worries at all.” She forced her smile to look confident and reassuring.
Her father spent the night in the hospital, but the doctors discharged him the next day with strict instructions to rest and avoid stress of all kinds.
The utter relief of knowing her father was okay—and that she hadn’t helped give him another heart attack—kept Katie’s spirits up until she got another envelope from Fidelity Trust.
“Final Notice,” it said in big red letters, the kind meant to make you drop everything and scurry to your checkbook.
She called the phone number on the notice. Three transfers and two requests to speak to a supervisor later, nothing had changed except two more hours had ticked away to cutoff time.
A little less than two weeks, and the Hair of the Dog would have no more insurance.
She couldn’t call her father, of course, but maybe her mother would know what to do. But her mother was “unavailable at the moment, please leave a message.”
Katie set up for the day with a sense of helpless doom. It didn’t matter how early she got to work. It didn’t matter how many drinks she poured, how many private parties she booked, how many long hours she worked. The only break she’d had since her father’s heart attack was that disastrous dinner at Ryan’s.
Even though the thought of Ryan made her heart ache, she had a lot to thank him for. Business had definitely picked up since Meredith’s bachelorette party. Actually, it had picked up ever since Ryan had appeared. But what would happen when he left? As soon as he passed his test, he’d be gone. She’d probably only see him whizzing by in a fire truck.
Would they stay friends? Of course not. He didn’t even want her help with his studying. He probably didn’t want to spend that much time alone with her. Or maybe someone else was helping him study. Logan Marquez, for instance.
She was drying water glasses when the swinging door to the kitchen opened. Her whole body went on high alert. It had to be Ryan. He always came in through the kitchen. She heard his low whistle and caught his fresh laundry scent. Without turning around, she knew when he slapped hands with the Drinking Crew, when he tied on his apron, when he poured himself a cup of coffee. She knew exactly when he stepped next to her, and exactly how far away he was. When it came to Ryan, she seemed to have second sight.
“How’s your father?”
“He’s better. But he’s banned from the Hair of the Dog. If you see him, send him home.”
“Gotcha. Hey, thanks for playing with Danielle last night. Melissa says you’re her new second favorite person.”
She made herself look up from the glass in her hands. “Oh yeah? Who’s the first favorite?”
He winked. “Me, of course.”
That figured. She went back to polishing the water glass. “Hm. Kids are usually smarter than that.”
“Hello there, hot stuff.” A purr from the other side of the bar made them both look up. Logan Marquez. She looked like a movie star, her thick curly hair piled on top of her head with a pair of white-rimmed sunglasses holding it in place. She wore a red halter top that pushed her cleavage up past her armpits.
“Hi, Logan.” Katie leaned to one side to catch Logan’s eye, but the girl was too busy ogling Ryan. She didn’t even answer.
Katie picked up the rack of glasses and headed for the other end of the bar. Let Ryan and Logan have their alone time.
The Drinking Crew had no such scruples. Sid scrambled for his bifocals. When he put them on, his eyes got magnified to alien invasion proportions. “My oh my,” he sighed. “That one’s a throwback to my day. Women used to advertise their curves instead of starving them away.”
Katie looked down at her own chest. She’d never starved herself in her life. But it would take an operation to make her look like Logan. “You’re disgusting, Sid. She could be your granddaughter. Probably your great-granddaughter.”
He didn’t answer.
Was everyone planning to ignore her today?
“Katie!” Ryan beckoned to her. “Good news. Logan wants to hold her birthday party here. Do you have anything booked for this Saturday?”
“Actually, we do.” Katie pulled her notepad out of her back pocket. Skeletons danced across its cover in honor of the Day of the Dead. Morbid, but it fit in her pocket. She flipped it open and looked through her notes. “April Chin wants to have her nursing school graduation party here. Sorry, Logan.”
Logan still didn’t spare a glance for her. Instead she itsy-bitsy-spidered her fingers up Ryan’s chest. “No problemo. I’m sure we can find another place for my party. Maybe one not quite so . . . public.”
Katie shoved her notepad back in her pocket.
Ryan took Logan’s hand off his chest. Katie couldn’t see every detail, but it looked like he caressed her palm with his thumb before returning her hand to her. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out. What can I get you, darlin’?”
Darlin’
. That did it. Katie took off her apron. She couldn’t spend one more minute in this place, not with Ryan practically making out with Logan right in front of her.
“I have to run some errands,” she announced to the whole bar, a little too loudly. “Ryan, can you take over for half an hour?”
He leaned one hip against the bar and gave her a long look that sent heat through every vein in her body. “You all right, darlin’?”
“Yes,
darling
, I’m perfectly fine. I have some things to do, things that need doing during regular working hours. Since I’m usually working those hours, I never have a chance. So do you mind?”
“I don’t mind. But you look tense.” He reached out one lazy arm and snagged her on her way past. “How about a wee little neck rub?”
“No!” She skittered past him, knowing the feel of his hands on her skin would make her come undone.
Outside, she gulped a deep breath of the oppressive July air before heading to her car. Her cell phone rang. When she saw her mother’s number, she flipped it open, her heart in her mouth.
“Is he okay?”
“Oh sure, he’s fine. Sparkly clean from the sponge bath I just gave him. When I got married, no one mentioned I’d be sponging off a crabby, overweight bossypants who doesn’t take care of himself no matter how much I pester him—” Her mother broke off in a sob.
Katie gulped. She’d never heard her mother sound so upset. “Mom, it’ll be okay. He’s fine. The doctors said so.”
“But he won’t be if he doesn’t rest, and the man has no patience. You know what I’ve had to do? Do you know?”
“Um . . .”
But her mother didn’t really need an answer. “I’ve set up a mini golf course on our bedroom floor, that’s what. All the garden gnomes are inside now, and he keeps moving them around on the carpet from one corner to the other. What do garden gnomes have to do with golf? What? What, I ask you?”
“Mom, I don’t know.”
“And now he’s talking about using my fairy collection too! I’m at the end of my rope, I swear I am. Maybe I should check myself into the hospital, see how he likes it.”
“Do you want me to come look after Daddy for a while? We’re not too busy today at the bar.”
“No. No no no. You wouldn’t last for a minute, you don’t have the patience.” Her mother’s voice softened. “Really, Katie, you’re doing enough already. It’s such a load off Frank’s mind knowing the bar’s in good hands and he doesn’t have to worry about it. You don’t know what it means to us. Hold on, your sister’s calling.”
Katie reached her car. She leaned against it, then jumped back with a yelp. The midday sun made the Datsun too hot to touch. When her mother came back on, she sounded considerably more cheerful. “Bridget booked me a spa day. She’s going to stay with Frank while I go get pampered. My husband may drive me insane, but I got lucky with my daughters.”
Spa day. She never would have thought of that. Bridget always knew how to make their mom happy. Katie had always been the daddy’s girl in the family. And right now all she could do for her father was keep the bar going.
And withhold the fact that it was exactly twelve days from disaster.
She drove to the Wells Fargo branch where her education fund lived. She walked to the ATM and slid her card into the slot. “Check Account Balance.”
Twelve thousand, five hundred and six dollars. And thirty-two cents.
She could walk into the bank right now and close out the account. Give all the money she’d been saving to Fidelity Trust. Solve the immediate crisis, and deal with the next ones as they came up. Maybe the private parties would be enough to pay the bills. Maybe business would keep growing.
Maybe she’d start to like working in a bar.
She swallowed hard. That money represented freedom. The freedom to go back to school if she wanted. Or travel around the world. But what mattered more, freedom or her family? She’d never felt so alone in her life.
She ejected her ATM card and headed for the glass doors of the bank. A shout from the direction of the street caught her attention. Doug leaned out the window of his father’s Saab. “Katie! I need to talk to you. You never called me.”
It felt like a million years since she’d promised to call Doug, or at least answer his call. So much had happened since then.
Well, what did it matter if she waited a few more minutes before liquidating her future? She walked toward Doug with the enthusiasm of someone on her way to the guillotine.
“Sorry, Doug. I’ve got a lot on my mind. What’s up?” The cool air conditioning billowed from his window.
“Get in.”
“No, I don’t have time to go anywhere—”
“Would you please get in?” Doug’s sudden forcefulness made her start. He didn’t usually do forceful, passive-aggressive being more his style. “I figured it out, Katie. Figured out how to solve your problem.”
Katie hesitated. “Can you just tell me right now? I have to get back to the bar.”
“I will tell you. After you get in. It’s okay, Katie. I’m not going to cross your boundaries.”
So he’d been talking to his shrink. She liked the effects of his therapy sessions marginally better than the effects of a joint. But only marginally.
“Fine.” She got in. He rolled up the tinted windows. She settled into the leather seats and felt the cool air surround her. “What’s your big idea?”
“I’ll tell you when we get there.”
“Get where?”
“You’ll see.”
“Doug, I swear to God—”
“Relax. It’s not far.”
He looked absurdly pleased with himself all the way to the Sports Junction Grill. She maintained a resentful silence until they’d seated themselves in a blue vinyl booth and ordered Cokes. The restaurant’s twelve TVs were all tuned to sports events.
“This better be good,” she told Doug.
“It is. You remember my uncle, who used to be my dad’s partner?”
“Sure. The one who went on trial for accepting bribes.”
“It wasn’t bribes so much as lap dances. And he got acquitted.”
Katie remembered well enough. The Atwell family had been in the news for weeks. Doug’s father had considered it free publicity. “What about him?”
“I remembered about the guy he hired during the case. I called him up. I figured we should talk to a professional.”
“A professional what?” A terrible suspicion filled her. “Are you talking about . . .” Katie stared at her ex as if he’d just turned into a dog balloon. “You’re talking about . . . what . . .
hiring
a . . . what . . . a professional
arsonist
? Doug, what the hell have you been smoking?”
“Don’t get all crazy, Katie. You had a good idea, but we didn’t know what we were doing. A real professional would know how to do it right. It’s safer this way.”
“
Safer?
” Ryan’s lectures on fires were still burned into her mind. “Wait, did you tell your uncle about this?”
“No. No way. I wouldn’t do that. I told him I wanted to hire a professional killer.”
“
What?
” Katie’s hand flew to her throat. Was she about to follow in her father’s footsteps and have a heart attack?
“Relax. I’m joking. I said I had an issue with the guys at the bar who broke my arm. Uncle Jay said this guy would know what to do. He said he’s completely trustworthy and reliable. Think of him as a friend of the family.”