SHE SANK beneath waves. Torrents swallowed Myah in white clouds. Suffocating, heavy. She fought to breathe. Someone screamed and kicked a bucket.
Wha..?
On a strangled breath, she struggled to consciousness. Sunlight. Blagh. She wormed under the covers into cocooned warmth, then cracked an angry eye open at what dared interrupt her peace.
Crazy clock.
She threw her hand in the general direction to stop the chalkboard-grating screech. Time to get up.
Her mind commanded but her body stayed put.
Two minutes.
But Keir was coming today. Her grin ended in a moan. Her head pounded, her eyes hurt like somebody tried to yank them out of their sockets, and her throat shriveled to the size of a surgeon’s needle.
Muffled noises filtered through the bedroom window. She turned her one open mean eye toward the closed blinds. Wait. This didn’t feel right. Really checking the clock this time, she leapt out of the bed, then took another disbelieving glance before hurrying out to the hall. She should be dressed and ready to go, not just getting up!
Beyond the curtains, her car sat in the driveway. She raced to the door’s window, but winced. Bricks slid along the gravel shelf in her head. Pausing to moan, she stroked her eyebrows before taking another peep out the window.
Keir appeared from the side of her house. He-llo. He glanced at the front, rounded the hood of the car to open the driver’s door to reach inside, then turned toward the house with his cell in hand.
Myah dropped her jaw to drool. Make a grown woman cry. And cry she would, feelin’ all lousy and lookin’ a mess when he passed for a living ad for a high-end men’s store. She’d never gone for that particular style, but Keir made her pluck the curtain aside and angle her head.
His pale blue, button-down shirt was almost white. Rolled sleeves showed off toned forearms while pewter-hued trousers and an unbuttoned suit vest draped him to perfection. A black skinny tie fit not so snug at the collar. But the piece de resistance, the hat. More than a hat. Not his usual baseball or knit cap, but a smoky, pinstriped, narrow-brimmed fedora slung low over his brow.
Step outta here. Something inside her sat up and sang like the prima donna on opening night. He came dressed like that? Now how was she supposed to concentrate on God? But—au-u-uh-uh… came the soprano—some people were built distractions no matter what the venue. She’d just have to concentrate hard during worship.
Worship! She threw the locks and wrenched the door open, then turned on her heels to zip to the bathroom as fast as her weak legs would take her. Her cell jingled when she passed her room, before a voice broke out behind her.
“Myah.”
She didn’t turn. Seconds later a rapid knock sounded on the closed bathroom door.
“Myah, I did not just see you streak in here in your nightie. Please tell me you’ve gone in there to change.”
“Ten minutes,” she told him. What a lie. The blistery gravel of her voice and short breath said she’d need a gurney.
After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she scrubbed her tongue again ten ways to Friday, then gargled with mouthwash to rid the thick carpet stapled in her mouth. Her ten minutes long over, she whipped the raggedy night scarf from her head and exited the bathroom.
Hat on the arm of the couch, Keir sat in the middle, feet wide apart, head on the back, his right hand drumming a non-beat on his swaying thigh. In his reclined position, half-closed eyes tracked her lazily. “Nice dress.”
She rubbed her feet together. If she had the strength, she’d cringe that she still had bare legs and grinning teddy bear nightshirt. Too late, he’d already seen her, and her body ached too much to care. She needed to sit. With a snort, she shuffled to the couch and dropped beside him where he slid away a whole foot.
“You’re pretty sick, huh?”
She nodded. “I’m so sorry you came all the way over here. My alarm screamed for the past hour, and I didn’t hear a thing.” Normally she would enjoy her new provocative, husky voice. She cupped her forehead and gave up breathing through her one functioning nostril in favor of her dry mouth. “I’m the picture of paradise.”
He chuckled. His hand flexed on his thigh, but he didn’t look at her. “I guess we’re staying home.”
“You have time to make it to your service. I’m going nowhere, and if I feel this way later, no work tomorrow. Trust me, my sister will kidnap my son until I’m back on my feet. Or at least until Tuesday night.” She dug the pads of her fingers over her aching eyes. It felt so good. “Drive my car to work tonight if you don’t get your truck.”
“I don’t…don’t do so well when you’re not there.” Embarrassment rang in his light laugh while he massaged his arm.
“So you want to hang out here with the sick chick?” She fished for some sort of sign, because after the wonderful night they shared, he hadn’t even touched her. “Look at the bright side, you finally get your day of rest.”
“Hm.”
Hm. That’s it?
He couldn’t be that shook up about driving her car alone, or at sitting with a sick person, she’d seen him wipe Dylan’s nose yesterday. Unless he’d digested what happened last night. The vermin. She’d feared he’d figure out it wouldn’t have happened if she’d been white. Serves her right for dreaming.
Wincing at the hot balloon pulsing inside her head, she closed her eyes and sighed. “I need to eat. Want anything?”
She barely heard his mumble. “Maybe you ought a’ put some clothes on.”
Her eyes popped open. His gaze slid from the teddy bear nightshirt to her thighs, then fled away. Ah, that was the problem. What a letch she was for putting her unholstered wares on display. Well, this is what she got for giving birth and carrying a child on her hip for two years.
“Gotcha.” In the time it took to change into exercise pants and his old t-shirt, he had tea, toast, and a banana waiting.
He’d ditched the vest on a kitchen chair and opened the box of black tea she’d never touch. Good for him. Their uneventful time was spent on a televised sermon and morning news. She’d called Miss Violet and her sister, who had one listen at her voice and declared she’d keep Dylan until Tuesday.
“Heed the doctor’s advice,” Ingrid ordered.
Doctor. Myah smiled at him, thankful for his company. A nurse as a sister didn’t compare to having her own man tend to her because he wanted to.
“You were so handsome in your suit.” She pressed a kiss on his cool neck, and snuggled up. It was insane to want to be with him like this from now on, to know he’d come home to her all the time.
She should be protective of Dylan. Of her heart. Until they’d somehow stumbled into this relationship, she hadn’t wanted to open her world to another man.
She kept her head on his shoulder as they spoke in quiet tones to share core beliefs and opinions on Christian world views. They discussed all the various religions, and whether or not there was forceful Christianization of Third World countries. In the end, they agreed to disagree on some issues.
How odd. They didn’t agree on some things, and yet he didn’t try to coerce or convert her opinion to see it his way. No threat to end the relationship because they didn’t see eye to eye.
Killer headache, raw throat, sore eyes, tired limbs, Myah slipped into peaceful rest.
KEIR rubbed his thumb over her shoulder. He couldn’t see her face since she moved the cushion to his knee, but snores were a dead giveaway. He smiled at the sound, that he liked it.
It took some maneuvering, but he gathered her in his arms and rose from the couch. She stirred, a groggy gaze assessing they were on the move.
“Not tired. Have dishes to do.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Her arms coiled around his neck along with the hot breath of her sigh. “It’s the middle of the day, I shouldn’t sl—” She sat up with a start, actually had the nerve to try to climb out of his arms. “The chicken! I need to defrost it or I—”
“Try it. Just try it.” To his relief, the squirming stopped.
“I appreciate your help, but nothing gets done unless I do it, remember. I need to set out my weekdays in advance. Just let—”
“Myah Blake. I ain’t kidding. If you lift a finger to do work for the next two days, I will tie you to this bed.” He dropped her on the unmade sheets where she rolled over moping.
“As if I don’t enjoy it.”
Well, hmm.
Her eyelids flew open as she turned back. “That didn’t come out—I meant I enjoy cleaning.” Her husky voice cracked.
“I heard every word.”
She wiped her face and flopped back over to her side. “See if I care what you think you hear when I’m feverish and delusional.”
He tried to keep a straight face, but he laughed at her. With her folded under the covers, he stretched out on top and held her close. In a playful fit, she wriggled away, but he tightened his arm and shuttled her back. Her curved spine transferred her spiked body heat through his chest.
“You care,” he said. He tucked a kiss under her ear and streamed his hand along her arm to eventually tangle with her fingers. “That’s the one thing I do know about you.”
She gripped his fingers and burrowed deeper into him. “Mmm.”
“Makes it easy to love you.” He watched her eye float open.
He could see them like this, years in the future, Dylan tripping in to disturb their rest, maybe two toffee-colored… Heeeeyyy!
He shot upright.
“Keir, I—”
“I’m gonna buy some orange juice you’re all out maybe something else you need are your house keys by the front door I’ll find them.”
He couldn’t say for sure if she answered. He’d hopped off the bed and grabbed all sorts of keys on his way out. In the hall, he heard her call for him, but pulled the front door closed. The walk down the street should do him good. What did he do back there? What was he thinking to jump so far ahead? If she wasn’t there yet, he may have well ruined the relationship. Not ready to meet families.
Not to mention, the weirdness like she had unfinished business with Dylan’s father. He couldn’t compete.
Keir had cleared his head by the time he returned. He stowed the two cartons of orange juice and other items, reheated some sort of peas stew in a pot, and defrosted one of the packages of chicken.
Hanging on to the open cupboard, he contemplated the spice options. Not ready… His jaw clenched. He pulled out spices. She didn’t have all the ingredients to make this a grill-type poultry option, but he used what she had for marinade and placed it in the fridge.
Myah woke around noon, looking awful—he’d never tell her that—breathing like an asthmatic horse.
They ate some of the salted beef and peas stew over rice, and guzzled orange juice before settling in front of the TV to order a movie.
He watched the time and hated to leave, but had set her up with enough easy-to-grab food, and timed the chicken to bake within the half-hour.
“Anything else you need, ma’am?” He sank into the corner of the couch to lay his hands over her bare feet.
Hugging her knees, her toes wiggled. “Two of you, because I want you to stay.” She covered his hand. “Thanks for taking care of me.”
“Of course. You take care of me.”
She wheezed out a laugh. “When have I ever done that?”
Keir took her hand and placed it on his face. The contact did something to him. “Right here. All the time. Something about you calms everything in me. I can’t remember my last headache. You do that.”
She stroked his face before the movement slowed and she drew her hand away. Locked on her eyes, the withdrawal he witnessed gave him the chills.
“What’d I say wrong?”
“Nothing.” Her eyes failed to meet his. “I don’t like to talk about Greg.”
Who? Oh. That guy. His hackles rose. The name irritated him almost as much as the group of idiots from last night. “He did do something to you.”
“Nothing more than hurt me. My pride, I mean. He wanted…”
“A sweet girl.”
Her body shrank. She looked away. That guy had done more than hurt her pride. Keir’s mind geared to hear the—
“Greg was my first.”
—worst. Possible. News. Something stung behind his eyes. He blinked at it. This was bad news. It hadn’t been some mindless teenage experiment, they’d been free-thinking adults who wanted to get involved. But what was he supposed to do with the information? Sure, he’d thought of her unfinished business with the guy earlier, but to have it said to his face, solidified in words…
“Keir?”
Double standard as it may be, he didn’t want to think about her with another man.
“Keir.”
He held her hand to assure her he was okay, then managed a sidelong glance. What did it mean if he didn’t want any man, aside from himself, touching her intimately? And he didn’t even yet have that privilege.
“Did I burst your bubble or something? Are you going to turn on me too?”
“Like your parents? No, no. Sorry.” He tightened his grip. What was Myah saying? “This idiot—”
“Greg.”
His eyebrow lifted. Whatshisname would be idiot until he deemed him not idiot. “This guy had been looking for a sweet girl. What did you mean? He dumped you because you gave him what he wanted?”
“I knew what I was doing.”
“I know you take responsibility for your part, but don’t cover for him.”
She had a tie to the first. Everyone had a tie to the first. And then to add a child to the mix.
“Do you still love him?”
She scoffed. “He dumped me for the other woman he was seeing, whom he married, I might add.”
“Do you—?”
“I have a connection. I don’t think it’s love but it used to be. Or infatuation. Something close to it.”
Keir stared at a spot on the far wall. He didn’t want to relate to her unnamed connection that still existed either.
“I was foolish and gullible. And yes. To answer your question, to make him happy I gave him what he wanted. He spun things in a way that made me think I wasn’t good enough unless I agreed with him or pleased him, or that he couldn’t be interested enough unless I… It’s complicated.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head. Tired lids cracked open.
“He got tired of me in a hurry. He told me about his wedding two weeks before it happened, explained how he didn’t want a wife who slept with him first.”
Wonderful. But Keir felt better knowing he’d somewhat respected their restrictions last night. Or maybe that was the problem. He turned to face her. “Why tell me this now? What we did last night trigger bad memories?”
Her face clouded, then sparked. She shook her head. “I feel closer to you. No. Last night was beautiful. You showed me how a real man protects me, in more ways than one.” She stared at him, then with a shrug, turned her head toward the television. “You’ve always been open with me. I thought you should know.” She rested her head on her knees. “Aside from my beauty regimen, you know all my secrets.”
He knew her French Vanilla secret. He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you. I’m glad you said it.” It answered a few questions. He still didn’t know what tie this guy had over her, but he was closer to understanding her mood swings. Relieved, he pressed his lips on her forehead and breathed into her hair. “You and I are okay, Myah. But no more talk about whatshisname. I just don’t like the thought of someone else in my place.”
She sat up and peered at him.
“All this?” He outlined a dome over her. “Is Keir’s space. No other man comes near here.”
“Aww shucks, and here I thought I was my own woman.”
A strange sensation buzzed him. “Not if… You can be mine if you want.”
The invitation hung in the air. There rose a query of commitment behind it, beyond their usual joking. A query he wasn’t sure he wanted to voice until now, one the stone stillness of Myah’s face said she heard.
It was now or never. He could open his mouth, try to play it down, but a part of him didn’t want an escape. Needed to know her thoughts. “So, if I did say that I loved you?”
Her breath came quick. “I want to.”
“Want to love me?”
“Want it all. The house, the family, the life. But…”
“But, can’t.” Whatshisname. In the prolonged silence, Keir pulled back.
“I need to take a rain check on this conversation until it doesn’t feel like Thor and Zeus are going at it in my head.”
He stared for a second, unsure if he believed the moment, wondering if he was ready for the reality of a kid anyway. He got up and reached for his fedora, mapping her features the entire time, her downcast eyes, her pale smile.
Her misty eyes had said her brain ran excuses like a speed train, unable to voice any of it. That may be best. He’d rather the silence to any ego-shredding excuse of why she couldn’t try to love him. Not now anyway.
They parted in silence.
Keir had confidence she wanted to love him, but this was serious. He had to take time to really think about it, not get caught up in the fantasy. Because riding on a fantasy caused moments like this. When he’d blow it. When he’d make his girlfriend cry. When he’d go and suggest a more long term relationship a heartbeat after hearing of her vulnerability with another man.
He climbed into the death-box and started for home. He’d said he loved her, or did he merely throw that out as a hypothetical feeler?
Out of sight of Myah’s house, something in him broke down. The car shrank around him. Traffic had increased since morning and bound to get heavier as he drove. Cold sweat sprayed from every pour to dampen his back, lip, and forehead. Cars zipped at lightning speed. A truck rumbled by, sending a piqued shiver down his spine.
Darkened vision left the terror of a kid someone had dumped in the middle of a busy freeway. God, how could he take care of a family? He couldn’t even stay clearheaded in a solo driving job, so close to the asphalt, eye level to kiss the grill of a truck.
Stopped at the red light, a semi sped up to challenge the amber at the crossroad. Keir flinched and blinked as its crying brakes and wail of heavy steel roared past.
Had to go through this again to get to work this afternoon? Twice the next day? The day after that?
“Forget it!”
Jacking across a lane and up the curb, he cut the engine and jumped out of the car like flesh-eating spiders feasted on his skin. Digging out his phone he poked numbers and breathed deep to subside the nerves in his constricting body.
“Quasi. How’d it g—?”
“Haylan. Come get me, I need my truck. Now.”