On A Night Like This (The Callaways) (9 page)

Getting up, she grabbed some clothes out of her suitcase and headed into the bathroom. A quick shower made her feel a lot more like herself. After dressing in jeans and a soft sweater, she headed down the stairs.

The kitchen looked even worse in the daylight. So did the dining room and the hallway where sheets of wallpaper were peeling off the walls.

Her dad would be devastated. He had always been a very neat, organized person. She had to fix it. She'd start with Aiden's uncle.

She left the house and walked next door. Her knock went unanswered. That was odd. It was nine o'clock in the morning. Where was everyone? She glanced down the driveway at the room over the garage. She really didn't want to talk to Aiden again. But what option did she have? She climbed the stairs and knocked.

Aiden opened the door and gave her a sleepy stare.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of his bare chest, tousled hair, rough beard and bruised cheek. Thankfully, he still had on his sweats.

"What's up?" he drawled.

It took her a minute to remember why she was there. "I wanted to get your Uncle Kevin's phone number. I tried the house, but no one answered."

"I don't have his number on me, but I'm sure my mom has it. I can get it for you," he said.

"Are you sure? It looks like I woke you up."

"You did."

"Well, at least you slept."

"A few hours anyway." He stepped back into the room, grabbed a shirt and pulled it over his head. Then he walked out to the landing, pulling the door shut behind him. "How did you sleep?"

"Not bad." She followed him down the stairs and into the house.

"First, coffee," he said, grabbing two mugs out of the cupboard.

"That would be awesome," she said.

He poured two mugs and handed her one.

She took a grateful sip. At some point in law school, she'd become addicted to coffee. All those late nights studying for the bar had made caffeine a necessary part of her diet.

"Did you talk to your dad this morning?" Aiden asked.

"Not yet. I want to have some information to share when I tell him he's going to need a new kitchen. Do you think you could get me that phone number?"

"I could, but I'm hungry. Why don't we eat first? I'll cook."

Before she could answer, he had set down his coffee and was on his way to the refrigerator. He pulled out a carton of eggs. "Scrambled okay?"

"You don't have to make me breakfast," she said, although the idea was making her stomach rumble.

"It's no big deal. I can make you a scramble you won't forget—tomatoes, onions, avocado, cheese."

"You're even cocky about your eggs," she said dryly.

He grinned. "I know my strengths, that's all. What do you say? Have breakfast with me?"

She really needed to say no. This was Aiden, the man who had rejected her a decade earlier and left her heartbroken and feeling completely unsure of herself. It had taken her a long time to recover. Did she really want to spend even a few more minutes with him?

The tingle running down her spine said yes. That same tingle had sent her into his arms a very long time ago. She should listen to her brain instead of her body, but when she opened her mouth to answer him, the tingle won out.

"Yes," she said, hoping she wasn't about to make another big mistake.

Chapter Seven

Sara sipped her coffee, watching Aiden's quick and efficient movements in the kitchen. "I can't remember the last time a man cooked breakfast for me," she muttered, then mentally kicked herself for sharing that revealing fact.

"Do you usually cook for them?"

"Sometimes," she said vaguely. It had been a long time since she'd even had breakfast with a man, much less cooked for one. Not that she had much skill in the kitchen anyway. Her mom had tried to teach her, but her father liked his meals just so, and she'd always felt too much pressure to cook, so she'd usually sat on a stool, chatting while her mom made dinner.

A wave of sadness ran through her.

"What's wrong?" Aiden asked, his sharp gaze raking her face as he glanced over at her from the stove.

She started, straightening. "Nothing."

"You'd be a lousy poker player. You have way too many tells."

"And a tell is?"

"A sign of what kind of cards you're holding."

"I was thinking about my mom. She was the cook in our family."

"I'm sorry I missed the funeral, but I was out of the country."

"Were you?" she asked in surprise. "I just thought you were busy."

"I wouldn't have missed your mother's funeral. I was in Ireland with my cousin, Tommy."

She vaguely remembered hearing about his trip back to the "old country" as the Callaways liked to refer to a homeland that had been a hundred years earlier by Aiden's great-grandfather.

"Did you like it there?" she asked.

"I did. It's a beautiful country."

"I'd like to go sometime."

"You should," he said, as he turned his gaze back to the eggs he was scrambling.

"I'll put that on the
To Do
list."

He smiled. "Still have one of those, too, do you?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

"Not me."

"So you have nothing to do today?"

"Aside from making breakfast, and getting you that phone number, my day is wide open."

"Maybe you should try to find out what happened to Kyle."

His mouth drew into a grim line. "I knew I was going to regret sharing that with you."

"You have to find a way to fill in the blanks, so that you can defend yourself."

"How do you know I have a defense? Everyone else thinks I'm to blame. Maybe I am."

"Then you should know that, too," she said. "You may not remember anything right around the time you fell, but what about before that?"

Silence followed her words. Aiden tossed the eggs in the pan, then said, "The fire was bigger than we expected. We'd make some ground, then lose it. But we kept working the way we always did. Then the winds changed abruptly. I debated whether or not to retreat. I was having trouble getting information from the other commanders. The radio kept going in and out. Then the fire blew up on us. Our exit routes were cut off. The team separated. Kyle and I were together, but he was way ahead of me. I don't even know if he realized I was with him, or if he was too disoriented by the fire. He just kept walking, sometimes running, and I could see he was heading straight into the fire. I couldn't get his attention. The fire was all around us." He blew out a breath as he finished. "And that's all I know."

"It sounds like an accident," she ventured.

"Does it?" he challenged. "I waited too long to bail out. Kyle's death is on my head."

"Maybe you need someone to blame, too," she suggested.

"Better me than Kyle," he said.

"What does that mean?"

"Forget it."

"Aiden. Did Kyle do something wrong?"

"I don't know. But I'm sure as hell not going to try to pin anything on him. Kyle has a wife and a baby son who are mourning him, along with his parents and his brother and sister. They're heartbroken. I won't add to their pain. If they need to blame me, I'm okay with it."

She met his gaze. "I understand, but you need answers for yourself. You're not okay. You don't sleep. You're thinking about quitting. That's nowhere close to being okay."

"I'll deal with it."

"Maybe I can help. I can be very intuitive and objective."

"I'm not one of your clients, Sara, and I'm finished talking. The eggs are almost done. If you want to help me, why don't you make us some toast?"

She sighed. "You can be so stubborn."

"Look who's talking? When did you get to be so pushy? You used to be timid and shy."

"I grew up and became a lawyer," she said. "I've also been taking care of myself since I was nineteen years old."

"Well, how about taking care of that toast for now?"

"Fine," she said, knowing she wasn't going to get any further at the moment.

She hated injustice. It was something that drove her crazy as a lawyer. If someone was getting a raw deal, she wanted to take up their cause. She wanted to fix things. It was frustrating when she couldn't, when she was supposed to somehow look the other way. Not that she knew if there was injustice involved in Aiden's situation. Perhaps he was to blame. He could be reckless. He could be a thrill seeker. Was it really that big of a stretch to think that he might have thought he could beat a raging forest fire?

She put some bread into the toaster and got out plates while Aiden finished the eggs. A few minutes later breakfast was ready, and they sat down together to eat.

Aiden's cockiness had been well-founded, she realized as she sampled the eggs. The scramble was delicious. "This is good," she said.

"Did you have any doubts?"

"I thought you might be exaggerating your talents, but this time it turns out you weren't. Did Lynda teach you to cook?"

"She did. There were so many of us she was always looking for help in the kitchen."

"I can't believe you were home that often to help. I remember you always being on the go, coming from some athletic practice of some sort, going out with your friends, or making out with some blonde on the sofa in your parents' living room."

He grinned. "Those were some good days. High school was fun."

"Not for me. I was so worried my grades wouldn't be good enough to get me into the right college. When I wasn't studying, I was usually doing something awkward or embarrassing."

"Like what?" he asked, setting down his fork.

"I don't need to relive those experiences with you."

"Come on. I'm curious."

"I got my sleeve caught in my locker and I couldn't get the combination lock open for about ten minutes. Pamela Danvers and her little gang of cheerleaders stood there and laughed at me. Finally, Emma came to my rescue."

"That sounds like Emma."

"She was great, but she wasn't always around, like when I stayed up all night studying for my AP test and then I fell asleep in the library during study hall. I missed the test, and when I woke someone had drawn pictures on my face."

He laughed. "That is a good one."

"It may be funny. It was not funny back then. High school for me was not the same as it was for you. You were the king of the school."

"No, that was Burke."

"Then you were the rebel prince. Everyone liked your confidence and your daring."

"Both got me into some trouble."

"You always landed on your feet. No matter the odds, somehow you came out on top."

The light in his gaze dimmed. "Maybe I used up my good luck back then."

He was thinking about Kyle again. "Aiden –"

"Don't," he said, with a definitive shake of his head. "I know you mean well, Sara, but this is my problem. And you have enough problems of your own to deal with."

As he finished speaking, the side door opened, and Emma walked into the room.

Surprise flashed through her eyes as she saw them. "Well, this looks…cozy."

"Aiden made breakfast," Sara said quickly, not liking the gleam in Emma's eyes. "I was going to go out, but—"

"But I insisted," Aiden said. "Sorry, there's none left, Em."

"No worries. I ate hours ago." Emma sat down at the table.

"You look tired," Sara said, seeing the shadows under her friend's eyes. "Were you working all night?"

"For a good part of it."

"What's the damage at St. Andrews?" Aiden asked.

"Two classrooms gone, a couple of others in bad shape. Fire started in the kindergarten classroom with a can of gasoline and some rags. There was no forced entry, so someone had access to the school. The fact that this is the second fire at a school in less than a month is concerning."

"Do you think they're connected?" Sara asked.

"There are some similarities. But what's even more disturbing is that Sister Margaret is missing."

"What?" Sara asked in surprise. She'd transferred to St Andrew's in the fourth grade and Sister Margaret had been the most popular teacher in the school.

"Is her disappearance connected to the fire?" Aiden asked.

"It hasn't been determined yet if there's a link." She tilted her head, giving them both a thoughtful look. "So what did I miss around here?"

"Nothing," Sara said quickly.

"Nothing," Aiden agreed.

"Yeah, right," Emma said, giving them both a suspicious look. "You know, I always wondered about –"

"I should go," Sara cut in, getting to her feet.

"You still need my uncle's phone number," Aiden told her as he stood up. "I'll get it."

"Thanks." Alone with Emma, she was acutely aware of the curiosity in her friend's eyes. "Okay, I can see you want to say something so say it."

Emma's gaze turned somber. "I love my brother, but I don’t think you should get involved with him."

"I'm not."

"Sara—"

"I'm not," she repeated. "I came to get your uncle's phone number. Aiden said he might be able to give me a bid on fixing my dad's house. Aiden was making breakfast and offered to share. That's it. I got over Aiden a long time ago."

"Did you?"

"Yes," she said. "I told you that last night."

"I hope that's true, because…" Emma paused, glancing toward the door leading into the hallway. She lowered her voice a notch as she said, "I love Aiden. He's my brother. But he's not good with women. He doesn't have relationships. And now he's in a dark place. I don't want him to hurt you."

"I can take care of myself, Emma."

"You may be a tough lawyer on the outside, but I think on the inside you're still that sweet girl with a big heart who maybe cares a little too much."

She didn't like that Emma's assessment was so accurate, because she'd worked very hard the last few years to toughen up her soft side.

"I'm not that girl anymore. I'm a lot meaner. Some people at work even call me a bitch."

Emma laughed.

"It's not funny."

"Sara, you couldn't be a bitch if your life depended on it."

"I can be. I am," she protested.

"You are what?" Aiden asked as he entered the room.