Carolina Home (18 page)

“You cold?” she asked sleepily. “We could get under the covers.”

He didn’t need to get under the covers. It’s not like he could spend the night. He never spent the night. “I’m fine.”

“Just ‘fine’?”

Wrong answer, he thought. After rocking his world, she deserved better than a lukewarm, lame ass “
fine
.” “I’m great. You’re wonderful. That was…” He searched for a word.

Her lips curved against his neck. “Fast?”

He laughed. She had definitely challenged his staying power, but he knew damn well he hadn’t left her behind. Besides, he could feel her smiling. “I was going to say, ‘amazing.’”

She raised her head. “You sound surprised,” she said, the way he’d said to her after dinner.

“Maybe I am.”

Maybe he had harbored some outdated ideas about schoolteachers. The way she’d gone down on him…his body stirred, reacting to the memory and the feel of her plastered against him.

She watched him, a hint of uncertainty in her gaze.

He stroked his hand down her hair, brushed the back of his fingers along that dark, erotic tattoo. “Mostly I’m just happy.”

Her smile bloomed.

He added, “Not to mention grateful.”

The light in her eyes set off a warning knell in his head like a channel buoy.

Deep waters here.

He ignored it.

Nothing had really changed. His life hadn’t changed. He knew that, and she understood it.
Accept it for what it is
, isn’t that what she’d said?
One perfect moment.

Or as many moments as he could get before she went away.

He grabbed another condom from the nightstand and rolled her under him.

Eleven

N
IGHT BLANKETED THE
island. The sky pulsed with fistfuls of fat diamonds undimmed by city lights.

Matt made his way to the cottage, navigating the familiar path easily in the dark. His body felt loose and relaxed, his head light and clear.

She hadn’t asked him to stay.

He stuck his hands in his pockets. That was fine. That was good. He was a man who liked his space, in bed and out. Besides, they both had things to do in the morning, Allison had said with a smile.

No pressure.

But it had been surprisingly hard to leave her for his cold truck, his empty bed. He couldn’t remember ever regretting leaving a woman before.

He climbed his steps, glancing automatically over his shoulder at the wide, black windows of the inn. His parents’ room, dark. The kitchen, dark. The family room…

Matt frowned at the silver light flickering against the
glass. The television? It was after midnight. His parents were in bed. Josh, too, or his son had some explaining to do.

But somebody had left on the TV.

Matt crossed the yard and climbed the steps to the deck. No harm in checking it out.

In recent years, the town had incorporated and hired a police chief. But his time was mostly spent directing traffic, assisting the Coast Guard, and busting up underage drinking parties on the beach. Theft was rare on Dare Island. Everybody knew what belonged to everybody else, so stolen goods were rapidly identified and returned to their owners. Tess, however, had grown up in Chicago. Even after all these years, she still locked up at night. Quietly, Matt let himself in the back door with his key.

A tiny bulb shone over the stove. Red numerals on the coffeemaker glowed in the dark. Matt moved lightly through the kitchen, following the spilling silver light and the rising, falling voices from the television.

The family room was lit with the glow of the TV. On-screen, a couple of women with artificial tans and smiles sat around a studio coffee table, discussing the amazing effects of some skin-care product.

Matt looked for the remote and spotted Taylor curled on the couch, wrapped in one of his mother’s afghans, his brother’s hat on her head.

Asleep.

The sight of her punched a hole in his chest. Her wary blue eyes were closed, her bony shoulders relaxed, her pointed chin soft and delicate. For once, she looked younger than her ten years and more vulnerable. She looked like a girl.

He didn’t know much about little girls, but he did know she couldn’t spend the night on the couch.

He sighed. Tomorrow he would ask what the hell she was doing sneaking downstairs on a school night while his parents were in bed.

Tonight, he would tuck her in and hope she wasn’t completely wiped out in the morning.

The remote had slipped to the floor. He picked it up and turned off the TV, setting the control by the set. The room plunged into darkness.

“Taylor?” He kept his voice low, so he wouldn’t startle her. “Come on, honey, time for bed.”

No answer. He hadn’t really expected one.

Scooping her up, afghan and all, he moved with her toward the kitchen. He’d carried Josh like this, years ago. Through colic and fevers, tears and bad dreams, coming home from fireworks and after late night fishing trips. The memories crowded in, evoked by her soft dead weight and her little kid smell, grass and sweat and shampoo.

She exploded in his arms, thrashing and screaming. “Let me go! Let me
go
! Leave me
alone
!”

Matt nearly dropped her in surprise.

Her small fists flew, bashing him in the mouth.

His head snapped back. Instinctively, he tightened his hold.

“Easy. Taylor. Ouch.” With his gut tied in slippery knots, he tried to soothe her, tried to contain her, tried to put down this tornado of blanket and limbs without letting her hurt herself.

He knelt, keeping one arm loosely around her. Reaching into the flailing, wailing storm, he found her shoulder and gave it a shake.

“Hey, Taylor. It’s okay, kid, you’re all right.”

Her wide, terror-filled eyes met his, her mouth still open to scream.

“Uncle Matt?” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

Those eyes—Luke’s eyes—flooded with tears, gleaming in the dark. With a sob, she flung herself at him, her skinny arms fastening in a death grip around his neck.

Jesus.
He rocked her, giving comfort.

The overhead light snapped on.

“What on earth is going on?”

Tess stood in the kitchen archway, belting the sash of her robe, her salt-and-pepper hair sticking up in every direction.

Matt shrugged as best he could with Taylor clinging to his neck. “No clue.”

“Taylor, sweetie.” Tess rustled forward to stroke her granddaughter’s hair, to feel her forehead with an expert hand. “What’s wrong? Do you feel sick? Are you all right?”

Taylor shook her head against Matt’s shoulder.

“Is that, no, you’re not sick, or no, you’re not all right?”

“Mom.” Matt spoke patiently. “Give us a minute, okay? We both just had the crap scared out of us.”

“That makes three of us,” Tess said. “I thought somebody was being murdered.”

Taylor’s muscles were rigid.

“So naturally you decided to investigate in your bathrobe.” Matt smiled at his mother, keeping his tone deliberately light. “Come on, Mom, you’ve seen all those scary movies. You know that when the heroine hears a bump in the night she’s not supposed to go down into the basement.”

As he talked, he could feel Taylor’s grip easing, her trembles fading away.

Tess met his gaze. “We don’t have a basement,” she said, matching his relaxed tone. “Anyway, I’d like to meet the monster who’s a match for me and my frying pan.”

“You or Taylor.” Matt explored his throbbing lower lip with his tongue, tasting blood. “That’s some right hook you’ve got there, kid.”

T
AYLOR STOLE A
cautious look at Uncle Matt. He didn’t sound mad. But you never could tell with grown-ups.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“No problem.” He smiled at her crookedly, touching the back of his hand to his mouth.

She winced. He was bleeding where she’d punched him. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”

“It’s okay,” he said, and she almost believed him. “Your dad and I used to pound on each other all the time. Of course, I won, being older and bigger and all. But he was a scrapper. Like you.”

She smiled back, relieved and guilty, still not sure if she was in trouble or not.

“So.” He was still smiling, but his eyes were serious. “You want to tell me what that was all about?”

Panic clogged her throat. She couldn’t. Her heart pounded. She couldn’t tell anybody.

“I…” She darted a look at Grandma Tess, standing there in her bathrobe. “I had a bad dream.”

He nodded. “I figured that much. What were you doing downstairs?”

Taylor swallowed around the hot lump in her throat without answering.

“This is the third time I’ve found her sleeping on the couch,” Grandma Tess said.

Uncle Matt’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Grandma Tess shrugged. “What could I say? I thought she’d get over it. You always did.” She patted Taylor’s shoulder. “Come on, sweetie, let’s get you back to bed.”

Back to the dark and the quiet, where bad things could happen.

Taylor’s stomach clenched. She shook her head.

Grandma Tess looked at her kindly, the way grown-ups did when they didn’t have a clue. “Honey, we talked about this. You can’t stay down here.”

“You do.”

“She’s got you there,” Uncle Matt murmured.

“Because my room is down here,” Grandma Tess said. “My bed. You can’t sleep on the couch every night.”

“My mom would let me. She let me sleep on the couch at home all the time.”

Which was a lie, but they didn’t know that. Taylor’s throat burned. They didn’t know anything.

The two adults exchanged glances over her head.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be up there alone,” Uncle Matt said, and Taylor felt hopeful and scared at the same time, because if he got that part right, who knew what else he might guess?

Thinking about it made her head hurt. She was too tired to think, tired of lying, tired of crying, tired of being scared.

“I don’t know why I can’t sleep in front of the TV,” she said in a whiny voice. Maybe if she whined they’d leave her alone. It worked with Grandma Jolene. “You’d let me sleep in front of the TV if I was having a sleepover.”

“Not on a school night,” Grandma Tess said.

Uncle Matt rubbed his face with his hand. “Look, it’s late. We could all use some rest. Why don’t we just move one of the guest TVs into her room for now and figure out the rest in the morning?”

“No cable,” Grandma Tess said.

“Fine. Then give her a night-light and a radio.”

Grandma Tess sighed. “I’ll get something.”

She held out her hand to Taylor. She had nice hands. Her nails weren’t painted pink like Mom’s, but they were short and clean and didn’t scratch. Taylor liked her, but she wasn’t Mom, nobody was Taylor’s mom anymore, her mom was dead.

Grandma Tess smiled. “We’ll find a light, and then I’ll tuck you in.”

A light would help—maybe—but Taylor wasn’t taking any chances. “I want Uncle Matt.”

She didn’t want to sound mean, but she was really tired.
If Uncle Matt stayed with her, it would almost be like having her father there.

She wasn’t afraid with Uncle Matt. Even on the motorcycle. Uncle Matt was calm and strong. Grandma Tess was nice, but she couldn’t keep Taylor safe any more than Grandma Jo could.

“Sure.” Uncle Matt tugged the brim of her cap down over her nose, the casual gesture better than a hug. “Let’s go.”

She pushed the cap back on her forehead. “You’ll stay with me?”

The two grown-ups looked at each other again, but she kept her gaze fixed on Uncle Matt.
Please, oh, please, oh, please…

“I could do that,” he said slowly. “Just until you fall asleep.”

“You promise?” she insisted.

His eyes narrowed. She squirmed a little under that steady look, but her fear was too huge to let her back down.

“Yeah,” he said, “I promise,” and she relaxed.

Grown-ups lied all the time, but she figured she could trust Uncle Matt.

“Good,” she said, and trudged with him up the stairs.

J
OSH WAS EATING
cereal at the kitchen counter when Matt stumbled toward the coffeepot the next morning.

The boy smirked. “Rough night?”

Matt glowered blearily at his son before hooking a mug out of the cupboard. His system screamed for caffeine. He’d be out all day with a group of serious fishermen trolling for stripers, holding the old
Sea Lady
steady just outside the choppy waters of the inlet where the migrating fish would feed. To navigate the shallow chop, Matt needed to be alert.

He needed coffee.

He sipped. Winced.

“Your lip is busted,” Josh observed.

Matt grunted.

Josh’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “You always told me no meant no.”

He’d raised a damn wiseass, Matt thought.

Under other circumstances, the realization would have made him proud. But not when Allison had to face the boy in class this morning.

He gulped more coffee. “I was up all night with the kid. Taylor.”

Josh swallowed. “Puking?”

“Nightmares.”

Every time Matt thought she’d drifted off, every time he’d tried to leave, Taylor had forced herself awake. Finally, he’d accepted his fate and napped on a chair in her room.

“Sucks,” Josh said sympathetically.

Matt nodded, rubbing the crick in his neck.

“I thought you were with Carter last night,” Josh said.

“Miss Carter,” Matt corrected automatically.

“Whatever.” Josh buried his face in his cereal bowl.

Matt took a deep breath. He didn’t want to get into a discussion of his love life with Josh. He’d always kept those two parts of his life separate, sex over here, family over there, no contact between the women he slept with and the son he loved.

But the issue had to be addressed now that Josh had brought it up. Now that Matt and Allison were…His mind fumbled with labels, searching for a word that wouldn’t be either insulting or inaccurate.
Dating? Sleeping together?

Involved.