Finding Perfect (17 page)

She led the way to the second floor. The master bedroom was in the back. He showed her the small bedroom that could be made part of the master suite, the hall bath that was huge and the excess of storage.

“It's nice,” she said. “Lots of light and space. I really like the craftsman details.”

They went to the main floor. He told her everything he wanted to do in the kitchen. Then he led the way to the study.

“This room is great,” he told her. “I don't usually like paneling, but the combination of wood and windows really works. There are plenty of bookshelves.”

He waited for her to walk in, but instead of looking at the room, she took a step to the side and tucked her hands behind her back.

“Pia?”

She seemed lost in thought. “You're going through a real estate agent, right? Josh doesn't own this house.”

“He recommended someone. His houses are all smaller. With three kids coming, I knew we'd need something bigger.”

She looked at him. “Did the agent say anything about the family who lived here before?”

“No.” His gut clenched. “Did you know them?”

She nodded. “My family owned this house.”

She'd lived here? Talk about being an idiot, he thought. “Why didn't you say something? Why did you let me give you a tour?”

“I wanted to know what it would be like to be back in the house. I wanted to know…” She stared at the study. “My father committed suicide in there. I'm the one who found the body.”

 

P
IA WAS PLEASED SHE
could say the words without flinching. It was almost as if she were telling a story about someone else. Perhaps enough time had passed that the past didn't have any power over her, although she had her doubts.

She turned her back on the study and walked into the living room. This space was safer, she thought. Fewer memories.

“I had the whole third floor to myself,” she told Raoul. “I slept in one room and had another set up with couches and a TV. My friends all came here because I had the cool parents who didn't care what we did. We could stay up all night, talk on the phone, even steal liquor from the cabinet in my dad's study. Whatever the hot thing
was, I had it. Everyone envied me. They thought I was lucky.”

He didn't speak, he just stood next to her, listening. She looked out the window because it was easier than seeing the pity in his eyes.

“It took me a while to figure out neither of them ever cared about me. I was just another way to show status. We only cared about how things looked, not how they were. I grew up selfish and mean. Having more clothes than I could ever wear didn't make up for having parents who never loved me. I resented the other kids who were smarter, or had a great family.”

Involuntarily, she looked at him. Thankfully, there was no emotion in his expression.

“I was mean,” she said flatly. “I tormented everyone who wasn't in my circle of friends. I made fun of them, spread rumors about them, told lies. And because of who my parents were, everyone believed me.” She tried to smile and failed. “You would have hated me.”

“I doubt that.”

“You would have. And I would have deserved it.” She was sure of it. “When I was sixteen, my father was charged with embezzling from his company. The news only got worse. He hadn't paid taxes or bills. I don't know where the money went. Maybe we spent it all. By the beginning of my senior year, it became clear that he was going to be charged with some serious crimes. Rather than face the felony charges, he put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger.”

Raoul reached out to her, but she stepped back. He couldn't touch her—not now. If he did, she wouldn't be able to get through the story.

“I heard the noise and came running. I burst into his
study.” She paused, willing herself to say the words, but not actually remembering what it had been like. “It's not the same as the movies. It's not that clean. There was blood everywhere.”

She swallowed. “I called 9-1-1 and then I don't remember very much. My mom left for Florida and I went into foster care. Everything was different. I didn't have this house or half my things. And all those kids I'd tortured got their revenge. They made my life a living hell.”

She turned to look out the window again. “I don't blame them. I deserved it.”

“What about your mom? Did you want to go with her?”

She nodded. “She wouldn't let me. She said she needed time. There was no discussion about what I might need. She told me it was important for me to graduate with all my friends, and when I tried to tell her I didn't have friends anymore she wouldn't listen.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “I don't know what happened to the house. If it was sold or repossessed or what. I finished school. My grades had never been better, probably because I didn't have any distractions. I was voted off the cheerleading team, my boyfriend dumped me. I applied for a part-time job with the city, which is how I got involved with what I do now. My mother didn't come back for my high school graduation and she made it clear I wouldn't be welcome in Florida. I haven't seen her since.”

She felt him moving toward her and even though she wanted to duck away, she didn't have the energy. She was unable to move, even as his strong arms came around her and held her tight.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, his breath whispering across the side of her face. “I'm so sorry.”

“I'm fine.”

He turned her so they were facing each other and stared into her eyes. “You know what? You really are. You went through hell and survived.”

She shrugged out of his embrace. “Don't be nice.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I might believe you.”

He studied her for a long time. She felt naked and vulnerable. Alone. Broken.

Then he pulled her close again and held on so tight it was hard to breathe. She should have wanted to pull away, but it felt good. Too good.

“You can believe in me,” he told her. “I'm going to marry you, Pia. Nothing bad will ever happen to you again.”

She closed her eyes and let herself lean into him. “You can't promise that.”

“I know, but I'll do my best.” He released her just enough to cup her face in his hands, then he kissed her. “No one is ever going to leave you again.”

His words made her eyes burn.

He cleared his throat. “Given what happened this time, you should probably pick the next house.”

Despite everything she laughed. “You think?”

He kissed her again. “Are you going to be okay?”

She nodded. From the safety of his arms, she had a feeling everything was going to be just fine.

T
HE BACHELOR AUCTION
and talent show were being held in the Fool's Gold Convention Center, a grand term for a cement-and-block-wall structure that had been planned as a big-box store. Twenty years ago some local contractor—long since out of business—had subscribed to the philosophy of “if you build it, they will come.” He'd built it and no one had shown up to rent the space. The city had bought the building and used it for various events.

The advantage was plenty of open space that could be broken up into nearly any size room. About ten years ago, the interior had been updated with a huge industrial kitchen and lots of bathrooms. Pia had taken over about half the building for the night. The place wasn't exactly elegant, but it was functional and free, which was important, given her meager budget.

A stage had been assembled at one end, and several city workers were setting up chairs. Off to the side the banner proclaiming Fool's Gold's Bachelor Auction had yet to be hung and she did her best to avoid looking at it. Talk about a hideous event. The talent show was only going to make things worse. No doubt all the media attending would go out of their way to make the town look like a refuge for men-starved women of a certain age.

Because her days weren't already crammed with plenty to do, Raoul had called that morning and informed her his former coach was visiting. Pia knew how much Hawk had meant to him. No doubt he was looking forward to the visit. Pia, on the other hand, was having a case of nerves brought on by meeting the emotional equivalent of the in-laws. Hawk was bringing his wife, Nicole.

She had no idea if Raoul was going to tell them the truth about the engagement, and honestly she couldn't decide which she wanted. Faking being in love in front of the two people who cared about Raoul most seemed like a challenge. But if they knew what was really happening, wouldn't they try to talk him out of it? And as freakish as the idea of marrying for reasons of practicality might be, Pia had found herself depending on the fact that Raoul was going to be there for her.

Dakota crossed the cement floor of the convention center, her arms filled with an overflowing box of auction paddles. “Do you really think we're going to need this many?”

Pia nodded. “Oh, yes. We're having quite the turnout. It's not just ladies from Fool's Gold who will be attending. We're pulling them in from the whole county.”

“Lucky us.”

Montana followed her sister. She had a box full of programs for the talent show. “Did you look at these?” she asked. “There's a woman who's dancing with her dog.”

Pia led them to the table against the wall. “I saw her audition. It's not as scary as it sounds. They both do ballet.”

The sisters stared at her.

Dakota set down her box. “On what planet isn't that scary?”

“At least they're not dancing together.”

“Okay,” Montana said slowly, lowering her box to the table. “Tell me it's not a poodle.”

Pia pressed her lips together. “Sorry. It's a big one, if that helps.”

“It doesn't.”

They all laughed, although Dakota's amusement seemed a little forced. Montana must have noticed that as well, because she turned to her sister.

“Are you okay? You don't seem perky.”

“I'm perky.”

“Want to take a vote?” Montana asked.

Dakota shrugged. “I'm thinking about some stuff in my life. Reevaluating. I feel as if I've been drifting.”

That was news to Pia. “Drifting how?”

Montana sank into a folding chair. “Oh, God. If you getting your PhD and helping children is drifting, what does that make me? An earthworm?”

“It's not about what I do,” Dakota said. “Getting the work done isn't the point. You have so much passion for your life. I feel like I'm going through the motions. I'm not sure what's important to me. I'm not dating, but it doesn't really bother me. I want to wake up excited about my life.” She shrugged. “I have some thinking to do.”

Pia had to agree with Montana. Dakota was one of the most together women she knew. It was kind of scary to think someone she'd always thought of as borderline perfect had issues. If Dakota had trouble figuring things out, what hope did the rest of them have?

Montana crossed to her sister and hugged her. “I want you to be happy.”

“I
am
happy.”

Montana shook her head. “You're not.”

Dakota smiled. “Okay. Then I will be. How's that?”

“Better,” Montana said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Pia felt her throat get a little tight as she watched the sisters hug each other. She'd always wondered what it would be like to grow up with a sibling. While she would never know, Crystal's babies would have that experience.

She lightly touched her stomach. “You're always going to have each other,” she whispered. “Won't that be great?”

Before the moment could spiral into a hugging, tearful vat of emotion, two other women approached. Pia recognized one as a head nurse from the hospital. The other was a lawyer in town. Both were in their fifties, with the lawyer slightly closer to sixty than her friend.

Bea, the lawyer, stopped in front of Pia. “About this auction,” she began without a greeting. “Have you vetted the men? Done background checks? Will they have papers?”

Pia had worked with Bea before and was used to her abrupt style. “They're coming to a dinner-dance, not immigrating into the country. What kind of papers are you looking for?”

“How do we know they're safe?”

Pia sighed. “Buyer beware.”

Bea's friend, Nina, smiled at Pia. “Will there be a
preview? Can we look them over before we bid? Is there a list of what they will or won't do?”

Crap, crap, crap. “We're sponsoring the auction, ladies. We're talking dinner and dancing, not anything else.”

Bea snorted. “She thinks you're looking for sex, Nina.”

Nina, a petite brunette, flushed. “Oh, no. Not that. I was wondering if I could ask the guy to clean out my gutters. There's a lot of leaves up there and I hate getting on a ladder.”

Gutters? From the corner of her eye, Pia saw Dakota and Montana trying not to laugh.

“You win a night that includes dinner and dancing,” Pia repeated, telling herself it was important to be patient. “The woman pays. Proceeds from the auction itself go to the city for various charity projects.”

“Who needs a man for dancing?” Bea muttered. “I'm too old to care about that.”

Nina tilted her head. “I don't know. A night of dancing sounds kind of nice.”

“There are plenty of young women who'll be in competition with you, Nina. Bidding against you.”

Nina grinned. “Yes, but being of a certain age has advantages. We have more money.”

Bea didn't look amused. “Perhaps you should use some of that precious money of yours to hire someone to clean out your gutters.”

“You're always so crabby,” Nina complained, then turned back to Pia. “Thanks for the information. I guess I'm going to have to find another way to get the gutters cleaned.”

“Pick up the phone book,” Bea muttered. “I know you can spell.”

The two women walked away.

“I thought the auction was going to be boring,” Montana admitted when Bea and Nina were out of earshot. “But now I can't wait to be here.”

“Are you going to bid?” Dakota asked.

“No, but I'm bringing popcorn. Talk about a show.”

Pia sank into a chair and rubbed her temples. “I don't get paid enough to do this.”

“Probably not,” Dakota said cheerfully, “but at least it's never boring.”

“Right now, boring sounds really, really good.”

 

R
AOUL WALKED ONTO THE
playground at the mountain school only to find himself surrounded by kids.

“Come play with us.”

“No, me.”

“Can you help me throw harder?”

“We want to jump rope. Will you hold the rope?”

Raoul felt like the leader of a very short tribe. He raised his hands in the air. “I'm here to check on my main man. Then we'll talk about playing.”

There were a few grumbles, but the kids fell back, allowing him to walk over to Peter and his friends. The boy grinned when he saw Raoul and launched himself at him. Raoul caught him easily.

“How are you doing?” he asked the boy. “All settled?”

Peter had returned to his foster home the previous afternoon. Mrs. Dawson had done a thorough investigation and while she admitted the Folios weren't her
favorite family, she couldn't remove a child based on a feeling. There had to be something closer to proof.

The boy hung on to Raoul. “It's okay. They're being really nice. Don says he's going to sue the school 'cause of my fall. But I don't know who Sue is.”

Raoul put down the boy and made a mental note to talk to Don about his plan. If he thought he could get some easy money out of the school district and keep it for himself, he was about to have a change in attitude.

“I've been practicing throwing,” Peter continued happily.

“Just throwing, right? No catching.”

The kid sighed. “I know. Not until my arm is better.”

“If you want to play football, you need to be strong all over. That means letting your arm heal.”

“Will I be as big as you?”

“I don't know.” Raoul didn't have any details about Peter's real parents. He wondered if he could ask around and get some information. “Want to show me what you can do?”

“Uh-huh.”

Peter ran over to the box of balls. Several other boys spotted what he was doing and followed. Raoul quickly organized them into groups and had them throwing back and forth to each other, like in a training camp.

“Good,” he said, walking behind them, watching them throw. “Billy, straighten that arm. Your strength is in your shoulder, not your wrist. Nice, Trevor. Great follow-through.”

He felt someone tug on his jacket and looked down to see a girl in glasses and pigtails staring up at him.

“Can I throw, too?” she asked.

The boy closest shook his head. “No girls. Go away.”

The girl ignored him. “I want to learn.”

“Girls play, too,” Raoul said, leading her to the end of the line. He motioned for Jackson to throw him a ball, then get in position to catch. “Why don't you show me what you can do.”

The girl took the ball, pushed up her glasses, then threw the baseball with enough power to make a pop when it hit the glove. Jackson winced.

Raoul grinned. “You've got quite an arm there, young lady.”

“I want to be able to hit my big brother in the head and knock him out. He's always teasing me.”

“Okay. I'm happy to help you with your throwing, but you have to promise never to aim at your brother's head. The way you throw, you could hurt him really bad.”

Her eyes widened. “He says I'm a weak, whiny girl.”

“Probably because you're better than him.”

She beamed. “I never thought about that.”

Dakota walked up. “Creating dissension between the sexes at such a young age?”

“I'm not that young.”

She laughed. “You know what I meant.”

“I do.” He studied her, seeing that she looked rested and a lot less sad. “You're feeling better.”

“I am.

“Good. Want to talk about what happened?”

“No.”

The bell rang, indicating that it was time to head back into class. The kids threw the balls and gloves
into the box and raced past them. Peter looked back and waved.

“You did good with him,” Dakota said.

“He made it easy.”

“You hold yourself back from most of the kids, but with him, you're different.”

They walked toward the main building. He wasn't surprised she'd figured out the truth about him.

“Old habit,” he said.

“I'm sure there are a lot of reasons,” she said. “The fame, for one thing. You can't know who's interested in you for you or because they want something.”

“Less of an issue now.”

“Possibly. Plus I would guess there are just too many kids to help individually. You can't be in more than one place at once. So you created the camp to help as many kids as you can. It has the added benefit of allowing you to keep your distance.”

“You really feel the need to use your psychology degree, don't you?”

“Sometimes. It can be very flashy at parties.”

He knew she was right about all of it. He did hold himself back. He'd been burned plenty of times in college and during his first few years in the NFL. Finally he'd learned the lesson that helping from a distance was a whole lot easier.

Since things had gone bad with Caro, it was also smarter. Her betrayal had shaken him on many levels. She'd made him question his ability to read someone.

“You don't have to do anything at all,” Dakota said. “It's not required.”

“Sure it is. I was taught that if life gives you advantages, you give back.”

“Your former coach?”

“Uh-huh. If I wasn't doing something, he'd come down here and kick my ass.”

She smiled. “Cheap talk. You didn't buy this camp for him. You bought it because you wanted to.”

He shrugged. “Hawk can be the voice in my head, telling me what to do.”

“My mom is that for me. I think it's a good thing.”

“Psychologically sound?” he asked.

She laughed. “Definitely. I think it's important to stay on the side of sanity.”

“You're the professional.” He held open the door to the main building.

“How's Pia doing?” she asked.

“Good. Why?”

“Aren't Hawk and his wife coming to visit for a couple of days?”

“Sure.”