Head Start (Cedar Tree #7) (14 page)

“As I was saying, Kara and I met years ago when Gus first met Emma. We’ve always been friends, good friends, even though we don’t see each other that much. Seeing her last night was a surprise. It didn’t even occur to me that you two had never met.” He slips his arm around me and pulls me right back on his lap again. Ignoring my struggles, he wraps both arms tight around me and stuffs his face in my neck. “Should’ve introduced you. I screwed up.”

I sit motionless, not sure what to say.

“Kendra,” his low voice urges. “There is nothing between Kara and I. Nothing but friendship. There never was anything more.”

“But why? I don’t understand. You seem perfect together.” I’ve finally found my voice and I hate that insecurity sounds through. Since I’ve known Neil, I’ve fought tooth and nail against any attraction I may have felt for him. Have been able to convince myself this was not something that was in the cards for me. So why, after all this time, can I suddenly not shut myself down? The small tastes of him I’ve had over the past days have weakened the resolve I’ve held on to for so long. Defenses are down and already he has the power to hurt me. Dagnabit.

“You’re wrong, babe.” He shifts me on his lap so I’m sideways and lifts a hand to turn my head so I’m facing him. “You’re using this to try building that wall up again. The one I just managed to start knocking down. Don’t bother, I’ll just bring a bigger sledgehammer.” He strokes his long fingers along my jaw, his index finger rubbing along my bottom lip until my tongue slips out to lick along the tingle he leaves behind. He sounds genuine. He feels genuine too, if the state of his lap is anything to go by. There’s no denying the hard ridge pressing against my butt cheek.

Taking a giant leap, I lean forward and softly brush my lips against his. A risk, but one that is quickly forgotten when his arm tightens around my back and one hand slides up my back and tangles in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat where his open mouth latches.

“God,” his voice rumbles. “You taste amazing.”

“It’s my body lotion,” I offer, a bit out of breath.

“Bullshit. It’s you. This ... I’ve wanted this for so fucking long, I’m aching with it.”

“Neil,” I breathe, finally allowing my hands to explore him. My fingers kneading the muscles of his defined back and shoulders, my other hand cupped on the back of his head to hold him to me. Just as the previous few times his mouth has been on me, my brain becomes one big blank. Nothing registers except the slightly rough texture of his tongue stroking down my neck and teasing my clavicle. Down the sensitive skin that dips between my breasts where he nudges the edge of my T-shirt. I can’t stop the needy, senseless whimpers escaping me, pressing my chest out in offering. It’s not until his hand leaves my hair and starts tugging my shirt down that sanity returns and I manage to still his hand with mine. Even keeping it trapped against my breast, his fingers don’t stop moving. The gentle abrasion of his calloused fingertips over the bared strip of skin, edges closer to my nipple, already tightly puckered.

“Let me have a taste.” The deep vibration of his voice against my chest only intensifies the erotic sensation. When he scrapes a single fingernail over my areola, I experience a full body shiver.

Suddenly his mouth is back over mine and I eagerly open up to allow his tongue entry. With his entire hand now covering my breast, kneading gently, my body is buzzing. Buzzing loudly, because I don’t hear the door opening until my mother is standing in the doorway, clearing her throat loudly to announce her presence.

“That’s my girl,” she says with a big, proud smile.

And just like that, my body turns frigid. “Mom...” I scramble off Neil’s lap, trying to straighten my top at the same time. “I’m late for work. I’d better go.” A quick glance at Neil shows him squinting his eyes at me.

“Can’t,” Mom informs me. “The road is still closed.” Calmly she drops her purse beside the chair and sits down.

Fudge. Totally forgot about that. I immediately walk into the hallway to get my phone from my bag. By the time I’ve explained to the hospital I won’t make in today and why, both Neil and my mother have disappeared into the kitchen. When I poke my head in Neil is taking his omelet from the oven and Mom is pulling plates down from the cupboard.

“Breakfast,” she announces casually over her shoulder. She’s always had a knack for knowing whenever my sister or I are around. When we were younger, we truly believed she had eyes in the back of her head, like she used to claim. “And then you can explain to me what is going on here.”

Neil’s head shoots up and he looks at me, eyebrows raised in question. I shrug my shoulders; I’m used to Mom’s uncanny extra-sensory abilities.

-

T
he omelet is delicious. I’m surprised I’m able to eat any of it, but I end up digging in after tasting the first bite. Another checkmark on the plus side of my Neil list. If my mother hadn’t dumped a bucket of water on my weakening resolve where Neil is concerned, this might have tipped the scales in his favor.

Mom leans back in her chair and takes a sip from her coffee. “Are you gonna talk or am I going to need to pull it out of one of you?” she challenges, looking from one to the other.

“I’m working on an investigation that may involve your daughter. Not...” he says with his hands up when Mom starts to protest. “Not that she is directly involved. But she may have unwittingly been in contact with someone who could be related to the case. So until we can make sure it will have no negative effect on her, we’re going to make sure she stays safe.”

A very eloquent, and extremely evasive explanation that doesn’t seem to impress Mom much. Then again, she’s fierce when it comes to the protection of her girls.

“And feeling my daughter up is part of your job description?” she asks in a biting tone.

“Mom!” I jump in, not quite able to hide the smile at seeing Neil put on the spot. Yet, he stays surprisingly calm.

“No, it isn’t. Your daughter is stubborn. I’m simply taking advantage of the fact she can’t avoid me like she has done her best to this past year.” He looks my mother straight in the eye, and she meets his gaze squarely.

“And how old are you?”

There we are. My misery is complete. I drop my head on the table, narrowly missing my empty plate and my mother starts chuckling.

“Why? Did you think I didn’t notice you have a few years on him?” She directs at me. “It’s not as if I don’t know how you feel about dating younger men. God knows you lectured me enough about the dangers when you were barely out of your teens.”

I groan loudly. “Barely, Mom? I was in college.”

“You were judgmental ... and rigid. Always were, because you couldn’t understand my motivations. But Kenny, you are not me. I hope you never have to face losing the love of your life and struggling to find ways to keep living. And I certainly hope you don’t dismiss the promise of a good man by merit of something as insignificant as a few years.”

“How do you know he’s a good man?” I counter weakly, lifting my head slowly.

“A year, Kenny? He’s been waiting for an opportunity for a year?” As if that is answer enough, she gets up, collects the plates and disappears into the kitchen.

Neil leans over, places his hand under my ponytail on my neck and whispers in my ear, “I think I like your mother.”

N
eil

“Any news on the road closure?”

I left Kendra and her mom on the back patio. We’d gone out there to enjoy the warm morning sun with a fresh coffee, where I was subjected to more intense questioning from Elsa. Exactly what kind of work do I do? Do I have family? How often do I see them? I had no problem answering her about my job and the company I work for. The family questions were a bit more challenging, since I grew up the single child of Mormon parents. A restrictive household where personal exploration had been virtually impossible when I was younger. One of the reasons I willingly enlisted and still a reason why other than the occasional phone call, I don’t see my parents. They don’t approve of my chosen life. Kendra was quiet, but intently listening. When Elsa started asking questions about my years in the military, though, I evaded the inquiries. Kendra appeared to pick up on my reluctance and steered the conversation in a different direction, giving me an opportunity to excuse myself. I had a stack of files to sort through and some phone calls to make. I’d fallen asleep on the couch last night. It’s been a while since I’ve slept more soundly. Well rested and with my head clear, I need to get going on that list of names, but first I should touch base with the team.

First person to call is Malachi, who is likely still stuck on the other side of the road closure. He and his wife Kim live in a small house just on the north side of Cortez, with phenomenal views of the mesa. He answers on the first ring.

“Water is slow to go down from what I hear. Drew says it’s too soon for the road crews to go in. Looks like part of the road is actually washed away, so this is not going to be a quick clean up. Even if the water goes down over the next twenty-four hours, it will take time to make the necessary repairs.” Drew Carmel is Montezuma County’s sheriff, and we’ve worked with him on many cases over the years. Doesn’t surprise me Mal got his information from him, since Drew makes sure he keeps his finger on the pulse.

“Looks like we’re stuck here. I bet you’re glad you managed to get home just in time.”

“Sure am. And how are things going over there?” I can hear the smile in his voice.
Bastard
, bailing on me last night. “Nice visit with Kendra’s mom?”

“You owe me,” I warn him. “Long story short, she ended up in my apartment when we discovered the roads were closed. Arlene dropped her back here early this morning.”

“I see.” There was a heavy implication in those two words.

“Not that it’s any of your business but Kendra wasn’t feeling well, so I crashed on the couch,” I justify, mildly irritated that I even needed to. “I guess Elsa will be staying here now.” I’m determined to get this call back to business, so I shift topics. “I may have found something last night I’m looking into further today. I’m e-mailing you a file with some of my notes. If you could take a look at it, it’d be great if I could bounce some things off you later.”

“No problem,” he says, but the sound of a baby crying almost drowns him out. I hear some rustling and a brief muted conversation before he comes back on the line. “Sorry about that. Asher is grumpy this morning. He doesn’t like his mom taking even five minutes for herself. Demanding already at only five weeks old,” he sighs dramatically, making me chuckle. He’s full of shit. He dotes on his son, and I have to admit, the little critter is kind of cute. “Look,” he says in a more serious tone. “I’ll give you a call as soon as I hear anything about the road and we’ll hook up, whether over the phone or in person.”

“Sounds good. Give that delicious wife of yours a kiss for me.” I hear Mal’s colorful word choices for me as I hang up the phone, laughing.

Next is Gus and he tells me he hasn’t heard anything from Gomez yet. We briefly discuss the case and he tells me to keep digging. He’ll be giving Damian a call this morning to see what the status is on Cayman. He should’ve arrived last night in Gallup, but we don’t know whether he’s had a chance to interview Cayman yet. In the meantime, I’ll send an e-mail to Jasper Greene. Give him a head’s up on the odd names. Perhaps he’s noticed something similar in the out of state cases he’s working on.

A quick peek out the kitchen window shows the two women talking. Perfect time for me to grab a quick shower.

K
endra

“You shouldn’t encourage him,” I look at my Mom after watching Neil’s back disappear inside.

“Didn’t raise you to be a fool, honey,” Mom immediately fires back.

“I just don’t think it’s the smart thing to do; getting involved with him. Whatever shine he thinks he sees on me now will wear off before long and then where am I?” I turn to her, grabbing her hand. “Tell me it didn’t hurt each time one of your boyfriends left you.”

I couldn’t be more surprised when Mom throws her head back and laughs heartily. When she turns her eyes on me, they dance with a hint of glee. “Oh, my sweet girl. Wherever did you get that idea? I wasn’t
left
by anyone. I was doing all the
leaving
.” Seeing the confusion on my face, she goes on to explain. “My choice. Each and every one of them were my choice to get involved with, just as it was my choice to leave them behind. I prefer no complications. When your Dad passed away, I wasn’t looking for anything more complicated than a light-hearted fling. I had two girls to raise and had my hands full with complications. I like my life the way it is. I’m free of responsibilities now and simply don’t feel like taking any new ones on. Being alone suits me.” She brings up her hand to cup my face. “But honey, I
am
sorry if my choices have made you uncomfortable. And it would be an absolute tragedy to let
my
choices dictate
your
life.”

I think this may well be the first time Mom and I have had a conversation like this. As adults. We sit silently for a while, each with our own thoughts. Mine revolve mainly around how openly I view the world, but how incredibly narrow my mind becomes when it concerns me. I have no problem with people stepping out of their box, but I feel more secure inside mine. I’m avoiding risk. And isn’t that exactly what opening your heart to someone is? A huge risk? Age has nothing to do with that ... but fear does.