Kestrel (Hart Briothers #3) (14 page)

He
squeezes his lids shut and bows his head. “I’m an ass to most people.”

“Yeah.
Uh huh.”

He
finishes moisturizing me, stands, and says, “Let’s get you dressed, then. And I
need to feed you. I was terrible to you last night. I deprived you of the
dinner I promised you and here I am not feeding you breakfast.”

The
only clothes I have are what I wore the night before. He realizes this, too. He
rummages through his drawer and hands me a sweater. It’s hunter green, bulky,
and soft. I put it on and it hits my thighs. I pull my jeans on, sans
underwear.

He
smiles. I melt. “Perfect.”

“My
hair. I need to get the tangles out and braid it.”

“Oh,
sorry.”

He
hands me a brush. This is going to take forever.

“Do
you have a wide-toothed comb?”

“No.
Sorry.”

I
twist it in a bun instead. “I’ll never get the knots out with a brush. Now I’m
ready.”

We
head to a restaurant a few blocks away and Kestrel orders enough food for the
entire county.

Shaking
my head when it arrives, I say, “Dude, I’m hungry, but this gives new meaning
to a lot of food.”

“Too
much?”

“Omelets,
pancakes, hash browns, grits, biscuits, gravy, and bacon? Yeah, I’d say way too
much.”

“I
guess I was starved.”

While
he eats, I can’t help but stare at his ink. It’s so unique and intricate that
before I know what I’m doing, a finger is tracing one of his designs. I’m so
engrossed in it I don’t even realize he’s smiling at me.

“Wow.
This is quite a dragon. And the spear through the heart.”

“It’s
actually a trident.”

The
sound of his voice is haunting. I look up and his eyes penetrate my soul. What
happened here? My finger is still touching him so I take my hand and move it to
his.

“What
does it mean?”

He
sets his fork down gently.

“Carter,
it’s a long, terrifying, and ugly story. I don’t want to sully your purity with
it.”

Wow.
What a profound thing to say. Whatever that dragon is about must be horrid.

“I’m
sorry something so awful has touched you that way, but about my purity, I’m not
so sure.”

“I
know you hate pet names, but sweetheart, trust me, you’re as pure as freshly
fallen snow. And that’s not a bad thing.”

He
makes me smile. “Sweetheart is a term of endearment, not a pet name. But I’m
not pure, Kestrel.”

“Yes,
you are. There are people who walk this earth, people who you can’t imagine how
cruel and vile they are. You, Carter, are sweet, and kind. When I look at you I
see an angel sitting before me.”

“Don’t
say that. I’m no better than anyone else.”

“You
can’t understand. But let’s talk about something else. Tonight. You’re still
planning to come with me, aren’t you?”

“Of
course.”

He
smiles. “Good.”

The
waitress interrupts us to clear the table.

As
we walk back to his place he says something to me that I’m not sure how to
take.

“Carter,
I was so wrong about you.”

“How’s
that?”

“Remember
the day we met and you asked me if you weren’t good enough and I said you
weren’t bad enough?”

“Yeah,
I remember.”

“I
don’t want you to be bad.” He stops and turns me to face him. “I need good in
my life. I need an angel, a human angel, like you. I’m sick of all the bad.”
Then he kisses me. We’re in the middle of King Street and people are
everywhere, having to move around the obstacle we’ve created. But Kestrel
doesn’t give a damn. He ends it as quickly as he started it and I’m walking
with him, stunned by his comment.

“Kestrel?”

“Yeah?”

“Will
you tell me your story someday?”

“Yeah.
But it may be a while.”

“Okay.”
I wrap my arm around his waist as we walk. “Do me a favor though.”

“What
is it?”

“Don’t
hurt me. I’m sort of fragile and I don’t think I can deal with that.”

“Same
here, Carter.”

“Do
me another favor, please.”

“Sure.”

“Whatever
you do, don’t let me fall in love with you.”

He
stops walking. “Why’s that?”

“Because
someone always loses in love.”

***

Kestrel
waits for me in the salon and the smile he affords me when I approach him tells
me all I need to know.

“It’s
perfect.” He kisses my cheek.

I
feel like a little kid when I ask, “You like it?”

“Love
it. I’m glad they left it wavy and long.”

“I
hope I can fix it.”

“It
looks like they only trimmed it a little and straightened it somewhat. Did they
give you instructions?”

“Yeah,
but Kestrel, this mane has a mind of its own.”

I
check the time and see that it’s going on four.

“You
hungry?” he asks.

“I
am, a little.”

“Let’s
get a snack.”

“I
have a better idea. Let’s go to my place. I have snacks there,” I say.

“Okay.”

We
walk to his house so I can get my car. He follows in his. I haven’t been home
since yesterday morning so I grab the mail. Not much here. Then I pull out some
cheese, crackers, and fruit and ask him if he’d care for a beverage. He opts
for a beer.

We
sit in the small den and nibble.

“My
brother’s coming in on Tuesday. He asked if he could see the house.”

I
gulp. “Shit.”

“It’s
okay if you don’t want to.” His hand covers mine.

“The
room.” My belly instantly knots.

“Yeah,
I thought about that. Maybe you could pull out the dead flowers.”

“I’ve
already done that. I got to thinking it was stupid that I never threw them
away. They were meaningless.”

“Then?”

“I
even cleaned up there.”

“You
did? Mind if I look again?”

“Why?”

“I
don’t know.”

“Okay.”

“Come
with me.”

He
stands and holds out his hand. I place mine in it and off we go. But I need the
keys so we detour to the kitchen first. When we get to the door, I find I’m not
so nervous this time. He opens up the door and the scent nails me. It’s the
same every time. It takes me back to the Ells years. I hear her laughter and
her feet pitter-pattering on the floor.

Then
his voice comes to me. “Talk to me, Carter.”

“I
can smell her. And hear her laughing. And her feet running across the floor.”

“What
else?”

“Her
hair.
Curly blond, about to her shoulders.
It was so
soft and shiny. She had bright blue eyes. But her laugh sounded like music. And
she laughed all the time.”

“Just
like her pictures here.”

“Yes.”

The
room is in much better shape now.

“It
looks good in here. Like any little girl’s room.”

“Yes.
Like she’ll walk right in here any day now.”

“That’s
not what I meant.”

“I
know.” I dip my head and inhale. Then I feel his arms cage me and it’s his
scent I smell. And it comforts me. I bury my face against his neck and inhale
once more. “Thank you.”

“For
what?”

“For
being here. It helps.”

When
we leave, I reach for the keys to lock the door and he stops me. “I don’t think
you should lock this anymore, Carter. There’s no need. There’s nothing to
hide.”

“I
don’t know.” Skepticism clouds my thoughts.

“Listen.
If you keep this room locked, you also keep her memory locked inside.”

“No!
That’s not it at all. If I let it all out, I’ll lose her. She’ll escape and be
gone forever.”

He
takes my hands and says, “I can’t understand your grief because I’ve never lost
a child. But it seems to me her memory will be with you forever. Right here,”
he lays a hand over my heart, “and here,” he hold my head between his palms.
“You can’t forget her, Carter. It’s not possible.”

“You’re
right. But I’ll forget the way she smelled. And the way she sounded.
The tinkling of her laugh.
The slapping of her feet when she
ran. Those are the things that gave me such joy.”

“And
those are the things you’ll always have in your heart and mind.”

He’s
right. He can’t understand and will never understand. And there isn’t a way for
me to make him. I turn from him and go to my room. As I walk I ask, “What time
will you pick me up?”

I’m
startled when his voice is right behind me. “You’re not coming back downstairs,
then?”

“I
think I need a little time alone.”

“Yeah.
Okay. I’ll pick you up around six-thirty.”

He’s
right about Ells in some ways. But as time moves on, I feel her slipping away
more and more. And I hate it. I don’t want that to happen. I want her to remain
bright and fresh in my mind and not some distant memory, getting dimmer and
dimmer like a light bulb on its last legs. Thanks to my dad, I have thousands
of videos and pictures of her. He was a fanatic about that. They’re catalogued
by month and year, all on CDs and DVDs. They need to be transferred to a
different form of data storage, but I haven’t had the money to do it. After the
sale of the house, that will be one of my first priorities.

***

At
six-thirty, Kestrel stands on my front porch looking dark and sexy. He’s
dressed entirely in black, including his tie, which contrasts sharply with his
emerald eyes. He still wears his scruff, which only adds to his seductive
appearance.

“Hey.”
I open the door to let him in.

He
enters, grabs my wrist, pulls me against him, and kisses me. No preamble. When
he’s done, I’m fully aroused. My nipples are about to bust through that stupid
stick on bra I’m wearing, and a fine sheen of perspiration covers me. Not only
that, I’m shaking.

“Christ,
Carter, you look amazing.”

I
think I look okay. I’m wearing a black strapless slinky dress that I’ve
borrowed from Harper. When I called her she was all excited about the fact I
was actually taking a date to my so-called work function. So she was only too
happy to lend me a dress.

“Thank
you.” My arms are on his shoulders. I reluctantly release him. “You look
amazing yourself.” I smile shyly at him. I’m not used to giving men
compliments. Am I even supposed to? I’m not really sure.

“Thank
you.” He smiles back at me. “Wow. You are so … well, beautiful.”

“Now
you’re embarrassing me.”

“Why’s
that?”

“Just
because. We should probably go.”

He
stands and stares at me. I fidget.

“Do
you have a coat or wrap?”

I
nod and go to retrieve it. Then we leave. I thought we’d be going in his car,
but a limo awaits us. I lift my brow.

“We’ll
be drinking and I don’t like to take chances,” he explains.

“So
you hired a limo? We could’ve taken a taxi.”

He
stops and looks at me. “Carter, I run the company here.”

Shit.
I forgot. HTS.
Hart Transportation Services.

“Right.
I blanked on that one.”

The
driver helps me in and Kestrel introduces him to me as Mario. When we’re
settled he pours me a glass of champagne.

“Oh,
now I get it.”

“It’s
more fun this way.”

The
event is at the Charleston Aquarium. Kestrel asks Mario to drive us around a
bit so we can finish our champagne. By that time it’s after seven and he drops
us off.

When
we enter the party, I immediately recognize several people.

“Carter,
it’s so good to finally see you out.”

I
keep hearing that over and over, until I want to scream. Kestrel is perfect,
though. I introduce him and he steers me away from people as if he knows I
don’t want to speak to them. I’m stiff and unyielding; my smile is plastic.

Kestrel
leans down and says, “Relax. I didn’t bring you here so you could hate every
minute.”

When
I look at him, guilt floods me. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that I haven’t seen
some of these people since …”

“I
know. I can tell. So let them see Carter. And how far she’s come. Because the
Carter I’ve seen in the last two days is nothing like the woman who I’m seeing
right now.”