The Best Bride (55 page)

“You're not looking at this clearly,” Kyle said. “Why does it have to be your fault? Why can't Lindsay have just made a mistake?”

“You wouldn't understand,” she said impatiently.

“I might not be her father, but I've spent a hell of a lot of time with her this summer, and I think I've learned a few things. When I walked into that store and saw her sitting there, I felt like I—”

Sandy glared at him. “What did you say?” she asked, interrupting. She couldn't have heard him correctly. “When you went into the store? You were there?”

“I took the call.”

She stood up. Kyle rose also. His expression hardened, then became unreadable, as if he sensed what was coming. Sandy felt her temper starting to rise. She tried to control it, but the rage pushed through.

“You arrested my daughter? How could you?”

“It's my job,” he said coldly. All warmth disappeared from his brown eyes.

“Your job? Was it also your job to convince me to send
her away so you could seduce me?” It wasn't a fair question, but she was past caring.

“One has nothing to do with the other. I arrested Lindsay because she'd broken the law, and also because I believe it's important for her to know that her actions have a price. You're the one who's so big on people being responsible. I would think you would be happy.”

“Happy?” She curled her hands into fists and continued glaring at him. “Happy that you've destroyed her life? I know that you've hurt her and she may never get over this.”

“Don't blame her actions on me. She'd old enough to know what she was doing.”

“She's just a child.”

“I agree she's not an adult. That's why I want to help her.”

“You call this helping?” she asked scornfully. “We don't need your kind of help, Deputy Haynes.” She turned away from him and walked over to the door. After pulling it open, she stared at the wall. “Please tell your superior that I want someone else assigned to the case. I don't want to have to deal with you anymore.”

“Sandy, don't do this.” He moved close and touched her arm. She pulled free of him. She wasn't going to listen to any more from him.

“Do I need to make the request in writing?” she asked.

“How much of this is about Lindsay and how much of it is you running scared?” he asked.

She didn't answer. Finally, he left the room and she was alone.

She had five minutes in which to try to pull herself together. It wasn't enough. When the door opened and Travis walked in, she thought she was going to start crying.

She could feel the blush climbing her cheeks. “Hi,” she said, praying her voice would keep steady. “So this is the
downside of living in a small town. Everybody knows everybody else's business.”

Travis crossed the room and put his arm around her. “I know it's hard for you, but everything is going to be okay.”

“If you knew how much I want to believe you.” She blinked to hold back the tears. “Now that I'm going to have a convicted felon in the family, I hope we can all still be friends. I should probably warn you, I left Blake and Nichole with your wife.”

Travis smiled. “Of course we're still friends. And shoplifting isn't a felony.”

“Great.” She allowed him to lead her to her chair. She sat down. “Now what happens?”

“Several things.”

He took the seat Kyle had used. Sandy looked at him. Travis looked enough like his brother that if she squinted a little, she could pretend they were the same man. She wanted to apologize for what she'd said earlier and she suspected it would be easier to say the words to Travis. Of course, he wouldn't know what she was talking about.

“First,” he said, “the other parents have already collected their children. Both girls are from out of town. The families will be leaving as soon as this is cleared up, so you don't have to worry about Lindsay hanging out with them anymore.”

“That's a relief.”

“We're going to keep this quiet, so Lindsay won't start school with a reputation.”

“Okay.”

He leaned back in his chair. “This was tough on Kyle. He really cares about your kids.” And you.

He didn't say the last part, but she heard it. “I don't want to talk about him right now.”

“All right. Let's talk about your daughter.”

Sandy started to stand up. Travis grabbed her hand and pulled her back into the chair. “Hear me out,” he said. “I've met a lot of kids. After a while, you start to get a feel for them. Lindsay's one of the good ones. She got a big scare today. It's going to stay with her a long time.”

“What are you saying?”

“That it's probably not going to be a problem again. I don't usually tell parents not to punish their kids, but I'm going to make an exception. She's a frightened little girl, and you might want to consider just listening instead of acting.”

Sandy shook her head. What was it with these men? Why were they always telling other people how to raise their kids? It seemed to her that their family wasn't anything to brag about. “I'll give it some thought,” she said, standing. “Is she free to go?”

“Sure.” He rose and walked to the door. “It's none of my business, but Kyle's hurting pretty bad. Maybe you could talk to him before you leave.”

“You're right. It's none of your business.” She started to walk past him into the hallway, then paused. “You can give him a message for me, though. Tell him I want him to stay away from me and away from my kids. And this time, I mean it.”

“None of this is his fault,” Travis told her.

“Then whose fault is it?”

“Why does it have to be anyone's? Sometimes these things just happen.”

“Maybe,” she said, knowing he was talking about the shoplifting and she was talking about a relationship that would never work. “But it's not going to happen again.”

D
espite the late hour, the lights were on in Sandy's house. Kyle paused at the edge of the porch and thought about waiting until morning to tell her what had happened. He was tired and defeated, and he didn't want to face her now. But he knew she would rest easier knowing what he had to say.

If only she would understand. If only she could see how damn hard it had been for him to take Lindsay into custody. He hadn't wanted to, but it had been the right thing to do.

He walked to the door and raised his hand to knock, then lowered it back to his side. What was the point of being right if it cost him Sandy?

Before he could change his mind, he rapped on the door once, and waited. He heard footsteps, then her voice quietly called, “Who is it?”

“Kyle.”

She hesitated. At first, he thought she might not even let
him in. He was right. She opened the door a crack and stared at him, but made no move to allow him into her home. “What do you want?” she asked.

Her face was pale and drawn, as if the trauma of the day had stolen away all her vitality. Her mouth trembled slightly and there were shadows under her green eyes. One strand of hair drifted across her cheek. She brushed it back impatiently in a familiar gesture that made his heart ache.

“That's it?” he asked. “After all that's happened between us, now I'm supposed to stand out here like I'm selling door-to-door and you're not even going to bother inviting me in?”

She ducked her head a bit and sighed. “It's late, Kyle. What do you want?”

“To talk to you. To make you understand. I think you owe me that, at least.”

“I don't owe you anything.”

He managed to stay upright and keep his features impassive, but it was as if she'd stabbed him in the gut. He could feel his life's blood oozing away. He thought about begging, but to what end? She didn't really want him, she never had. She was only interested in the fantasy. Reality had intruded on Sandy Walker's neat view of life in the form of their messy, imperfect relationship. She couldn't have that.

“Have it your way,” he said. “I'm outta here. I just thought you'd want to know that Wilson Porter dropped all charges.” He turned on his heel and started to leave. Behind him, the door creaked as Sandy opened it wide.

“What did you say?” she asked.

“You heard me.” He kept on walking.

“Wait, Kyle. Maybe you'd better come inside.”

He paused at the top of the stairs. It would be so easy to keep on going. Leaving was what he did best. He knew
all the things to say, how to make it easier for everyone. He was good at saying goodbye. What he wasn't good at was staying or giving his heart. He wasn't good at taking emotional risks. So far, the one time he'd really tried, he'd managed to screw everything up. He hurt so bad, it was hard to breathe. He'd had to arrest Lindsay, and Sandy didn't want to see him. The pain of staying sure made leaving look good.

But he loved her. He hadn't wanted to, he'd thought he could avoid those feelings forever. But they'd crept up on him when his back was turned. Somehow, the adolescent crush had matured into something lasting. Something he would never get over. Walking away guaranteed it wouldn't work out. At least by staying, he was giving them both a chance. Didn't they deserve that?

He turned and crossed the porch in three long strides. Without looking at her, he entered the house and continued into the living room. Once there, he didn't know if he should sit down or not, so he walked to the open window and stared out at the darkness.

He heard her footsteps on the hardwood floor as she came in after him. “What happened?” she asked.

“You tell me,” he said, still staring out the window. The nighttime beyond made the glass more like a mirror. He could see the reflection of the sofa against the wall, and the pictures above it. Sandy stood just inside the door. She'd folded her arms in front of her waist and was looking at him in confusion.

“When did it go bad?” he asked. “Was it wrong to want you to send the children to camp? Is that what you're punishing me for?” He shrugged, not waiting for an answer. “Maybe. I'll admit my feelings were selfish. I knew they would enjoy themselves, but my primary concern was being alone with you. I thought that's what we both wanted.”

He waited for a moment, but she didn't say anything. He continued. “You told me a while ago that I didn't take responsibility for my actions. That I was used to skating through life on my looks and charm. I thought about it and decided you might have a point. Not in terms of my career. I'm good at what I do there, but in my personal life.” He drew in a breath. “I've always been afraid to commit. So rather than risk being left, I would leave first.”

“Kyle, this doesn't have anything to do with what happened today.”

“No?” He looked at her reflection in the window. She wasn't watching him anymore. She was staring at the ground. Was it because she didn't want to listen to what he had to say or was it because she feared the truth? “You wanted me, too, Sandy, and don't say you didn't. You were just as eager to become lovers as I was.”

“I know,” she said miserably. “Now I'm paying the price for that. I was so caught up in myself, I didn't think about my children.”

“That's a crock and you know it.”

Her head snapped up. “You're not a parent. How would you know—”

“Having a child of your own doesn't give you instant access to magical skills, so quit acting like it does,” he interrupted. “I might not have raised kids, but I've been around them my whole life. I see messed-up ones on the job just about every day. You make it sound like you were out with me while the house burned down. Chances are, even if we'd never met, you still would have sent the kids to camp. They wanted to go.”

“Lindsay didn't.”

“Lindsay's practically a teenager. She doesn't want to do anything.”

“That's beside the point. I sent her and look what
happened. She met those two girls and she got involved in shoplifting. If I hadn't sent her—”

“She might have met them here. At the mall or the park. You can't protect her from everything. At some point, Lindsay has to make her own choices. We both know that. She made a bad choice this time, but she learned a cheap lesson. With the charges being dropped, she won't even have to deal with the consequences.”

Sandy planted her hands on her hips. “She spent the afternoon in the sheriff's station. She was taken away in a patrol car. Those are consequences.”

“You sound like you're defending what she did.”

“Of course not. I hate that she was a part of that. I can't even think about it.” She moved over to the sofa and sank onto the middle cushion. “I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm not making any sense, am I?”

She rubbed her temples and sighed. “Maybe we should start over,” she said. “Everything happened so fast. I got swept off my feet by you, and you couldn't resist the challenge. Maybe we've both learned our lesson, too. I can't be one of your women.”

He turned to face her. “Is that what you think this is about?” he asked, keeping his voice low when he really wanted to shout at her. “You still think I keep a revolving door at my place. You think I've got fifty women at my beck and call and you were just some pit stop on the road of life. Don't you?” he demanded.

“Well, it's obvious that I'm not your type.”

He stalked across the room until he was standing just across the coffee table from her. “What is my type?”

She blinked. “Well, someone young, I would imagine. And pretty. A blonde, maybe, or a redhead.”

He jerked his head as if she'd slapped him. In a way, she had. “Is that what you think of me? That all I care
about is how pretty she is and how her hips sway when she walks?”

Sandy flushed, but didn't look away. “Yes.”