Chapter Eleven
Kat’s shoulders pulled tight as her fists clenched at her chest and she shivered. Her front was freezing, but her back was burning up.
Just pull the blanket up. No. Too cold to move.
Slowly, opening her eyes in a series of widening blinks, she admired the pretty pink hues of sunlight reflecting on her wall. It was almost dark, marvelous shades of burnt amber and violet piercing the curtains as the sun set.
Sunset?
“Mother fucker!” Bolting off the bed, her foot snagged on a pillow and she fell to the floor with all the elegance of a cord of firewood being dumped.
Her mind snapped into overdrive as she shot to her feet and saw Tyson lying across her covers barefoot, in nothing but jeans. This was so not good. Eyes wide, she breathed fast, thinking of the quickest way to get him out of there.
He cracked open an eye and frowned. “What was that? You okay?”
“You have to go! Ohmygod, you have to go!”
She scooped up his shirt and socks and threw them at his legs. Grabbing his left shoe, she frantically searched for its mate, like a dog turning in repetitive circles before it sits.
“Kat, what’s wrong?”
“My mother’s going to be here any minute with Mia!” She anxiously continued to search for the shoe and didn’t waste any time looking at him. No time for distraction! How hard could it be to find a size thirteen shoe? It was the size of a canoe for Christ’s sake. “Where the hell is your other shoe?”
“Baby, calm down, my shoe’s right there. So what if your mother comes here? You’re a grown woman. This is your house. You’re allowed to—”
“You don’t know my mother!” Her voice turned unattractively shrill as she tossed him his other shoe and winced when it nearly landed on his crotch. “Sorry.”
Suddenly realizing she was buck naked, she snatched up her shirt to shield her private parts and hastily found the rest of her discarded clothing. Doing an unattractive one-legged hop, she jumped into her pants, foregoing her underwear.
Readjusting her inside out tank top, she slid it over her arms and popped her head through the collar like a whack-a-mole popping from its hole. She wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to club her as she bordered hysteria. “Get dressed!”
His face darkened like a thundercloud as he stared at her. He could think whatever he wanted. He didn’t have to answer to Vivian.
Neither do you. Oh, shut up.
Her fingers frantically combed through her bed head as he shook his head and sat up. “I think you’re overreacting—”
“Tyson, please, don’t make an already complicated situation worse. I don’t feel like answering questions or getting the third degree. Mia will be here. I don’t want her wondering about us yet.”
He stood staring at her, but said nothing.
It was a copout, using Mia to push him out, but there wasn’t time to explain what a psycho her mother could be. Swallowing back the heavy sense of guilt, she focused on fixing the bed.
Looking disappointed and resigned, he started moving. Once his shoes were on he rolled his eyes, pecked her on the cheek, and left. An unsatisfying relief washed over her at the sound of the door shutting behind him.
Not five minutes after he left, her mother arrived with Mia. Kat was still flushed from the exertion it took to try to look like everything was normal. She forced herself to slowly walk out to Vivian’s car. “How was your visit?” Her mouth curved into a nervous smile and Vivian frowned.
“Katherine, what is going on with your hair?”
A hand nervously fluttered to her head and patted down her frizz. “I…I was vacuuming and the vacuum jammed. I had a hard time unclogging it.”
Vivian’s lips pursed, as she made no comment, vacuuming being something her mother never discussed.
Mia jumped into her arms. “Look what Grandpa gave me.”
Kat ignored her mother’s critical stare and showed great fascination with the small model schooner Mia held. “Wow. Very cool.”
A disapproving sniff came from Vivian’s direction. “Okay, Mia darling, give me a hug goodbye.” Mia leaned off of Kat’s hip and hugged her mother. “Katherine, I’ll see you Tuesday.”
The mention of Tuesday made her inwardly cringe. This was the last time she was doing this. She didn’t like Dawson that way and it was pointless to encourage him or her parents for that matter. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Please do something decent with that hair by Tuesday. And get some rest. Your eyes look tired.”
Galvanized by years of practice, she didn’t respond. Her mother pulled away and she let out a long breath. “Okay, kiddo, let’s get you in the tub.”
That night she lay in bed, the scent of Tyson on her sheets, as guilt ate at her like acid. It was completely juvenile to chase him from her home and she needed to apologize.
At one in the morning—still awake—she considered walking to his house. She would’ve called, but she didn’t know his number. By one-thirty, she threw on a sweatshirt and slippers. She got as far as the front porch before reconsidering the dark and deserted street. He was probably asleep. Deciding to apologize in the morning, she tossed and turned until well after two.
When the alarm went off at five she hit the snooze until six. When she finally got out of bed, she had to rush. Mia was a ray of sunshine next to Kat’s run over zombie thing she had going. Sluggishly opening the cupboard, she was reminded that she hadn’t gone to the market. Instead of getting Mia a quick bowl of cereal, Kat took an extra ten minutes to make pancakes.
By the time she got a shower it was six-thirty and, of course, she was out of conditioner. Filling the bottle with water, she repeatedly dumped it over her head until her hair became somewhat soft and manageable. Instead of blow-drying her hair, which was necessary, she threw some product in the tangled mess and prayed it wasn’t a humid day. She couldn’t be late for work.
At seven o’clock she left the house—on time—but left clothes on her floor, dishes piled in the sink, makeup scattered all over the bathroom, and on top of everything else, she forgot Mia’s bag of toys. Speeding home, she grabbed the bag, and sped back to Mrs. Bradshaw’s.
She was in such a hurry after leaving Mrs. Bradshaw’s for the second time, that she forgot to buckle her seatbelt. As she entered into the metro section of New Castle she hit every red light and nearly had a panic attack when she spied the gas gage ticking on E.
Easing over an intersection at a stop sign, lights flashed in her rearview. “Son of a bitch.” Flicking her signal, she pulled to the side of the road.
Wasting precious minutes, the officer moseyed toward her window. Kat shut off the engine, because if she ran out of gas she was going to lose it. Prepared to flirt, she glimpsed her reflection and immediately aborted that plan. It was not good. Her hair was half-dry frizz and half-damp snarls and no amount of makeup was going to cover the bags under her eyes.
Resigned to being late, she patiently handed the officer her license and registration. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, she waited for him to write her a ticket and tried not to stress about the expense.
He handed her the slip of paper and pointed out that her inspection was up in a few weeks. She smiled tightly. “Thank you.” Officer Dickhead. Shoving the ticket in her purse, she buckled her seatbelt—a hundred dollar oversight she wouldn’t overlook again.
By some miraculous magic she beat her boss to the office. As he entered he frowned at her, his white bushy brows spreading a fat shadow over his crinkled eyes. “Kat, are you feeling all right this morning?”
“Just running a little behind today,” she said in the calmest voice she could manage. “Go ahead in your office and I’ll bring you your coffee as soon as it’s done brewing.”
His eight o’clock arrived before the coffee was finished perking and he had to start his session without it, which was all her fault. She checked the messages and sorted Saturday’s mail. At nine o’clock she brought Dr. Stevens his coffee and he, again, frowned at her appearance. “Maybe you should go home for the day.”
She couldn’t miss a day’s pay. “Oh, no, Dr. Stevens. I’m okay. I promise.”
He didn’t appear convinced. When his next appointment arrived she took a few minutes to rest her head on her desk. Wearily, she rubbed the back of her neck, trying to work out the tension knotting there.
For her to look bad enough that her boss questioned her health was pretty low on the scale of vanity. Add another check in the column of confidence building moments in the sorry life of Kat D’Angelo. She visited the bathroom with her purse and winced at her reflection. She looked atrocious.
Wetting her palms, she attempted to tame the wild mess that was her hair. She pulled the snarls as tight as she could then secured them in a ponytail with a rubber band from her desk. It took care of the frizz, but made her puffy eyes more prominent. She had no makeup with her aside from lipstick, so there wasn’t much of an improvement.
Digging in her purse for some Motrin, she stumbled across the ticket from that morning. As her gaze settled on the total she almost vomited. A hundred and fifty dollars!
Her vision blurred as she continued to search for anything that might relieve the tension headache suddenly shifting into a migraine. How was she going to afford that fine? She could fight it, but then she’d lose a day of work in court, and she’d probably lose the case anyway. She hadn’t come to a complete stop and she definitely wasn’t wearing her seat belt.
She worked in complete silence, sniffling away. Luckily their office didn’t get a lot of foot traffic and her desk partially faced the wall, wiping her eyes before each tear fell. By the end of the day her eyes were raw, red rimmed, and marked with bags. Her face was splotched with hives. She pulled the rubber band out of her hair and grimaced at the clump of hair that came with it.
I just want this day to be over.
As she pulled onto their street her car slowly crawled past Tyson’s house. It was dark and no cars were in the driveway. Mia seemed to detect something was off and walked quietly into the cottage.
“Mia, Mommy doesn’t feel good. Why don’t you go play so I can lie down?”
Curling into a ball on the couch she rested her eyes for a bit, but the headache didn’t ease. When she opened the pantry she cursed, reminded for the second time that she didn’t go to the market. It was obviously not the day for a routine. Grabbing can of tomato soup she heated it. After dinner, Kat took the trash out and noticed Tyson still wasn’t home.
For as tired as she was, sleep seemed elusive. Tyson hadn’t stopped by or called. Not that he could have without knowing her number. A sad sigh slipped into the darkness. This wasn’t Ty’s fault. It was hers. She should have never wasted the day yesterday. If she would have just gone to the market and done everything she needed to do, her day could have gone much smoother. Tomorrow, after work she’d just have to go to the store with Mia and stay up a little later catching up on chores.
Her face pressed into the pillows, the faint scent of Tyson still clinging to the linen. That right there, was the first thing that made her smile all day.
“These look great, Ty.”
Tyson took the plans from Imani as she stood from her chair at the conference table and stretched. Long arms extended toward the ceiling like black licorice as the sharp angles of her face contorted in a yawn.
They’d been back and forth over the layout for the renovations to her secondary home for the past six months. It was a relief to finally produce something she was happy with, because Imani Jones was no easy woman to please.
She made a show of looking at her diamond-studded wristwatch. Her short, black hair took on a glossy sheen as she tipped her head and rolled her shoulders with the grace of a sleek panther. “Wow, it’s almost ten o’clock. Tracy, you can go home.”
Her personal assistant looked relieved and quickly gathered the coffee paraphernalia from the room and left.
Imani rested her narrow frame against the conference table and leaned back, arching her long spine, and pressing her palms into the expensive cherry wood. Sighing, her tapered ebony legs crossed and she rolled her head back as if relieving all of the day’s tension. Round, perky breasts filled out her top to perfection.
Her plump, neutral lips permitted a slight curve. It was the closest expression Imani had to a smile. “Did you eat, Ty?”
Sidestepping her offer with an air of disinterest, he stood and retrieved his blueprints. Hoping to catch Kat before she went to bed, he casually said, “Not yet, but I need to get going.”
Twisting her long neck, she eyed him from over the shoulder of her red tailored suit and purred, “Can I tempt you with a glass of wine?”
Not going there. “Sorry, no.”
He reached for the remaining papers on the table where Imani’s substantial ass had them pinned. It took some work to have a body as tight as hers and still manage to keep an ass worth grabbing. “Imani…” He motioned to his paperwork under her rear and waited for her to lift.
With a coy glance, she slightly lifted herself, and pouted. “You’re no fun anymore, Tyson.”
He opened his briefcase and ignored her comment.
“I know how much you enjoy this table. Why not stay a bit longer? Everyone’s gone for the night.”
Shutting his briefcase, he eyed his watch, wasting no time on memories of how they had utilized the conference table in the past. He wanted to make it home before eleven.
She made a show of turning her lean, athletic body. She was not a woman who enjoyed being told no. The same persistent qualities that earned her a partnership at Welsh & Troche—now Welsh, Troche & Jones—were the same qualities she displayed with her lovers, of which he’d been at one time. She was not one of those women who checked their ‘in charge’ attitude at the bedroom door. And while he might have enjoyed her company at one time, that time was over.
Imani was demanding, severe, and almost impossible to please in all areas. Several months ago he made the mistake of pleasing her very well after a meeting. They’d been laying out the preliminaries for her new home. He’d been exhausted, pulling several late nights in order to finish another job and contract Imani’s project before someone else had a chance to bid. Once they signed the deal she put the charm on full throttle and he, having been in a bit of dry spell, found himself hard pressed to say no.
Within two hours of accepting her advances he’d fucked her every way a woman could be fucked. She was insatiable and liked things a little rough, which was fine. But he wasn’t her callboy. She’d scratched an itch that needed scratching and he’d done the same for her. End of story.
He tried to keep his tone professional. “We should be able to break ground in about thirty days once I get the suppliers and permits in order. You’re looking at the end of July, maybe August, as a completion date.”
She pursed her lips. “That long?”
“Imani, you’re asking me to sacrifice a crew and per diem wages for a job you could’ve easily bid to a D.C contractor. The distance from here to Washington’s going to eat up a lot of our time. If you want me to oversee various stages of the job, you’re going to have to be patient. I can’t be there for the duration, but I’ll be there when I need to be. We discussed this when I agreed to the job. Besides, you spent twice that long deciding on a design.”
“July fifteenth.”
“The completion date can’t be set in stone. It’s non-negotiable. If you want me to do the job we do it on my timeline. And I expect you here in Pennsylvania for the duration, not on site hounding my guys.”
She attempted to stare him down, but he wasn’t budging. “Fine, but I want you there for my final inspection. I expect things to look exactly as we discussed. You may be paying their wages, but I’m paying yours, Mr. Adams, and don’t you forget it.”
Ignoring the sudden drop in temperature, he let her sulk.
As he drove home he thought about the way he left Kat. Her fear of her mother’s judgment was ridiculous. He couldn’t wrap his brain around a grown woman reverting back to such childish fright. It was irrational and he’d tried to reason with her, but the midst of her panic attack was not the time for lectures.
He wasn’t angry with her or upset. He didn’t get it, but tried to understand why she was the way she was. If there ever came a day he met Kat’s mom, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his tongue in check if she was really as bad as Kat made her seem.
He cared for Kat, that much was clear. They were rounding the bases at a teenager’s pace, but he liked that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually made out or felt up a girl, under the shirt, over the bra, and experienced that sharp longing.
He turned onto the bypass and adjusted his cock in his pants. Sooner or later he was going to need some satisfaction. Jerking off in the shower, imagining Kat’s sexy ass and plush spread thighs could only take him so far. It had become a fascination of his, Kat’s sexual awakening. He was thoroughly enjoying the slow journey and couldn’t wait to take the next step, but each time he pulled back the reward increased in value. He wanted her and sooner or later she’d be his.
Kat woke up on time, but was still moving at a slugs pace. Her period arrived in the middle of the night and, of course, she was almost out of tampons. Still out of cereal, she had to make pancakes again. If she didn’t get to the market soon, she was going to run out of pancake mix as well. Slow, but steady, she dressed for work and got Mia ready for the day.
After loading Mia into the car and climbing behind the wheel, she started the car and backed out of the driveway. When she put the car in drive, it died.
I forgot to get fucking gas!
The steering wheel smacked against her forehead. Complete defeat swamped her, extinguishing her last flicker of forced enthusiasm. She could not do another day like the day before. Keeping her head on the wheel, she growled and began to cry.
“Momma?” Mia’s small voice came from the backseat.
“What, baby?” Kat tried to compose herself. It wasn’t happening.
“What are we doing?” Her question only made her feel like more of a failure, wringing out another string of shuddered sobs. “What’s wrong, Momma?”
Taking a deep breath, she wiped her face. So much for makeup. How had something as simple as getting to work avalanched into something she could no longer handle?
She rubbed her temples and tried to think of what to do as she saw Tyson climbing into his work truck. Guilt and fear added to her upset.
She was so tired of feeling guilty, tired of trying to keep everyone happy, tired of coming up short when it came to being an adult. She just wanted to say fuck it and let someone else deal with all the crap that needed to be done.
His truck slowed next to her little car as he leaned out the window. “Did your car break down?”
“I ran out of gas.”
He said something she couldn’t make out and pulled to the curb. As he walked toward her car Kat instructed Mia to stay put and got out as well. The moment Tyson saw her face he scowled. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”
Upset that she looked bad enough to get a reaction like that two days in a row, she welled up and choked out, “I had a really bad day.”
He laughed. “It’s seven a.m.”
She wished she could find the humor in her ridiculous statement. Her attempt at laughter came out as a jagged sob. “It’s been going on for thirty-six hours.”
“Aw, come here, kitten. Don’t cry.” He pulled her into a hug.
She clung to his strong form, greedily taking the offered comfort, knowing it was dangerous to depend on him for such things. His palm soothed her back as his lips pressed into her hair. She needed to pull it together, but a gate had opened and she was pretty sure the hinges and latch washed away.
“What happened?”
“Everything,” she mumbled into his shirt. He always smelled so good.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Still, her words followed a shuddering breath. “It all started after you left. I felt really bad for blowing you off and I was going to call, but I don’t even know your phone number,” she blubbered. “I couldn’t sleep and I thought I’d walk over to your house to apologize, but it was the middle of the night and it was dark. I got scared and went back in like a big fat chicken, but I still couldn’t sleep. The next morning I overslept and turned into a frizz ball. I forgot Mia’s Dora bag and was already late from the pancakes. By the time I was almost at work I got pulled over and got a hundred and fi—fif—fifty-dollar fucking ticket, which I don’t have the money to pay. I scared my boss and didn’t have his coffee. A clump of hair fell out and I had to feed Mia tomato soup. Then I got my…” she caught herself, a little late, but at least before she started talking about her cramps and stuff no man wanted to hear about. “Everything just sucks, okay? And now I’m out of ga—” Hiccup. “—gas.”
Gibberish continued to spew from her lips in the form of nonsense words and syllables that didn’t even make sense to her, as she started to bawl.
“Okay, okay.” He patted her back and pressed her head to his shoulder. He twisted around and the car door squeaked. “Okay, Mia, out of the car. Mommy doesn’t feel good.”
Shifting her under his arm, he scooped Mia up with his other arm, settling her on his hip, and walked them back inside. One-handed, he directed her to bed and covered her, all while holding Mia.
“I’m going to take Mia to Mrs. Bradshaw’s then I’m going to move your car. I’ll be right back,” he whispered, as he pressed a kiss to her damp cheek.
Too emotionally exhausted to object, she merely nodded. She couldn’t take any more. She just wanted someone else to deal with all the stress, the groceries, the chores, the cooking, and gassing up her car. She rarely gave into moments of self-pity, but right now the pity parade was in full swing and there was no calling back the weariness stomping over her.
She must have dozed, because when she woke up a little while later Tyson was rubbing her calve through the blanket as he sat on the edge of her bed.
“That was fast,” she groggily said.
“You think? It’s eight-fifteen. That Mrs. Bradshaw can talk.”
“What?” Her body tensed as it fought with her need to get up. She could not believe she went back to bed. What was she thinking? The entire episode played back in her head like an out of body experience.
“Relax, Relax. Everything’s fine.” He eased her back down on the bed.
“I have to call Dr. Stevens—”
“Already done. When I dropped Mia off, Mrs. Bradshaw said she had the number and called to let him know you wouldn’t be coming in. I also filled your tank. I called my crew and told them I wouldn’t be on the job site until noon, so is there anything else you need? I’m at your disposal.”
Dumbly, she blinked. “Why are you doing all this?”
“What do you mean?” He frowned. “This is what friends do.”
“But after the way I threw you out the other day and—”
“Don’t worry about that now. I may not completely understand your relationship with your parents or this hold they have over you, but it’s not my place to tell you how to run your life. Forget it. It’s over.” He tucked the blankets up closer to her chin. In a soothing voice he asked, “Do you feel better?”
Kat eyed him doubtfully. No one was that understanding. “A little. Thank you.” He’d never know how grateful she truly was for his help.
“Is there anything you need?”
Yeah, tampons, groceries, a hundred and fifty bucks to pay a traffic ticket— “No. You should go to work.”
“Kat, you know… it’s okay to ask me for help. I care about you. I don’t want you to shut me out. You can talk to me.”
“Thanks. I’m fine. I just had a really bad day yesterday and I’m still recovering. On top of that, I didn’t get any of my errands done on Sunday so my routine’s all messed up. Now, that I have the day off I can run to the market and grab what we need for the week. I’ll rest a little and tomorrow I’ll be as good as new.” She had no other choice. These moments of indulgent weakness were not allowed in her life.
“Are you sure?” His expression said he didn’t believe her.
She pushed for her most convincing smile. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks again. You really saved me this morning.”
She wasn’t used to others taking care of her and she was starting to really like the feeling, which was dangerous. How many times would she have to learn depending on others always ended with her getting hurt?
“Well, how about after work tonight I swing by with a pizza so you don’t have to cook?”
“Oh, that would be—shit.”
She looked at him, shame smothering her all over again. She was such an asshole. “Today’s Tuesday. I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I, uh, have plans.”
His brow lifted. “Plans?”
“I have… a date,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze.
He stiffened. “I see. With Dawson?”
“Yeah, he called to ask me out the other night. He’s taking me to—”
“I don’t need the details.”
His curt tone caught her off guard. “You said you were okay with this.” Awkward silence stretched between them. Was he having second thoughts? “This will probably be the last time I see him. We could do pizza another night,” she weakly offered, trying to break the tension.
Rather than answer or even acknowledge her olive branch, he said, “Well, if you’re okay then I better head into work.”
A sad, unwanted sense of loss filled her. She wanted him to understand. “Tyson—”
He stood. “I gotta go, Kat. Feel better.”
“Tyson, please.” She sat up, but stilled when he held up a hand.
“Save it, Kat. These are your choices and you have to live with them. But I don’t.”
She scoffed. He said he understood. He said he could be patient. “Then why did you say you’d wait?”
“I thought things changed,” he snapped, and she shrunk against the headboard. He never spoke to her like that. He exhaled a harsh breath and turned away, scrubbing his hand roughly over his face.
“Look,” he said in a calmer voice. “I…I want you to get it. I like you. Being with you isn’t some bullshit way I pass my time. I enjoy being around you. I like hanging out with Mia. And I like when it’s just you and me. When I’m at work, you’re never far from my mind. But I have no idea how you feel. You don’t talk to me. I think I have you figured out, but then you send me a curveball and I’m confused all over again. It’s frustrating.”
“I like spending time with you too.”
“We spent the whole day together Sunday. I thought we finally got to a point that we were ready to face this thing between us like adults, but then your mom shows up and I feel like I’m a teenager again, expected to shimmy down the fire escape before your parents walk in. What am I supposed to think, Kat? I’m not a fucking kid anymore. I want more than this. And I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about an emotional connection where we actually communicate with each other and don’t sneak around because you’re afraid Mommy and Daddy won’t approve.”
She looked at the carpet. Everything he said was true. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
A few seconds ticked by. “I appreciate your apology, but what are you actually gonna do about it, Kat? How many more dates until you tell your parents no?”
“I tried to get out of it—”
“No one has a gun to your head. Maybe if you stuck up for yourself a little more, your parents would respect you more as an adult.”
That hurt.
Arguing was pointless. She’d tell her mom it was over with Dawson and face the consequences. But tonight was already arranged. Her mother had rearranged her schedule to babysit and Dawson already purchased tickets.
“Say something,” he said with incredulity.
She shrugged, hating that her choices were upsetting him. “You’re right. I have nothing to say. Everything you said was true. I don’t know how to say no.”
“Goddamn it, Kat, fight back!” he snapped in an exasperated tone. “I just insulted you!”
“I don’t know how!” she shouted, unshed tears burning her eyes. “I can’t just yell at someone. I’m not made that way. Words hurt, Tyson. And words said in anger can never be taken back.”
“Fine, you don’t want to fight. At least take a defensive position. Stick up for yourself.”
Her thoughts quieted and her mind tucked itself away in some dark corner like a child hiding with a blanket.
He sighed and shook his head. “Kat.”
She stared at the little daisies sewn into her comforter. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want another apology,” he said in a softer tone. “Tell me one thing you like about yourself.”
“Mia.”
“Something else.”
She shrugged.
He took her hand and tugged her off the bed. “Stand up.” She stumbled after him as he crossed the room. “Look.”
She gazed to her reflection in the mirror.
“What do you see?”
He stood behind her, a dark image of strength and confidence, with her a slight and pathetic picture of nothing special. Her eyes had smudges of black makeup under her lashes and her hair was sloppy. Her clothes were wrinkled and her posture slumped. “I see me,” she mumbled.
“And what’s you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Tell me something about your reflection you like.”
There wasn’t anything. Her gaze lowered and focused on a small dish holding her cheap jewelry, but his fingers pressed under her chin and lifted her head.
“No, look at yourself. Forget about everything you’ve been told and see the girl I see.”
She stared at her reflection. Her eyes focused on the spattering of freckles cresting her cheeks, the curve of her lips and the elasticity of her skin. She didn’t have wrinkles, that was a plus.
No matter how much she straightened her hair, a little wave always formed by her temple. Her throat was slightly concave at the base, just above the V of her collarbone. It was all so overwhelmingly ordinary.
Her brows were dull and dusty brown rather than sharp and angular the way women wanted them to be. There was nothing sharp about her. And under her clothes it was worse.
Her shoulders were rounded and her breasts were lifeless without a bra. Scarring from pregnancy stretched thin silver lines over her hips. A pouch of baby fat that no amount of sit-ups could cure showed beneath her belly button. Her butt was flabby and too wide. Her thighs were dimpled where they should be smooth and her knees were incredibly knobby. She’d probably have nice hands if she didn’t bite her nails.
“Do you know what I see?” Tyson whispered.
With shimmering eyes, her gaze met his in the mirror.
“I see a beautiful woman who’s too afraid to show her strength. I see soft, gorgeous hair that always has my fingers itching to run through it. A neck that’s made for kissing. Bee stung lips that could bring a man to his knees.”
Her breath trembled in her lungs as his words pierced the vulnerable bubble she hid within. She wasn’t strong. She couldn’t even stand up to her parents.
“Your eyes are so expressive, Kat. I love looking into them, hoping to catch a glimpse of some secret you’re trying to hide. And that little feisty temper of yours, it shows when your face flushes, taking your freckles from the soft shade of sand to fiery cinnamon.”
His palms slid over her hips. “Your breasts are the perfect size to fill my hands and your hips flare like a woman’s should. You’re soft and cuddly and fit perfectly against me. And your ass—mmm, mmm, mmm—I love that ass.
“There isn’t one thing about you I don’t like, except for your inability to see the value in yourself. Stop listening to people who do nothing but hurt you, Kat. They’re a bunch of idiots. The day you stop giving them the power to hurt you is the day all their condescending comments go away. But you have to make them stop or they never will.”
Her body shook, as she feared one whispered word would break her. She wanted to call him a liar, but the look in his eyes showed nothing short of sincerity. Whether she possessed the beautiful traits he listed or not, it didn’t matter. He saw her that way. Same as she saw her daughter as the most beautiful child in the world, Tyson saw her as pretty.
It hurt. It actually, physically hurt to accept his opinions. Like a backwards birth, she shoved everything she thought about herself into the depths of her mind, but her flaws didn’t want to fit anywhere but the forefront of her brain.
He ran his fingers down her arms and leaned over her shoulder to kiss her cheek. “You do what you have to do, Kat. But the girl I just described, that’s the one I’m waiting for. Fuck ‘em, Kat. You just gotta learn to say fuck ‘em.” He stepped away and she steeled herself to stay calm in the absence of his strength.
What kind of message was it sending her daughter when Kat couldn’t defend herself to people that took advantage? She protected Mia, but it cost her greatly. Same as she protected her daughter, she wanted to protect Tyson. Why? Because no one else saw her as he did and if she didn’t learn to stand up for herself, he wouldn’t stand by waiting forever.
Tyson barreled into his work trailer and slammed the metal door. Throwing his sunglasses on his desk, he groaned in frustration. He’d left Kat with a whole pile of crap to think about, but only Christ knew if any had sunk in. He wanted to find her parents and strangle them.
At first he thought, sure, a little low on the self-esteem scale, he could manage that. He’d treat her nice and be a good friend—all easy objectives with a sweet girl like Kat—but perhaps he’d bitten off way more than he could chew.
He was not giving up. He liked her. Fuck, he might even be falling for her. Those small glimpses of her natural self when her insecurities weren’t crowding in, they were enough to make him beg like a fifteen-year-old boy. She did something for him in a way no other woman or girl ever had.
It could be the way she looked up at him with those soft, trusting eyes. Or maybe it was how sweet she was as a mother that triggered some male biological clock in him. She was sexy as all get out, but it was so much more than that. It didn’t matter. This would never work if she didn’t start believing she was good enough to have a happy life.
It was like watching someone quit when victory was only a breath away. If she could just stand up to the bullies in her life and start worrying about what she wanted instead of what others thought, things would start to change. But trying to convince someone who’s been told all their life they’re not good enough or pretty enough or deserving enough was like trying to roll a boulder up a cliff. You lifted it up and the shit just kept falling back down, never trying to grab on to something better.
There was a light knock on the siding followed by the squeak of the door. Ready to explode, needing a target, he scowled at the intruder.
Eric, an apprentice electrician on his crew didn’t seem to notice his mood, so Ty gave him a preview. The kid was supposed to be off site. “I thought I told you to clean up that shit and go to the Hoyt property!”
“I know. I’m heading there now, but there’s a woman here looking for you.”
His heart stuttered with excitement as he thought of Kat. Eric jumped out of his way. Disappointment smothered his hope as his sister, Gloria waited outside the trailer. “What are you doing here?”
Eric fled without another word. Ty really shouldn’t have snapped at the kid like that.
“Geeze, Ty, nice to see you too.” She stepped into the cramped office and dropped her oversized, knockoff pocketbook on the table.
Gloria was classic boo-shetto. She liked to think she was classy and bourgeois with her knockoff Louis Vuitton accessories, but she always destroyed the image by being a little too ghetto, thinking nothing of pulling a bottle of hot sauce out of that designer bag in a nice restaurant. Boo-shetto.
“Sorry. Rough morning. What’s up?”
She tapped her neon claw on the table and made herself at home in a metal folding chair. Apparently this was going to be a long visit. Great.
He eased into the upholstered chair behind his desk. The permanent scent of coffee and blueprint ink that always filled his trailer had him looking to the coffee pot. Of course no one made coffee. Why would they? Boss was a little late and they all thought it was a holiday.
“Can’t a girl come and visit her brother once in a while?”
“Sure, a normal sister can. You on the other hand…”
“Boy, you are in a mood.” She dropped the diva façade and slouched. “Darrel lost his job again.”
“Aw, Christ G, I’m sorry.”
“We’ll be all right. We got our savings. It’s just…”
“If you need a loan you know I’ll spot you.”
“No, it’s not that.” She squirmed and pursed her full lips. “A man needs to work, Ty. I can’t go through this again with him. It’s not that he don’t do his part, but during the workdays Davis is with Mommy. That’s a lot of time to sit around. And not for nothing, but eventually our savings’ll run out. I got financial aide, but school ain’t cheap. I need books and shit. Eventually, if he don’t get work, I’m gonna have to get a second job and I don’t know how I’m gonna manage that with college, findin’ time to study, working at the grocery store, taking care of Davis, and worrying about Darrel.”
“Can’t he go back to the mill for the time being until he finds something else?”
“He hates that fucking place.”
“Well, how much are your books? I told you I’d pay for your school. You wouldn’t let me do that. Let me at least buy your books, G. I want to.”
Her lip quivered and a sheen of tears covered her dark eyes. “Don’t you get it, Ty? It’s about my husband’s pride. I can’t take your money. He’d see that as a slight on his ability to take care of his family. That’s exactly why he needs to work. He needs to contribute, feel like he’s pullin’ his weight. He needs to feel like a man,” her voice had gone more frantic and emotional with each pleaded word.
“Well, if you won’t take my money, what is it you want me to do?”
She looked up at him, eyes clear, hysterics put aside, and broadly smiled. Tyson suddenly had the sneaking suspicion this conversation was a prepared dialogue and Gloria couldn’t be happier with his lines. Before she even asked, he knew he’d been played.
“I want you to give him a job.”
He groaned and waved his hands, as far removed from the conversation as he could physically get in the tight trailer. “No, Gloria. No, no, no, no, no. I’ve seen Darrel try to fix stuff around the house. Most of the time you’re calling me over to fix his botched repairs—”
“Come on, Ty! He don’t need to do anything with big tools. Give him a broom or somethin’. Let him get your coffee. Whatever. Just don’t let him sit home all day.”
“You don’t want him sitting at home all day because you’re scared he’ll get bored and try to fix something of yours!” He shook his head. “The man is a card carrying member of the duct it or fuck it club. He’s a liability.”
His sister pursed her lips and took a breath. “Please, Tyson? Don’t make me beg. You know I’m too pretty for that.”
He laughed then scrubbed his palms over his face with a groan. “I should’ve never gotten out of bed today.”
“Is that a yes?”
He was glad she was finishing her degree and he didn’t want their finances to get in the way of her progress. If she wouldn’t take his money… “Yes,” he ruefully moaned.
Gloria squealed and did a little touch-down-dance from her seat. “Ooh, I knew I could count on you!” Kicking up her feet, she made herself at home. “Now, tell me what’s got your panties in a bunch?”
He made coffee and gave her the details of him and Kat. As he talked she did a lot head shaking and disapproving mmm, mmm, mmms. When he finally finished, ending with how he had left Kat that morning, she said, “Mommy told me you had it bad, but I didn’t realize it was this bad.”
“I do not have it bad. I care about her.”
“Boy, your emotions got you as overwhelmed as a hungry baby in a titty bar. I never seen you so unsure. It’s kinda’ funny.”
“Since you’re so smart, you tell me what to do.”
“Fine.” She adjusted her shoulders and lifted her chin, taking on her diva persona. “You say you care about this girl? Then why you gonna sit around and wait for this fool Dawson to hurt her? Aren’t doin’ anyone any favors there. You got to look out for her. That’s what real men do. Since when are you the type to sit around and wait for things to come to you? I get that you’re trying to be all patient and sweet, but Ty, be a little creative. Do something nice for the girl.”
“I was going to bring her pizza tonight, but she had a date!”
“Oh, pizza… Well why didn’t you say so?” She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Ty. You can be more creative than that.”
“She isn’t like other women. She likes being home. She gets all tongue-tied when she’s around people she doesn’t know. Plus, she’s impressed with people’s character, not what they can do for her or what they have. She isn’t materialistic at all. I love that about her.”
“Excuses, excuses.” Gloria shook her head. “Ty, if you want to win the girl, you got to be the better player. Put your game face on and start using strategy. While this fool’s out there taking her to all these places she’s never been, you have the advantage of knowing where she wants to be. Bring the game to her home court. And for God’s sake, think of some creative plays. I swear to God, all you men are the same, boo-hoo, my woman don’t pay me no attention. Well maybe if ya’ll stopped pouting and started thinking romantically you’d see a different outcome for once.”
“You think she wants romance?”
“All women appreciate romance. And romance is not fancy things. Romance is a look, a genuine smile, heartfelt words, and everyday kindness. Romance is bringing the trashcans up from the curb. That’s the kind of love a woman wants, because that’s the kind that lasts. Flowers die, jewelry tarnishes, and chocolate melts. Give her something meaningful, Ty. Trust your instincts. All joking aside, you really want this girl? Then let her into your heart and show her the kind of man you truly are and you’ll get her.”
She had no idea how badly he needed to hear that. “Thanks, Gloria.”