Chapter Seven
“Mia, who are you talking to?”
Kat carried a basket of laundry into her daughter’s room and came up short. The blush that worked over Mia’s round cheeks was followed by her little lips drawing into a tight bow. Only a child could form a look of such innocent guilt.
The antique wooden doll table was set with mismatched plastic teacups. Usually Mia filled the chairs with her dollies, but today they were empty. “I was talking to Gorrum.”
“Gorrum?” What the hell was a Gorrum?
“Uh-huh. You can’t see him.”
Wonderful.
“Gorrum, elbows off the table,” Mia softly admonished in a tone that was so familiarly Kat’s. The clink of tiny teacups and soft chatter filled the room as Kat folded little dresses and socks neatly into drawers.
“Can Gorrum stay with us for a while, Momma?”
The drawer slid shut. It looked like she’d be visiting the library in the near future. There had to be some developmental books on imaginary friends. “Sure, babe.”
She left Mia and her invisible friends to their party and went to get the mail. The sight of Tyson’s quiet house drew her attention. No cars in the driveway. No lights shining in the window. No music streaming from the backyard.
A strange sort of emptiness had stayed with her since she and Tyson decided they needed space. Not that it could be called space. Space was something a couple took when they needed time to think. They were not a couple. They weren’t even friends. He and Mia had more of a friendship than she and Tyson had ever shared.
Tyson had kept his word and respected Kat’s wishes to ignore their chemistry for the sake of simplicity. Her life was again uncomplicated and simple. Totally simple. No complications what—so—ever. And she wanted to scream.
She was bored out of her mind. Never before did the idea of going to work, taking care of her home, feeding and tending to Mia, feel so…vacant. This emptiness wasn’t there before the arrival of Tyson Adams and she really wished it would leave.
Envelopes shuffled between her fingers as she scanned for anything good. The soft whoosh of a car pulling down the street mixed with the echo of children playing behind fenced in yards.
Nothing but junk mail and bills. She shut the mailbox and stumbling to a halt. That must have been the car she heard. He looked at her and his hand slowly raised in a sullen sort of wave. She mirrored the gesture. The ache that was becoming so familiar, the hollow feeling of starvation pulling on her heart, returned with a vengeance.
She couldn’t make out the crease of his eyes or the set of his mouth, but his body language said it all. He didn’t like this space in between them. She’d hurt him and hurting others never sat well with her. Especially when the other person was someone she cared about. Maybe she should go talk to—
Shock was a funny thing. It had a way of short-circuiting the brain, but making the eyes keen. Adrenaline let loose in her blood tingling under her skin like little poking pins, as a tall, black woman with long braids down her back stepped out of Tyson’s car.
Fingers trembling, lungs seizing, her eyes stared unblinking. The woman turned and looked at Kat. She was pretty. She was older. She was black. She was everything Kat wasn’t.
Jealousy slithered through her gut leaving a trail of hurt. So much for waiting. The envelopes clumsily fell from her fingers and dropped to the ground. Her gaze ripped away from the two of them as she scrambled to pick up the mail.
Hyper aware of how fast her eyes were blinking, she looked up and they were gone—into his house, a place she’d never been. Not your business. Slow, deep breaths cut to the bottom of her lungs as she quickly moved inside.
The phone rang, but she let it go to voicemail.
She shut her eyes and tried to get a grip. This is why you can’t fool around with the neighbor. The chances of things not working out were too high. There would be hundreds of women coming and going over the years. The idea of witnessing every date going in and every walk of shame heading out was sickening.
Once her emotions were somewhat under control she picked up the phone and dialed the code for her messages.
“Katherine, hi. Dawson Price. Your mother gave me your number. I’d like to get together with you, take you out to dinner if you’re interested. Call me and we’ll set something up. Hope you’re doing well. Take care.”
He rattled off his number and the message cut off. The pen and notepad sat just next to the stove on the counter, taunting her. Her molars ground tight as she imagined Vivian’s joy when giving Dawson her phone number.
As the polite mechanical female voice detailed the message options, Kat’s thumb slid over the keypad. Without needing to look, her thumb found the number three and pressed. “Your message has been deleted.” She tossed the phone on the counter.
Since she was a child, Kat had been raised to do as she was told and not make waves.
Do as I say, Katherine.
Don’t be difficult, Katherine.
It’s impolite to argue, Katherine.
She had been molded into a proper little puppet, incapable of standing on her own. But when one string started to unravel and she wasn’t so perfect anymore, her parents had cut her down and left her behind.
It became her mission in life to prove her parents wrong and survive without their help. That first week she had been left alone in that scary apartment she decided she was going to be the most competent, careful individual ever. She would never be on the receiving end of trouble again.
The problem was—there wasn’t much to lose when she never took any risks. She couldn’t even put chips away on the shelf labeled cereal without breaking into a sweat. Time had somehow convinced her if everything were perfect, people—her parents—would forget her mistakes. Her life had become one long line of overcompensating.
No matter how much she told herself she didn’t need her parents’ approval, she still hungered for it. But giving Dawson her phone number was going too far.
Her skin grew clammy as she acknowledged deleting Dawson’s message without copying down his number. But her mother had no right to go over her head like that, complicating her life more than it already was. And the act of rebellion felt good at the time, but now she was nauseous.
Mia pouted the day Tyson’s house was sided in yellow instead of pink, but the color looked phenomenal on the old colonial. Even Gorrum—who was ‘showing up’ more and more—agreed yellow was the best choice. The house looked completely different. It was breathtaking.
Much of its historic charm had been restored while also incorporating state of the art amenities. The day Tyson’s crew carried in an enormous Jacuzzi tub Kat had longingly stared. It was a jetted tub built for two. Tyson’s company would no doubt enjoy such luxuries.
Spring was in full bloom and he’d begun to work on the yard. The old, rundown fence in the back was replaced with a white picket fence. His driveway was full of shrubs and flowers waiting to be planted and he was doing most of the remaining labor. It was obvious he took great pride in his house and it seemed to mean something to him that he be the one to make it a home.
Sometimes floodlights glowed from the backyard late into the night. In the mornings, when she dropped off Mia at Mrs. Bradshaw’s, she would sometimes see him jogging through the neighborhood in a pair of loose gym shorts and her body would tighten, reminding her of all the reasons they needed to keep their distance.
Days passed with dull repetitiveness. She worried that Mia’s invisible friend was a sort of coping mechanism for something missing in their life and tried not to beat herself up too much about what that something could be.
At least one thing stayed constant—her mother was still a tyrant and insistent on pushing things with Dawson. With all the bleak, unrelenting emptiness dulling Kat’s moods, she thought it wise not to mention his deleted message to her mother. But, as it turned out, she would have been better off telling the truth. A week after Dawson called, her mother surprised her by doing the same.
“Hello,” she answered as pleasantly as she could manage after recognizing her mother’s number on the caller ID.
“Oh, your phone does work. Interesting. I assumed you were having trouble paying your bills after I spoke to Dawson Price tonight at a benefit. Imagine my surprise, Katherine, when he informed me that he called you to ask you to dinner almost a week ago and you never returned his call.”
Shit. “Mom, I—”
“Don’t you dare waste another one of your excuses, or lies, on me. I was humiliated. I stood there, singing your praises, telling Dawson how upset you were that he never called, when to my shock he informed me it was the other way around.”
“Why did you tell him I was upset he didn’t call?” she snapped.
“Because any normal girl would be! Any normal girl would jump at the opportunity to have someone like Dawson Price show interest in her. Any girl, in your situation, would be grateful to have a man like that willing to tolerate and overlook her past.”
“Stop calling it my past! I hate when you say that. My mistakes gave you Mia, so stop holding it over my head.”
“Yes, the one silver lining was Mia, but a scandal is still a scandal, Katherine. You have no idea what it was like to be judged by our friends, knowing that they were whispering about you and looking at us with pity. It was humiliating! We were ostracized and you never seemed to be one bit repentant. Mia wants for nothing, because of our generosity.”
“You have no right—”
“Now, here’s what’s going to happen, Katherine. I covered up my faux pas by explaining to Dawson that you lost his number. He was forgiving enough to give me his card to pass onto you. Tomorrow, you will call him and apologize for not getting back to him in a timely manner. And if he’s kind enough to ask you out again, you will go. Do not cross me on this. I’ve been patient, but my patience is ending. I’m not sure your father could forgive yet another disappointment. Do we have an understanding?”
Frustration choked her. A thousand nasty, hurtful words rested on her tongue. She wanted to scream them into the phone. She wanted to hang up and never speak to her again. But she couldn’t.
Other than her parents, Mia had no family. They had Jade, but Jade had her own family. Mia needed family. She needed something larger than Kat. So despite all of the things she wanted to say, all she said was, “Give me his number.”
The last of the dishes were washed and Kat was drying them with a cloth when there was a soft knock at the door. Heart stuttering, she quickly wiped off her hands and pressed her palms to her stomach. A strange wistfulness came when Mia yelled.
“Tyson! Can I open the door, Momma?”
“Go ahead.” Sublime anticipation prickled her skin as she slowed her breathing and turned.
A yipping bark sounded and Mia squealed. The counter pressed into Kat’s hip as she jumped back to make way for the scampering, four legged, ball of fur that came barreling into her house. Its leash swung like a wild kite tail as the dog jumped, pressing two soft brown paws into Mia’s chest. Her daughter giggled with enchanted affection as the puppy licked her chin.
“A dog!”
Tyson sauntered in wearing the grin of a proud father. “What do you think, Mia? He definitely likes to run.”
Mia fell to the floor in a fit of laughter as the beagle squirmed with uncontained excitement and nudged her neck with its black nose. “He loves me,” she giggled with conviction.
“Look’s that way.” Tyson crossed his arms and eased his hip against the counter next to Kat. Never taking his gaze from the display of newfound friendship rolling out before them, he said, “How are you?”
The revelation that he’d not come to visit her, settled like a cement boulder in her chest. “I’m good.”
Through sidelong gazes she watched him observe Mia and the dog. Turbulent emotions swirled in her chest. There was no longing in his glances, nothing that said how much he missed her. The uplifting anticipation that accompanied his entrance faded into nothing more than cold and hollow reality. He was over her.
The dog pinned Mia and Tyson stepped in. “That’s enough, Trix.”
His firm hand gripped the leash and the dog immediately recognized the authority of its owner and settled. The dog’s tongue lolled to the side of its mouth like a piece of ham. Tyson reached into his pocket and pulled out a treat. The dog caught the treat with a succinct snap and happily wagged its tail.
“Good girl.”
Was it wrong that she was jealous of the way he complimented the dog?
“It’s a girl?” Mia asked.
“Yup. Her name’s Trixie. Do you like her?”
Mia nodded. “Isn’t he great, Momma?”
Pushing all worries aside, Kat smiled at her daughter’s excitement and laughed. “She, Mia. And yes, she sure is great.”
Her daughter turned to Tyson. “Since it’s a girl are you gonna paint her doghouse pink?”
Fingers curled over her lips, Kat held in a giggle, as Tyson seemed suspended in air for a moment.
“Uh, I was thinking it’d be nice to match the house. You like my yellow house, don’t you, Mia?”
Huffing with defeat, Mia sighed. “I da’pose yellow’s okay. But Trixie really would’ve liked pink.” The fact that dogs were colorblind was clearly not in her daughter’s expansive bank of knowledge.
“I got her a pink collar,” Tyson said and Mia nodded in approval. “Besides, if we make it yellow we can start building it this weekend—if that’s okay with your momma.”
Kat nodded, not seeing an issue with their schedule.
“Okay!” Mia and Trixie raced into the living room and the tickling game of chase continued. They watched for a few minutes in thoughtful silence.
“Am I nuts getting a puppy?” Tyson whispered beside her.
She turned. The same unsatisfied yearning resumed at the soft expression on his face. His lips barely curved, but the dimple was there. “You’re not nuts.”
The heat of his arm brushed her skin. Shutting her eyes, she inhaled his scent and the slightest sigh tickled her throat. When she opened her eyes he was watching her with unblinking observation. “I miss you, Kat.”
Pressure built in her chest and her head lowered. It was the one thing she wanted to hear, but also dreaded he’d say. “Tyson—”
“Nothing more needs to be said. I just want you to know I think about you when you’re not around.”
Her gaze focused on a hangnail she was suddenly obsessed with. “I think about you too.”
“How long we gonna keep this up?”
Her head slowly shook. “It’s not a matter of keeping something up. Nothing’s changed.”
“Exactly. So how long do you plan on ignoring it?”
She sighed and dropped her hands. “Ignoring what?”
“The fact that I want you.”
In a breathless tenor, she whispered, “No.”
Warmth from his finger trailed down her arm. “That didn’t sound too convincing.” Undisguised amusement tinged his voice.
She filled her lungs and stepped away. When she met his gaze all traces of amusement were gone. “We have to stop doing this to ourselves, Tyson. A matter of time won’t change my circumstances.”
“Your circumstances have nothing to do with us.”
“They have everything to do with us. They’re the reason why there is no us and there never will be. I’m not interested.”
“Bullshit. I see the way you get all nervous around me, the way you peek out the corner of your eye watching me. Your voice goes all breathy and your freckles darken over the pink in your cheeks. That’s not the behavior of someone who isn’t interested, Kat.”
Her brows lowered, shuttering away any of the softness he’d just referred to. “And what about you, Tyson? What have you done that qualifies as the behavior of someone interested?”
Defensively, he pulled back and said, “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the woman you brought to your house the other day. Parading your booty calls in front of me certainly isn’t working in your favor.”
He scowled. “Booty calls? Kat, I don’t—Oh my God, are you talking about Gloria?”
“How should I know her name?”
“Tall, thin, black, dreads down to her oversized butt?” He didn’t sound too impressed.
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”
His soft lips pressed together, forcing his dimple deep as he tipped his head back and made a snick with his tongue against his teeth. “That’s Gloria.”
Like the name made a difference. She stared at him in vacant stupidity.
“She’s my sister, Kat.” He laughed. “Oh man, she is so not the kind of woman I am into.” He blew out a long breath then turned on her, the predatory set of his shoulders causing her to step back.
Her butt hit the lip of the counter as he crowded her front. She glanced over to where Mia played, making sure her daughter wasn’t watching.
His lips tickled her ear, sending chills skittering beneath the collar of her shirt. “Let me explain to you the kind of woman I want, kitten.” His lips pressed into her neck as his warm breath whispered over her skin. “She’s smart, cute, soft, brown wavy hair, cut to about here.” Calloused fingers glided along the wing of her collarbone and her breath hitched.
His mouth moved to her other ear and he went on. “She’s sweet, but feisty in a endearing way. Prickly, you know the type? When she gets upset her eyes shimmer like little moons reflecting in a puddle and when she gets angry her face turns the same color clouds blush before the sunset. But my favorite thing, is when she’s aroused, because she goes all soft in my arms and looks at me like I’m the only man who can give her what she needs.”
Her chest rose with shaky breaths as he stepped back and she recognized the familiar unshrinking determination in his eyes. Hands gripped to the counter, she held herself in place so she didn’t do something undignified like propel her body at him.
He winked. “You see a woman like that around, Kat, you let me know.” He turned and whistled. “Trixie, come on, girl.”
It was too much. Her panties were wet, because he’d told her a secret. She had no control over her body when it came to this man and he simply strolled out of her house with all the calm in the world.
The following day, Tyson built a foundation under the tree Mia declared the perfect location for the doghouse. In the process of framing out the structure, he invited Mia over to help him hammer in nails and announced that they would be painting the following Saturday or Sunday.
That night, after dinner and a long conversation about Trixie and her new pink dog bowl, Kat gave Mia a bath, read her a story before tucking her into bed. As she was about to curl up on the couch with a book, the phone rang.
She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
“Katherine? It’s Dawson.”
She’d dreaded this call. Since the disastrous conversation with her mother, she’d called Dawson and left a message. She was an idiot for assuming he might not call back. Vivian was probably riding him as hard as she was riding Kat, but in a much more flattering way.
“Hi, Dawson.”
Their conversation was short and formal to the point of tedious. Dawson spoke with polished ease that gave away nothing about the real him. However, his unfailing politeness made him difficult to dislike.
Within a matter of three minutes, their date had been scheduled, and the phone call had ended. If only the actual date could be over with that quickly.