Alexei stayed at the bar until Bethany closed the place up around one AM. After all, he had no place else he had to be. And he liked bars; they were as close to home as he got these days, since he had walked - or driven - away from anything and anyone that might once have resembled such a thing. All the other customers had left by midnight except one exceedingly drunk older man whose resigned looking son picked him up about the same time Bethany turned off the neon signs in the window.
She clicked off everything but the main light and came to stand beside Alexei. “Sorry, big guy. ‘You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.’” When he looked blank, she added, “The Gretchen Wilson song? Seriously, you hang out in bars across the country and you haven’t heard that one?”
Alexei shook his head but he slid off the barstool and headed for the door. “Not that I recall. But I get the point.”
The small redhead put one hand on his arm. “You need me to call you a taxi? I mean, you’ve been here pretty much all day. You probably shouldn’t be driving.”
Alexei laughed, a deep sound that bounced off the walls of the empty bar. The sad truth was he couldn’t really get drunk - not without putting a pretty substantial effort into it. Damned Rider constitution. What good did it do him, now that he was no long a Rider? But he didn’t have any way to explain that, nor the fact that, if need be, his still-magical steed-turned-motorcycle could drive itself.
So instead he did his own version of the “prove to the cops you’re sober” routine, walking a straight line with his eyes closed, touching each forefinger to his nose, and then, because he couldn’t resist showing off to a pretty girl, doing a handstand that ended up with him supporting all of his weight on the palm of one hand, before springing to his feet and taking a bow.
“See? Sober as a judge.”
Bethany snorted, but he could see the smile lurking at the corner of her full lips. “Actually, that drunk old man you just saw leaving? That’s the local judge. But otherwise, a very impressive performance.” She opened the door and waved him out before locking it behind them. “I guess I feel comfortable letting you drive, although I still don’t know how you managed to drink for over twelve hours and not get even a little buzzed.”
“It’s all in the pacing,” he said.
“And being the size of a small mountain.”
“Yep, that too.”
Bethany glanced around the parking lot and spotted his Harley, a couple of spaces away from the battered dark green truck that was the only other vehicle remaining. She rolled her eyes. “Why I am not surprised?” she said. “I hope you don’t have far to go. It’s warm for the end of March, but still pretty brisk out for a motorcycle ride. Where are you staying?”
Alexei shrugged. “Don’t know. I just rode into town this morning.”
“Are you serious?” she put her hands on her hips. “You do realize that because it’s the off-season, most of the smaller bed and breakfast places are closed, and the one hotel in town locks its doors at midnight.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said in a reasonable tone. “I don’t have money for anyplace swanky anyway.” He pulled a rumpled wad of mostly ones and fives out of his pocket. “Unless you think they’ll rent me a room for what’s left of my pool winnings.”
A sigh gusted out into the night. “So it’s my fault for not letting you go all pool shark on my customers? Don’t you have a credit card like normal people?”
He also wasn’t going to explain that it was hard to get a credit card when there was no actual record of your existence. At least not outside of old Russian fairy tales. “Don’t believe in them,” he said. He pointed at the bike. “I’ve got some gold coins in my saddlebags, but I doubt there’s anyplace open that would take them. I’ll just sleep on the beach. It wouldn’t be the first time, and I’ve got my bedroll. I’ll be fine. I like the sound of the water.”
Bethany let out an inarticulate exasperated noise. “It’s forty degrees out. Way too cold for sleeping on the beach.” She shook her head. “Besides, I’m not going to just send you out into the night, not when you saved that poor girl from being drugged in my bar on my watch. I would never have forgiven myself.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she just narrowed her eyes at him and he shut up. He’d spent too many years hanging around with Baba Yagas not to have learned when to let a strong woman have things her way.
“Come on,” she said in a resigned tone. “I have a place you can stay. It’s only a couple of miles away, so you can follow me on your bike. Try not to wake up everyone between here and there by revving your engine.” She clearly wasn’t a Harley fan.
Alexei swung one leg over the seat and leaned over to whisper to the motorcycle. When it started up, it was barely louder than a purr. He grinned smugly at Bethany. “I’ll bet the exhaust on that rusty old beater you’re driving makes a lot more noise than this.” And it did.
* * *
Bethany pulled up in front of the long one-story house with its fading gray paint and peeling black shutters. As soon as the weather warmed up, she was going to have to add painter to the long list of other duties she was currently performing. Her father had never really cared about appearances. Only the wheelchair ramp was new and neat, an ironic contrast to the rest of the place.
She got out of the truck, closing the door hard because it didn’t stay shut otherwise, and walked over to Alexei.
“Do you live here?” he asked, looking around at the scrubby plants that were all that grew in the sandy soil, and the path made out of crushed shells that branched off toward the house in one direction and a small mother-in-law apartment in the other.
Bethany nodded her head in the direction of the house. “That’s my dad’s place. I’m staying with him for the moment. He had an accident about six months ago and I came home from Boston to take care of him and run the bar until he could get back on his feet.” She winced at her poor choice of words. “Figuratively speaking. He broke his back, so he’ll be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”
“Tough luck,” Alexei said, matter-of-factly.
She appreciated the lack of sentiment; she got tired of people feeling sorry for her father, or acting like she was some kind of saint. She was far from that. A saint would probably be a lot less resentful, for one thing.
“Shit happens,” Bethany said, stifling a yawn. Her days started early and ended late. This one wasn’t over yet, either. She pointed at the smaller unit and they walked up the path toward it. “My dad usually rents the apartment out during tourist season. It’s not really set up for guests at the moment, but it should be habitable enough. Better than sleeping on the beach, anyway.”
She hesitated at the front door with the key in the lock. “I should warn you, the place is already occupied.”
Alexei raised an eyebrow, but followed her inside without comment. The eyebrow went up even further at the sight of the huge Great Dane sprawled over the entire length of a long flowered sofa. At their entrance, the dog lifted its head and let out a quiet woof. As she made an ungainly dismount and waddled over to greet them, it became clear that she was very pregnant.
“I hope you’re not allergic to dogs,” Bethany said. “I’m fostering Lulu here until after the puppies are born and ready to go out for adoption. The space was empty and I didn’t have the heart to say no when the local rescue organization begged me to take her. She’s too large for anyone else on their list. I assure you, she’s really quite mellow.”
Alexei knelt on the floor to bring himself down to the dog’s level and rubbed her gently on the head, then scratching behind her ears until she whined in contentment. “I like dogs just fine,” he said. “Big dogs especially. Some of my best friends are big dogs.” He heaved himself back up again. “We’ll get along, no problem.”
Well, that was a relief, although seeing the gigantic man being so sweet to the equally giant dog gave Bethany an unexpected pang. The man really was damned attractive. She still thought he was trouble, but he clearly had a soft side underneath all that toughness. Still, not her problem. She’d let him sleep here tonight, and then in the morning, he’d be on his way. For now, she had other things to deal with before she could get the rest she so desperately needed.
“Swell,” she said. “Then I’ll leave you to it. The bedroom and bathroom are down that hallway. The bed won’t be made up, but there are sheets and towels in the hallway closet.” She was too tired to wait on him, and it wasn’t as though he was a paying guest. He’d just have to fend for himself. “There’s nothing much in the kitchen, I’m afraid, but I wasn’t expecting anyone to be staying here until May. If then.”
“No worries,” Alexei said. “I’m used to roughing it. Shall I let the dog out before I go to bed?”
“That would be great,” Bethany said. “The back door leads out to a small fenced yard. Just put her out there for a couple of minutes, then let her back in. There’s food on the counter for her if her bowl is empty.” She yawned.
“We’re fine here,” Alexei said. “Thank you for the place to stay. You should go to bed.”
Bethany nodded and headed for the door. If only it was going to be that easy.
* * *
She let herself into the house as quietly as possible, but Rosa must have been listening for her, because the stout Hispanic woman came barreling into the outdated kitchen as if she’d been shot out of a cannon, her coat and purse already slung over one arm. Her graying black hair was coming loose from its bun, its errant tendrils following the grooves time and stress had carved into an already homely face. Bethany had the sinking feeling those lines had gotten deeper since she’d seen Rosa earlier that day. And she was pretty sure she knew what put them there. Or rather, who.
“No more, Miz McKenna,” Rosa said in her heavily accented English. “I will work with that man no more. He is el diablo. I quit.”
Bethany took a breath in through her nose, trying not to panic. If Rosa quit, that would be the third home health aide to do so in two months. The agency had already warned Bethany that they were having trouble finding anyone willing to take the job. Without Rosa, she was sunk.
“Now Rosa,” she said, trying to sound soothing, and not as though she was begging. “I know my father is difficult, but he is in a lot of pain, and he’s not used to being dependent on other people. He’s just having a hard adjustment. He really doesn’t mean to take it out on you.”
Dark brows beetled together as Rosa shook her head. “He is in pain, but he will not do his exercises. He will do nothing. Today he threw his dinner at the wall. When I tried to clean it, he shout at me to get out. I will work here no more.” She shook her head even more vehemently, as if to reinforce her point.
“Rosa, please,” Bethany said. “I’m so sorry. I’ll pay extra if you’ll stay.” Although heaven knew where she would get it. They were barely managing as it was. “Please.”
“Lo siento,” Rosa said, putting on her coat. “You are a nice girl. But that man, he is loco. Un hobre muy malo. I will work with him no more.” She stalked out the door without a backward glance, slamming it decisively behind her.
Bethany sighed, leaning against the table for a moment while she worked up the energy to go further into the house. Truth be told, she didn’t blame the older woman at all. Rosa was right. Calum McKenna was a mean man. He’d always been that way, and falling off a roof and breaking his back hadn’t improved his temperament one iota. Her mother had loved him despite all his flaws, passionately and completely, but for the life of her, Bethany didn’t know why.
Finally she made herself walk from the kitchen through the shabby but neat living room and down the hallway to her father’s bedroom, one door past the bedroom she’d moved back into six months before, thinking it would be for a month or maybe two at the most. Now it was beginning to feel as though she’d be there forever. Ironic, considering that she’d spent most of her teens counting the days until she could get away. Sometimes the universe was a bitch.
She braced herself, then put her head up high before walking into the room. It didn’t do to show weakness around Calum McKenna; he’d jump on it like a lion on the weakest member of the pride.
“Hi Dad,” she said in as cheerful a tone as she could manage. “I hear you had a rough day.” Her heart sank as she took in the mess still clinging to the wall near the doorway; the remains of the stew she has so painstakingly prepared that morning now looking like a piece of demented modern art in 3D meat and carrots. “You know, if you don’t like the dinner, you can always just say ‘no thank you’ like a normal human being. And why are you still awake? It’s almost two in the morning.”
Calum glowered at her from his bed, his craggy face sullen in the dim light on the bedside table. “I know what time it is, lass. Dinnae treat me like my brain is broken just because my back is. I’m not a child to be told when to go to sleep.”
Bethany slanted her eyes pointedly at the wall. “Well, if you don’t want to be treated like a child, perhaps it would be best if you didn’t act like one.” She went into his adjoining bathroom and got a wet cloth, kneeling down to start cleaning up the disgusting mass. “And by the way, Rosa just quit. I suppose you’re pleased with yourself.”
There was silence from the bed for a minute. Her father wasn’t stupid, just bad-tempered and frustrated. Finally he said, “I never liked that woman anyway. She was too bossy. You’ll just have to get someone else.”
“We’re running out of ‘someone else’s’ Dad,” Bethany said softly. “Home health aides don’t exactly grow on trees. And if you want me to keep the bar going, that means someone has to be here to take care of you while I’m gone. You won’t let me get someone to live in, which means an aide on the nights I work late at the Hook and Anchor. You can’t have it both ways. If you’re determined to have me run the bar, you’re going to have to be nicer to the people who come in to take care of you.”
“I don’t want to be taken care of,” Calum shouted. “I don’t like having strangers in my house! And I don’t like being told what to do by a snip of a girl who thinks she’s too good to be running an honest business.”
Bethany had heard this litany more times than she could count, and she was too tired to argue. “Well, Dad, there’s a lot I don’t like about this situation either. And as neither of us is likely to get what we want tonight, I’m going to go to bed.” She stood up slowly, one hand wrapped around the soiled towel, and the other pressed against the small of her back. “I’ll see you in the morning. Try and get some rest.”
“I’ll rest when I’m dead,” her father muttered, turning off the light and easing himself back down on his pillows with a grunt of pain. “And if we’re both lucky, that will be soon.”
In the hallway, Bethany leaned against the wall and closed her eyes for a minute. She was never quite sure if her father really meant what he said about wanting to die or not. She wasn’t sure he knew either. But if he didn’t start eating, sleeping, and doing his exercises, she was afraid they were going to find out. And as difficult as the old man was, she really wasn’t ready for that.