Chapter Five
The heavy, bloated clouds hung low on the gray horizon. Kat stared out the window listening to the pitter-patter of rain, waiting for any sign of Tyson. The air was musty and she’d settled into a pathetic, misty gloominess suitable for such weather.
You’re being ridiculous.
Mia, with her exhaustless energy, had finally settled in with a movie. Without the option of walks to the park or playing in their yard, the cottage seemed to shrink with every waterlogged minute.
She hadn’t seen or heard from Tyson since the night he kissed her. This was exactly the reason why she didn’t date. She was obsessing over what was probably nothing. She’d replayed the memory so many times she had to wonder if her hazy recollections were even remotely close to what really happened.
Gnawing thoughts that she’d done something wrong, or embarrassed herself in some way, haunted her. Perhaps he was avoiding her and it had nothing to do with the dreary weather they had been having.
There wasn’t much that could be done while the spring showers lasted, yet Kat never stopped listening for the echoes of power tools. It was ridiculous to think of him so much. Almost as ridiculous as lying in her bed the night they kissed, cupping her hands over her face and breathing in his scent that lingered on her skin. And how sad was it that their kiss had been the best kiss of her life?
“You are such a loser,” she mumbled, her breath forming a soft sheen of mist on the drizzly glass. She pressed her finger into the steamy patch and drew a big L.
“Loser.”
If he saw her now he’d go running for the hills. She wasn’t sure how old he was, but figured he was several years older than her. Confidence oozed from his pores while she sat there drowning in her insecurities. She wasn’t mature enough to even hold a conversation with a man like Tyson Adams.
The dignified way he carried himself made her self-conscious of all the ways she was still a child trying to play a very real game of house. Other than their street name, they had nothing in common.
She had no right getting upset that he hadn’t stopped by again. There was no sense in leading him on. If Kat let Tyson kiss her again, he’d eventually want more—and that was something she couldn’t provide. There were too many hidden pitfalls involved with dating. The risk that Mia could somehow be hurt was too great.
Yet, here she was, staring out the window like a stupid teenager, wishing he would give her some sign that he liked her too. Her curiosity was inflamed with one simple kiss and she had no clue how to deal with the involuntary yearnings he’d stirred.
She tried to distract herself with everyday reality, methodically going about her normal routine, but nothing took away the inner restlessness. Even Mia seemed to detect something was wrong with her. And of course there was something wrong with her—she had a crush on a guy who was the last person she should be fantasizing about.
He was too mature for her. He owned his home. She rented a cottage. He even owned his own company for crying out loud! Kat didn’t even own her crappy, used car. She’d be making payments on that pile of junk until Mia was in first grade. The car probably wouldn’t even last that long.
Common sense told her she was being an idiot. Not only that, but she had no desire to date. So what the hell was she doing?
The problem was her curiosity. The need to know what it was like to be with an actual man created some sort of hybrid emotion she didn’t know how to handle.
Let it go. Drop it. He clearly isn’t interested. And the last thing you need is a boyfriend.
Her head dropped like a broken flower. She had to get a grip and stop acting like a lovesick sixth grader. Starting right this minute—right now—there would be no more thinking about Tyson Adams.
The phone rang from in her lap and she jumped back from the window. “Hello?”
“Hey, girl, whatchya up to on this beautiful day?”
“Hey, Jade. Nothin’. Just sitting around.” She cradled the phone closer to her ear glancing up at the blackening, stormy sky
“What’s wrong? Why do you sound upset?”
She sighed. So much for promises. “Tyson kissed me.”
“What? Wait? The chocolate hottie?”
Kat quickly held the phone away from her ear wincing at Jade’s squeal of excitement. She probably should have kept this to herself.
“Yeah.” She turned away from the window and let her head fall against the wall with a thump.
“Oh my God, when?”
“A few nights ago. Mia dropped a toy down the drain and my garbage disposal broke. I was just gonna fix it myself, but I didn’t have the right tools so I ran to Tyson’s to get a pair of pliers—”
“Nice. Nice.”
“—but then he showed up to see if I needed help.”
“Oooh, was he all dressed up for the job—work boots, sexy tool belt, big ol’ burly muscles flexing out of his tight, sweaty shirt?” Jade made a gargling purr.
“Uh, sort of.”
“Okay, so then what happened? Details! I need details!”
“Well, Mia and I watched a movie while he fixed the sink.”
“Then what?”
For a girl who had a pretty active social life, Jade acted like she hadn’t seen any action in years. “You are getting way too excited about this. I’m telling you it was nothing.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Keep going.”
“Well, Mia fell asleep and we were in the kitchen talking.”
“About…?”
Kat rolled her eyes. “He asked about Jeremy.”
“Because he’s into you! I knew it!”
“Settle yourself. He did say I was amazing.”
“Awww.”
“Oh my God, I forgot the biggest part—”
“—Yeah, I bet it’s big.”
“Will you get ahold of yourself?” Kat laughed. “Jade, he’s moving into that house. It’s his. He’s gonna live there.”
“No shit? That’s awesome. Permanent eye candy. Okay, go on and get to the kiss.”
She shrugged. “It’s nothing. He just…kissed me.”
“You’re such a liar. I can tell by your voice it was more than a kiss. Where were his hands?”
“Um, first on my face, then in my hair, and then sort of on my wrists.”
“Nice. Dominant. Go on.”
“That’s it. He kissed me and left.”
“Has he called you or anything?”
“He doesn’t know my number. You’re making this way more than it is. It was a spur of the moment thing. Besides, I don’t want it to be anything. He probably regrets ever coming over here.” In a smaller voice she added, “Men like that don’t like girls like me.”
Jade was silent for a minute. “You don’t know that. And what does that even mean, girls like you? You’re a woman with a child and not the first one. Oh my God, you should totally fuck him!”
“Jade!”
“What? Come on, Kat, you haven’t been with anyone since Jeremy and Tyson’s gorgeous and seems totally into you.”
“He’s going to be my neighbor. Technically, he already is. What happens after the fact, Jade? I’ll have to see him every day and my God, what if I got pregnant again? I’m already struggling to support myself and Mia.”
“Katherine Marie D’Angelo! First of all, you aren’t a stupid teenager anymore. You’re old enough and smart enough to buy condoms and use birth control. And even if it’s a fling, so what? People have casual sex all the time. Do you think I’ve never run into ex lovers?”
Kat moved at much slower speeds—turtle speeds—speeds of turtles walking in backwards. Casual sex didn’t exist in her situation, because there was nothing casual about raising a child.
“Yeah, but condoms aren’t always safe.”
“My God, Kat. So what, are you going to live the rest of your life as a nun?”
“No, but—”
“But nothing. You have to bang this guy. You owe it to women everywhere!”
While a big part of her wanted to rub her body all over him like a kitten in catnip, another side was scared to death and clung to her controlled, boring life.
“That’s not going to happen, Jade.”
Her friend scoffed. “You suck.”
“I know.”
“You should be sucking him.”
“Damn it, Jade!” She laughed. In the end she was grateful for the rain.
Sunday morning, after Mia found all of her Easter eggs, they rushed to get ready for church. They didn’t attend church on a regular basis—not like it wasn’t a nagging thought in her mind every weekend—but there never seemed to be enough time.
The air held the scent of dampness from the rain, but the skies were blue with soft, fleecy clouds. The ground was soggy, which was a challenge in their Vivian approved shoes, but they managed.
The Christian church in their neighborhood was an old, colonial style chapel that seated no more than fifty. The picturesque little chapel sat between clusters of sycamores with a loose stone path that led to a forgotten graveyard. She liked that the reverend wore jeans. Mia liked the choir and the fact that Mrs. Bradshaw attended service there.
Mia spotted her babysitter in the front row, wearing a flamboyant Easter bonnet. Mrs. Bradshaw was a no-nonsense woman in her early seventies who somehow pulled off gaudy as stylish.
The service was a little longer than usual, because of the holiday, and enforced silence was never easy for Mia. The heavy, oak pew creaked as Mia fidgeted. “Momma,” she said in a loud, jellybean scented whisper. “When’s this over?”
Kat patted her knee. “Shh.”
Mia sat for a few minutes. Her tiny Mary Jane shoes swinging as she sighed with impatience. “Momma,” her hissing whisper came again, drawing the attention of nearby parishioners. “This guy talks too much.”
Hot embarrassment burned Kat’s cheeks. Mrs. Bradshaw’s raspy chuckle only drew more unwanted attention.
“Mia.” She placed a stilling hand on her swinging leg. “Just a little longer. Try to sit still.”
Her daughter squirmed, her curious eyes darting from the shelf of bibles on the back of the pews, to the windows, to a transparent study of everyone sitting in the church.
Hoping to occupy her, Kat passed her the paper pamphlet they had been given for the Easter service when they arrived. Mia’s pudgy fingers turned the page and she began to make up a story as if she were reading it. “Once upon a time…”
A wave of creaks and whispered snickers surrounded them as people turned.
“Mia, no talking,” Kat hissed, taking the pamphlet.
“Momma,” she whined. “This is boring.” Her words dragged out so long, not a single person missed them—including the reverend.
Mrs. Bradshaw tipped her chin and pressed her knuckles into her lips, as she chuckled. Kat’s mortification was complete as her stomach filled with giggles and she fought the infectious laughter. It was completely inappropriate to be laughing in church! If she let one snicker escape her lips she was done for.
Pulling in a deep breath, she forced herself to be serious. This guy does talk too much. Her eyes followed a filtered ray of sunshine highlighting dust motes and her heart lodged itself somewhere in the pit of her stomach. Tyson was staring right at her from the pew beside the window.
A small curve tipped up the side of his mouth. Kat wondered if he saw Mia carrying on. He was taller than all the other parishioners. The monotone rumble of the reverend’s sermon echoed to her right as they stared at one another, as if connected by an invisible string that made it impossible to turn around to face the front.
Half of his profile shined under the ray of sun streaming from the window. He looked like an angel. He winked and her belly swooped like a trap door swung open.
She licked her suddenly dry lips, tasting the artificial flavor of strawberries in her gloss. She could swear he watched her do it. His soft gaze unblinking, and incredibly heavy weighed on her like a physical touch.
The choir started to sing and she turned, doing her best impression of indifference, but there was no ignoring the storm of emotion swelling inside of her. No one had ever had such a potent affect on her.
As the service ended her lagging footsteps carried her to the back of the church. The mixed scent of old lady perfume and clinical old man cologne tickled her nose and made their escape all the more urgent. She held Mia’s hand and wedged her way through the clogged double doors.
When the fresh spring air hit her face she took a long deep breath. The lawn was littered with people dressed in their Sunday best. Mia ran off to where three small children played in the shade.
“Who’s that gentleman talking to Mia?” Mrs. Bradshaw asked in a gin and tonic rasp.
Kat knew before she turned. There, speaking to Mia—all charm and tall, sexy goodness—was none other than Tyson Adams. The same rolling feeling took over her stomach when he smiled at her. She swallowed. Her mouth went from dry to too wet to dry again and her skin heated yet covered with goose bumps at the same time. She pulled in a deep breath and slowly released it. “That’s our new neighbor.”
He was wearing a black suit that cut along his muscles like it was custom made for his body. She couldn’t decide which was sexier, Tyson in work boots and jeans or Tyson in a suit. Either way, he was incredibly devastating.
A mixture of trepidation and irrepressible excitement filled her. She casually pressed her clammy palms into her stomach to slow the fluttering of nerves. “Would you like me to introduce you?”
“Honey, the day I stop wanting to meet men of that caliber, is the day I’m dead. Yes, introduce me.”
She led Mrs. Bradshaw toward Mia, each step causing her heart to beat a little faster.
The smell of his rich cologne over the sweet scent of Easter flowers nearby made her dizzy. He turned the moment they approached and sprung that devastating smile on her.
“Hello, Kat.”
His deep voice that sunk into the depths of her belly, stealing the last of her breath. “Hi.”
He glanced at Mrs. Bradshaw and Kat introduced them. “This is Mrs. Bradshaw, a dear friend of Mia’s and mine. Mrs. Bradshaw, this is Tyson Adams.”
“A pleasure, Mrs. Bradshaw.” He nodded and that oh so yummy dimple appeared.
“The pleasure is mine, Mr. Adams. Mia speaks well of you. She tells me you’re doing wonderful things to the old Thornton house.”
“Thank you. We’ve been busy. Hopefully the rain’s finished for a while so we can begin the landscaping. And, I believe Mia and I have a doghouse to build.”
“How charming. Mia’s a magnificent helper and lovely, too, just like her mother.”
“You have no argument from me there.”
He sent her a pointed look and suddenly her whole body felt awkward. A fluttering laugh, unlike anything she’d ever done before, slipped past her lips. She didn’t know what to say.
“Thanks for fixing my sink.” The impulsive gratitude spewed from her before she could stop it. You are such an idiot.
A soft smirk curved his lips. He seemed to watch her with covert curiosity that had a way of unnerving her.
Looking back to Mrs. Bradshaw, she informed, “Tyson fixed our sink.” Thank you Captain Obvious. Stop talking now.
But the meaningless chatter continued to flow as if she had some sort of disorder. Her faltering tongue clumsily folded over words before she gave them much thought. “Good thing it stopped raining. April showers bring may flowers.” Oh my God! Stop!
She bit her lip, forcing herself not to say another idiotic word. Tyson grinned at her with the same elusive charm that accompanied every expression he made. Luckily, Mrs. Bradshaw stepped in to save her from making more of a disgrace.
“Tell me, Mr. Adams, do you have any family? A wife? Or perhaps some children?”
“No ma’am. I’ve never been married, nor do I have children. But if I’m lucky one day I might.”
“Indeed.” Mrs. Bradshaw coyly smirked. “Well, Mr. Adams, I must be going, but it was lovely meeting you. Perhaps I’ll see you again soon.”
“I look forward to it, Mrs. Bradshaw.” He turned to Kat. “I’ll see you later?”
She nodded, but didn’t chance a word and he turned away.
As they walked back to the car, Kat wondered if he meant I’ll see you later as in “of course I’ll be seeing you around because we’re neighbors” or if he meant he intended to make a point to see her again.
When they approached the car Mrs. Bradshaw rolled down her window and smiled. “Well, Kat, it seems your life just got a little more interesting. Do keep me posted.”
With the enthusiasm of a funeral procession, Kat backed out, and headed to her parents’ house. A familiar, watermelon sized, knot of tension slid into the pit of her stomach as they approached their destination.
She wasn’t surprised when a man in an understated tuxedo answered the door. Her parents were in the habit of hiring temporary staff for all of their affairs and family holidays were no different. She nodded her thanks to the butler for holding the door while they stepped inside the foyer.
The doorman took her wrap and Mia’s backpack that Kat had filled with things to keep her occupied. This would not be an abbreviated visit. No, this would be long and about as fun as a root canal. For Mia it would be worse.
The level of formality her parents sought for holiday dinners was always somewhat tedious for a three-year-old, but Kat always came armed with coloring books, crayons, and a few quiet toys.
Affluent, lilting voices echoed down the hall as they walked in silence, their dress shoes clicking like an ominous bell tolls. The scent of dinner slipped from the kitchen doors as they passed. At least the food would be good.
They were escorted into the parlor where other guests mingled. A grand piano dominated the formal room and eight-foot windows accented the ten-foot ceilings. From the Parisian carpet to the crown molding, the space was as luxurious and antiquated as a museum.
Her parents had money, but their events were always a gross exaggeration of their wealth. She couldn’t stand it. Pasting on a plastic smile of serene blandness, she looked for her mother.
Trails of Shalimar perfume and lemon polish tinged the air. She didn’t know what wore more lacquer, the women with their pungent perfume and red lips, or the heavily polished woodwork.
Small settees and glossy tables dotted the room and an ornate bar graced the corner, neatly set with champagne flutes, snifters, and various decanters. Her mother immediately noticed their entrance and zeroed in on her with the focus of a hawk.
Kat grinned with borrowed grace as she approached. Vivian’s eyes glistened with cloying sweetness. “My darlings!” she cooed as she kissed Mia on the cheek.
Her mother—always the performer—complimented their appearance with calculated admiration. “You look beautiful as always, Katherine. And Mia! Such a charming little angel you are.”
This was the insecure—nauseating—truce she and Vivian shared when in the presence of others.
“The Easter Bunny came to my house, Grandma!” Mia said.
“Hello, Mother,” Kat greeted, kissing her mother’s cheek as expected.
As Mia chattered about her morning, Vivian covertly eyed Kat making sure that she’d followed orders and worn the right, pre-chosen outfit.
It wasn’t that the outfit was unattractive— it just wasn’t her style. The tanned pencil skirt was conservatively cut an inch below her knee with a matching silk camisole and a dusty sage cashmere sweater with pearl buttons. The sweater, Vivian had informed her, was necessary to hide her ‘undesirable soft spots’. She’d been given strict instructions that it should stay on her shoulders at all times.
The most unfortunate thing about the whole ensemble was that she had to shop with her mother in order to get it. Five hours of trying on dresses while her mother frowned and critiqued her flaws was enough to drive even the sanest person to drink.
Per her mother’s request, she wore her hair in a sophisticated French twist with nothing more than two pearl stud earrings and a pearl tennis bracelet. Nude stockings were a requirement, of course, because bare legs were simply scandalous. The outfit was completed with two-inch bland, brown satin pumps.
The only thing her mother didn’t choose was her underwear, so—for the simple pleasure of rebellion—Kat went with none at all.
As Mia finished telling her mother about everything the Easter Bunny delivered, her mother took her performance to an Academy level. “That’s wonderful, dear. Your grandfather and I have a little something special for you as well.”
Kat was sure their little something would be three times the size and price of her gifts for Mia, outshining even the Easter Bunny’s efforts.
Rolling her eyes, she scanned the mingling guests. There were a lot people she didn’t recognize.
Just another close-knit D’Angelo holiday.
“Now, you be a good girl and sit down here while I introduce your mother to some of our guests.”
She hated that Mia had to endure this. Crouching next to her with a reassuring squeeze on her arm, Kat whispered, “Just for a little bit, Mia, then Mommy will get your coloring books. Okay, babe? And I promise, tomorrow we’ll do something fun.”
“Like make a cake?”
“Sure, if that’s what you want.”
Mia eagerly nodded. Kat kissed her cheek with a small smile and followed her mother toward the other guests by the bar. Her father turned from his conversation and smiled in greeting. “Katherine. How’s my granddaughter?”
“Hello, Daddy. She’s great.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Katherine, you remember Dr. and Mrs. Malone and their daughter Jennifer and her husband Christian?”
Kat greeted the two couples. Jennifer was around her age. On her left hand she wore a platinum wedding band and a three-carat canary-yellow solitaire diamond. Her belly swelled under her robin’s egg blue, tailored dress and she looked to be nearing the end of her pregnancy.
Jennifer smiled with demure composure. Her husband watched her with obvious devotion and adoration that filled Kat with an oppressive sense of emptiness. “Congratulations on your pregnancy, Jennifer,” she said, as Jennifer preened and gracefully laid her jeweled hand over her belly.
“That’s right, D’Angelo,” Jennifer’s father chimed in. “Twins! Can you believe that? Two boys!”
It still stung whenever she witnessed pride in her parents’ friend’s expressions as they spoke of their grandchildren. She never saw that kind of pride in either of her parents’ eyes. The lukewarm sentiment in which they accepted her as a mother was nothing compared to the way Jennifer’s father raved.
Words of praise paraded about, each syllable trampling Kat’s heart, and cutting her self-esteem into shreds. She mentally wrapped herself in cotton, safe from the jealousy burning inside of her. This was about the point when she let herself go numb.
Her mother directed her attention to another nearby group of men.
“Pardon me, gentlemen,” Vivian politely interrupted. “I’d like to present my daughter. Nathan Lithe, Dawson Price, this is my daughter, Katherine.”
Nathan was a short, stocky man in his late twenties with beady eyes, a receding hairline, and one of those beards that was more of a line around his jaw than actual facial hair. Guys who spent that much time on their personal grooming always freaked her out.
Dawson, on the other hand, was generically handsome. Not runway hot, but good-looking enough to be a model in a department store catalogue. He was tall, about six feet, with short, blond, wavy hair, sun kissed skin, and soft blue eyes.
This was the man her mother wanted her to meet. He definitely was better looking than her, but something was missing. He didn’t bring about any sense of excitement or jitters, feelings she never would’ve accounted for before meeting her new neighbor.
It was difficult to detect a man’s style at functions like this. They all wore the same formal jackets, dress shirts, and pressed slacks. The only variations came in khaki or black. Even the ties knotted at each man’s neck stayed in the safe family of political blues and reds.
She shook both men’s hands as she curved her lips enough to project a passable smile, hating these staged situations her parents insisted on putting her in every few months.
Dawson grinned. “Can I get you a mimosa, Katherine?”
Prepared cocktails were lined up like pretty, decorated debutants all in a row. It would be nice if she could ask for something a little stronger than orange juice and champagne. “Thank you.”
She took the glass while Nathan stared at her breasts from the corner of his beady eyes. As she sipped around the slice of strawberry garnishing the rim, she casually posed her arms, blocking his view.
“We were discussing the verdict of the Triton case,” Nathan said with egocentric sentiment.
The Triton case was a local trial that wound up getting more than local attention in the media. Apparently, the woman was a victim of chronic domestic abuse. She eventually snapped and backed over her husband with their minivan. The trial had been going on for a year and last week the jury sided in favor of the husband. Mrs. Triton was convicted of manslaughter.
“You’ll have to excuse Nathan, Katherine. He’s a cut throat attorney and cases such as the Triton trial are pure catnip to him.”
In other words, he’s an unethical sleaze with money. “Oh?” she commented with feigned interest.
“That saucy bitch deserves every hour she spends in that jail if you ask me.” No one had. “She drove her husband to the brink of insanity as much as she drove that minivan the night she killed him.”
“How so, Mr. Lithe?” she asked, ignoring his inappropriate language and the sense that she shouldn’t bait this man.
“He never laid a hand on her until he caught her in bed with the neighbor. She was a harlot and the entire town knew it.”
“And you believe infidelity’s deserving of such brutality?”
Mr. Triton had been rumored to do every despicable thing from slapping his wife to throwing her down a flight of stairs and kicking her until she lost consciousness.
“I believe,” Dawson interrupted before the conversation became too heated, “that a husband should know how to keep his wife adequately satisfied in the first place. If Mr. Triton had done that, then his wife never would’ve strayed.”
Kat looked at him and caught a devilish gleam in his eyes. His suggestive comment gave her chills, but not in the way he intended. Who flirted while discussing manslaughter? This was the man her parents wanted her to date?
Kat hid her unimpressed expression behind her champagne flute and raised her eyebrows. Dawson was sure to be another trial in pacifying her mother. She hoped she wouldn’t have to take this one too far. There really wasn’t anything wrong with Dawson. He just didn’t do anything for her.
A servant announced that dinner was about to be served in the formal dining room. Kat excused herself to check on Mia.
All the guests seated themselves at the large table while she found herself sitting with Dawson to her right and Jennifer to her left. Her father was at the head of the table and her mother at the foot. Mia was seated next to Vivian to ensure she was on her best behavior. Heaven forbid she do anything to wreck her parents’ special night.
The dinner was a seven-course meal with all the trimmings of a traditional Easter feast. The rack of lamb formed a cradle for the ham. Mint jelly and pineapple soufflé sat in fragile glass dishes to the left of each guest. There were candied yams and smoked salmon crudités and many other useless tasty treats created for show more than sustenance. The white-gloved service was sure to impress her parents’ colleagues. Kat couldn’t wait to leave.
“Your father tells me you work in a psychologist’s office,” Dawson said between bites.
“Yes.” She placed the linen napkin in her lap. “In New Castle.”
“And do you enjoy working?”
“I started there out of necessity, not interest, but yes, I enjoy my job. I have a great boss. Do you like what you do?”
She was trying to be polite for her parents’ sake. Dawson could have very well been a man she found interesting, but having him foisted on her triggered an instinctual aversion. Her mom was a control freak and she hated being manipulated. Who she dated—if she dated—was up to her.
“It’s interesting. Being on the board can be tedious at times, but it has its moments. I like the political aspects.”
She didn’t reply, so Dawson continued.
“Do you miss living in Parkside?”
“Not really. I rent a small cottage in Upper New Castle. Mia loves it there and that’s what’s important.”
“Mia?” he asked, tilting his head in question, but keeping his expression friendly.
“Yes, my daughter.” She motioned to Mia sitting next to her mother.
“Oh, yes, and how old’s Mia now?”
“She turned three in January. Do you like children, Mr. Price?”
“I hope to have many of my own someday and please, call me Dawson.”
Their conversation lulled as the next course was served. Throughout the meal she occasionally caught Nathan Lithe watching her. Whenever their eyes met he offered a leering smile that made her skin crawl. Dawson continued to make small talk and her mother appeared pleased giving her sidelong, approving glances from the end of the table.
After supper the guests retired to the sitting room for coffee, tea, and cordials. Mia was getting tired, so Kat set her up in her father’s study with some paper, books, and toys. The rest of the evening dragged, but sooner than she expected, the guests began to make their goodbyes.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Katherine,” Dawson said as he took her hand.
He moved his thumb back and forth over the top of her wrist. His fingertips were smooth on her skin—fingers of a man with a desk job—not calloused like someone else’s. There was no way to withdraw from the caress without seeming rude, so she tolerated it. She gritted her teeth, smiled tightly, and waited for him to let go. When he released her, she tucked her hand safely behind her back.
“I look forward to seeing you again,” he said, leaning in to brush his lips over her cheek and lingered a moment too. He smelled nice, but that wasn’t enough to relax her in his presence.
With a straight spine, she muttered, “Nice meeting you too.”
After the rest of the guests left, Kat went to change Mia into her pajamas. Chances were she’d pass out as soon as they got on the road. It’d been a long day for both of them.
“Dawson seemed to take an interest in you,” her mother said from the doorway of the study.
“Mia, why don’t you go say goodnight to Grandpa?” Kat suggested as Mia left the room. She turned to her mother who was wearing a triumphant grin. “Mom, I wish you wouldn’t discuss men in front of Mia. It could confuse her.”
“She should understand that you have an adult life as well as your life as a mother.”
“She’s three.” Mia was innocent and she wanted to keep her that way. Somewhere inside of this woman there had to be a grandmother who understood that logic.
“Well, either way, he seemed to take notice of you. What did you think of him?”
“He seemed nice enough, but I told you, I’m not interested in dating.”
She rolled her eyes. “Really Katherine, sometimes you’re as stubborn as a mule. I swear you enjoy living as a pauper.”
“I do not live as a pauper, Mother.”
“Well, I hope that you didn’t say anything to embarrass yourself. Dawson’s used to being surrounded by very respectable, attractive women.”
“And how humble of him to humor someone of my ilk for the evening.”
“Don’t be derisive. It’s unflattering. I just meant—”
“Momma, I said goodnight to Grandpa,” Mia interrupted.
Vivian dropped the conversation and no doubt stored away her comments for another time. They said a final goodbye to her parents and as Kat suspected, her baby was sound asleep by the time they pulled off her parents’ street.
Kat’s stomach was starting to burn from all the tension of the past few days. The stuff with Tyson, the pressure from her mother, Nathan the nipple watcher, and Dawson was more stress than she was used to handling.
Why did Dawson have to show interest in her? That would only provoke her mother. Vivian was relentless when it came to finding a son in law. Kat wasn’t interested in finding a husband. She just wanted her normal life back.