Falling For Nick (29 page)

"Sure." Instead of punishment, maybe what John needed was a little fun. "I'm off work. Let's go."

He opened the passenger door, and his son climbed in. Nick shut the door and told him to buckle up before rounding the car and sliding into the driver's seat. The smell of leather filled him making him remember his youth. With a twist of the key the engine roared to life and he backed out of the garage, his son beside him.

And inside Nick a foreign pride began to grow. Pride for his son, who'd kept his word to work off his debt, and pride for the life Nick now had, and dreams he hoped would come true.

Only one thing was missing as he pulled out of the garage.

Clea.

He wanted a life with her and John. He'd been too passive, letting her have all the power. The time had come to trust his instincts. As a teenager he'd courted Clea his way and won. He'd known then she was off limits, and he hadn't cared. He'd gone after her, using every trick he had. What was to stop him from doing the same thing now? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

* * *

Clea let herself into the apartment, glad to have some time to herself.

She'd been afraid John wouldn't want to go to the garage today after his outburst yesterday afternoon, but he'd come home from school today, had his snack, and then announced he was going to the garage. She'd offered to take him, but he'd wanted to go alone. He'd had an anger management session with the school counselor, Mrs. Wilson, today. Had the woman managed to help John? Clea had talked with the counselor afterward. Mrs. Wilson said things had gone well. John had talked about his anger toward both Nick and Robert, different kinds of anger. The counselor had worked with him on some solutions to defusing his emotions and on how to make better choices.

His progress pleased Clea, and she prayed he wouldn't backslide when she talked to him about breaking things off with Robert.

She'd been useless at The Coffee House today, unable to keep her mind on her work. All day long she'd done nothing but think about Robert, about ending their engagement. She'd called him first thing that morning, asking to see him, but he'd been busy. He'd promised to come by as soon as he was free. Waiting all day to see him had set her nerves on edge.

Robert wouldn't take the news well, and she dreaded telling him. The end of their engagement wasn't his fault, and she hoped she could make him understand that. She could see now her feelings for Nick had never died. She had no idea where they would go from here, but she couldn't marry Robert, no matter what she felt for Nick. She still intended to go to New York. A change of scenery would be good for her and for John. She didn't want to think about where that would leave her with Nick.

A knock sounded at the door.

Her stomach flipped over. Robert. She answered the door.

"Hello, darling." Robert embraced her. "What's so urgent I had to run right over?"

Clea pulled out of his arms. "Sit down. We need to talk."

"I don't like the sound of this. You're scaring me, Clea." His eyes held a wild, knowing look. She'd seen that same look in his eyes when they'd been teenagers, when she'd broken things off with him before.

"Sit down, please." She swept her hand toward the sofa.

"No." The word came out harsh.

Clea winced.

"I don't want to sit down." His chin came up. "Tell me what's going on."

A lump of tears formed in her throat. She didn't want to hurt him. "There's no good way to say this. I can't marry you. I'm so very sorry."

"No. Not again." He turned away from her and rammed his fingers through his hair. "That son of a bitch. Has he touched you?"

"Robert, no," she said sadly. "Let me explain."

"Don't bother. I've heard it all before." His hair stuck up. His eyes sparked with anger. "I'll kill him. This time I swear I'll kill him."

He started for the door. Clea grabbed his arm. "Stop. I'm the one you should be angry at. Me."

Robert pushed past her.

"Listen to me," she said. "I'm not ending things because Nick came back to town. I've thought about us a lot. I love you. You're a good man. You deserve someone who'll love you completely. That someone isn't me."

His face crumpled. Clea's chest tightened painfully.

"I love you enough for both of us, don't you see that?" He reached for her, his hands closing around her upper arms. "I'd do anything for you. Anything."

"I'm sorry, Robert." Never had she meant any words more. Tears filled her eyes, and she let them run unchecked down her cheeks.

"What am I supposed to do?" Robert asked, his fingers tightening on her arms. His features changed, contorted with anger.

"I don't know."

"I've resigned my job. We have money down for caterers, a florist, and a six-piece band."

"I'll take care of everything." She whispered the words, knowing they would anger him even more.

"I think I'm going to be sick." Robert thrust her away from him with enough force Clea stumbled back. "I knew he would get to you. Have you been sleeping with him?"

"No."

"But he's kissed you. I saw the grease on your face that day, and I knew he had put his hands on you. I knew then, but I didn't care. You belonged to me."

"Oh, Robert."

"Shut up." A savage light lit his eyes. He pressed his fingers to his temples. "I can't think. God, it's just like that night I saw you with him at Lookout Point."

In two strides he had her, his fingers holding her head prisoner. He took her mouth, forcing a kiss on her she didn't want. When she didn't respond, he let her go.

Clea touched her mouth, her fingers shaking.

"This isn't over." Robert flung the door open and strode out.

Quickly, Clea went to the door, closing, then locking it. She leaned against the wood, her tears coming hot and thick against her cheeks.

She deserved every bit of Robert's anger. She'd made him promises of love and commitment, and she'd broken them. For the first time she understood how Nick must have felt the day he'd sent her away, and a new compassion for him unfolded within her.

Clea pushed away from the door, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her sweater. She needed to do something constructive, something to take her mind off the hurt she'd caused Robert. Taking her coat from the hook, she pulled it on. On the way out she grabbed her camera bag. She had no idea where she was going, only that she needed to forget.

It was Nick's lucky day.

Having his son in the car with him satisfied him in a way nothing else could. Nick turned the corner, going by The Coffee House. He hoped to coax Clea into going for a ride with them. To his delight, she stood on the sidewalk as if she waited for them.

"There's your mom," he said to John.

Nick pulled the Mustang over to the curb, and rolled down the passenger window.

"Hey, gorgeous, want to go for a ride?" he asked, smiling.

Clea walked to the curb, dipping her head to see into the car. "I thought you two were working."

Her eyes were red, puffy. Had she been crying? He glanced at John. Had he noticed Clea's eyes? He wanted to ask what was wrong, but held his tongue. Instead he said, "Come on. It's a beautiful day. The sun is out. Let's show our son what this car can do."

He could read the indecision in her eyes. Something was desperately wrong, and his gut told him it had to do with Robert.

"Do you want me to go?" she asked John.

"Sure." John shrugged, as if it didn't matter.

"Come on," Nick coaxed. "The engine's all warmed up."

His words brought a reluctant smile to her lips. "All right. Maybe taking a drive is just the thing I need, but first let me get a shot of the two of you in the car."

She removed her camera from the bag. Stepping back, she focused the lens. Clea snapped several pictures, each one from a slightly different angle. He loved watching her work, loved the way her forehead wrinkled as she concentrated on the shot.

"Okay. I'm done." She put the camera back in the bag.

Nick opened the door for her. "Hop in back, John." He helped Clea unlatch the seat. John climbed in back.

"I haven't been in The Boss since I was teenager," Clea said. "It still smells the same, like leather rubbed with coconut oil and grease."

"Some things never change," Nick said with a wink. "Buckle up, Princess."

The minute Clea put her seat belt on, Nick punched the gas, the tires screeching against the pavement.

"Nick, for heaven's sake," she cried in protest, but Nick could read the excitement on her face.

He pressed his foot to the accelerator and a straight shot of adrenaline went through him. The familiar feeling of being in his car with his best girl came rushing back.

"Slow down!" Clea said, the words ending in a squeal of delight.

The sad look had left her eyes, and that pleased him.

"Go faster," John urged from the back seat.

"John," Clea reprimanded. "Don't encourage him."

"Oh, come on. Don't pretend you don't like it, Clea," Nick chided. "I know you do. I can remember one time when…"

"Nick." Clea cut him off. "I don't think John needs to hear any of our stories."

"Aw, come on, Mom." John grabbed the back of Clea's seat with his hand, scooting forward as far as he could while still remaining in his seat belt. "Tell me, Dad."

"A bunch of us used to race," Nick said. "Out on Deer Road. Deer Road got its name from the deer that crossed the road at all hours of the day and night. That made racing there really dangerous. You never knew when a deer would run in front of your car. If that happened, it could mean sudden death."

"Oh, Nick." Clea groaned. "I don't think John needs to hear this story."

He remembered one night on Deer Road vividly. He had raced Danny Bloomfield and won. The victory had been especially sweet because Danny seemed to get a twisted pleasure from harassing him. Their rivalry had started long before Clea's family had moved to Port Bliss. After that race he'd driven Clea down to the beach and they'd made out in The Boss until the windows were covered in steam. They'd nearly made love that night, and probably would have if Danny and Robert hadn't driven up beside them, drunk as skunks, their car full of girls.

The Bloomfield brothers had given Nick a hard time the entire summer, following him, challenging him to races, making trouble for him. He'd understood why Robert hadn't liked him, but he'd never understood Danny's hatred, a hatred that ultimately had cost him his life.

"What happened?" John asked.

"I raced The Boss and won," Nick said.

"Cool."

"The best part was I managed to avoid a deer and still win the race."

Clea turned to look at John over her shoulder. "It wasn't cool. It was dangerous. Nick could have been killed. And if I ever catch you doing something so foolish, you'll be grounded for life and won't be driving until you're thirty."

Nick laughed. "I'm afraid I have to agree with your mother on that, John. What I did was stupid and reckless. I hope you'll have more sense than I did."