Susan Mallery - Just One Kiss

“Still adore my mother?” she asked as she closed the door behind them. Just in case he had the idea he should kiss her good-night. Which he should. She was doing her best to send that message telepathically. Not that she had any psychic talent.

Justice sat on the porch railing and nodded. “She’s good. I’m going to talk to Ford and Angel about hiring her to teach the interrogation classes.”

Patience smiled. “It’s a gift and she uses it. I think people believe that I was a pretty decent kid naturally, but that’s not true at all. It’s because I knew my mother could make me confess if she suspected I’d done anything wrong.” She leaned against the upright support and smiled. “It helps keep Lillie in line, too.”

Justice grinned. “Lillie’s great. You’re lucky to have her.”

“I agree.”

His smile faded. “Can I ask about her dad?”

“You can, and I’ll even answer.” She shrugged. “Ned and I got married because I got pregnant. I was young and stupid.”

“Lillie’s ten?”

“Uh-huh. I’ll do the math for you. I was nineteen when she was born. Ned was a guy I was dating. I was bored and confused about my life, and one thing led to another. I got pregnant, he did the right thing and we were married. Six months later, he ran off with a fortysomething redhead who had more money than sense. Lillie was three weeks old.”

Justice’s expression hardened. “Does he pay his child support?”

She allowed herself the brief illusion of believing that Justice would rush to take care of Ned if he didn’t. The fantasy was very satisfying.

“He doesn’t have to. He signed away all rights in return for not having to support her financially. I think I got the better deal. He wouldn’t have been consistent, and that would have hurt Lillie.”

“You could have used the money.”

“Maybe, but we get by. I’ll never be able to save enough to open Brew-haha, but I can live with that.”

He straightened. “What?”

She laughed. “Brew-haha. It’s what I would call my coffee place. I’ve actually designed the logo. It’s a coffee cup with little hearts on it. Brew-haha, Ooh, la-la is the part in writing.”

His mouth twitched.

She put her hands on her hips. “Excuse me, but are you making fun of my business?”

“Not me.”

“You think the name is silly.”

“I think it’s perfect.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.” She glared at him. “I’m playing the lottery most weeks, and when I win, you’re going to see just how great the name is.”

“I hope that happens.”

Maybe it was her imagination, but she would swear Justice was moving closer to her. His dark blue gaze locked with hers. The night got quiet and she suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

Kiss me, she thought as loudly as she could.

He didn’t. He just stared at her, which made her nervous. And being nervous made her talk.

“It’s great to have you back,” she mumbled. “Here in Fool’s Gold.”

Ack! Really? As opposed to just in the state or country?

“I’m glad to be back,” he told her. “Your friendship meant a lot to me.”

“It meant a lot to me, too.”

He moved closer and closer...and stood up.

“I should head back to the hotel,” he said, stepping to the side and starting down the stairs. “Thanks for dinner.”

Patience watched him go. She supposed some socially correct response was called for, but all she could think was Justice Garrett owed her a kiss and she was going to find a way to collect.

* * *

THE NEXT EVENING Patience climbed the stairs to the house. It was her day to work late, so it was already close to seven. Her mom took care of Lillie’s dinner and helped with any homework, which made the later shift easier. She knew that she was lucky—a lot of single moms didn’t have the built-in support she did.

She opened the front door and was about to call out she was home when she saw her mother talking on the phone. Ava looked intense and concerned, neither of which was good. Patience dropped her purse onto the table by the door, then headed up the stairs to her daughter’s room.

Lillie was curled up on her bed, reading.

“Hey, baby girl,” Patience said as she walked over and sat on the mattress.

“Mom!” Lillie dropped the book and lunged forward for a hug. “You’re home.”

“I am. How was your day?”

“Good. My math test was easy. We’re watching a video on gorillas tomorrow and we had tacos for dinner.”

Patience kissed her daughter’s forehead, then stared into her eyes. “I noticed you slipped in that bit about the math test.”

Lillie grinned. “If I study, the tests are easier than if I don’t.”

“Uh-huh. Which means I was...”

“Right.” Her daughter grumbled. “You were right.”

Patience squeezed her. “That never gets old.”

“You love being right.”

“I love it more when you say it.” Patience glanced toward the stairs. “Do you know who Grandma’s talking to?”

“No.”

Patience supposed she would get the story when her mother hung up. “I’m going to make a salad. Do you want anything?”

“No, thanks.” Lillie picked up her book.

Patience went back downstairs and into the kitchen. She could hear her mother’s voice, but not the conversation. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out leftover taco meat. By the time her mother had hung up, she’d assembled a salad and was carrying it to the table.

“Sorry,” Ava said as she walked into the kitchen. “That was my cousin, Margaret.” She took the chair across from her daughter.

Patience took a bite of her salad and chewed. “She lives in Illinois, right?” she asked when she’d swallowed.

Her mother had some family in the Midwest. Patience vaguely remembered a few of them visiting when she’d been little, but there hadn’t been much contact in years. There were the obligatory cards and letters at the holidays and not much else.

“Yes. Margaret and her mother, who is my step-aunt. It’s complicated.” Ava paused.

Patience watched her, aware that something had happened. Ava was flushed. She shifted in her seat and couldn’t keep her hands still.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Her mother started to smile, then shook her head. She half rose, then collapsed back in the chair. “Great-Aunt Becky died.”

“Who?”

“Great-Aunt Becky. My step-aunt’s mother. She’s not technically a relative—at least I don’t think so. She and I wrote the occasional letter. You met her once. You were four.”

“Okay.” Patience put down her fork. “I’m sorry she died. Are you upset?”

“I’m sad, of course. But like you, I only met her a few times. She visited us when you were little.” Her mother smiled. “You took to her. From the second you first met her, you couldn’t stand to be away from her. You wanted her to hold you. You wanted to be on her lap. When she got up, you followed her from room to room. It was very sweet.”

“Or annoying, if Great-Aunt Becky wasn’t into kids.”

Ava laughed. “As it turned out, she was as charmed by you as you were by her. She extended her visit twice and you both cried when she left. She always meant to come back, but never made it.”

“I wish I could remember her.” Patience had vague recollections of a tall woman, but that could have been anyone. “Do you want me to send a card?”

“If you’d like. The thing is, Great-Aunt Becky left you some money. An inheritance.”

“Oh.” That was unexpected. “Didn’t she have children of her own?”

“One daughter. Great-Aunt Becky was very wealthy, so her immediate family is taken care of. You don’t have to worry.” Ava leaned forward and took Patience’s hands in hers. “She left you a hundred thousand dollars.”