Beth Andrews - A Not-So-Perfect Past

“What happened?” She swept her gaze over him. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s not his blood,” Jack said as he carefully stepped over glass to join them. “It’s Kyle’s.”

Her knees went weak. “Kyle? Kyle who?”

“Kyle Fowler,” Jack said. “He’s the one who was driving.”

She held her hand out. “Wait a minute. Isn’t that the Roberts’ foster son?”

“He is.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “Seems he got mad at Joe and Karen and took off.”

“Took off?”

“He stole their car,” Dillon said, balling his shirt up again. “Some of their cash, too. The kid’s in deep sh…uh…trouble.”

“He’s lucky he walked away with only a few bruises and a broken wrist,” Jack added.

“If he wasn’t hurt,” Nina said, “where did all the blood come from?”

“He hit his head against the window, got cut up. But it’s not as bad as it sounds.” Dillon held up his shirt. “Or looks. Head wounds always bleed a lot.”

She didn’t even want to think about how or why Dillon would know such a thing. “I’m glad Kyle’s okay.”

“You’re taking this pretty well,” Dillon commented.

“What do you mean?”

“If some kid stole a car and crashed into my building, I don’t know if I’d be quite so understanding.”

“Understanding? Is that what I’m being? Maybe it would be better if I said I wanted to go to the hospital and tear into Kyle for his stupid, reckless actions?”

“I’m not sure about better, but it might be more honest.”

“Yeah, well, honesty’s overrated,” she muttered. The few times she’d allowed her temper to get the better of her, she’d ended up with a lot of bruises. Besides, she couldn’t get mad at some troubled teenager. The town would probably pass out collectively in shock.

And take away the halo they’d branded her with.

“There will be consequences,” Jack told her as one of his officers called his name. “Kyle’s facing some serious charges. And this isn’t his first offense. It could mean time in juvenile hall for him. Excuse me for a minute,” he said before walking away.

While she was glad Kyle wasn’t seriously hurt, she just couldn’t feel bad for him. He’d only been here a few months, and he already had a reputation as a troublemaker. Although truth be told, he’d arrived with the stigma in place. Everyone had been concerned when Joe, a local accountant, and Karen, an elementary school teacher, had become Kyle’s foster parents. Married for close to twenty years and unable to have children of their own, they’d chosen to take in a juvenile delinquent instead of adopting an infant.

“You’re allowed to be pissed,” Dillon said.

She laughed and rubbed her temples. “That’s a new one. Usually people are telling me not to bother getting mad. Especially over things I can’t control.”

“I’m just saying you have the right to be angry. Most people would be.”

She dropped her hands. “I don’t want to be angry. I just want this to not have happened. I want to close my eyes and open them to discover this is all a bad dream.”

“That’s not how life is.”

“No kidding.”

He thumped his fisted hand against his thigh several times. “Since you can’t blink and make this disappear—”

“What if I wiggled my nose?”

He smiled and the effect was so sexy, she caught her breath and lowered her gaze. The last thing she needed was her hormones taking notice of Dillon Ward.

Of course, it’d been so long since she’d been aware of a man, she’d begun to doubt she even still had hormones.

The tow truck driver got into his truck and started hauling the SUV out. Dillon took a hold of her elbow and led her to the far corner.

“Unless your magic powers suddenly materialize,” he said, bending close so she could hear him over the noise, “you’re going to have to decide what your next step is.”

He still hadn’t dropped her elbow. His hand was large and very masculine against the bright pink of her puffy coat. His hold on her was light. Supportive. And steady. She could really use some steadiness now.

She swallowed. “I…I guess the next step is to call the insurance adjuster.”

“Yeah, but right now the exterior wall needs to be boarded up and, since the interior wall is weight-bearing, it’ll have to be jacked up temporarily.” He leaned back, his jaw tight, his eyes steady on hers. “I could take care of the exterior wall. I wouldn’t be able to do anything inside until tomorrow, though. That is, if you want my help.”

Her pulse skittered. Before she could answer, her dad barreled toward them. His weathered cheeks were red from the cold, his knit ski cap pulled down low over his ears.

Dillon dropped her arm and stepped back. Nina forced a smile for her father. “Good news, Dad,” she said, trying to ignore the sudden tension, “Dillon’s offered to board up the wall tonight. Dillon Ward, you know my father, Hank Erickson, don’t—”

“That won’t be necessary.” Her dad’s mouth was turned down at the corners. “I already have a contractor on his way.”

Dillon looked at her as if…what? “Thank you so much for offering, Dillon, but—”

“No problem,” he said. “Good luck with the renovations.” His expression hard, he nodded at Hank and walked away.

Hank squeezed her shoulders and dropped a quick kiss on her head. “We’ll take care of this, honey. I called Jim Arturo to handle the repairs. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

She stiffened and slipped out of his hold. “Don’t worry? This is my livelihood we’re talking about.”

He patted her arm. She wanted to bite his hand. “I know it’s upsetting, but let me handle this. Now,” he said, taking his cell phone out of his pocket, “you have your insurance with Todd Alexis, right? I’ll call him and get things moving along.”

She opened her mouth to tell him she could call her insurance agent herself but he was already dialing a number as he walked into the kitchen. She slumped into a chair. She had a bank loan to repay and Christmas gifts to buy, not to mention her ancient minivan needed new tires. And she’d kicked out her tenant, the only source of income she could count on.

She blinked back tears. But she wasn’t supposed to worry. Or be strong enough to solve her own problems.

The sad part was, even though it grated on her last nerve, she knew she wouldn’t stand up for herself. She was so damn tired. And scared. And since everyone expected her to stay in the background and let them take care of her, that’s what she’d end up doing.

Even if she did want to take charge of her life.

“YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO come in today,” Allie said from behind the polished, horseshoe-shaped bar.

“Yeah, I did.” Dillon sat on a stool and shrugged out of his jacket. Early morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting The Summit’s barroom in shadows. Despite a jukebox filled with classic rock songs, Allie hummed along to some bubblegum song playing on the radio underneath the bar. He grimaced as the singer hit a high note. “How can you listen to this crap?”

She flipped her heavy, dark hair over her shoulder. “It’s pop music, not crap. And I like it.” She did a little shimmy and shake to the chorus. “Besides, if I have to listen to ‘Hotel California’ one more time, I’ll stick my head in the oven.”

“It’s electric.”

She waved that away. “So it’ll be a symbolic gesture.” She turned the music down. “I drove by the bakery on my way here. The damage is pretty extensive. What’s Nina going to do about it?”

“Her father was there last night, said he’d take care of getting a carpenter to do the repairs.”