Page 34 of Scooter's Endgame
I don’t want her to rock my world with a kiss that’s right off the charts – just out of gratitude. Because that shit hurt. Sharp, painful, they sliced me right to the soul. I don’t want her appreciation; I want her love. I want her towantme back.
Yep, I totally overreacted. As the thought sinks in, I realize why it made me so mad – why it hurt so bad. I want her to feel about me the way I feel about her – have felt about her for years now. So I behaved like a complete ass.
Sickened by the idea that I’m no better than Gonzo, saying hurtful things and being a monumental douche to her, I sit and stew in the misery of my own making. And try to figure out how to make things right.
Eventually at four a.m., I accept that sleep is not in the cards for me. I head for the shower, then run through my morning routine, just to give myself something to do. As I’m grabbing a quick breakfast, again focused on the little guest cottage, I notice a neatly dressed man walk up to Kathleen’s door. I check my watch and see it’s barely seven a.m., so there can be nothing good about his visit.
On top of that, he gives me an off vibe. Not sure what exactly, but something about him screams of trouble. Feeling like a voyeur, I watch as she opens up, speaking to him briefly. Even from this distance, I can see her body stiffen as the man hands an official-looking envelope over to her. He tips his head at her, then turns to saunter down the path to the curb.
My eyes track back to Kathleen to find that she’s opened it and is now eyeing the paper in her hand like it’s an incendiary device about to detonate. Before I can even think better of it, I’m already out the door and on my way across the lawn.
“Good morning,” I call as I approach, not wanting to startle her. She appears unnerved enough as it is.
Her gaze tracks over to mine, fear saturating them. She opens her mouth to speak, but not a single sound comes out. She turns her attention back to the document in her hand. A single tear drops from her bottom lashes to land on her cheek. She reaches up to dash it away, and I see it trembling.
I step up beside her and, with a gentle finger, tip her face up to mine. Despite being on the shorter side at five ten, I’ve still got a good four inches on Kathleen. Our eyes meet – connect and, in her case, cling to each other.
“Sweet pea, what is it?”
Tears well and spill over, tracking down her cheeks. Silently, she holds the paper up to me, allowing me to see the black, bold, bald words proclaiming that Jefferson Franklin Grimes is suing Kathleen Millicent Pierce for full custody of the minor, Luke Bennett Pierce.
The words leapt up off the page at me. It’s all I saw – all I could see. It’s all I needed to know.
I wrap an arm around her shoulders to lead her back inside, as firmly but gently as possible. I guide Kathleen over to a sofa and encourage her to take a seat. Once she has, I pull the coffee table over and sit down in front of her. Taking the document from her, I place it face down on the table beside me and engulf each of her hands in mine.
Her breathing is rapid, as if she’s beginning to hyperventilate. “What am I going to do?” she whispers.
“Whatwe’regoing to do is speak to a lawyer friend of mine and see how strong the idiot’s case is. We’ll take it from there. Okay?”
For the first time since I met her, Kathleen gets a mutinous look on her face. Normally easy-going and amenable, I’m surprised as she snatches her hands back, and stands. “After the way you treated me last night, you think I’m going to let you help me with anything else? Not fucking likely.” Her body about vibrates with anger. “In fact, get out of my home. I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
Exhausted and still smarting from the “gratitude” kiss, I too get to my feet and go toe-to-toe with the woman. “Why are you mad atme? Number one, I’m not the one suing you – I’m trying to help you. And number two, I’m not the one who rocked the other person’s world and then turned around, saying thanks for being a nice person and helping me. So, I repeat. What the hell are you mad atmefor? I’m the one who should be mad, don’t you think?”
Kathleen recoils from me, like I just kicked her favorite puppy. “You’re a jackass. You know that?”
“I – what? How am I the bad guy here?”
“Because you’re an idiot.” And then – not one word of a lie – she stomps a foot. “I’m the one that was somewhat tipsy last night, and yet, somehow, you’re the one that read the whole situation wrong.”
She paces away from me, across the small living room floor. Standing in front of the kitchen island, Kathleen rubs the base of her skull before turning around and stomping back over to me. “I’m not sure why the words came out when and how they did, but the alcohol gave me just enough courage to do what I’ve longed to do for the longest time.
“And when I finally gather up the courage to kiss you, that’s what you do. You make me feel dirty – like I’m offering to sleep with you in return for the help …” Her words hang in the air between us as horror blooms in her eyes, and she takes a step back from me. “Oh my God – that’s exactly what you thought.”
Well, shit.
Thatisexactly what I thought. And, apparently, I was so way off the mark I may just as well have been on Mars. One of my maternal grandmother’s favorite sayings was assumption is the mother of all fuck ups. Yeah, Grandma Ginny hadn’t been wrong. Because it seems that’s what we have here – a fuck up.
One I’m clueless on how to fix. Then, before I can think better of it – I’m blaming it on a brain fart – I pull Kathleen to me, cup her cheeks in my palms, and with my thumbs I gently tilt her head up. I lay my lips on hers and dive in for a kiss powered by all the pent-up frustration and desire swirling in the pit of my stomach like a lethal concoction.
Placing her hands on my chest to push me away, I trap them between us as I step into her. For a heartbeat, then two, she resists, and just as I’m about to acquiesce, she surrenders to the kiss.
Kathleen burrows her hands under my T-shirt to rest her hands against the bare skin of my back. Her tongue tangles with mine, tempting and teasing me. Time loses meaning as I lose myself in the taste and feel of her. It’s only the vibration of my cellphone in my pocket that breaks the spell.
I seriously consider ignoring it for a moment, but being that I’m active service and always on standby, I could find myself in deep shit if I do. Sighing, I rest my forehead against hers briefly, before stepping away and grabbing the offending instrument from my pants.
I give the message a quick scan. Nothing important, just a sweet thank you from Indigo for being a part of her birthday celebration. I tuck it away and focus my attention back on Kathleen. “I don’t know why I was so sensitive about it, but I’m sorry for the way I behaved. It was a shitty thing to say and do.” Cupping her chin in my hand, I look into her eyes, willing her to see my sincerity. “I’m sorry – for being a douche, but especially for hurting you.”
Her posture tightening at my words, Kathleen studies me for far longer than is comfortable without saying a word. Despite how twitchy it makes me, I stand still, giving her the time she needs to process whatever it is that’s going on in that brain of hers.
