Home to Hope Mountain. Joan Kilby
her and she added, “My husband was a volunteer with the Country Fire Authority. He died while fighting the fires on your property.”
Just in case Adam didn’t know.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” His dark eyes met hers. “Thank you, I guess, although that hardly seems appropriate.”
She didn’t want his pity. She didn’t want his gratitude. And she didn’t want him on her property. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Again Adam glanced around at the razed clearing, this time taking in the garage with the curtain in the window and her spare boots outside the door. “Would you consider taking Summer as a private client?”
He’d obviously summed up her situation as desperate. He wasn’t far off. But she wasn’t that desperate.
“My time is fully committed.” She felt sorry for the girl, but Adam Banks was a rich dude trying to offload his problem onto someone else. Sure, he was well-spoken, handsome and polite. It was easy to be polite when people kowtowed to you all the time.
“I’ll pay you double what you get from the government for your other clients.”
She almost caved. God knew she needed the money. And she would have liked to help Summer. A girl who’d lost her horse—how sad was that? But she was telling the truth when she’d said she was fully committed.
Soon the trail-riding season would be here and she would be even busier. Plus she wouldn’t be a good therapist if her anger and resentment toward Summer’s father spilled over into sessions with her. Hayley couldn’t tell Adam that, of course. He’d simply have to accept no for an answer.
“It’s not possible.” She turned and headed for the garage, Shane at her heels.
Shutting the door behind her, she went to the window over the sink and peered out. Adam took a step toward the garage but Summer grabbed his arm and pulled in the opposite direction. Only when they got into the Mercedes and started the engine did Hayley let out her breath. She didn’t know why her heart was beating so fast. All she knew was that she was relieved when his car disappeared over the rise.
CHAPTER TWO
“WHERE DOES YOUR mother keep the brown sugar?” Adam asked as he rummaged through the pantry. A barbecue sauce simmered on the stove.
No response from Summer. He glanced over at his daughter, sprawled on the couch in the great room across from the kitchen, her eyes closed. She was plugged into her iPod again.
The past two days had been stressful. Yesterday there’d been his aborted meeting with the Chinese followed by Summer shoplifting and encounters with the school principal, the café owner and the police. Then this afternoon he’d been unsuccessful with Hayley Sorensen. Diane’s frozen diet meals weren’t going to cut it tonight—he needed wine and red meat, stat.
The exchange with Hayley had especially bothered him for some reason. He didn’t usually have a problem relating to women, but she’d been distinctly cool. Her refusal to treat Summer had felt personal, which didn’t seem fair. Her husband’s death was tragic and he felt for her, but surely she didn’t hold him responsible for her loss. He hadn’t even been in Hope Mountain the day of the bushfires.
Adam walked over and plucked the bud from one ear. “I’m seriously considering dismantling this thing one night while you sleep.”
Summer yelped and sat up. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Don’t test me.”
“Give it back.” She made a swipe for the earbud.
He held it out of reach. “Turn this off and give me a hand with dinner, please.”
She looked as though she was going to protest, then gave in. “Fine.”
Back in the kitchen Adam passed her a head of broccoli. “Chop.”
Summer picked up the chef’s knife and whacked off the base of the stem. “I don’t like broccoli.”
“I’m not crazy about it, either, but it’s nutritious and it’s the only fresh vegetable in the fridge.” He watched her shuttered face as she hacked inexpertly at the broccoli. He needed to talk to her, but it was hard to begin, to find the right tone.
“What’s going on with you, Summer?” As soon as he spoke, he knew he’d gotten it wrong.
“Nothing.”
Doggedly, he persisted. “I called a couple of therapists this afternoon. Everyone in the area is booked.”
“I don’t need therapy.”
He realized he couldn’t strike the right note because he was furious. And worried to death, and afraid for Summer’s immediate future, and deeply disappointed—yes, all that. But also very, very angry. At himself and Diane for dropping the ball, at the bushfires for causing his family and the community grief, but right this minute, mostly at Summer for her sullen attitude.
“So, lying and stealing are perfectly normal for you?”
She tossed the chopped vegetable in the pot, not deigning to answer.
He reigned in his temper best he could. “Here’s what I think should happen. Until your mother gets back—”
“When will that be?”
“A month, maybe longer. Till then we stay at my apartment, enroll you in a city school and get you a counselor. I could continue to work—”
“I thought you were taking a leave of absence.”
“I called Lorraine this afternoon and she agreed I could take time off, but she’s not happy. I’d really prefer to finish the project I started, but I’d still cut back my hours. It makes sense rather than stay here.”
“Not to me! The school year’s almost over. Plus the bushfire memorial service and dance is in a few weeks. I don’t want to leave Zoe and my other friends. I don’t know anyone in the city.” She slashed the knife down hard on the cutting board. “I’m not going.”
“Summer,” he warned, “careful with that knife.”
“Why, are you afraid of what I might do?” With a smile that chilled him she deliberately stuck the point of the knife on her wrist and pressed.
She was bluffing, she had to be.... He watched the flesh dip beneath the cold steel. Another fraction of an inch and it would pierce the skin. Adam snatched the knife from her. All his anger drained away. “You’re scaring me.”
Her smile faded and she dropped her gaze. “Sorry,” she whispered. “That was stupid.”
Adam went around the kitchen block and took her in his arms. “Don’t ever do anything like that again.” With her face pressed against his chest she shook her head. “Promise?”
“I promise.” She looked up at him, tear tracks on her cheeks. “Don’t make me leave Hope Mountain.”
“This isn’t a safe environment, sweetheart. Living in the forest is like living inside a giant stack of kindling laid for a campfire. All that’s needed is a lightning strike, and these tinder-dry woods would go up in flames.”
“It’s been raining for weeks. The woods are hardly tinder-dry.”
“They’ll get that way come summer.” He brushed strands of flaming hair off her forehead. “What do you call a ninja with red hair?”
“A ginga. That’s so lame and you’ve told it a million times. Come on, Dad, promise not to make me leave here. Please?”
It would probably be a mistake to pull her out of school and add to whatever trauma she was going through. There were only three months till the end of the school year.
“I can’t promise you’ll stay here forever.