Behind Closed Doors. Debbi Rawlins
at her, quite intensely, and she hoped she wasn’t kidding herself, but he didn’t look so anxious anymore. Finally he broke eye contact to look down at her feet. “Before I go, I have to ask...”
With a resigned sigh, she followed his gaze to her short camo-patterned cowboy boots. Only they were pink and tan, camouflage objective be damned. “A birthday gift from my niece, so I feel obliged to wear them occasionally.”
“Ah.” Amusement eased the tension around his mouth. “You’re a very good aunt.”
“You have no idea,” she murmured, and stopped right there, deciding to avoid the topic. She suspected her earlier reference to family had darkened his mood.
He took another gulp of water, then recapped the bottle. “Good luck tomorrow. I hope your guys show up.”
“If they don’t, I’ll hunt them down.”
He smiled, and she had the distinct feeling he wanted to say something, but he started toward the driver’s door instead. So that was it? He was leaving? Wishing her luck was a goodbye?
“Nathan?”
He opened the door but stopped to look at her, his face blank.
“Thank you,” she said, wondering if she should offer to shake his hand. Normally she would, but now it felt weird. “I mean it. You could’ve easily blown me off, but you didn’t.”
“No problem,” he said, his gaze slipping away from her. “Just being neighborly.”
“I wish I could do something for you in return.” She focused on his chin, horrified by the dip in her voice. It sounded huskier than normal, kind of sexy, kind of as if she was offering sex. She wouldn’t mind a little harmless recreation, but being obvious wasn’t her style. “So...” She cleared her throat. “If you’re ever in town and feel like a beer, remember, I’m buying.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” His voice had lowered, too, and though she hadn’t met his eyes, she felt him staring at her.
“That includes Woody, too. And Craig and Troy, of course. Please tell them.” She saw a brief smile tug at his mouth and slowly lifted her lashes.
At that exact moment he turned away to toss his gloves onto the seat. “You don’t owe them anything. They were being paid.”
“Guess it’ll be just you and me, then.” She shrugged, which he missed, along with her teasing grin. So she was back to feeling awkward again. “Or not,” she said, repeating the shrug when he looked at her before falling back a step. “Better hit it before the Food Mart gets crowded.”
He looked momentarily confused and then tightened his mouth. Without another word he got into his truck. She waited until she heard the engine start and saw the pickup roll forward before she turned to go inside.
If she were to glance back, she wondered if she’d find him watching her. Probably not. She might’ve only imagined the spark between them, but she didn’t think so. Maybe he was still in mourning and wasn’t ready to get back in the dating saddle. Had the tension between them made him feel guilty?
She couldn’t stand it. She had to sneak a final look.
He’d just made the turn onto Main Street. And now drove in the opposite direction of the Food Mart, toward the highway leading back to the Lucky 7. Proof of what she’d already known. He’d used the store as an excuse. It pleased her and made her laugh.
“What was he doing here?”
The snarl in Liberty’s voice had Beth jerking around to stare at her niece. She was coming from the stop where the school bus dropped off town kids. Candace and Liberty didn’t live nearby, but she got off in town on the days she worked for Beth—who’d somehow managed to forget today was one of those days.
“Who?” Beth followed the spiteful gaze aimed at Nathan’s truck. “Nathan Landers?”
“Yeah.” Liberty gave a surly huff. “What the hell did he want?”
“How do you know—? Oh, God.” Beth finally realized why his name had sounded familiar. She’d seen it on the victims’ restitution list, the one that had been issued by the court. Nathan was one of the dubiously proud owners of Liberty’s wall art.
BETH SAT AT the kitchen table, sipping her morning coffee as she listened to her sister and niece get into yet another argument. They were down the hall, probably in Liberty’s room, but their rented house was tiny and Beth could hear every heated word.
This time the disagreement centered on how Liberty was dressed for school. A rather popular theme for them—although the shouting could’ve been about anything, ranging from using each other’s things without permission to whether Liberty could visit her father in prison. Their differences seemed endless, and Beth felt awful for both of them.
Sadly, their quarrels weren’t the typical mother-daughter stuff because Candace hadn’t grown up yet. They sounded more like teenage sisters. At times Beth felt pathetically grateful she’d been spared ten years of the ongoing drama, but mostly she felt guilty.
Yes, she’d been only seventeen when her sister had taken Liberty and fled without even leaving a note. But contact had been reestablished five years ago, and Beth, wrapped up in her career, had ignored the signs they were headed for trouble. Turning a blind eye had been easy to rationalize. After all, she’d already done her share. At age eleven she’d started taking care of Candace and their mother, and then later Liberty, making sure they all had a roof over their heads and food in the fridge.
“Stop it, Candace.” Liberty stormed into the kitchen, her long brown hair flying everywhere. She dropped her backpack on a chair and flung open the fridge. “You try to act and dress like you’re still young, but you’re not. You’re old and you don’t know what you’re talking about. Girls don’t wear that kind of shit to school anymore.”
“Come on, Lib,” Beth said quietly. Normally she didn’t interfere, but she knew Candace wouldn’t correct her daughter’s language. “I know you have a better vocabulary than that.”
The teenager rolled her eyes, but she’d watch her mouth...at least as long as Beth was present. They’d had a few discussions about showing respect.
“That’s right. Listen to your aunt but ignore me.” Candace swept a contemptuous gaze over Liberty’s baggy jeans, oversize T-shirt and combat boots. “But she doesn’t have a man, now, does she? And neither will you if you keep dressing like a damn slob.” Candace shook back her overprocessed, bleached hair. “Old, my ass. Last week at that silly PTA meeting, I could’ve had any man I wanted. You shoulda seen them eyeballing me, even with their pig-faced judgmental wives sitting next to them.”
“Oh, God, Candace, you’re so pathetic,” Liberty said through gritted teeth. She slammed the fridge door without taking out anything for breakfast. “Don’t go to my school anymore. For meetings...for anything. Ever. I mean it.”
Candace blinked and cast a nervous glance at Beth before reaching into the pocket of her black silk robe. Her cigarettes were never far.
Beth stared into her cup, using every ounce of her control to keep her mouth shut. For now. Just until Liberty left to catch the bus. Then she’d speak with her sister. For all the good it would do. Sometimes Beth wanted to just choke her and other times she could sob for hours. Candace had become a replica of their mother, abusing booze, ready to screw any man who paid her a compliment.
She was only thirty-two, but hard living had taken its toll on her skin and body. Beth held out little hope she’d change her ways, but she had to make Candace understand that her fifteen-year-old daughter was too young to be trying to attract a man. Or that she needed one to make her happy.
“Tell you what, Mom...” Liberty drawled, grabbing