Читать книгу Sweet Trilogy - Susan Mallery, Susan Mallery - Страница 10

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE LYING,” Nicole said as they pulled out of the hospital parking lot. “I thought I was having drug-induced hallucinations. I can’t believe she’s here. She’s possibly the most useless human being on the planet. Why me? Why now?”

Wyatt didn’t have any answers, so he kept quiet. He’d heard enough about Claire over the years to form an unflattering opinion of her. But today, at the hospital, she’d looked so hopeful and wounded at the same time. He’d almost felt bad for her.

Which only proved what a fool he was when it came to women. He always picked wrong. He had the divorce to prove it. Nicole knew her sister a whole lot better than he did, and he trusted Nicole. What she said went.

“What are you going to do about her?” he asked.

“I supposed asking you to shoot her would be a waste of time.” She sighed. “I don’t know. Ignore her and hope she goes away.”

“You’re going to need some help, at least for a couple of days. You won’t be able to take care of yourself.”

He kept his eyes on the road, but felt Nicole’s angry stare. “You have got to be kidding me. You’re not suggesting I let her stay and attempt to take care of me. Do you know how incredibly useless she is? She’s not a person, Wyatt. She’s a trained monkey. I’m amazed she can even drive a car. Oh, wait. I haven’t seen the car. I’ll bet you money it’s a limo, with a driver. Claire wouldn’t want to risk her delicate and valuable hands by actually doing work. Holding the steering wheel might impact her performance and we wouldn’t want that.”

He’d known the sisters didn’t get along and the bare bones of the estrangement, but he’d never understood the depth of Nicole’s anger and bitterness before.

Nicole had been hurt when Claire had gone away, but until now, he’d never known the wounds went so deep. Sarcasm and black humor concealed a lot of pain. It was just like her to play the bitter bitch to protect herself.

“I can come over in the evenings,” he said. “After work.”

She slumped down in the seat, then pressed her arm into her midsection and groaned. “I don’t want that. You have to take care of Amy. I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I don’t want to think about it. Not right now.”

None of this was supposed to be a problem, he reminded himself. When the surgery had been scheduled, Drew, Nicole’s husband, had still been in the picture.

Wyatt thought of his stepbrother and instantly wanted to pound him into the ground. What a total idiot. Talk about screwing up big-time. Drew had crossed the line and Nicole was never going to forgive him. Wyatt wasn’t sure he would be able to forgive his brother either.

He glanced in his rearview mirror and saw Claire in the car behind them. Even from a couple of car lengths away, he could see her death grip on the steering wheel and the determination in her face.

“You should move in with me and Amy,” he said. “That’s the easiest solution.”

“No.”

“You’re being stubborn.”

“It’s part of my charm.”

Under normal circumstances, Jesse could have pitched in, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“If you don’t want me, you’ll have to have someone,” he said. “At least for the first couple of days. Claire can keep food in the house, bring it to you.”

“Ha. You think the piano princess can cook?”

“She can order takeout.”

“I can do that.”

“And check on you.”

“Did I mention a trained monkey? It would be a lot more helpful. Or one of those service dogs.”

“She’s your sister.”

Nicole glared at him again. “She was the start of my bad luck streak.”

“You’re overreacting. Use her. There should be some pleasure in that.”

“Less than you would think.”

They arrived at the house. After parking, Wyatt came around to the passenger side and opened the door.

Nicole looked at him. “Don’t even think about carrying me. I can walk.”

“When was the last time you let a man sweep you off your feet?”

“I would never do that.”

“You need to work on your trust issues.”

With that, he gathered her in his arms. Claire had already opened the back door. She followed them inside.

He went up the stairs and into Nicole’s bedroom. Someone, probably Claire, had pulled back the covers. When he set Nicole in the bed, she sucked in a breath, then forced a smile.

“Thank you.”

She’d gone pale. He knew she had to be hurting. “When can you take something for the pain?”

“Not for a while. I got a shot in the hospital. I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t look fine.

He pulled off her athletic shoes, then unzipped her sweatshirt. She eased out of it and he tossed it on a chair.

She wasn’t wearing a bra. He could see her breasts moving under her thin T-shirt and wished the curves tempted him. Falling for Nicole would solve a lot of problems. Unfortunately, he felt nothing.

He pulled the covers over her, then sat on the edge of the bed.

“It’s just for a few days,” he told her. “I’m happy to hang out here in the evenings and you know Amy loves you but you’ll need help during the day.”

She closed her eyes.

“It won’t be so bad,” he said.

“I hate you.”

“Is that a yes?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

He stood. Claire hovered in the doorway. He went past her then waited until she’d trailed after him into the hallway and downstairs. Once they were in the kitchen, he faced her.

“You said you came here to look after your sister,” he said.

“Yes. Obviously. Why else?”

“Fine. Then that’s what you’re going to do. Help. This isn’t about you. Nicole is in a lot of pain. She’s going to be healing and your only job is to make her life easier. You don’t get to run off to visit clubs or hang out with your friends. You’re to be here and be responsible. This is a serious commitment. I’ll be checking in every night and I promise you, if you screw this up, you’ll be sorry.”

Claire looked at him as if he were an alien life form. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What was unclear?”

“Is that really what you think of me?” She shook her head. “Never mind.” She crossed to the counter and leaned against it. “Part of me wants to ask what she’s told you, but I don’t really want to know. I mean, why would I set myself up that way? I’m bad and she’s good and that’s how it’s always been.”

She paused and swallowed. Wyatt had the sudden sense that she was fighting tears. While he was a typical guy and would do almost anything to make a woman stop crying, he told himself that this was nothing more than an expert performance. He refused to be engaged by the play.

But Claire didn’t cry. She took a couple of breaths, then faced him.

“You don’t know me. Regardless of what Nicole has told you, you know nothing about me. I could say the same about her, which is sad. We’re twins. Fraternal, but still. I hate how much we’ve messed over each other’s lives. I hate how things are now. I don’t …” She stopped and pressed her lips together. “Sorry. You don’t actually care about any of this, do you.”

He watched her without saying anything.

She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “I’m here to help. I have no interest in nightclubs, I never have. I don’t have any friends here in Seattle, so you don’t have to worry about distractions. I want to take care of Nicole and reconnect with her. Nothing more. Those are the only words I have. You’ll either believe them or you won’t. The bottom line is, I’m not going anywhere. Not until Nicole is better.”

She spoke with a quiet dignity that appealed to him. His instinct was to believe her, but Nicole had always talked about how Claire played people with the same easy skill that she played the piano.

Still, he didn’t have a choice. He couldn’t take off from work and he had a daughter to deal with.

“I’ll be around,” he told her. “Watching.”

“Judging. There’s a difference.”

He shrugged, not caring if he offended her.

He pulled a business card out of his shirt pocket. “My cell is on this. You can always reach me on it. If there’s a problem, call.”

“There won’t be.”

He handed her the card, instead of just putting it on the counter, then realized his mistake the second their fingers touched.

The heat was so bright and raw, he expected the kitchen to explode. He swore under his breath as he glared at Claire, blaming her for the unwelcome chemistry flaring between them. She stared at the card, then looked at him.

“That was weird,” she said.

There was genuine confusion in her voice and questions in her eyes, as if she’d felt it, too, but didn’t know what it meant.

Yeah, right, he thought to himself. She was playing him.

Play away. He didn’t care. It didn’t matter how he reacted when he touched her—he would never act on those feelings. He wasn’t controlled by his hormones. He was a rational man who thought with his head, not his dick.

Still, when she smiled at him and said, “Thank you for taking care of her,” putting her hand on his arm, he wanted to pull her hard against him and kiss her until she begged for mercy. The image was so powerful, his mouth went dry and he got hard in a heartbeat. Talk about humiliating.

He stalked out of the kitchen without saying goodbye and vowed he would keep his distance from Claire. The last thing he needed in his life was another useless woman making him crazy and ruining everything she touched.

CLAIRE STARED at the clothes she’d laid across the bed and sighed. Apparently packing was not an intuitive skill. She’d been so careful with everything. Yet here were all her clothes, horribly wrinkled.

Normally Lisa’s assistant du jour would whisk the clothes away and bring them back perfectly pressed. If she wasn’t around, Claire could call the valet service at the hotel herself. But this wasn’t a hotel.

She studied a silk blouse and wondered if it was safe to iron. With another sigh, she reminded herself she didn’t know how to use an iron and if she wanted to practice, perhaps a designer silk blouse was not the place to start.

“Am I really totally useless, or is this an isolated incident?” she asked herself, speaking the words softly aloud. Better to know the truth than pretend. Her goal was to change—to fit into the real world. She needed to know where she was to find out how much work was required to get where she needed to go.

A sound from down the hall caught her attention. Still holding the blouse, she hurried toward Nicole’s room and found her sister coming out of the bathroom. She was bent over at the waist, one arm pressed across her midsection. Her face was drawn, her mouth pulled in pain.

“You should have yelled for me,” Claire said as she hurried to her side. “I’m here to help.”

“If you figure out a way to pee for me, I’m all ears. Otherwise, stay out of my way.”

Claire ignored the snarky comment and rushed to the bed where she quickly smoothed the sheets and pulled back the covers. Nicole ignored her and what she’d done as she slowly, carefully, crawled back in bed. Claire reached for the covers.

“If you tuck me in, I swear I’ll kill you. Not today, but soon and when you least expect it.”

Claire stepped away from the bed.

When Nicole was settled she closed her eyes. After a second, she opened them again. “Are you just going to stand there?”

“Do you need anything? More water? Ice chips? They’ll help you stay hydrated without making you nauseous.”

“How do you know that?”

“I was reading some articles on the Internet.”

“Aren’t you mama’s little helper?”

Claire clutched her blouse in one hand. “They didn’t say anything about surgery making one ill-tempered, so I guess the sarcasm is all you.”

“I wear it proudly, like a badge of honor.” Nicole shifted and winced. “What are you doing here, Claire?”

“Jesse called me a few days ago and told me about the surgery. She said you were going to need my help.” Claire didn’t want to say the rest when it was obviously untrue, but she couldn’t think of a way to avoid it. She’d already told Wyatt and she suspected he had passed it on to Nicole. “She said you were sorry we were still estranged and that you wanted us to be a family.”

She spoke without shaking, without her voice giving away her potential hurt. But it was still there, hidden. Because connecting was the one thing she wanted.

“You believed her?” Nicole shook her head. “Seriously? After all this time, you think I’m suddenly going to change my opinion of you?”

“Your opinion of who and what you think I am,” Claire told her. “You don’t actually know me.”

“One of the few blessings in my life.”

Claire ignored that. “I’m here now and you obviously need help. I don’t see anyone else lining up for the job. Looks like you’re stuck.”

Nicole’s expression tightened. “I have friends I could call.”

“But you won’t. You hate owing anyone anything.”

“Like you said, you don’t actually know me.”

“I can guess.” Claire hated being obligated, too.

“Don’t pretend we have anything in common,” Nicole snapped. “You’re no one to me. Fine, if you think you can help, help. I don’t care. The good news is I don’t think you’re capable of anything beyond being served, so my expectations are fairly low.”

This was so not what she’d imagined, Claire thought sadly. She’d hoped they would be able to find their way back to each other. She and Nicole were twins … fraternal, but connected from conception. Had all the time apart, the anger and misunderstandings really broken that bond?

She was here to find out.

“You probably want to rest,” Claire said. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“If only.”

She ignored that and started to leave, then paused. “Do you have a cleaning service you use?”

“For the house? No. I managed to scrub it all by myself.”

“Oh. Okay. I didn’t mean … Never mind.”

Nicole stared at her. “What didn’t you mean?” Her gaze dropped to the blouse in Claire’s hand. “You mean a service to clean my clothes?”

Claire took a step back. “It’s not important.”

“Yeah, right. Let me guess. A piano princess like you couldn’t possibly be expected to take care of your own clothes. I’d tell you how to use the washer, but that’s probably not going to help, is it? Too much silk and cashmere, I’ll bet. Poor, poor Claire. Never owned a pair of jeans. You must cry yourself to sleep every night.”

Claire did her best to deflect the hurtful darts that jabbed at her. “I won’t apologize for my life. It’s different from yours, but that doesn’t make it any less valuable. You’ve changed, Nicole. I’ve always remembered you being angry before, but I don’t remember you being mean. When did that happen?”

“Get the hell out of here.”

Claire nodded. “I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”

“That is not going to happen. I’d rather starve than deal with you.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Ignoring the burning in her eyes and sense of loss weighing her down, Claire returned to her room, determined to fix whatever had gone wrong.

THE ALARM WENT OFF at three-forty-five in the morning. Claire turned it off and then stared at the unblinking red light. What had she been thinking? Who got up this early?

People who worked in a bakery, she reminded herself. She was one of the Keyes sisters. She had an obligation to the family business. As Nicole was in no position to check on things and Jesse had disappeared for reasons still not clear, it was left to Claire.

She got up and pulled on clothes. Wrinkled clothes made only marginally better by their time in a steamy bathroom. She washed her face, applied some light makeup, pulled her long hair back in a ponytail and quietly crept downstairs. Less than fifteen minutes later, she had arrived at the bakery and parked in the back by the other employee cars.

There were lights on in the building. Claire hurried to the rear door and walked inside.

The space was warm and bright, smelling of sugar and cinnamon. Equipment filled counters and lined walls. Huge ovens radiated an impressive amount of heat. There were deep fryers and massive mixers, stacks of flour and sugar and what smelled like the richest chocolate in the world.

Claire paused and breathed in the delicious scents. She’d only been able to fix soup again the previous night, not that Nicole had been all that interested in eating. But three days of a nearly liquid diet had left Claire starving.

A middle-aged man dressed entirely in white saw her and frowned. “Hey, you. Get out of here. The bakery opens at six.”

She gave him her best smile. “Hi. I’m Claire Keyes. Nicole’s sister. I flew in because of her surgery. I’m helping out.”

“Sister? She doesn’t—” The man was small—a couple of inches shorter than her, but built like a bull. He drew his bushy eyebrows together. “You’re the one who plays the piano? The snooty one?”

“I do play the piano,” Claire said, wondering what Nicole had been telling people about her. “I’m not really snooty. Nicole, um, asked me to come by to help, what with her being laid up and all.”

The man frowned. “I don’t think so. She doesn’t like you.”

Something she’d apparently shared with the entire world. Claire had felt guilty about lying, but she didn’t anymore. She was going to find a way to fit in and the bakery was the obvious place to start.

“We’ve come to an understanding,” she said, still forcing a smile. “There must be something I can do to help. I’m her sister. Baking is in my blood.”

Or it should be. Claire had never tested the theory by actually baking anything.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it. You need to leave.”

The man walked away. She trailed after him. “I can help. I’m a hard worker and I’m really good with my hands. There has to be something. I’m not asking to work on the famous Keyes chocolate cake or anything.”

The man spun back to face her. “You stay away from the chocolate cake, you hear me? Only Nicole and I do that. I’ve been here fifteen years and I know what I’m doing. Now get out of here.”

“Hey, Sid? Come here for a sec.”

The voice calling came from behind a wall of ovens. Sid gave her a scowl, then hurried off in the direction of the voice. Claire used the alone time to explore the inner workings of a real bakery a little more. She smiled at a woman injecting yummy-looking filling into pastry shells. The woman ignored her. Claire kept moving.

She found another woman working a machine that applied frosting to doughnuts. The smell was heavenly and Claire’s stomach began to grumble in anticipation. She took a step toward the machine and bumped into a man carrying something.

As they struggled to get their balance, the bag he’d been carrying flew up in the air. Claire instinctively reached for it. But instead of catching it, she only bumped the side, sending it tumbling, sprinkling its contents on them, the floor and onto the already frosted doughnuts moving on the narrow conveyor belt. It spun and spun before landing, open end up, in a massive vat of dough.

“What the hell did you do?” the man demanded, as he began to swear in a language she didn’t recognize.

Sid came running. “You! You’re still here?”

The woman managing the doughnuts flipped off the belt and hurried over to inspect them. “Salt,” she muttered. “It’s everywhere. They’re ruined.”

Claire wished she could slink away. “I’m sorry,” she began. “We ran into each other and—”

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Sid yelled. “Did I tell you to leave? Did you listen? Jesus, no wonder Nicole talks about you the way she does.” He leaned over the vat of dough and swore. “Salt,” he yelled. “There’s a five-pound bag of salt in the French bread dough. You think anyone’s going to want that? It’s our batch for the day. The day.”

Oh, no. “Can’t you make some more?” she asked in a tiny voice, feeling so awful.

“Do you understand anything about making bread from scratch? What am I asking? Of course you don’t. Get out. Just get out. We can’t afford any more disasters this morning.”

Claire wanted to say something to make it better, but what was the point? All four of them stared at her as if she was the lowest form of life they’d ever seen. They wouldn’t care that she’d only been trying to help. That she hadn’t meant to run into the other guy. That it had only been an accident.

Not knowing what else to do, she turned and left.

It was after five when she arrived back at the house. Claire checked on Nicole, who was still sleeping, then went down to the kitchen and made coffee. The first pot smelled funny and tasted worse. She threw it out and started over.

The second batch was drinkable. She poured herself a cup and sank into a chair at the table.

How could her day have started so horribly? How could she have messed up so badly without even trying? It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t a bad person. Okay, yes, she lived a strange, twisted life that most people couldn’t relate to, but that didn’t change who she was on the inside.

But it seemed existing outside of her gilded cage was going to be harder than she’d first realized.

“I’m not giving up,” she said aloud. “I’m going to figure this out.”

She didn’t have much choice. If she couldn’t play the piano anymore, she was going to need to have a life without music.

No music. The thought of it made her sad. Music was everything to her. It was her reason for breathing.

“I’ll find another reason,” she told herself. “I have unexplored depths.” At least she hoped she did.

A little after six, she went looking for the toaster. There was plenty of bread in the freezer. She managed to burn the first three slices she put in before getting the adjustment right. She was digging around for a tray when the back door opened.

She straightened and saw Wyatt walking into the kitchen. Wyatt, who hated her nearly as much as

Nicole. Wyatt, who’d made her hand tingle so strangely the previous day.

But before she could wonder what that all meant, she saw the pretty little girl who trailed behind him.

Wyatt set several grocery bags on the counter. “Something smells bad.”

“I burned some toast.” Claire couldn’t look away from the girl. “Your daughter?” she asked. Wyatt had a daughter? Which meant he had a wife.

The realization caused her to take a step back, although she couldn’t say why. Still, she wanted to meet the girl. Claire had always liked children and dreamed of a family of her own.

“This is Amy,” he said, moving his hands as he spoke. “Amy, this is Claire.” He used his fingers in an odd way. “Amy’s deaf.”

“Oh.” She looked at the child and noticed hearing aids in both ears.

She’d never known a deaf person before. No sound. What would that be like? Never to hear a Mozart concerto or a symphony? No melody or rhythm. Her whole body clenched at the thought.

“How horrible.”

Wyatt glared at her. “We don’t think so, but thanks for sharing your enlightened and sensitive opinion. When you see a one-legged guy walking down the street, do you kick it out from under him?”

She blushed and glanced at his daughter. “No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I was thinking about music and how …” There was no recovery from this, she thought as guilt swamped her. “I didn’t mean anything bad.”

“People like you never do.”

He wouldn’t understand, mostly because he didn’t want to. He assumed the worst about her and she seemed to do nothing but prove his point.

He began taking groceries out of the bags. She thought about offering to help, but knew he would refuse. Instead, she retreated to the living room and wondered if she should simply hire a nurse for Nicole and escape back to New York. At least there she fit in.

She sank onto one of the sofas and did her best not to cry. Why was everything going so wrong? How could she make things better? Because as easy as escaping would be, she didn’t want to be a quitter. She’d never quit. Not once—no matter how hard things got.

But this situation was impossible.

Amy walked into the room. Claire started to apologize for what she’d said, only to realize the child probably hadn’t heard her. Which meant she would have to explain why she was apologizing, assuming she could even get her point across. She sat there, feeling both stupid and awkward, not sure which was worse.

Amy didn’t seem to pick up on any of that. Instead she walked over to a bookshelf in the corner and picked up a large picture book. She carried it back to the sofa and handed it to Claire.

“You want me to read to you?” Claire asked, looking at the book. “Aren’t you too old for this book?”

Amy waved her hands to get Claire’s attention, then touched her chin. She motioned to her lips, then her eyes.

“See you speak.”

The words were spoken slowly, with exaggerated pronunciation.

Claire’s eyes widened. “You can talk?”

Amy raised her right hand and waggled it sideways, then held her thumb and index finger an inch or so apart.

“A little,” Claire said, feeling triumphant. “You can speak a little.”

Amy nodded. “My school teaches me.”

“Your school is teaching you to talk?”

Amy nodded. She pointed to her mouth again. “Lips.”

“And read lips?”

More nodding. The girl smiled. She pointed at the book. Claire opened it. There was a girl holding a book. Amy pointed at the girl, then made a fist and rubbed her thumb across her cheek.

“Girl” Amy repeated the motion. “Girl.”

Understanding dawned. “I get it,” Claire told her. “This is the sign for girl?”

Amy grinned and pointed to the book. She held both her hands together, as if she was praying, then opened them.

Claire repeated the gesture. “The sign for book?” Amy nodded.

Claire flipped the page. “This is so cool. What else can you teach me?”

WYATT WALKED into Nicole’s room with coffee and the bagels he’d brought.

“Hey, sleepy.”

She opened her eyes and groaned. “Hey, yourself.”

“How do you feel?”

“How do I look?”

“Beautiful.”

She winced as she pushed into a sitting position, then leaned back against the pillows. “You are such a liar, but thank you for that. I feel awful. I have to tell you, the drugs in the hospital are much better than the stuff you get at the pharmacy. Is that coffee?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t sure if you were allowed any.”

“So you brought it to taunt me?” She reached for the mug. “I’m supposed to take it easy and eat what sounds good. Coffee sounds like a miracle, right now.”

He set the tray on the nightstand, then pulled up a chair. After she’d taken her first sip and sighed with pleasure, he asked, “You doing okay with Claire?”

Nicole rolled her eyes. “Do I have a choice? She’s staying away, which is my preference. Sid called my cell about a half hour ago.” She motioned to the small phone by the tray. “She went to the bakery this morning, apparently to help. He sent her away.

Instead she managed to run into Phil and dump a five-pound bag of salt into a batch of bread dough. It’s totally ruined.”

“How did that happen?”

“I have no idea.”

“She didn’t do it on purpose, did she?”

Nicole glared at him. “Probably not, but don’t you dare take her side.”

“Not my plan.”

“Good, because I’m not sure I could handle that. She’s even more useless than I’d first thought. She actually asked me about a cleaning service for her clothes. Apparently a few things are wrinkled and she doesn’t know how to deal with that. We should all have such problems. I hate her.”

“You don’t hate her.”

“I know, but I wish she’d go away.”

So did Wyatt. As it was, he was keeping his distance. The last thing he needed was another raging fire keeping him up at night … in both senses of the word.

Why her? Why couldn’t he have chemistry with someone else? Someone normal? Someone like Nicole? His body sure had a sense of humor.

Nicole glanced at the clock. “Where’s Amy?”

“Downstairs with your sister.”

“Check her before you leave. Who knows what Claire might do to her.”

“I’ll make sure she’s in one piece.” He stood and crossed to the bed, then kissed Nicole on the top of the head. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

“Come right away if you see smoke rising in the sky.”

“Promise.”

He went downstairs. As he entered the living room, he heard laughter. Amy sat next to Claire, watching intently as Nicole’s sister carefully signed the story in the picture book on her lap. Her movements were studied, but she got all the words right. When his daughter signed the word good, Claire laughed again.

“You’re a good teacher,” she said slowly.

Amy signed, “Good student.”

Claire reached out and hugged her.

Amy went easily into her arms.

Wyatt was unimpressed. Claire might be able to fool a child, but he knew better. She wasn’t going to be able to suck him in so easily.