“I hope to God you’re not driving tonight.”
“Why would you care?”
“You could kill someone.”
She laughed bitterly. “So it’s not me you’re worried about.”
He glanced toward the house, anxious to get off the phone. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, either. You know that.”
“Where are you?” she asked.
“Out.”
“With her?”
David took a deep breath. “Lynnette, have fun tonight, but make sure you have someone drive you home.”
“I’m not going to my place. I’m going to find someone to go home with.”
“Whatever.” He honestly didn’t care, but that seemed to be the very thing that pushed her over the edge.
“What’d you say?”
“Do what makes you happy.”
“You son of a bitch!”
“Lynnette—”
“I hope Burke does kill her!” she said vehemently and the phone went dead.
David looked tired and upset when he came to the door. Skye had no way of knowing what had happened since they’d seen each other at lunch, but she could tell that his afternoon hadn’t been good.
“You okay?” she murmured as she stepped back to admit him.
“I’ve been better.” He handed her a bottle of wine, but she didn’t take it to the kitchen. She held it, watching him. “What’s going on?”
With a sigh, he scraped a hand over his whisker-roughened jaw. “Don’t worry about it.” He smiled. “I’m not going to let it ruin dinner.”
For her. Because whatever was troubling him had already ruined his. And it had to be personal. If it was work-related, he would’ve told her what was bothering him, even if he didn’t want to get specific: Another case came in…. I’m at a dead end with Bishop…. I’m afraid I’ll never be able to prove Oliver was behind those murders…. Something.
Skye set the wine on the shelf of the hall tree, but she didn’t take her eyes off him. “You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be, David,” she said softly.
“It’s not that,” he told her.
And yet he obviously felt torn. “Is it Lynnette?”
He raked his fingers through his hair. “Come on, something smells good in here.”
She refused to let him tug her into the kitchen. “Quit shutting me out.”
“I’m not shutting you out. I’m trying not to burden you with my problems, okay? I can’t imagine you want to hear me complain about my ex-wife. Isn’t that some kind of standing joke about dating a divorced guy?”
She pulled out of his grasp. “It’s not as if I want to dwell on your past relationships, but there’s got to be some sort of happy medium. She’s part of your life, David, and because of Jeremy she always will be. If we’re going to…to be seeing each other, even casually, she’ll be part of my life, too, right?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose for a few seconds before dropping his hand. “Is that what you think? That this is casual?”
“I don’t know what it is yet, do you?” She was carrying his baby, but she doubted he’d welcome that news. And she knew the existence of a baby didn’t necessarily change anything between them. There were too many other problems to deal with first.
“I sure as hell know it isn’t casual,” he said. “I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing just to get in your pants!”
“But don’t you understand? That’s what you’re making this when you won’t let me shoulder some of your emotional load. What, you’d rather set me off to the side somewhere and come by only when you’d like to get laid? How deep is that?”
“I’m trying to save the evening. What the hell do you want from me?”
“More than a fun date, that’s for sure! You think I can’t take the bad with the good? That I’ll run at the first hint of the problems you’re trying to shelter me from?”
Glaring at her, he muttered a curse. “Fine,” he said. “Lynnette’s out partying tonight, okay? I wouldn’t care about that, except she seems to be unraveling. And if she can’t hold herself together, where will that leave my son?”
Lynnette wasn’t going to let David go easily. Skye knew that from the conversation they’d had on the phone. “Where is he now?”
“With his grandma.”
“Is that a good place?”
“Physically, he’s safe. But Lynnette’s mother wears her emotional scars like some badge of honor and is always spouting off her theory that men aren’t capable of loving anyone, that their emotions are all self-serving and superficial. I don’t like what she says to my son, how she makes him feel about the fact that he’ll grow up and become something she can’t admire. And I can guess what she’s saying about me.” Now that Skye had him talking, it all came out in an angry torrent. “Maybe I could put up with it and simply try to talk him out of the pseudo-feminist bullshit she fills his head with if she liked little boys any better than men, but she doesn’t. She prefers her other grandchild—a girl, of course. She dotes on Amberly. But Jeremy’s a different story.”
Pivoting, Skye left him standing in the entry so she could turn off the oven, where she was cooking her mother’s special rosemary-and-herb chicken and potatoes.
“What are you doing?” he asked, nearly bumping into her when she emerged from the kitchen.
She grabbed the wool coat hanging on the hall tree. “Getting ready to leave.”
“What for?”
“Because we’re going to pick him up.”
“What about dinner?” he asked.
“It can wait till we get back.” She turned to face him, knowing this was the moment of truth. “Unless you have some objection to including your son in our evening together.”
Skye held her breath as she waited for David to respond. If he wouldn’t allow her to associate with his son, their relationship was doomed from the start. How could they ever get close, and stay that way, if he refused to share the things that were most important to him?
“Well?” she said earnestly when he didn’t immediately give her an answer.
Cupping her face, he stared down at her for several seconds, his gaze turbulent, intense. Then he kissed her more tenderly than she’d ever been kissed. “Let’s go.”