“And speaking. A large portion of the deaf community believes they have a viable culture that should be respected. That they aren’t handicapped, just different, and that they shouldn’t have to learn to communicate the way hearing people do. But I worry about Amy’s life when she’s older. All her family is from the hearing world, so she’s going to have to fit into it some way. I want to make that as easy for her as possible. Learning to speak so people outside the deaf community can understand her is part of that.”
He stopped talking. “Sorry. I get carried away.”
“Don’t apologize. She’s your daughter. Of course you care. It’s just all so interesting. Thank you for trusting me with her.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
They stared at each other. Tension filled the room. The wanting returned and with it, Wyatt’s temper. Rather than walk around with a hard-on, or snap at someone who didn’t deserve it, he stood.
“I’m going to grab Amy so we can get home.”
“I’ll go get her.”
He watched Claire walk out of the room.
She moved with an easy, graceful stride, he thought, then wanted to hit himself in the head. He had it bad. More than bad. He was also going to have to find a way to get over it and her. She might not be as awful as he’d first thought, but there was no way he was getting involved with her. She was a complication he didn’t need, even if she was a woman he desperately wanted.
NICOLE SHIFTED in the chair. Sitting up was the next step in her healing. She had muscles that had to be retrained. So far she was making excellent progress, although it felt incredibly slow to her. The pain was less, she wasn’t as tired and the doctor had pulled out the stitches the day before—a wildly painful moment she didn’t want to have repeated. She should be pleased.
Yet what she felt was restless. She hated that the bakery was doing so well without her. Logically she knew her business could survive without her for a couple of weeks, but emotionally she hated that everything hadn’t fallen apart.
The phone rang and she grabbed it. “Hello?”
“It’s me.”
Nicole recognized Jesse’s voice and hung up.
The phone rang again. Nicole picked it up. “Go to hell,” she said, her voice low and angry.
“Wait. You have to talk to me.”
“Actually, I don’t.”
Jesse began to cry. “I want to know how you’re doing.”
Nicole was unmoved by the tears. Jesse could turn it on like a faucet when it suited her.
“I’m recovering from the surgery, if that’s what you’re asking. Of course, having my heart ripped out by my sister and my husband is going to take longer to fix, so I don’t have an update on that.”
Jesse winced. “You’re still mad.”
“Um, yes. You must be stunned to realize I haven’t gotten over the fact that after everything I’ve done for you, how I’ve supported you, taken care of you, tried to do everything I could to make your life better, you still wanted to stab me in the back. I’ll give you credit, you did a hell of a job.”
She refused to actually feel any of the emotions swirling inside her. Better to stay in her head, be sarcastic, because anything else would rip her open so far, she would never recover.
“You hate me,” Jesse said with a sob.
“With every fiber of my being.” Nicole hung up.
Her heart pounded in her chest and she hurt all over.
She hated this… all of this. Hated what Jesse had done, hated Drew, hated her body for betraying her and hated herself for giving a damn about her baby sister.
Nicole turned her attention back to her book. She wasn’t actually reading the words, but she was willing to pretend. It was better than facing the emotional devastation of her life.
The house was silent and she was alone. Solitude pressed down on her, stealing her breath. She closed her eyes against the pain, but that didn’t stop the tears from running down her cheeks.
CLAIRE PARKED in front of Wyatt’s house. As she took in the two-story building, the big windows and wraparound porch, she tried to tell herself she was excited about spending time with Amy, nothing more. That the weird sensations flitting in and out of her body didn’t have anything to do with seeing Wyatt.
He’d called an hour ago and asked her if she could watch Amy while he ran off to an unexpected meeting. She’d agreed, then had been surprised to find herself looking forward to seeing him.
“It’s only for a few minutes,” she told herself as she locked the car and walked up the path. “Then he’ll be gone and I won’t have to think about him.”
She wasn’t sure why he was on her mind at all. Okay, yeah, he was good-looking, in a rough, manly sort of way. She liked how he was with his daughter and how he’d gotten over judging her based on all the stuff Nicole had said. But it was more than that.
Right now, standing on his porch, she felt a flutter in her stomach. It was almost like the nerves she felt before she performed, but different. There was a different level of excitement. Something that—
The front door opened and Wyatt motioned for her to enter.
“That was fast,” he said. “Thanks for doing this. I would have dropped Amy off, but it’s her bedtime in an hour and I don’t like to mess up her schedule on a school night. I have this client who’s driving me crazy. I’d tell her to forget it, but I took the job, so I’m going to get it done right. Damn work ethic. It gets me in trouble every time.”
He was smiling as he spoke. There was humor in his dark brown eyes. She found herself staring into them, as if she could… What? Get lost there? How weird was that?
“She’s fed and she doesn’t get much homework yet, so that’s not anything you have to deal with.” He glanced at his watch. “Let her watch TV another thirty minutes, then she can get ready for bed. She’ll get changed and brush her teeth by herself. Maybe you could read a story with her, if that’s not too much trouble.”
“I would love to,” she said honestly. Spending time with Amy was easy. She’d always wanted kids and being around Wyatt’s daughter helped fill that empty part of her.
“Great. Thanks. I really owe you.”
He was smiling again. Had he always been so tall? He was much taller than her, and more muscled than most of the men she knew. He also dressed differently, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt rather than a suit or anything designer.
“Claire?”
“Hmm?”
“You okay?”
She blinked and looked away. “Sorry.
