Read Online Beyond the Rules by Doranna Durgin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Doranna Durgin
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close.”
Owen hesitated for a long, long moment, looking at Kimmer until she felt uneasy. He thought she should have this answer. And at last, he gave it to her. “What if it were your mother?”
She almost jumped right to her feet. To prevent herself, she froze, stiffening enough that she thought she might even creak. “That’s not fair, Owen. It’s not the same, not the same at all .” She and her mother had been bonded by abuse and adversity. They’d never had a normal relationship—just an intense one. “My mother taught me how to survive. But she also married my father in the first place…and then she left me with him. I don’t have a relationship with her, I have a memory of her. And I learned the very hard lesson that even the people who might love you still end up leaving you.” A long speech for her, especially when it came to this topic.
Owen shook his head. “You can’t truly believe that. Or why invite Rio down here?”
That was easy. “Because he was willing to take the chance.” She relaxed slightly; it was either that or turn into one giant body cramp. “Don’t get me wrong. What we have is…something I’d never even considered for myself. But that doesn’t mean it’s forever. As soon as he sees an advantage in being elsewhere…” She stopped herself. She hadn’t meant to say that much. Not nearly that much. In fact, she hadn’t even realized she believed it possible of Rio until she heard her own words.
Maybe she was just afraid of it.
Owen regarded her for a good long while—one of the few people comfortable enough with himself that he could do that, knowing of her knack. Most people fidgeted, wondering what she saw. Owen held himself quietly, with the unusual dignity he carried around like an extra jacket. “As to your original question,” he said finally. “Think of your mother in those days when she was the most important to you. When she could stillprotect you. And then think what would have made you feel better when you were frightened for her.”
Not to wonder if my damned father would come for me next . But that was the easy answer, the smart-ass answer that while perfectly truthful, also didn’t plumb the question as deeply as could be done. So she nodded. “You think I don’t have to get the whole family thing in order to…be there…for Rio.”
“I think you don’t,” he agreed, and then, totally unexpectedly, reached into a drawer for a set of keys and tossed them her way. “These belong to Hank’s Suburban.”
“It’s fixed already?” Kimmer eyed the keys in disbelief.
“Consider it a favor,” Owen said dryly.
“I cannot imagine you wanting to do my brother a favor after all of this.”
Owen snorted, as coarse a response as he ever made. “The favor was for you,” he said. “And come to think of it, for me, too. I need your head on straight next week.”
“My make-nice week,” she murmured, and reached for the keys. “Don’t worry, Owen. From the way Hank’s acting, he’s had enough of me, too.”
Chapter 4
T he house clanged with the sound of free-weights landing on the thin, cheap basement carpet over the concrete floor. Kimmer hesitated just inside the doorway, tossing her girly red ostrich tote on the nearest chair and her matching red driving cap on top of it. Otherwise her outfit was demure enough: black stovepipe jeans with elaborate stitching on the calves, a black silk turtleneck and a gauzy vest over it all. Just the red at her wrist—her watchband—and the red detailing on her flat, open-toe sandals.
Just enough to peek out at the world in a sassy way, and to leave her brother in the position of snatching surreptitious looks when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. For his mouth to open as though he might say something as she drove him to Full Cry Winery to pick up the Suburban, and then to close again on those words unspoken.
She’d pulled into the employee parking lot near the backend of the Suburban, and
Owen hesitated for a long, long moment, looking at Kimmer until she felt uneasy. He thought she should have this answer. And at last, he gave it to her. “What if it were your mother?”
She almost jumped right to her feet. To prevent herself, she froze, stiffening enough that she thought she might even creak. “That’s not fair, Owen. It’s not the same, not the same at all .” She and her mother had been bonded by abuse and adversity. They’d never had a normal relationship—just an intense one. “My mother taught me how to survive. But she also married my father in the first place…and then she left me with him. I don’t have a relationship with her, I have a memory of her. And I learned the very hard lesson that even the people who might love you still end up leaving you.” A long speech for her, especially when it came to this topic.
Owen shook his head. “You can’t truly believe that. Or why invite Rio down here?”
That was easy. “Because he was willing to take the chance.” She relaxed slightly; it was either that or turn into one giant body cramp. “Don’t get me wrong. What we have is…something I’d never even considered for myself. But that doesn’t mean it’s forever. As soon as he sees an advantage in being elsewhere…” She stopped herself. She hadn’t meant to say that much. Not nearly that much. In fact, she hadn’t even realized she believed it possible of Rio until she heard her own words.
Maybe she was just afraid of it.
Owen regarded her for a good long while—one of the few people comfortable enough with himself that he could do that, knowing of her knack. Most people fidgeted, wondering what she saw. Owen held himself quietly, with the unusual dignity he carried around like an extra jacket. “As to your original question,” he said finally. “Think of your mother in those days when she was the most important to you. When she could stillprotect you. And then think what would have made you feel better when you were frightened for her.”
Not to wonder if my damned father would come for me next . But that was the easy answer, the smart-ass answer that while perfectly truthful, also didn’t plumb the question as deeply as could be done. So she nodded. “You think I don’t have to get the whole family thing in order to…be there…for Rio.”
“I think you don’t,” he agreed, and then, totally unexpectedly, reached into a drawer for a set of keys and tossed them her way. “These belong to Hank’s Suburban.”
“It’s fixed already?” Kimmer eyed the keys in disbelief.
“Consider it a favor,” Owen said dryly.
“I cannot imagine you wanting to do my brother a favor after all of this.”
Owen snorted, as coarse a response as he ever made. “The favor was for you,” he said. “And come to think of it, for me, too. I need your head on straight next week.”
“My make-nice week,” she murmured, and reached for the keys. “Don’t worry, Owen. From the way Hank’s acting, he’s had enough of me, too.”
Chapter 4
T he house clanged with the sound of free-weights landing on the thin, cheap basement carpet over the concrete floor. Kimmer hesitated just inside the doorway, tossing her girly red ostrich tote on the nearest chair and her matching red driving cap on top of it. Otherwise her outfit was demure enough: black stovepipe jeans with elaborate stitching on the calves, a black silk turtleneck and a gauzy vest over it all. Just the red at her wrist—her watchband—and the red detailing on her flat, open-toe sandals.
Just enough to peek out at the world in a sassy way, and to leave her brother in the position of snatching surreptitious looks when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. For his mouth to open as though he might say something as she drove him to Full Cry Winery to pick up the Suburban, and then to close again on those words unspoken.
She’d pulled into the employee parking lot near the backend of the Suburban, and
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