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old,” Regina explained.
“But you had your mother.”
“When she wasn’t working. I wanted different for Nick.”
The shadows in her eyes disturbed him. “It wasn’t your choice,”
Dylan said.
“Not then. It is now.”
He didn’t follow. He was still hard, his brain still blurred with lust.
Regina sighed. “I can’t give Nick a mother who’s around all the time. The least I can do is spare him some guy who won’t stick.”
Dylan frowned. “You knew all along I would not stay. It did not stop you on the beach.”
Her pointed chin came up. “I was drunk. Anyway, that was before I knew you. Before Nick knew you. I can’t risk him getting attached.”
“I’m not asking to move in with you.” Frustration sharpened his voice. “Nothing has to change. I just want sex.”
67
“Sex changes things.” Her eyes met his. Warm, brown, honest eyes.
“Maybe I can’t risk me getting attached either.”
His heart tightened like a fist. He was selkie. It was not in his nature to form attachments. And yet . . .
“You underestimate yourself,” he said.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Perhaps you are more like me than you acknowledge.”
Or perhaps she had more power over him than he dared admit, even to himself.
“I have a kid. You don’t.” Regina hopped down from the counter, brushing him aside. “You try being responsible for somebody besides yourself sometime, and we’ll talk.”
68
Six
“I CAN’T EAT IN THE KITCHEN.” JERICHO TOOK a step back from the kitchen door, clutching his take-out bag. The aroma of potatoes and onions followed him into the alley, mingling with the smell of grease from the fryer, a whiff of rotting lobster from the Dumpster. Regina’s gorge rose.
“It would be different,” he said, “if I wasn’t taking charity.”
Regina scowled. It pissed her off that she couldn’t do more for him.
Didn’t want to do more. “It’s not charity. It’s a sandwich.”
Jericho’s thin lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. He’d made an effort to wash, she noticed, even to shave. She could see the line on his neck where his beard ended and the dirt began. Despite that dubious demarcation, she had to admit he looked more approachable without the stubble. Not as scary.
“I could help out maybe,” he offered, not quite meeting her eyes. “In return for the food.”
Oh, no. She wasn’t looking to take on another responsibility.
Although, maybe . . .
Her relief when Dylan showed up yesterday had been a revelation and a warning. She couldn’t count on his help with every delivery. She couldn’t count on Dylan, period.
What had he said yesterday? “Nothing has to change. I just want sex.” Predictable guy response.
Not reliable. But predictable.
“Sorry,” she said. “We’re not hiring.”
“I’m not asking for money.” A hint of the South flavored Jericho’s voice like bourbon in branch water. She wondered again what demons drove him so far from home. “Just sometimes . . . I thought I could help out,” he repeated with quiet dignity.
69
Her head hurt. She didn’t know what to do. When Perfetto’s needed a dishwasher, Alain used to drive to the corner where the day laborers hung out and hire a guy right off the street. But then, Alain didn’t have a kid on the premises to worry about. Hadn’t wanted a kid to worry about.
Rat bastard.
But after all these years, the words no longer had the power to energize her. Thinking of Alain only made her tired.
“I’ll let you know,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.” Jericho tugged on his cap, shading those clear, haunted eyes. “Appreciate it.”
He turned to go, almost bumping into Margred as she rounded the corner. They circled without touching, like fighters looking for an opening. Finally, Jericho stepped back, and Margred entered the
“But you had your mother.”
“When she wasn’t working. I wanted different for Nick.”
The shadows in her eyes disturbed him. “It wasn’t your choice,”
Dylan said.
“Not then. It is now.”
He didn’t follow. He was still hard, his brain still blurred with lust.
Regina sighed. “I can’t give Nick a mother who’s around all the time. The least I can do is spare him some guy who won’t stick.”
Dylan frowned. “You knew all along I would not stay. It did not stop you on the beach.”
Her pointed chin came up. “I was drunk. Anyway, that was before I knew you. Before Nick knew you. I can’t risk him getting attached.”
“I’m not asking to move in with you.” Frustration sharpened his voice. “Nothing has to change. I just want sex.”
67
“Sex changes things.” Her eyes met his. Warm, brown, honest eyes.
“Maybe I can’t risk me getting attached either.”
His heart tightened like a fist. He was selkie. It was not in his nature to form attachments. And yet . . .
“You underestimate yourself,” he said.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Perhaps you are more like me than you acknowledge.”
Or perhaps she had more power over him than he dared admit, even to himself.
“I have a kid. You don’t.” Regina hopped down from the counter, brushing him aside. “You try being responsible for somebody besides yourself sometime, and we’ll talk.”
68
Six
“I CAN’T EAT IN THE KITCHEN.” JERICHO TOOK a step back from the kitchen door, clutching his take-out bag. The aroma of potatoes and onions followed him into the alley, mingling with the smell of grease from the fryer, a whiff of rotting lobster from the Dumpster. Regina’s gorge rose.
“It would be different,” he said, “if I wasn’t taking charity.”
Regina scowled. It pissed her off that she couldn’t do more for him.
Didn’t want to do more. “It’s not charity. It’s a sandwich.”
Jericho’s thin lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. He’d made an effort to wash, she noticed, even to shave. She could see the line on his neck where his beard ended and the dirt began. Despite that dubious demarcation, she had to admit he looked more approachable without the stubble. Not as scary.
“I could help out maybe,” he offered, not quite meeting her eyes. “In return for the food.”
Oh, no. She wasn’t looking to take on another responsibility.
Although, maybe . . .
Her relief when Dylan showed up yesterday had been a revelation and a warning. She couldn’t count on his help with every delivery. She couldn’t count on Dylan, period.
What had he said yesterday? “Nothing has to change. I just want sex.” Predictable guy response.
Not reliable. But predictable.
“Sorry,” she said. “We’re not hiring.”
“I’m not asking for money.” A hint of the South flavored Jericho’s voice like bourbon in branch water. She wondered again what demons drove him so far from home. “Just sometimes . . . I thought I could help out,” he repeated with quiet dignity.
69
Her head hurt. She didn’t know what to do. When Perfetto’s needed a dishwasher, Alain used to drive to the corner where the day laborers hung out and hire a guy right off the street. But then, Alain didn’t have a kid on the premises to worry about. Hadn’t wanted a kid to worry about.
Rat bastard.
But after all these years, the words no longer had the power to energize her. Thinking of Alain only made her tired.
“I’ll let you know,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.” Jericho tugged on his cap, shading those clear, haunted eyes. “Appreciate it.”
He turned to go, almost bumping into Margred as she rounded the corner. They circled without touching, like fighters looking for an opening. Finally, Jericho stepped back, and Margred entered the
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