Read Online Sea Fever by Virginia Kantra - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Virginia Kantra
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“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 kitchen.
She reached for her apron, her cheeks flushed. “What was he doing
here?”
Regina raised her brows, surprised by the faint hostility in her tone.
“I’m thinking of hiring him.”
“What for?”
“Scrub floors, unload deliveries, stuff like that.”
Antonia sniffed without turning around from the cook top. “We
don’t need some man around to do our work for us.”
They hadn’t needed a man eight years ago, when Regina showed up
on Antonia’s doorstep with Nick in her arms. Whatever her faults,
whatever her feelings about providing for her estranged daughter and a
three-month-old grandson, Antonia had done everything that needed to be
done. But her mother wasn’t getting any younger. Regina watched her
mother’s hands on the spatula as she turned hash on the griddle— strong,
veined hands, the knuckles growing
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 kitchen.
She reached for her apron, her cheeks flushed. “What was he doing
here?”
Regina raised her brows, surprised by the faint hostility in her tone.
“I’m thinking of hiring him.”
“What for?”
“Scrub floors, unload deliveries, stuff like that.”
Antonia sniffed without turning around from the cook top. “We
don’t need some man around to do our work for us.”
They hadn’t needed a man eight years ago, when Regina showed up
on Antonia’s doorstep with Nick in her arms. Whatever her faults,
whatever her feelings about providing for her estranged daughter and a
three-month-old grandson, Antonia had done everything that needed to be
done. But her mother wasn’t getting any younger. Regina watched her
mother’s hands on the spatula as she turned hash on the griddle— strong,
veined hands, the knuckles growing
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