Twilight Read Free Page B

right places.
    As he watched her work, Cal drank in the sight of her, like some dream too good to be real. Now that it was just the two of them, the whole dynamic had intensified, shifting subtly from happenstance to purpose.
    He couldn’t be around her without purpose. But what it was this time, he wasn’t sure. Just staying close maybe. Just believing she was there. But she wouldn’t buy that, not with their history. She would read more into this than he intended.
    Her body language grew tense, angry almost, and that was not surprising. The brush of her hair back and forth against her shoulders was like a pendulum ticking back the time. But not far enough.
    She faced him. “Do you expect to stay?”
    “Depends what you mean by stay.” He had no illusions—even fewer when he saw the set of her jaw. And he hadn’t even tried to provoke her.
    She pushed back her hair with a damp hand. “Do you think you can just pick up where we left off?”
    Cal’s pulse throbbed in his throat. “Where we left off wasn’t so great. How about where we started?”
    Turning back to the sink, she grabbed a glass and, in her haste, smacked it against the counter. Glass flew over the sink and floor. She gripped the edge and stood there without moving.
    He sucked in her tension like bad air. Whatever she was doing here, her plans obviously didn’t include him. Big surprise. He stood. “I guess I misjudged things. I should go.”
    She didn’t argue. Clearing the front steps two at a time, he started down the street. At this rate and distance, he’d make it home just when Mildred pegged him for a prowler.

    Laurie drew a sharp breath as a glass shard pricked her finger. Gingerly, she extricated it and watched the blood bead. It clung to her fingertip in a perfect round sphere, then vanished in the cold stream from the faucet. Cal Morrison. As if she hadn’t trouble enough. And yes, Cal was trouble with a big, bold, block letter T.
    She fished another piece of glass from the drain. Her finger was bleeding again, and this time not beading, but running. She tossed the glass into the trash and angled the water around the sides of the sink. His hair was shorter, but just as blond, just as unruly. His voice, his stance, his eyes … the way his mouth tipped into that sensuous smile …
    She was shaking. What had he expected? But that was Cal. Eternal optimist. There’s always a way; just make it happen. She should have told him to go home with Ray, should have crushed any possibilities. She should have—
    “Mommy?”
    She spun as Maddie, in her coat and nightie, ran across the kitchen and plunged into her arms. In one motion, she caught and lifted her child. Maddie tightly wrapped her arms about her neck, lip trembling, her tiny chest still lurching with silent sobs. Laurie looked up.
    She hadn’t heard the front door or any sounds of entry, but her mother stood in the kitchen doorway now, lips pressed into their permanently pained expression. “No matter what I tried …”
    “She’s not used to it. This is all so new. The move, the change …”
    “She doesn’t know me. She might have, of course, if you had deigned to visit.”
    Laurie sensed Maddie begin to calm. “I came for Daddy’s funeral. You saw them then.”
    Her mother’s smile thinned her lips even more. It was so patronizing, her I’m-wounded-but-I-won’t-argue smile.
    Laurie accepted the guilt. “I’m sorry. It’ll be better now. They’ll get—”
    “Maddie was scared.” Luke came in, carrying their little overnight bag. He set it down and shook the brown shaggy hair from his eyes. He needed it cut, but she resisted. He’d grown too serious for his five years, and the shaggy hair offset his somber eyes.
    “We’ll try again. I’m sure in a few days …” She hated the entreating tone in her voice, more appeal than assurance.
    Her mother pointed. “You’re bleeding.”
    “I broke a glass. It’s no big deal.” She shifted Maddie to her hip and dabbed