“No emergencies. Caz had a backlog of patients, and I didn’t want the last one sitting in the lobby alone, so I stayed until she got in to see him.”
“That’s what Regina does, and Caz really appreciates it.” JJ smiled her approval.
Audrey poured a glass from the pitcher of sangria and handed it over. “How is Aric doing with the summer school?”
“Really well. He’s handling it far better than I thought he would.” And hadn’t that been such an amazing relief? “Hawk leaving without warning was hard on him. He still keeps running down to the dock to see if he’s returned.”
Every time her son cried after visiting the dock, she wanted to yell at Hawk…and then she’d remember she was the one who’d driven the man away.
“I get it. I check the dock for his plane too.” Frankie shook her head. “Who would’ve thought that someone so quiet and—face it—grumpy, would make such a hole by leaving?”
As the other two nodded, Kit’s guilt increased, and she hastily changed the subject. “I’m so glad Aric has Regan at the school with him. He says she watches out for him. You should be proud of her, JJ.”
“She’s an incredible kid,” JJ agreed.
Audrey smiled “And just as protective as her daddy—and her mama.”
JJ flushed. “I never thought I’d love being a mother so much, and I’m so grateful mine was such a good example.”
“It helps. From the little I remember, my parents were amazing.” At the questioning looks, Kit added, “They died when I was ten, and I went to live with my aunt and her husband.”
Frankie made a face. “From what you’ve said about your aunt and uncle, they sound an awful lot like PZs.”
Which was why Kit had moved out of their place before even graduating high school.
Audrey wrinkled her nose. “Ew. I can’t imagine being raised by Patriot Zealot types.”
“They weren’t pleasant.” Kit ran her finger around the condensation on her glass. “I told my therapist I must be really stupid to marry a guy like my uncle. She said it wasn’t stupidity, but that, when stressed, it’s easy to be drawn to someone who feels familiar, like someone from the past, especially if that someone had a major effect on you.”
“Even a harmful effect?” Audrey questioned.
“She said it didn’t matter. The familiarity was what sucked a person in.”
JJ blinked. “You know, that might explain some couples who don’t seem to belong together at all.”
“That’s why I was so receptive to Obadiah,” Kit said. “My first husband had died, and I felt lost and alone, and here was a take-charge guy who had all the answers. It seemed like we fit.”
“You totally didn’t fit,” Frankie growled under her breath. “But familiarity—that makes sense.”
“Ooooh, speaking of strong men… Kit, might I interest you in some book boyfriends?” Audrey dug in her bag and handed over two library books. “I checked out a couple of westerns for you since Frankie said you’d been reading Hawk’s.”
Wow, how awesome was this? “He got me addicted to westerns but, Audrey, I don’t have a library card.”
Smirking, Audrey tapped the card sticking out a book. “You do now.”
Kit took the card and saw KIRSTEN SANDERSEN in official lettering.
Seeing her birth surname rather than Obadiah’s, she felt something snap home, as if she’d reclaimed another tiny piece of herself. “Thank you. Really, thank you.”
“Hey, I love adding people to my library rolls. Next, I’m going to get you to join one of our book clubs.” Audrey frowned. “Only we don’t have a discussion group for westerns. Would you like romance, maybe?”
Kit snorted. “I haven’t read one since I met Obadiah. He didn’t approve of romance novels.”
“Too much competition. He was probably afraid you’d realize he was lacking.” Frankie poured herself more sangria and refilled the others’ glasses. “Bull loves when I read a hot romance, because I usually jump him afterward.”
Jumping a man. Having sex. Kit pulled in a breath. Over the past couple of months, the notion had gone from nauseating to interesting. Almost tempting, even.
Frankie was watching her, probably remembering, of the two of them, Kit had been the one more interested in sex.
Someday, it would be true again. It would.
“By the way, I bought presents when I was shopping with Bull in Anchorage,” Frankie announced.
Audrey tilted her head. “What’s the occasion?”
“Because I wanted to?” Frankie tried to look embarrassed and totally failed. “Ms. Librarian, you know how you’re a sucker for office supply stores? That’s me when it comes to bed-and-bath shops.”
“So true. If you’re with her, avoid those shops like the plague.” Kit rolled her eyes. “She’ll sniff every candle, fondle all the linens, test the lotions.”
“Naturally. And—ta-da—even the Hermitage can have luxuries.” Frankie plopped three gift bags on the table. “These have lotion, foam bath, and body wash. Audrey, yours is the one with a hint of lemon. JJ, orange and cedar. Kit, you get the lavender-vanilla combination.”
As JJ and Audrey oohed and ahhed, Kit opened the top of her lotion and sniffed. Lavender was good for relieving stress and enhancing relaxation. Mingling with the clean, crisp scent was the lovely fragrance of vanilla.
“Thank you. But that was sneaky, Yorkie,” Kit said, using Hawk’s nickname for the New Yorker. By giving gifts to the three of them, Frankie’d ensured that Kit couldn’t protest getting charity.
“Devious, that’s me,” Frankie said smugly, not at all fazed. Not much upset her—and when it did, everyone knew. She’d yell, swear, and cry with equal ease.
Wouldn’t it be nice to be so uninhibited? Or to be as comfortable in her skin as Frankie was?
Kit had liked her own body…before. Now, after the PZs, it sometimes felt as if her body was a hotel room where no one lived. As if her mind wasn’t linked to it at all.
The counselor had told her she should try getting in touch with her physical parts. Like, hey, breasts, how are you feeling today?
Kit had laughed at the time. Today, though… She picked up the gift bag. Maybe it was time to get back in touch.
Chapter Sixteen
Q: What’s the difference between God and a Night Stalker?
A: God doesn’t think he’s a Night Stalker.
Hawk squinted against the blinding sunlight, then donned his sunglasses as he strode across the long expanse of tarmac. In the cloudless sky, a plane buzzed like an annoying bee as it circled, then came in for a sweet touchdown.
Pleasure swept through him. If he couldn’t be in Alaska, at least he was around planes. Speaking of which…
Yeah, there was Sanchez’s jet. The small executive airport had excellent service, and the plane had been moved out of the hangar for them.
He headed that way, the light breeze ruffling his uniform shirt. August in Brazil was pretty—although damned if he wouldn’t far prefer to be home.