My Man Pendleton(50)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

Forty-five minutes later, when Pendleton finally hung up the phone, Kit was staring clueless at clue number one in the Across column of the crossword puzzle. She heard the creak of the kitchen door as he exited, and the soft scuff of his hiking boots accompanied by the clatter of Maury’s toenails as they both crossed the dining room. But she didn’t turn around. Instead, as she watched the puppy settle himself in front of the hearth, Kit pretended she didn’t notice the man, in spite of the way her skin grew warm, her breathing went shallow, and her heart began to hammer hard in her chest.

She kept not noticing him until he leaned over the sofa from behind, resting his weight on the forearms he braced against the back. Still, she didn’t look at him, not even when he turned to look at her. For a long moment, they only remained so, neither speaking nor acknowledging each other. Finally, though, Pendleton broke the silence with a single, quiet word that almost shattered her fragile composure.

“Honey,” he said.

Unable to keep from looking at him any longer, she turned her head, narrowing her eyes at his odd sentiment. Hesitantly, she asked, “Yes…dear?”

A flash of confusion tinted his face for a moment, then he smiled. “No, I mean, ‘honey.’ The word. One across,” he said, gesturing toward the crossword puzzle. “‘Bee creation.’ Five letters. Honey.”

“Oh.” Pretending she hadn’t just humiliated herself beyond words, Kit clicked her ball-point pen and quickly recorded the word in even, block letters. Then, in a desperate maneuver to drive his attention elsewhere, she feigned indifference and asked, “All quiet on the home front?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Carny just wanted to talk about some guy she met, that’s all. She likes him, but Joey doesn’t, and she thinks it’s going to cause problems.”

“Joey?”

“My nephew. Carny’s son. He’s thirteen going on thirty-five, and naturally, he knows everything. He’s a good kid, but he’s way too overprotective of his mother.”

Pendleton had a nephew, too? Kit thought, oddly envious for some reason. She’d always liked the idea of having nieces and nephews, and had been strangely sad when Holt and his wife split without having kids.

“Is your sister divorced?” she asked, telling herself she posed the question only because she wanted to make idle conversation, and not because she craved knowledge about every single aspect of Pendleton’s life.

He shook his head. “She never married. She got pregnant when she was a teenager, but the sonofabitch stupid idiot jerk moron sonofabitch that knocked her up skipped out on her.”

“You said ‘sonofabitch’ twice. Wasn’t that redundant?”

“No.”

His expression bordered on savage, she noted, so all she said in response was, “Oh.”

“Hey, she’s done just fine without Joey’s father,” he added immediately, rising with no hesitation to defend his sister’s honor.

“I’m not surprised,” Kit told him. “If the rest of the Pendletons are like you, then they must be a resourceful bunch.”

He grinned, a happy, easy grin that nearly stole her heart. “Yeah, we are,” he agreed softly. But he didn’t elaborate.

“And are your mother and father doing well, too?” she asked, wanting—needing—to hear more about this happy family who rose so quickly to help and shelter and protect one another.

“According to Carny, they’re fine. I really should call them, too, though. I haven’t touched base with Mom for almost a week. She always calls me at work. She and my dad are hard to get at night.”

“What do they do?”

“Bowl, mostly.”

She chuckled. “No, I meant what do they do for a living?”

“Oh. Well, my mom never worked, and as of last year, my dad is retired. He used to work construction.” He smiled, one of those warm, heartfelt smiles, as if he were remembering something very, very important. “In fact, he gave me my first job when I was fifteen. Pouring cement.”

“You know,” she said, “it’s very strange that I know so little about you and your family, when you know so much about me and mine.”

“Yeah, a little too much,” he said derisively.

She made a face at him, but it was impossible to feel irritated when he was gazing at her like that. As if he were happy to be here with her, sharing the kind of innocuous, getting-to-know-you conversation they were sharing. Before she realized his intention, he launched himself over the back of the sofa and landed deftly beside her. Close beside her. Uncomfortably close. She started to stand, but he seemed to sense her unease and scooted over to put a more acceptable distance between them.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “But if you know nothing about my family, it isn’t because I don’t want to talk about them.”

She dropped her gaze back down to the newspaper folded on her lap. “No, I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right. If I’m unaware of the particulars of your family, it’s because I’ve been too wrapped up in the particulars of my own to ask.”

He dipped his head in acknowledgment of her apology.

“So,” she said. “You have a family in New Jersey.”

He nodded.

“Mom and Pop Pendleton, a sister named Carny, and—” She halted abruptly when something occurred to her.

“What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Pendleton,” she said softly, “I just realized I don’t know your first name.”

“Well, you never asked me my first name.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“So what is it?”

“My first name?”

“Yes.”

“You really want to know?”

“Yes.” She gave his shoulder a soft smack, a gesture she hoped would make him hurry up and get on with it. “Come on, Pendleton. Tell me your first name.”

He smiled at her. “What’s it worth to you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. What’s it worth to you?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What do you mean?”

“If I tell you my first name, what do I get in return?”

She was stumped for an answer. “I don’t know. I’ll spin you some gold out of straw? What do you want in return?”

Immediately, she wished she hadn’t asked, because she knew what his answer would be. He was going to ask her to leave. Something cold and unpleasant settled in her stomach, and suddenly, she wasn’t having fun anymore.