My Man Pendleton(53)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

Pushing aside the realization that she was just thinking the same thing herself, she asked, “What can I do for you?”

“You can give me a second chance.”

Gee, nothing like getting right to the heart of the matter, she thought. “Please come in,” she invited him, seating herself behind her desk. “And close the door behind you.”

He did as she requested, and as he shed his coat and sat down in the chair opposite her, it occurred to her that their positions were now reversed from that first encounter in his office. But where Holt’s turf was some of the most expensive real estate in town, Faith’s digs were decidedly more modest. The Louisville Temperance League operated on a shoestring—a baby bootie shoestring at that—and could barely afford the aged, nondescript building where they located two years ago. Faith’s office was one of the larger ones in the suite, but even at that, was no more than one-quarter the size of Holt’s. And where his was bright with trendy earth tones and furnished with expensively tailored pieces, hers was dark and cluttered with castoffs that even the most generous observer would be hard-pressed to call “antique.”

She steepled her fingers on the scarred blotter atop her desk, then opened her mouth to say something along the lines of, “I never want to see you or your family again for as long as I live, now go away.” But he held up a hand to stop her.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for a month,” he said without preamble.

Something happy and mellow oozed into her belly, but she refused to succumb to the warm, fuzzy way it made her feel. Really, she did. Honest. She did.

“And I owe you an apology for what happened that night at Cherrywood,” he added.

Actually, that wasn’t true. It wasn’t up to Holt to apologize for a scene someone else created, even if it was a member of his own family. Nor was he responsible for Faith’s reaction to what happened. How could he know she would react the way she did that night, when Kit McClellan entered the dining room so obviously intoxicated? Faith had become immediately uncomfortable after that. Not because of the potential embarrassment factor for Holt, but because of the very definite fear factor for herself. Kit’s drunken state reminded Faith too much of the drunken state of another person whose memory was too fresh in her mind. Stephen Ivory. Even in death, he ruled her life.

“You don’t owe me an apology,” she said.

“Yes, I do.”

“For what?”

He smiled sadly. “For subjecting you to my family before our relationship was fully cemented.”

“You seem to be a few steps ahead of me. I wasn’t aware we had a relationship to cement.”

“I beg to differ.”

“And I beg your pardon.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hooking his fingers loosely together between his legs. He met her gaze steadily, intently, unequivocally. But instead of addressing the matter of their alleged relationship, he returned to the subject of his apology instead.

“Faith, I’m sorry you had to witness the scene you witnessed that night,” he said softly.

“So am I.”

“I tied to explain it to you then, but you wouldn’t let me. You were too busy bolting for the front door.”

She laughed, the sound an anxious ripple of uncertainty. “The last thing I wanted to do was get caught up in what was obviously a private family matter.”

Holt laughed, too, but his was a genuine sound of merriment. “Trust me, Faith, when I tell you that there was nothing private about what happened that night. Everyone who’s ever met Kit knows what kind of behavior she’s capable of indulging in.”

“So then it’s no secret to anyone in Louisville that your sister is a lush?”

Faith squeezed her eyes shut and covered them with her hands, appalled that she said such a thing out loud. She waited to see what Holt would say in response to her inexcusable, unforgivable gaffe. But when she finally corralled the nerve to open her eyes again, she found him smiling at her.

“You thought Kit was drunk that night?” he asked, barely containing his laughter. “Really?”

Faith nodded, growing more and more miserable with every passing moment. “And I’m just not comfortable around people who over-imbibe. In fact, anyone who shows signs of drunkenness tends to terrify me.”

But Holt wasn’t listening to her explanation, because he was too busy being doubled over in laughter.

“What?” she said, torn between her own troubling memories and his infectious good humor. “What’s so funny?”

He reined himself in, but a huge grin split his face, and all Faith could think was that she’d never seen him looking more handsome. “It just never occurred to me that anyone would think Kit’s a drunk, that’s all. She’s certainly a unique individual, but I’ve never seen her drunk in my life.”

“Well, what else would cause her to act the way she was acting? Why did her companion bring her in over his shoulder, kicking and screaming that way?”

Holt shook his head and chuckled some more. “That’s going to take a long time to explain, something I sincerely hope will make for an appropriate segue when I ask you out again at the end of this conversation. As for Kit’s behavior, well… That’s just the way she is. She was perfectly sober that night. So was Pendleton, for that matter.”

Faith began to smile, too. Eccentric she could handle. “So then there’s no deep dark secret in the McClellan household?” she asked. “No out-of-control, drunken family member doing something to embarrass the entire clan?”

Holt sobered at her jest. “Actually,” he said, “that’s not exactly true. We, uh, we do have a lush in the family, someone who has in fact embarrassed the McClellan clan on a number of occasions in the past.”

Her embarrassment rose to the fore, and she wondered how many more times she was going to say the wrong thing around this man before she finally learned her lesson. “You do?”

He nodded.

“Who?”

He hesitated for a moment, before revealing quietly, “Me.”

“You?”

He nodded again, and suddenly he looked older than Faith first thought him. “I’m a recovering alcoholic,” he stated evenly, having no trouble whatever putting voice to the words. “No one knows that outside my family, except for a counselor. No one but you. And no one else can ever know.”