Saving Alyssa. Loree Lough
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Название: Saving Alyssa
Автор: Loree Lough
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781472074324
isbn:
“What do you wish?” Melissa asked.
“I wish you’d write to me, once you’re all settled in your new place.”
“Oh, I will. And you’ll write back, won’t you?”
“You bet I will.” George winked. “Sure am gonna miss you, kiddo.”
“Daddy says our new ’partment has a sophie-bed. You could visit anytime you want.” She looked at Nate. “Right, Daddy?”
Oh, how he loved this kid! “George,” he said, “our sophie-bed is your sophie-bed.”
Ten minutes into the half-hour drive to O’Hare, Melissa dozed off.
“So you’re comfortable, working with Max?” George asked.
Comfortable. What a weird choice of words. Nate pictured Agent Maxine Colson, who, after hearing about the nightmares, hand-flapping and stammering that plagued Melissa right after her mother’s death, had pulled strings and called in favors. Not only had she secured authorization to line up a child specialist, Max had also gotten permission to Skype with Melissa during those critical in-between months, easing the transition. During their often hours-long daily sessions, she’d listened patiently as Melissa recounted her days, recited entire plot lines of cartoons and movies she’d watched, and read The Velveteen Rabbit...seven times. Melissa was comfortable with the pretty redhead, and that was good enough for Nate. Still...
“I don’t think I’ll ever be comfortable with a stranger again.”
Nodding, the agent stared straight ahead. “I hear ya. But Max is good people. I know, ’cause I worked with her before she transferred to the Baltimore office. She’s great with kids, and keeps a secret better than a priest in the confessional. If you have problems, you can trust her with ’em.”
Nate snorted.
“Cynic,” George teased. “But mark my words, you’ll change your mind about her.”
His imagination? Or was there an unspoken “People in your shoes always do” at the end of George’s statement? Not that it mattered. Nate had no intention of unburdening himself with the woman. As far as he was concerned, she had one purpose: to keep Melissa safe.
Correction. Alyssa. He’d better get used to calling her that. Better get used to referring to himself as Noah Preston, too. Nate Judson, former assistant district attorney for the city of Chicago, former husband of Jillian, former part-time law professor at the University of Illinois at Chicago, was as good as dead.
Yeah, he’d cooperate.
But he didn’t have to like it.
CHAPTER TWO
Three years later...
WALKING THE BROKEN mountain bike uphill would have been a challenge even without her sprained ankle. Billie hoped the owner of Ike’s Bikes had earned his reputation as the guy who could fix anything, because the Cannondale had cost, used, almost as much as her four-cylinder pickup had, new.
She rolled the bike between two others in the rack—a McLaren Venge, easily eighteen thousand dollars, and the slightly more affordable Scott Spark Limited. After clicking her spokes lock into place, Billie noticed movement on the other side of the shop’s floor-to-ceiling door. The owner of the Venge, she presumed, garbed head to toe in Gucci, just like her ex had worn.
A tinny bell announced her entrance, and Gucci waved. Billie pretended not to notice by sliding onto a stool at the counter and leafing through a dog-eared copy of Bicycling Magazine.
“Be right with you,” called a DJ-deep voice from the back room.
Billie tensed. If the shop’s regulars dressed like Gucci, could she afford to have Ike repair the Cannondale?
Another customer—a guy in threadbare jeans and a paint-spattered T-shirt—appeared from the back room, nodding a cordial hello to her, then Gucci, as he left the shop.
“Been riding long?” Gucci asked her.
“Not really.”
And though she hadn’t encouraged conversation, he launched into the story of how his first bike had been a Cannondale. A great way to break into the sport, he said, without breaking the bank. But Billie barely heard him because she was too busy remembering how she’d come into possession of hers: her obstetrician had recommended mountain biking as a great way to get back into shape, physically and emotionally, after Billie’s baby was stillborn. Dr. Ryan had recently upgraded to a SuperSix, and made her a deal on the Cannondale she hadn’t been able to refuse.
Gucci pointed. “So what happened to the ankle?”
“Tripped.” He didn’t need to know that she’d taken a curve too fast and skidded off the trail on Pennsylvania’s Highland Plateau.
“Name’s Jeff, by the way.” He took a step closer, stuck out his right hand. “Jeff Graham.”
“Billie,” she said, shaking it. “Nice to meet you.” She wasn’t pleased to meet him, because his looks reminded her too much of her ex-husband, and triggered memories of the ugliness that had begun once he’d discovered her antibiotics had canceled out her birth control. Chuck had used the surprise pregnancy as an excuse to come clean about everything he’d been up to, including his affair with Amber. She hadn’t been his first dalliance, and probably wouldn’t be his last, but she’d do for now, because he didn’t want kids, and neither did she. As if the awful truth hadn’t hurt enough, he had accused Billie of getting pregnant on purpose, to trap him into staying.
“So I noticed you walked your bike here.” Jeff nodded toward the rack out front. “You must live nearby.”
She shook off the bad memory. “Couple of blocks.”
“I live in Oella,” he said, pointing east. “Rehabbed a hundred-year-old row house.”
He wasn’t guilty of anything, really, just making polite conversation, like any normal person. It wasn’t his fault that she hadn’t felt normal since Chuck had told her he was leaving, and that he refused to have anything to do with their child. Would he have stayed if he’d known the baby would die, even before she was born? Friends and family said they understood how losing her husband and child in the same calendar year could break her spirit. But that had been two whole years ago, they said; she’d healed physically, and it was long past time to get over it psychologically. Besides, what chance did she have of finding love or having another baby if she judged every man by Chuck’s callous behavior?
Get over it, indeed. If they saw the way she reacted to baby food commercials, kids in playgrounds and moms pushing their babies in strollers, they’d know Billie felt anything but strong. At least, not strong enough to survive loss like that again.
“Took years,” Jeff was saying, “but the place looks pretty good now, if I do say so myself.”
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