“You didn’t. I imagine you gave up the disk voluntarily. No harm, no foul.”
“Easy for you to say. I don’t know about you, but I need my job. If I’m unemployed, my kids are homeless with nothing to eat. It’s a little more severe than just missing a Lexus payment.”
“You’re right, Emily.” His voice lowered. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. I’m sorry.”
His apology surprised her. Neither of her ex-husbands had ever admitted being wrong. Even Larry, when she’d caught him riding a two-bit cocktail waitress at the Lazy Eight Motel.
Of course, Larry had explained how it had all been Emily’s fault because she’d gained weight after Ryan’s birth. After all, he could hardly be held accountable when his wife was a fat cow, too tired to make love with her husband.
Though Emily had promptly kicked his sorry butt out of the house, a tiny part of her wondered if he’d been right. She’d even gone so far as to suggest marriage counseling. Thank goodness he’d refused, or she might still be trying to fix a hopeless relationship.
“Emily, are you there?”
“Yes, um, the other line’s ringing,” she lied. “I’ve got to go. Just leave me out of any future schemes, okay, Einstein?”
PATRICK JUGGLED pizza boxes and a plastic sack of two-liter bottles of soda. Somehow he managed to press the doorbell at Emily’s house with his elbow.
His gut told him this was a lame idea. But his conscience told him he’d gotten Emily in a lot of trouble and pizza was the least he could do.
Waiting expectantly, he hunkered down in his jacket. Clear skies, a trace of snow on the ground, it was going to be a cold night.
Finally, the door opened a crack.
Patrick bit back a groan. It figured. “Jason, hi, is your mother home?”
“She’s in the shower.”
The boy’s answer left Patrick nonplussed. He hadn’t thought she would have rushed in the door from work and jumped into the shower. “Oh. I, um, brought pizza.”
“Yeah, I can see.” The door widened a bit and Jason crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall. “She doesn’t want your pizza.” He looked Patrick up and down, his smirk leaving no doubt it was more than food he referred to.
Patrick might have been amused if he hadn’t had a history with the kid. As it was, he reminded himself he was the level-headed adult and should respond as such. “Can you let her know I’m here?”
“Like I said, she’s in the shower.”
“You can’t call through the bathroom door?”
“Nope. She sings in the shower. Real loud. And off-key.”
The visual made Patrick smile. He decided to take the bull by the horns, so to speak. “Okay, how about if I come in and wait?”
“No way. One of Mom’s rules. No guests while she’s in the shower.”
Recalling Jason’s interrupted wrestling match with his girlfriend the other night, Patrick realized the rule was probably prudent.
“Okay. I’ll wait out here, then.”
“She takes a really long shower.” Jason nodded toward the boxes Patrick held. “And hates pizza.”
“Oh.” Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. He was tempted to turn and leave. But remembering how much trouble he’d caused for Emily, he knew he had to try. “I’ll just wait out here on the steps, then.”
Jason shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
The door slammed in Patrick’s face.
Patrick surveyed the front porch. It was tidy, but bare. No comfy glider where he could park his rear. So he sat on the front step, the cold seeping through his Dockers almost immediately.
Ten minutes later, he hoped maybe Jason had been exaggerating.
Fifteen minutes later, he realized the pizza was stone-cold and he’d lost all sensation in his nose. His stomach rumbled. He figured the pizza couldn’t possibly get any colder and placed the boxes on the steps. He stood, rubbing his arms to warm them.
Twenty-five minutes later, Patrick rang the bell again.
“What?” Jason’s tone was belligerent when he opened the door.
“Surely, your mother is out of the shower now?”
“Nope. Told you she took a long shower. Why don’t you just leave.”
Why indeed? Because it had become a contest of wills. He would see Emily tonight if it killed him. And, if the temperature dropped any more rapidly, that was a very real possibility.
“I c-can wait.” He clamped his mouth shut to stop his teeth from chattering.
“Yeah, sure you can.” As the door swung shut, Patrick could have sworn he heard Jason call him a loser.
His pulse pounded. He had the urge to yank the door off the hinges and give the kid a piece of his mind. But he was here on a peacekeeping mission and yelling at Jason would hardly break the ice with Emily. He merely needed to harness his anger. Shrugging, he figured anger was probably a good thing—it’d keep his blood pumping and keep him from freezing to death.
He jogged in place, slapping his arms to increase circulation, for what seemed like hours. Patrick was about to concede defeat when headlights sliced through the night and Emily’s van pulled into the driveway.
“That little SOB,” Patrick swore through clenched teeth.
CHAPTER FIVE
EMILY PULLED INTO the driveway, wishing for the zillionth time the garage was uncluttered enough to actually house the car. A glance toward the dark porch confirmed that Jason hadn’t had the forethought to turn on the light for her. Sighing, she turned off the engine. It had been one heck of a long day.
She went around to the back of the van and opened the hatch. Grabbing several grocery sacks, she headed for the door.
“Need some help?” A male voice startled her. Peering into the gloom on the porch, she thought she detected a familiar form.
“Patrick, what are you doing here?”
“P-pizza. Peace offering. I’m sorry I got you in trouble.” The poor man appeared to be shivering. And his attempt at making things right made her view him a little more kindly.
“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“Yes, I did. Let me help you.” He took the groceries from her hands.
Ah, score more points for the science teacher. Emily was rapidly getting over being miffed at him for dragging her into the disk caper. “You look half-frozen. Why in the world didn’t you go inside?”
“Um, Jason said you were in the shower. No guests allowed while you’re in the shower.”
Emily slapped her hand over her mouth and groaned. “And you’ve been out here how long?”
He didn’t meet her eyes. “A few minutes.”
She got the impression it had been a lot longer than a few minutes. “I think Jason was being a little too concerned with the rules tonight.” She should be dancing a jig because he remembered them at all. But Jason’s selective enforcement suggested his adherence had been out of spite, not obedience.
“Which rule is that?” Patrick asked.
“The one where I asked the boys to tell people I’m in the shower when they’re here and I’m not. That way, some whacked-out