Took a few seconds, but eventually, she shifted her gaze from his and slumped back into the floral cushions, muttering a steady stream of words he was probably better off not hearing. A reluctant smile twitched his lips. He had to admire her fighting spirit—even though she had no hope of winning.
A pretty, dark-haired woman with big brown eyes walked into the room, passed Robert and Colt, then took a seat on the coffee table in front of Penny. Reaching out, she took Penny’s hands in hers and squeezed. “The twins are fine. They’re sound asleep and since it was so late in the afternoon, we fed them their dinner, too. I know it’s a little early, but with any luck, they’ll sleep the night through and give you some rest.”
“Thanks, Maria. I really appreciate you stepping in to help.”
“We both appreciate it,” Colton said.
Finally, the woman lifted her gaze to his and there was no warmth in her eyes. She looked him up and down and Colt had the distinct impression she was less than impressed. He almost smiled again. He admired loyalty, too.
“Of course we helped,” she said coolly. “Penny had no one else.”
“Maria...” Robert gave a sigh.
Colt shook his head and waved one hand, dismissing Robert’s objection. Now he knew two new things about Penny. Her little brother was willing to use his fists to defend her, and her friend Maria was Penny’s staunch ally. Still, all three of them had better get used to how things were going to be. “Now she does have someone else.”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” Maria turned her gaze back to Penny and said, “If you need anything, just call. Honestly, I can be over in minutes.”
Penny laughed a little. “I will. Promise.”
“Good.” Nodding abruptly, Maria leaned forward, kissed Penny’s cheek and said, “We’ll go now. I’m sure you two have plenty to talk about.”
“Oh, you don’t have to leave so soon.”
“Yeah, they do,” Colt argued, and Penny shot him a hard glare. Didn’t bode well for their “discussion” but that wouldn’t have gone well in any case, he assured himself.
“Okay then,” Robert announced and took Maria’s hand in his, drawing her up from her perch on the edge of the table. “Remember, if you need something, call.”
Then it was just the two of them. Colton didn’t even know where to begin. There was a lot he wanted to know and even more he needed to know—things like why bother buying and using condoms if they clearly didn’t work? An existential question he’d have to explore more completely later. There were plenty of other things he wanted to know, though.
But at the moment, damned if he could think of a thing to say. Instead, he stared down at the woman he’d married and divorced within the span of a week and tried not to notice just how blasted vulnerable she looked. Hard to have the kind of argument that was waiting for them when the woman was just out of the hospital.
Hospital.
That word conjured up old mental images that threatened to choke him. He had promised to be there in Penny’s room that morning, but hadn’t been able to do it. Couldn’t force himself to walk back into that building. Into a place so filled with the scent of fear and misery, so thick with memories that Colt felt them surrounding him, burying him. Even now, his mind was opening the door to the darkness that hid deep within his past. Shadows rushed out and spilled through his body like black paint, covering everything in its path.
Shaken right down to the bone, Colt reached out blindly and grabbed hold of the anger that was his salvation. If he could just focus on the situation facing him now and shut down the past, he’d get through this. As he’d done so many times before.
“Are you okay?”
“What?” He surfaced from the tangled thoughts in his mind like a surfer trying to breathe through sea foam. “What? Oh. Yeah. I’m fine.”
She didn’t look convinced, but that didn’t bother him. The real problem here was that he was still drawn to her. Still felt that nearly magnetic pull that he’d felt so long ago. What was it about her, he asked himself, that tugged at everything inside him? And why the hell couldn’t he get rid of it?
Trying to avoid looking at Penny, he glanced around the small beach cottage and really noticed it for the first time.
The rooms were small and painted a soft yellow that looked as though sunbeams lived in the walls. An old, stone-faced fireplace stood along one side of the room, with built-in bookcases on either side.
A painting of the sea hung on the wall above the hearth, and around the room, old but comfortable-looking furniture sprawled, inviting people to come in and take it easy. Reading lamps sat on the end tables and there was a huge plastic tub filled with toys beneath the front window.
Off the living room was a hall that probably led to the bedrooms and a dining room with a door beyond that was undoubtedly hiding the kitchen. It was a typical cottage, no doubt built in the forties for long weekends at the beach. The rooms were small, the yard tiny and if you had claustrophobia you wouldn’t last out the weekend. But there were charms in these old neighborhoods, too. Close to the beach, on a quiet night, you could hear the surf. Decades-old trees lined the streets and their roots caused sidewalks to ripple like waves. And any time the city tried to pull down the trees to make the sidewalks even, the neighborhoods came out in full fight mode.
Places like this never changed.
“You hungry?” he asked suddenly, to break the silence.
“I’ll make something in a minute,” she said and eased back into the cushions of the couch.
“I’ll make it.” When she looked at him in surprise, he almost laughed. He’d been on his own for a long time and though he had a housekeeper, he’d never bothered to hire a cook. Hell, he wasn’t home often enough to justify it. “I’m not completely helpless in the kitchen.”
“That’s not what you said—” Her voice trailed away.
“What?”
She shook her head and stared up at the ceiling. Old, smoke-stained beams divided the cream-colored plaster. “That week we were together, you told me that you and your twin once set fire to your aunt’s kitchen when you were trying to make French toast.”
He frowned to himself. He didn’t remember telling her that, and knowing that he obviously had told her confused the hell out of him. Colt didn’t usually share much of himself with women—hell, with anyone. He didn’t want the closeness and didn’t crave what women always seemed to enjoy—the baring of souls. Who the hell wanted a naked soul?
He gave her a tight smile. “Been a long time since the fire in the kitchen. I’m not bad with chicken or pasta, though I’m the first to admit I’m not a chef. But I make great phone calls for takeout.”
She laughed a little, then winced, and Colt felt a twinge in response. But when she spoke, all sympathy for her drained away.
“Look, Colt, I know we have to talk but I’m just too tired to deal with you tonight.” She sighed a little. “Why don’t you go home and we’ll talk in a day or two?”
“Go home?” He repeated it because he couldn’t believe she would even suggest it. He was here now and he wasn’t leaving. Not yet, anyway. “And who takes care of the twins while you sit here on the couch and chew at your lip?”
She stopped that instantly and fired a look at him. “I can manage. I always do.”
“No,”