Hold Me (Fool's Gold #16)(47)

“What do you mean?”

“New town, new sister, indoor plumbing.”

She put her hands on her hips. Amusement pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Are you mocking my time living off the land?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’ll have you know that I learned a lot, and there is much to be said for a simpler life.”

“And the indoor plumbing?”

She sat on the desk across from his and laughed. “I’ll admit I really, really love it. Hot water, especially. And flush toilets. A brilliant invention.”

“Agreed.” He studied her for a second, letting his gaze linger over the good parts. “I can’t picture you running barefoot through fields, picking wildflowers.”

“Probably because I never did. I wasn’t staying in some idealized TV world. My grandmother lived simply, which meant she had to do most of the work herself. Fruits and vegetables don’t can themselves. And when you’re snowed in for a few weeks at a time, there’s no running to the corner market.”

She smiled as she spoke, as if the memories were good ones. He was glad about that. Given the little he knew about how things had been with her parents, she hadn’t had an easy time of it. Kids needed stability. He hadn’t realized that when he’d been young, but once he’d moved in with his coach and had seen what a normal family was like, he’d finally been able to relax. He suspected Destiny’s Grandma Nell had provided the same escape for her.

“I wish she was still alive,” she admitted. “Not just because I miss her, although I do. Every day. But because of Starr. I think she’s happy, but I’m not sure. We’re connecting more. I’m trying to listen more than I talk, which is actually harder than it sounds.”

“What about the things you have in common? She’s into music, and it’s got to be in your veins.”

Destiny drew her braid over her shoulder, then smoothed her hair before tossing it back. “I’ve been teaching her to play the guitar, and next we’re going to move on to my keyboard. She has talent, which helps. She’s a quick study. But then she wants to talk about the business, and I’m not the right person. I’ve always done my best to avoid it, which she can’t understand.”

“Even singing the way you do? You were never tempted?”

“Not at all. Life on the road is not the fun fest everyone imagines. There’s constant pressure to be visible and at the same time to be productive. Which doesn’t work for me. I need peace and quiet when I write music.”

“You write songs?”

She winced, then flushed. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

“Not possible. Can you sing one for me?”

“No. They’re private.”

Secrets, he thought, wondering why she was so reticent. He didn’t know the first thing about how one went about writing a song, but he would guess it wasn’t hard for the words to get personal. Wouldn’t a songwriter have to pull from his or her own experience? Or at the very least, observation? That would mean exposing a piece of the writer’s soul. From what he’d learned about Destiny, she liked emotional distance between herself and everyone else. Which could be part of the problem with Starr.

“You write the songs for yourself?” he asked.

“No. I just write them. I don’t have a choice.”

Simple words, but there was something in her tone. Sadness, maybe? Resignation?

Without having a plan, he straightened, grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. She rose slowly and stepped into his embrace. Once she was there, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head.

“Don’t worry,” he told her. “I’ll keep you safe.”

“I don’t need protecting.”

“Sure you do. Everyone does from something.”

“So what scares you?”

“Not being able to take care of the people who matter to me.”

Because of what had happened with his father, stepmother and Shelby, he thought, remembering what it had been like to be trapped in a hospital bed a half-world away from his sister. Mayor Marsha had promised to keep her safe and in return, he’d come here and taken over the HERO program.

“You’re a really good guy,” Destiny told him, her body warm against his. “You sure you don’t want to try my sensible relationship plan?”

A sexless marriage? “Not until you try things my way first.”

She chuckled, then looked up at him. “That is never going to happen.”

“Did you know I competed professionally? Are you sure you want to challenge me?”

She smiled. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Then game on.”

CHAPTER TEN

“MY NAME IS Charlie Stryker, and I’m in charge.”

Kipling recognized the woman speaking. She was tall and broad-shouldered, with a lot of upper body strength. She didn’t move like a pregnant woman, probably because she clearly worked out on a regular basis. She was a firefighter, and Kipling figured anyone would feel a lot better when she showed up at the scene of a disaster. Charlie exuded confidence and competency.

She stood with her hands on her hips. Her gaze was steady, as if she didn’t expect trouble, but would handle it if it came along.