Before she made it, I heard her murmur, “Who woulda thought I’d ever prefer it in Flag with Mom and fuckin’ Knuckles?”

I felt Buck’s arm tense around my legs, and I sucked in breath.

Then I heard the door close.

I let out my breath, thinking, oh dear.

I waited until afternoon, after Buck made the best French toast I’d ever tasted, and after I’d made grilled cheese for him and Gear for lunch, probably not the best they’d ever tasted.

I wasn’t a bad cook, especially considering I’d never had anyone teach me, so I was entirely self-taught, and whenever that happened, it was bound to be hit or miss.

But Buck had natural talent, and I couldn’t say I had that with cooking.

Or with anything.

As they had between breakfast and lunch, after lunch, the Hardy men disappeared back under the hood of the Nova outside and I made another grilled cheese sandwich, put it on a plate, grabbed a Diet Coke and walked to Tatiana’s closed door.

I knocked and walked in when I heard her impatient, “What?”

“It’s me,” I announced, closing the door behind me and walking in to see her sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, her phone on the mattress, the vampire novel opened and facedown next to her phone, what looked like a journal balanced on her knee, a pen in her hand.

She narrowed her eyes at me, flipped the journal facedown and set it on the bed too.

“Can I help you?” she asked snottily.

I walked to the nightstand, put the plate and diet on it and then walked back to the corner of the bed.

“Thought you might want something to eat,” I told her.

“Thanks, Toots,” she mocked, tossed the pen to the bed and picked up her phone.

Bending her head to it, her thumbs started flying over the screen.

“I get you,” I told her, and she ignored me, so I pulled in a huge breath and carried on, “I grew up in foster care.”

“Poor you,” she muttered, obviously hit send, then tossed her phone to the bed again and grabbed her vampire novel before lying back on the pillows and lifting the novel in front of her face.

I persevered.

“I never really had a dad, so I can see you being territorial when you’ve got a good one.”

“It’s so cool you understand,” she lied to her book.

“A few days ago,” I pressed on, “my best friend’s husband, who is not a good guy, but who I had to work with so he wouldn’t hurt my friend, which he was doing in bad ways I won’t share, picked me up, beat the heck out of me and tossed me out of a moving vehicle. Your dad arranged for me to receive medical help and then he arranged for my protection.”

She moved the book an inch aside and her eyes came to me.

“So you’re here because he’s protecting you?” she asked, perfectly arched brows up.

“Yes,” I answered.

“And you’re payin’ him back by fuckin’ him?”

I sucked in breath.

Clearly, even the female Hardys didn’t shy away from that word.

I didn’t get into that.

I said quietly, “No.”

“You sleep on the couch?”

“No.”

“You sleep with him.”

“Yes.”

“What, you only do blowjobs as payback for protection?” she asked snidely.

I held her eyes.

I pulled breath in through my nostrils.

Then I said softly, “Never, in my life, have I met a good man. Not in my life. You’re lucky, Tatiana, you were born to one, so you’ll keep being lucky because you know what to look for. I wasn’t that lucky. Not until now. I get you, honey. I get what it feels like to wake up every day and be in a place you don’t want to be. I totally get that. What you need to get is that, as terrible as that is, you know, right to your soul, that there’s someone out there who you mean to the world to, who cares about you, who worries about you and who likes you close, even though he can’t have that and he can’t give it to you. You know that you can’t wake every day feeling safe, knowing that person is in the house, but you can get to him. I’m sorry things aren’t good at home, but you’ll one day rest in the knowledge that you had something good and you’ll be grateful for it. You don’t have to be nice to me, but you and me, we can keep that between us. For your dad’s sake, though, I’m asking you to pretend. He deserves that, and I’m just guessing here, but I think you know it.”

I didn’t give her the chance to respond.

I stopped talking, turned and walked right out of her room, closing the door quietly behind me.

I went to the living room, stretched out on the couch and clicked through programs, looking for reruns of Dynasty.

The time wasn’t right, so I had to make do with CHiPs.

I preferred Dynasty because Alexis Carrington Colby Dexter had a great wardrobe and was good with a catty one-liner.

But it had to be said, Officer Poncherello was not hard on the eyes.

So I was back with as good as I could get.

And again…

It didn’t stink.

15

Do You Need CPR?

Tatiana emerged in time for Buck to take us to the Valley Inn for dinner.

I had never had occasion to frequent the area where Buck lived (in other words, until I found myself living there, I’d never been).

Thus, I found the Valley Inn was a no-nonsense but comfortable place that catered directly to the local clientele.

This being, as far as I could see, bikers, cowboys and mountain people, all who maybe worked in the city, but they didn’t want to live there.

In other words, they served two things at the Valley Inn: Mexican food and steaks.

And I would find, on the Mexican food side of things, they did it really well.

I had chili rellenos and topped up my body’s supply of margaritas.

Tatiana didn’t throw attitude and was mostly silent.

Buck matched her silence, and I suspected he did it to concentrate on his Badass Biker Dad Attitude-o-Meter. I suspected this because he kept a close eye on his daughter and seemed prepared to take her down a notch should she mouth off or act in any other way like a brat.

This left me and Gear carrying on the conversation, which, as it had in the beginning, came easy, mainly because Gear was easygoing, easily likeable and easy to talk to.

I learned that Gear was playing the field, never had a steady girlfriend, and after he graduated from high school, he wanted to join his dad’s MC and work with the guys in some capacity at Ace in the Hole.

Though, not in the store.

On the contracting side of things.

“Thinkin’ electrician,” he said between huge bites of prime rib. “Though might do it all, ’cept plumbing, ’cause…gross.”

On my side of things, Gear (and Tatie, if she was listening) learned I’d divorced a jerk, was between jobs, and my best friends were a woman on the run and a Mexican American woman old enough to be my grandmother.

Gear suggested that Mrs. Jimenez be invited up to Buck’s house the next weekend they were there so she could give her cultural stamp of approval to his dad’s enchiladas. Though I sensed he did this only partly because he was a friendly, sociable guy and wanted to meet Mrs. Jimenez, but mostly he did it as an excuse for his dad to make enchiladas again.