Perfect Fit (Serendipity's Finest) - By Carly Phillips Page 0,21

“It takes more guts to stay away knowing someone’s hurting. But sometimes there’s nothing you can do.”

She nodded. “That’s just it. I can’t help her unless she wants help. I can’t fix the situation unless she changes it.”

“Was it always like this?” he asked, hoping the one question didn’t send her into full retreat.

“It’s always been a roller coaster. The lows depended on whether he was holding down a job. If things were good, he’d manage his liquor. If something went wrong, it was everyone else’s fault and he’d dive into the booze. The more he drank, the louder and uglier it became at home.”

Now that Cara knew Mike wasn’t judging, she seemed more willing to open up to him, for which he was grateful. But one question hovered in his mind, begging to be voiced, one he wasn’t sure she’d want him to ask.

He shouldn’t. And yet he couldn’t not. “Did he…did your father ever…”

“Hit me?” She finished the question for him.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded harsh, gruff to his own ears.

“No.”

Mike released the breath he’d been holding.

“But not because he didn’t want to. It was the one thing my mother managed to control, at least when I was younger. She said she’d have stabbed him if he touched me, and I think he believed her. But she couldn’t do it for herself. He said she deserved it, and she came to believe it.” Cara shook her head. “And as I got older, I stayed out of the house as often as possible.”

She stared at the table, and yet he knew what she was thinking.

“Don’t feel guilty for taking care of yourself,” he said quietly. “That was your parents’ job. Your mom obviously did the best she could for you, if not for herself. And your dad failed as a parent. So did mine. I’m just lucky I had Simon.” Even if he’d never live up to the man and his legacy, Mike thought.

“How did you know what I was thinking?” Cara asked.

Because he was coming to know and understand her. But that wasn’t something he wanted to share. “Lucky guess.” He forced an easy grin. “Feeling better?”

“I didn’t even touch my tea, but yeah, I am. Thanks for being a friend.”

He didn’t miss her emphasis on the word friend, and he didn’t understand why the distinction bothered him so much. They’d been frantic for each other earlier, but that was just sex. Wasn’t it?

Mike paid, and, to his surprise, Cara didn’t argue. He walked her to her car, pausing by the Jeep, unwilling to part ways with her just yet. Though he knew they’d have to get together to discuss strategy on looking into the cold case and Simon’s involvement, it wasn’t something he wanted to bring up now.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he found himself asking instead.

She blinked up at him, her eyes wide-open windows to her soul. “Nothing special. Why?”

“I thought you might like to come to my parents’ house for dinner.” Had he really just asked her to join him at a family event?

She worried her bottom lip, making him want to lean in for a long taste. Not the time, he thought. She’d gone back to skittish.

“Are you sure your parents wouldn’t mind?” she asked, bringing his thoughts back to where they belonged.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? My mother loves to cook, and we both know she adores you.”

Cara flushed. “She’s sweet. But aren’t Sunday nights for family?”

Was it his imagination or did he hear longing in her voice with that word?

“You’re like family to them.” Not that he felt the least bit familial toward her, which made him wonder why he wasn’t letting her off the hook for this dinner gracefully.

“Well, if you’re sure.” She looked up at him with grateful blue eyes, and he had his answer.

She wanted to join him as much as he wanted her there. “I am,” he said gruffly.

She nodded her thanks. “I’ll call your mom and see what I can bring.”

Mike already knew Ella would just tell Cara to bring herself. “Come by their house around five.”

“Okay.” Her smile lit up something inside him. She reached for her door handle.

“Cara.”

She pivoted back to face him.

Unable to stop himself, he lifted his hand and stroked his knuckles down her cheek. “Get a good night’s sleep,” he said gruffly.

At his touch, her cheeks turned a rosy red that had nothing to do with the cold air. “I will. Night, Mike.” She ducked her head, opened the door,