Rogue's Revenge - By Gail MacMillan Page 0,35
the couch.
“Ambrosia to someone who used to live for days at a time on oatmeal and macaroni.”
Bullets of reality, his unexpected words shattered her image of him as always having been a tough, self-reliant street kid.
“You’re not serious,” she said, staring at him.
“Yeah, well…” He avoided her wide-eyed incredulity. “I guess being cold and hungry just now brought back a lot of ‘back in the day’ stuff.”
“So you became an outlaw…like Robin Hood?” she asked, remembering his innuendoes about an incarceration.
“Always the romantic, aren’t you?” He looked over at her, his eyes narrowing to yellow slits in the firelight. “No, I was just a street kid in secondhand clothes, out to make the world sorry it had kicked him in the teeth.”
“What did you do?”
“I told you. I stole a car. To top it off, I crashed it into a tree after a high-speed chase by police.” He replaced his soup bowl on the tray and hunched his shoulders into a stretch. “They can put you in jail for that kind of thing.” He leaned back on the couch and stared into the flames.
“And did they?” So he had been an outlaw, of sorts.
“Oh, yeah.” He pulled himself to his feet with a grimace and went to put a log on the fire. “They sure did.”
“Why would you do anything so foolish?” she asked. “If you felt you had to steal, why not food or clothes or…money? Something you could use?”
“Because I was mad as hell, fed up with never having what all the other kids seemed to take for granted, but mostly because I’d been humiliated by someone I thought really liked me.”
“A girl?” Allison asked softly and couldn’t help admiring his broad shoulders and narrow hips as he remained hunkered down in front of the fire, watching the new log begin to blaze.
“Yeah, a girl. A snotty rich girl whose homework I did for an entire term because she promised to go to a school dance with me in June.”
“And she didn’t?”
“She sure didn’t.” His words were a half caustic laugh, half sneer. “She let me come to her house all dressed up in a secondhand suit my mother had spent her last ten dollars to buy, a bunch of flowers I’d salvaged from a supermarket dumpster in my hand, then greeted me at the door with her real date and a bunch of her rich-kid friends. They were laughing up a storm.”
“Oh, my God.” The three words came out in a whispered gasp. “What did you do?”
“I did something really smart.” Sarcasm colored his words as he stood and turned to face her. “I stole her father’s BMW and wrapped it around a tree after a race with the RCMP.”
“Heath…” She tried to speak and failed. The image of a tall, gangly teenager in a shabby suit, his hopes and dreams shattered in one heinous moment of senseless cruelty, had formed a massive lump in her throat. “I’m sorry.”
“Go to bed. Just go to bed, will you?” His face in the flickering firelight was hard and cold, a twitch afflicting his jaw. “I don’t need any rich woman’s sympathy. You’re all a bunch of bitches.”
“Fine. Come along, Jack. We’ll leave Nasty Ned alone. He doesn’t need our company. I’m sure he’ll be able to amuse himself…tarring all financially secure women with the same brush.”
The poodle paused, looking up at Heath.
“Go on,” he waved a dismissive hand at the dog. “You belong with her.”
With a sigh, Jack turned away and followed Allison to her room.
****
“Coffee?” Allison stepped out onto the front veranda where Heath was replacing a rotted plank, two mugs in her hands. The bright, frosty morning raised steam from the cups and formed a misty barrier between them. Jack, who’d been at her heels, gave a joyful yelp and raced down the steps to run madly around the grounds.
“Thanks.” He got up, eyeing her suspiciously as he accepted the mug.
“Beautiful day.” She drew a deep breath of the crisp, clear air and savored it. “I’d almost forgotten how terrific early mornings are up here.”
“About last night.” He stared down into his cup. “I talked too much, courtesy of those painkillers.”
“Would you like me to forget it?”
“I’d be grateful.” He looked up at her.
“Done. Oh, look! A pair of black ducks. Probably coming to nest.”
He grunted and turned away.
“And just what is that supposed to mean?” She caught him by an arm.
“They won’t be coming much longer…not if this place is sold to National Realty.” He rested