Blow - Kim Karr Page 0,80

the door, I couldn’t breathe. I felt as if I’d stabbed myself in the heart.

Guns, I could handle. The torture of high-society galas—a piece of cake. Fuck, even the threat of physical pain didn’t faze me anymore. But women—I didn’t know a damn thing about how to cope with their feelings. Just the word feelings had my stomach in knots.

I let out a forced breath. At least I’d told her just how serious things were. She needed to know. Thinking about it now, I felt a surge of relief. And something else—a strange feeling I couldn’t quite describe.

Fucking feelings.

Toughening up, I looked at the situation realistically. Elle could be angry with me if she wanted, but she wasn’t going out alone. I winced that I’d told her she should leave. Like I’d let her. There was no fucking way that was happening. I needed to learn to tame my temper around her because I could tell she wasn’t going to make excuses for me.

Time to get ready. I grabbed my sweatshirt, hat, and sunglasses that were thrown on the chair from the other day, and then I slipped my gun into my back holster where I always carried it.

While I waited, I glanced out the window. The Charles River was glassy with the sun reflecting off it. Spring was close and the dead of winter was gone. I stared out at the Boston skyline and the in-between stage the city was in. Most of trees were bare, but some were starting to bloom. Within the next month, the Public Garden would be filled with blooming cherry blossoms and the swan boat would be in full gear. Busying my thoughts with random facts about the city helped distract me from what was blooming within myself. That was one thing I didn’t want to come to life.

I won’t say she snuck up on me, but let’s just say I didn’t hear the pitter-patter of Clementine’s tiny feet, until I felt someone tugging on my pants.

“Up,” she demanded.

With a glance down, I froze like a deer in headlights.

She tugged again. “Up,” she repeated.

She wanted me to pick her up?

With uncertainty, I glanced toward the doorway just as Elle entered the room. “Come on, Clementine—we’ll go outside where you can see the ducks better,” she said.

When I looked back out the window, I noticed the flock of ducks. Funny, I hadn’t before. “You want to see them?” I asked Clementine, pointing out the window.

The cute little thing nodded with glee.

Unable to deny her, I picked her up under her arms and put her on my hip like I’d seen Elle do.

She leaned toward the glass until her forehead was touching it and started saying, “Duck, duck, quack-quack.”

Her excitement was contagious and with a genuine smile on my face, I turned toward Elle to say something but paused for a moment just to look at her. Her hair was pulled back, but still it appeared untamed.

Beautiful.

Like her.

The thought of taming her or better yet, never taming her, had my blood pumping. Her ginger locks still bounced, even tied back, as she wheeled the empty stroller to the door. They were mesmerizing. I watched her until I realized she was gathering her bags and getting ready to leave. And then my heart felt like it was swinging at a ball and missing the contact with each try. Like I just couldn’t win no matter how hard I tried, but this time, I really wanted to.

With a gruff voice, I said, “Hey, leave that stuff. We’ll figure out what to do with it after we take a walk through the Public Garden.”

It was my way of apologizing.

“We?” she said with a tense, forced smile.

“Yes, I’m coming.” My eyes lingered on hers and I figured I should add, “If that’s okay.”

Elle shrugged coolly. “I guess so. If you want to.”

I was going whether she said yes or no. Still, I was glad she hadn’t said no. However, the frosty response didn’t feel so great. I don’t know what I expected, though. I’d been a real ass. I had some amends to make—obviously. Yet the only way I knew how to handle awkward situations with the ladies was through humor, so I smirked and said, “By the way, we call it the Garden, not the park.”

Her return smile was genuine. “Right. The Boston Public Garden or the Boston Common. I usually run along the paths on the shores of the river and I haven’t ventured into either yet.”

“You’re a