“Of course.” With that unusually cool, distant tone, she turned from him and walked toward the outside stairs.
“Wait.”
She didn’t, but he wasn’t surprised. He was beginning to know her better than he’d planned to, and she was stubborn as hell. With three easy strides, he caught up with her and gently took her arm, turning her to face him. “Please, Trisha. I want to talk to you.”
“No.”
One simple word, yet with layers of meaning behind it. Mostly panic. He understood some of that now, thanks to Celia, and his fury choked him. He wanted, quite badly, to go find her uncle and show him exactly what he thought of his child-rearing techniques. Though Hunter had never used physical force to prove anything, he found he wanted to do so now, quite violently. But that wouldn’t help Trisha.
“Come inside,” he said, trying to propel her resisting body toward the house.
She dug in her heels and he swore he could see steam coming from her ears. Frantically, he searched his mind for an incentive – women liked incentives, didn’t they? “I’ll make you dinner,” he offered quickly. “You must be starving after all that riding.”
She looked at him as if he were mad, and in truth, he felt that way. “No,” she said.
“Trisha, I -”
“I’m going upstairs now,” she said carefully, through her teeth. “I want you to go away and leave me alone.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t do that,” he said with regret.
“Yes, you can!” she cried, pulling her arm free. “Just go on with your cozy little neat life, the way you always do. And leave me a-alone!”
Her voice cracked on the last word, breaking his heart, and he reached for her again. She tried to evade him, and for a moment they stood grappling under the glare of the porch light.
Hunter heard the footsteps first. A couple, out for an evening stroll, watched them curiously as they passed, obviously drawn by the raised voices.
“Go away,” Trisha whispered to him in a hiss as she raised a hand and smiled at their audience.
“Not until we talk,” he said between his teeth.
The next-door neighbor chose that moment to pull up his driveway, the headlights of his car illuminating them. Trisha closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
In that flash of time Hunter could see her clearly, the paleness of her usually flushed skin, the near translucence of her eyelids, the faint purple circles beneath them. Sick, he lifted his hands from her shoulders and sighed.
Mutinously, she stared at him, looking so damn vulnerable it made him ache for her. “Okay, that’s it.” As gently as he possibly could, he took her hand and tugged her close. “Inside. Your place or mine?”
“Not with you. Not again.” Her jaw tightened and she tried to pull away, but he held firm.
“To talk, Trisha.”
“I don’t want to talk.”
“I realize that,” he said conversationally, pulling her as nicely as he could toward the stairs. No, he decided, changing direction in midstride, not her place. Too many memories for her there. He changed directions, heading to his front door.
“If you don’t let go of me, I’ll scream,” she warned.
She would, too. His heart aching, for he hated what he had to do, he stopped and turned to face her. “Go ahead, it might make you feel better.”
“You have no idea what will make me feel better. I -”
“I know why you’re upset, Trisha. I know why you flipped out about my selling this place. We’ve got to talk about it.”
“No, no we don’t.” She took a deep breath, visibly tried to pull herself together. “Look, I’m sorry about tonight, okay?” Now she smiled, and he could only call it such because she showed her teeth.
“I’ve been working a lot,” she said. “And not sleeping as much as I should… the usual working-girl stuff, that’s all. I’m just cranky.” She backed up several steps.
“You are not just cranky,” he said. “You had a panic attack.”
Now she stepped off his porch, still walking backward. “It’s all in how you perceive it,” she told him. “And I -”
“Did you hear me, Trisha?” he asked her softly, not chasing her. “I said I know. I know what’s wrong with you.”
“Yeah. I need to go to bed.” Nervous energy practically rose off her in waves. A bubble of laughter escaped. “Alone,” she added swiftly.
Time to play the ace. “Trisha.”
“Good night -”
“You moved eighteen times in eighteen years.”
Turning dead white, she stopped short, nearly tripping. “What – what did you say?” she whispered.
“You were forced to wear the god-awful secondhand clothes your aunt purchased for you. Ugly clothes she purposely bought too big because you matured so early. She needed to make certain you were so unattractive, no one would look twice at you. She was afraid you’d become easy otherwise.” God, the expression on her face killed him. As he thought this she whirled, poised to run.
“It didn’t matter, though,” he said hoarsely to her stiff, proud back. “Because you just stuck out all the more. Moving so constantly didn’t help.”
Trisha froze, so still she could have been a statue.
“When you’d cry at night, your aunt would spray holy water on you and command you to stop being evil and wanting material things.”
Her shoulders hunched defensively, and he longed to hold her, but he couldn’t give in to the urge, not yet. “They stopped giving you a separate bedroom, so you couldn’t escape, making you sleep in the living room where anyone could see you. You never had even a small space you could call your own.”
Until now, he thought, with a sharp pang of regret.
Trisha still didn’t move.
“College was good,” he continued quietly. “You stayed in the dorm, though you had to work night and day to come up with the tuition money since you had no family willing to help. Directly after graduation, you came here, mortgaged yourself to the gills, and bought your store. Your aunt and uncle nearly had heart failure, but you haven’t had to move since.”
“You realize, of course, I’m going to have to kill Celia now,” she said finally, in a voice so low he almost missed it.
Even now, in a moment of deep anguish, she could resort to sarcasm. He guessed it was her only defense. “She was worried sick. Now I know why.”
“Lots of kids have it worse.”
Not many, not even him. “What you’ve done with your life is pretty terrific,” he said, daring to come up close behind her. “Running a successful business -”
She let out a short laugh. “You haven’t seen the books.”
“You’ve made something of your life,” he said softly.
“Stop it.” Slowly, she turned to face him, her dark eyes shimmering with so much pain it stole his breath. “Just stop it. So you know why I’m so attached to this place. Big deal. Doesn’t help much in the face of your plans… and don’t you dare tell me you’re going to change them because of what Celia told you. I wouldn’t believe you.”
He had no idea what to say or do next, and the helpless feeling ate at him.
“I’m going in,” she said quietly, crossing her arms over her middle. “I’m cold and I want to change.” With a quiet dignity that tugged at his heart, she attempted to smooth down her hair as she walked past him, her chin high. The forest-green suit she wore was made of a clingy material that emphasized each graceful swing of her hips. Watching her walk caused the predictable male physical response, but for Hunter it went far deeper than that.
She dressed the way she did because for the first time in her life, she was free to do as she pleased. Free to wear clothes that fit her body, free to pick and choose what she did with her time and with whom. So much about her suddenly made sense now, and for the first time since she’d literally fallen into his arms weeks ago in his bathroom, he felt as if he knew her, understood her.