“How well do you remember things from when you were that young?”
She didn’t know that felt like a brutal kick to his kidney.
But, Dad! You said we could go fishing! You promised.
There isn’t a single good thing he could have inherited from his father.
Gut roiling, he took a step toward her, until only the desk was a barricade between them. “The ones that count?” His voice was guttural. “A hell of a lot better than you seem to.”
Her chair squeaked as she recoiled from him. Noah was stunned to realize he’d bared his teeth. The worst part was seeing the expression on her face, one he knew too well.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” she shot back.
“Like you’re afraid of me.”
“My problems aren’t yours. You have no right to get mad at me.”
Oh, hell. Fighting for control, he turned his back on her for a moment. At last he felt able to face her again. “I’m not mad. I’m afraid for you.”
Eyes still dominating her face, she shook her head. “You’re angry.”
“Cait.” He wanted the grit to leave his voice but couldn’t seem to make it. “You…reminded me of things I’d rather not remember. That’s all. I was angry at other people, not you. Maybe even at myself because there’s so little I can do to keep you safe. Being ineffectual doesn’t sit well with me.”
For a long, quivering moment, she kept staring. “I don’t believe you,” she said. Only the faintest tremor betrayed her tension. “It was me. You would have remembered. You could probably pick the guy out of a lineup. Well, I’m sorry I can’t, but that’s the way it is.”
Her phone vibrated on the desk, and her gaze dropped to it. “That’ll be Colin. He’s letting me know he’s on his way to pick me up. You’ll have to excuse me, Noah.”
He couldn’t believe how badly he’d screwed up. He’d known she was abused as a child. What did he think, she was going to laugh it off when he was an asshole to her?
“Call him.” He let her hear his urgency. “Have dinner with me.”
She gave a small laugh that broke. “That’s just what I want to do.”
“Please.”
As if she hadn’t even heard, Cait yanked her giant bag from beneath the desk and rose. “I need to go.” She dropped the phone into it.
He wanted to block the doorway, make her listen. He might have done that if he’d known what to say. What he felt. What he really wanted.
But the truth was, he had no idea. So after a moment, he opened her door and stepped into the outer office, where a couple of other women were collecting handbags and getting ready to leave, too.
“Tomorrow, Cait,” he said gruffly and left before she could, the emotions he didn’t want to identify so goddamn tangled inside him, they constricted his lungs and maybe even the basic functioning of his heart.
He stayed late, because what did he have to go home to? Instead of Chandler’s—Do you ever eat anywhere else?—he continued down the block to the Kingfisher Café, where Nell and Cait had dined the day they ran into Jerry Hegland. He didn’t remember ever being in there.
He did recognize the woman who stepped out of the kitchen and glanced around shortly after he’d ordered, though. Her hair wasn’t the same color it had been when they’d met—had to be a meeting of the Association of Downtown Merchants, he decided. Then the short spiky hair had been hot pink; now it was turquoise. She’d been especially outspoken.
She saw him, raised her eyebrows and wound her way between tables until she reached his. “Mayor.”
He summoned a smile. “I’m afraid I don’t remember your name.”
“Hailey Allen.”
“That’s right. Pleasure to meet you again.”
“What brings you here?”
“Curiosity. Your café seems to be a favorite lunch spot for a lot of city hall workers.”
Satisfaction showed on her face. “That’s because I make fabulous food.”
If the good smells in here were any indication, she did. He grinned. “Have you eaten at Chandler’s?”