Summer of Fire - Linda Jacobs [105]
“Nice place.” Steve raised a brow.
Clare grinned. “I’ve slept in worse spots this summer.” In a tent with Deering, but they hadn’t actually slept, in a sleeping bag on the ground at Madison. “Even in the plain old dirt I’ve fallen asleep.”
Steve tossed Devon’s overstuffed duffel onto the floor. “I doubt if your daughter will be as forgiving of the accommodations.” His tone suggested he’d noticed the dark looks Devon had been giving him.
What could she expect? This was the first time Devon had ever seen her mother with a man other than her father. Clare sank onto one of the beds and lay back on the brown ribbed spread. “Sometimes being a mom wears me down.”
Steve rubbed the back of his neck and looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. If Christa had lived I think I’d be looking forward to even the teen years.”
“I’m sorry.” Clare sat up. “I didn’t think. “
“Don’t worry about it.” He sat on the opposite bed with a hand on each knee. “I owe you an apology, too.”
“For what?”
“For trying to mind your business. You and Deering are adults.”
She’d figured he’d forgiven her when he showed up in Jackson, but it was good to hear. “You were right about him being married.”
“I had it from the horse’s . . . “ His expression suggested he meant the opposite end from the mouth.
“I know you don’t like him,” she rushed on, “but he’s had a hell of a time this summer. Especially with his wife since the crash.”
Steve’s face went stony. “Which he has no doubt convinced you was my fault?”
“Not at all. I know the captain is always in charge.” Clare slid closer to the edge of her bed and leaned toward Steve. “I believe Deering does too.”
“Could have fooled me.”
This wasn’t working out like she’d hoped. She hadn’t intended Steve to think she was hearts and flowers for Deering’s tough luck.
Steve went on, “You have to admit that trouble at home is an old excuse for roving.”
Clare wondered if Jay had used that one, telling Elyssa his wife didn’t understand him.
She faced Steve across the space between the beds. “Let’s not argue about Deering. When he flew me to Jackson, he told me he still loves his wife.”
Steve’s shoulders looked tight. “So, where do you and he stand?”
Clare shook her head. “I’m not in the picture. I told him he should go back and fight for his wife if that’s what he wants.” She’d been fighting for Steve and so far, he didn’t seem to get it.
She put out her hand. His eyes went to it and his hands relaxed atop his legs.
“Clare,” he said softly.
She wondered how many times he’d said “Susan,” before his wife died, like breathing in and out. The way she’d said, “Jay.” “Steve,” she answered. Was she ready to feel that way about another man’s name?
He moved across and slid his weight onto her sagging bed beside her. Her pulse tripped.
From the corner of her eye, Clare caught a movement at the cabin door.
Steve swore under his breath, not quietly enough, for Devon’s penciled dark eyebrows formed a vee. Clare scrambled to her feet along with him, aware of how this must look.
“What have you been doing?” She went on the offensive. “I told you half an hour ago where the cabin was.” That was enough time to get into trouble; look at how close she’d just come with Steve.
“What would I be doing?” Devon ducked her head and shrugged a sullen shoulder. “What were you doing?” She nodded toward the rumpled bedspread and snapped on a light, destroying the cozy twilight.
“Devon,” Clare warned. “We’re talking about where you were.”
“I was walking around, for chrissake.” She flung her backpack onto the bed opposite Clare’s. “If you think I’m lying, why don’t you just read my goddamn mind like you always think you can?”
“I can read you,” Clare agreed. “When you dip your head and give that little shrug