Lauren? Who was Lauren?
Wait. Nola stomped down the initial flash of jealousy she had no business feeling after knowing this man only a few days and thought through the snippets of conversation she couldn’t help but overhear. She forced her feet to keep on carrying her across the living room, through the dining area toward the kitchen.
He had called Lauren “kiddo.” This must be the daughter he mentioned.
Emotions tangled in Nola’s stomach like two silver dog tag chains clenched too tightly in a fist. Her feet slowing, she willed her stomach to settle and worked to untwine the emotions so she could understand her feelings.
She’d learned the benefit of exploring the causes behind emotions during the darkest months of battle with her disease. Sometimes the process of digging for root causes only unearthed stark fears she couldn’t help. But other times, she’d excavated more tangible concerns that she could combat on a concrete level.
Struggling to recapture the tactic, she realized that relief emerged first, an obvious reaction. Rick wasn’t speaking to another woman. She didn’t have a claim or right to feel that way, but emotions weren’t logical. So there.
And then? The next silver chain… Far more intricate.
He had a child with his ex-wife. Nola pressed a hand to her stomach, less clenched but totally churning. She’d come to peace—at least somewhat—with the fact that she wouldn’t have children. Her insides had been so fried from the radiation. She could have had eggs frozen and stored…she’d considered it, and finally been too emotional to make any more decisions.
She’d been certain she wouldn’t marry again. Even facing life had been more than she could envision and if—a big if, that scared her to even consider—if she lived, a career was all she could consider.
So here she stood, with her career rock solid and a hot man in her house, a man who attracted her big-time. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to make a move for something she obviously wanted.
Sheesh. She’d faced combat in Iraq. Even been taken prisoner by an arms dealer during a mission gone rogue in South America. Still, here she was running from a man she’d already had wild monkey sex with, just because he might give her a warm wonderful kiss tasting of butter and blessed promise.
“Lauren?” His voice drifted from the other room. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”
Nola hooked her shaking fingers in her back pockets. The kid deal definitely freaked her out. He was a father. That put him in a new light, one that scared her. Why, she didn’t know since she didn’t want long-term.
Good golly, what a mess she made.
He cupped his hand over the phone. “Nola, could we put our conversation on hold for a few? It’s my daughter, Lauren.”
Uh-oh. She hadn’t realized she still stood in the kitchen doorway and he must want privacy. She’d thought she’d left. Yipes. This guy robbed her of awareness of her surroundings, a spooky thought for an independent woman who prided herself on her self-control.
From the sofa, Rick stared at Nola in the doorway and wondered who she’d thought he was speaking to. He didn’t have time to think that one through at the moment. His daughter’s tone set off alarms in his head.
Either way, Nola was hotfooting it into the kitchen as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough and Lauren was waiting on the other end of the line.
Rick slid his hand from the phone. “Hey, kiddo.”
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, Lauren? Everything okay?” he asked again, totally unsettled by the quiver in her voice.
“Sure, why do you ask?”
“You don’t sound so good, kiddo.”
“I’m just wondering where you are.”
How strange that she would ask. She never asked, trained from the cradle to know that her military father often couldn’t say where he’d gone. He hadn’t even told his ex about his medical retirement from the service, only that he’d been injured, not how seriously.
“I’m in Charleston, South Carolina.” There couldn’t be any harm in telling her that much.
She would assume he was TDY to the base there, perhaps on his way out to another assignment. He would explain more soon.
“Oh, well, I’d like to write to you, if you don’t mind. Could I have an address?”
“We have e-mail.”
“Sure, but I’ve got some things from school and all I want to share. Please, Daddy?”