She sighed. “You’re so lucky to have family that cares that much about you.”
He squeezed her closer, as if sensing the sensitive and painful nature of the topic. “You’ve met my mother. There are obviously pros and cons to my kind of close family,” he said, wryly. “I wasn’t into reporting the news but we all worked the paper after school, regardless. I hated it and after I’d ditched one too many assignments, Chase stuck me with Chief Ellis. He figured if I had to report on him hauling the juvenile delinquents into jail, I’d straighten out. As usual, in his know-it-all way, big brother was right. I found my calling.”
Kendall laughed. “He sounds more like big daddy than big brother.”
“Only when we were watching. Chase had his own social life when he could squeeze it in. I can’t prove it, but I’m sure of it anyway. But he did make certain we all walked the straight and narrow, which except for Roman’s foray into women’s underwear wasn’t all that hard.”
“What!?!”
Rick grinned. “Roman played the ultimate prank. When he was sixteen he stole a girl’s underwear. I believe you met the victim. Terri Whitehall.”
“That bitch?” Remembering the starched collared, prim woman, Kendall laughed harder. “So that explains why he was blamed for the panty thefts this past spring.” The Chandler brother seemed to be the stuff of town lore and Kendall had heard many stories during her excursions to the General Store for food or housecleaning supplies.
Rick nodded. “No way it could have been Roman. Mom made him pay for his crime way back when. He had to hand wash his boxers and hang them out to dry on a clothesline on the front lawn. The girls came to watch and laugh. Cured him forever.”
She rolled her eyes. “You Chandlers were a handful, weren’t you?”
“Spirited, Mom called it. Chase just said we were a pain in the ass.” Rick chuckled, knowing that despite all the ups and downs of being a Chandler, he was damn lucky as Kendall had said.
She obviously hadn’t been as fortunate. “Tell me about your parents,” he said.
“Tell me about your marriage,” she countered.
He sucked in a deep breath. No way would he discuss his ex-wife with Kendall. Jillian was his past. He’d put her behind him long ago.
But if that was true, then why didn’t he want to confide in Kendall now, a taunting voice asked. Because to bring up that pain might force him to raise more barriers against Kendall, to protect himself from being hurt worse than when Jillian had chosen another man and life over him. Kendall had already made the decision to leave and Rick had no intention of dredging up past feelings that would cause him to shut her out. Until she left, he wanted nothing keeping them apart.
He flipped over and pinned her on her back, her arms against the mattress. “I’m skilled in the art of interrogation,” he said with a grin. “Do you really think you can deter me?” It wasn’t lost on him that his groin had settled between her legs, his desire obvious despite the barrier of clothes.
She let out a forced sigh that came out sounding more like an aroused moan. “Well, if you’re going to use torture tactics, I suppose I have no choice but to talk,” she said in a breathless, husky voice.
He was glad he affected her but it didn’t change what he needed and for now that was information. For all her independence, by her own admission Kendall never had a stable family life. As an adult, she was obviously still running from something. At least that was Rick’s take on things. Maybe if he understood the what he could work on changing her views. He didn’t hold out hope but he had to try.
Rick Chandler never gave up without a fight. “I want to know how their absence affected you,” he said, speaking of her parents.
“It didn’t.”
But she shifted her gaze away from his, making her words the self-protective lie he’d already suspected. “Kendall?” He released his grasp on one of her hands and turned her chin so she had no choice but to face him. “I suspect it was a lonely childhood.”
“I had family,” she said, sounding way too defensive. “What’s the longest you lived with any one of your relatives?”
“Two years, maybe three. I had a lot of family to choose between,” she said too lightly.
He opted not to ask her why none offered stability by asking to stay with them permanently. His goal was for them to grow closer, not to cause her pain.
She let out a sigh. “I think isolationism must be the family motto. My mother has two sisters and a brother, my father has a brother. Each did their duty. None wanted a child that wasn’t theirs permanently underfoot.”
She surprised him by digging into the topic he’d opted not to touch. Realizing how difficult it must be to reach inside herself and open up, he remained silent and let her reveal more on her own.
“Except for Aunt Crystal.” Kendall’s eyes lit up at the memory of her most beloved relative. “That was the best time. I was ten and I don’t remember all that much but a lot of love. And cookies.” She smiled, a warm, tender glow on her cheeks. “Even after I left because the arthritis hit her hands first and she knew she wouldn’t be able to take care of a young child, she wrote every week . . . or I thought she wrote. I realized later she dictated the letters to a friend.”
“The point is she cared.”
Kendall nodded, then swallowed hard. A lone tear dripped down her cheek.
He hadn’t wanted to dredge up painful memories, but he’d accomplished his goal. She’d let him in.
