Sweet Surrender(12)

“Okay, Pop, I’ll see you when I see you then.”

They rang off, and she replaced the receiver, still chuckling.

“Yeah, yeah,” Micah grumbled as he shoved himself out of his seat. “I could hear Pop all the way over here. I swear he has this place bugged.”

Nathan laughed. “I wouldn’t put it past the old fart.”

They waved at Faith then trudged out of her office. Quiet descended over the building. She leaned way back in her chair and stared at the ceiling.

Three years. For three years she’d lived an idyllic life. At times it was hard to remember the years before Pop and Connor had come for her. Then Pop had adopted her. Yeah, sure, she was an adult. A woman full grown, but she’d burst into tears when he’d told her of his desire to adopt her and legally make her his daughter. It was the first true sense of belonging she’d experienced.

And now her circle had grown to Nathan and Micah. It was an atmosphere she was comfortable in. Finally at home. Now if only her mother would fall off the face of the earth.

She eyed the phone, willing it to stay silent.

With a sound of disgust, she whirled around in her chair and stood. She would not allow her mother to ruin her day, week, month…okay year.

She stalked out of her office and made her rounds to the other offices to collect outgoing mail. When she had a sizable pile, she lumped it onto her desk to wait for the mail carrier. Then she busied herself going over the new job contracts, flagging the ones that needed Pop’s signature.

At noon, she pulled out the lunch she’d brought from home and ate it while fielding phone calls from potential clients. Micah called to say he and Nathan wouldn’t be back into the office and would be working late. Then Pop called to tell her to go home early and that he’d lock up when he came through later in the afternoon.

She smiled as she hung up. Pop always seemed to know when she wasn’t her best. He never asked intrusive questions, but he worried over her just the same. That kind of unconditional love was comforting.

The phone rang again, and she picked it up, expecting to hear Pop again. He usually got sidetracked when he called and would forget what he’d called for in the first place. Which precipitated an immediate call back ninety percent of the time.

“Malone’s,” she said cheerfully, prepared to tease Pop.

“Faith, baby, we need to talk.”

Faith closed her eyes, and her lunch burned a hole in her stomach.

“Faith, are you there? I need to talk to you.”

“I’m here,” Faith said faintly.

“I need some money,” her mother said, forgoing her usual cajoling. “I’m in a bind, baby.”

“I can’t help you this time,” Faith gritted out. “I’d appreciate it if you would quit calling.”

A shocked silence fell between them. “Faith, you don’t mean that. I’m your mother. You can’t just cut me out of your life. I need your help. You can’t turn away from me. After all I’ve done for you.”

Rage curdled Faith’s system. Her vision blurred as the anger built. “All you’ve done for me? You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve, Celia. What have you ever done for me? I’m happy now. I have a nice life. Without you. I can’t help you. I won’t help you. Not this time. Not ever again. Please don’t call me again.”

She slammed the phone down, her breath coming in ragged spurts. Her hands trembled, and she felt dangerously close to vomiting. She closed her mouth and sucked in deep breaths through her nose, willing the nausea to pass.

When her stomach settled, she surged up from her chair, making a grab for her keys and purse. She needed some air. Needed to get away before she succumbed to the urge to start throwing things.





CHAPTER 5




G ray stepped into Cattleman’s Bar and Grill and headed for the bar area, intent on throwing back a cold beer. Connor had introduced him to the local pub, a place he and the other guys gathered at after work several days a week.

When he walked around the divider that separated the bar from the eating area, he was surprised to see Faith sitting on the far side, her legs dangling off the high barstool. One elbow rested on the bar top, and her other hand stirred a drink with the straw.

He walked forward, but she never looked up. She seemed lost in her own world, not a happy one either. He slid onto the stool next to hers and motioned for the bartender.

She glanced up at him in surprise as he ordered his beer.

“You and I seemed to have developed a habit of bumping into each other,” she murmured.

He smiled. “I’m not following you, if that’s what you’re implying. I’ve been here every day after work. First time I’ve seen you here.”