If Looks Could Kill

He used his foot to push out the chair opposite from him. “Have a seat, Madison.”

She sat. Not because she wanted to be with him, he thought, but because she was so shaken.

“Want a drink?” he asked.

She shook her head, blue eyes intently on him. “I’m still working. So…when did this all come about?”

He shrugged. “I was told last week I was coming down to give some assistance on a local investigation. Your father invited me here for the weekend.”

“You’re staying at my father’s house?”

He nodded, wondering why her blunt hostility was so disturbing to him. He ignored that question and instead said, “Your band is good.”

“Yeah,” she said, still just staring at him.

“I heard about your divorce. I’m sorry about that. I thought you kids were good together.”

“It’s all been over quite a while now. You needn’t be concerned.”

“Look, Madison, I’m really sorry if you have a problem with this. Your dad invited me down. I didn’t know you’d be here, and it wouldn’t have occurred to me that it would upset you even if I had known you were here.”

“I’m not upset,” she snapped quickly.

“Angry,” he said.

“Surprised, is all.”

“I can’t imagine why your father didn’t mention it to you.”

Her lashes lowered. Maybe she knew why, he thought. Maybe she and Jordan weren’t getting along. They were both temperamental, and sometimes argued passionately, though they loved one another dearly.

“Have you talked to your dad this week?”

Madison didn’t answer. The waitress was hovering near, watching her. “Did you want a soda, Madison? Some mineral water?”

Madison kept staring at Kyle. “No, I’ll have a draft.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“A draft, please,” Madison repeated.

“But—” the waitress began. Madison looked at her, and the other woman shrugged and walked away.

Kyle grinned. “I was trying to buy you a drink. Let me put it on my tab.”

“This is my father’s place. I don’t need to put my drinks on your tab.”

Kyle straightened in his seat, then leaned forward. “Look, Madison, I’m at fault here. I was pretty rude the last time we met, but—”

“You weren’t rude, you were hateful.”

He shook his head painfully. “Madison, my wife had just died.”

“And I was very sorry,” she said quietly. “And you treated me as if were the Wicked Witch of the West, straight out of Oz, as if I’d somehow caused it to happen.”

“Look—”

“No, you look, Kyle. I don’t understand my sense of second sight. God knows, I don’t want it. But I can’t make things happen, and I’m not—” She broke off, a look of pain flashing across her beautiful features.

“You’re not what?”

She shook her head.

The waitress returned, setting her beer in front of her. Madison thanked the woman as Kyle leaned forward.

“I’m not different from anyone else,” she said through gritted teeth. She picked up the beer and drank it down. She didn’t chug, he noticed. Or, if she did, it didn’t look like chugging. Madison was too elegant for that.

“Madison, I’m trying to say I’m sorry. We were family once, close family—”

Her mug landed back on the table. “You’re not my family, Kyle. You were my stepbrother, but my mother died. You’re not my family. We’re not related—”

“We were family, a totally dysfunctional family. Remember? That’s what you always called us. But you’re right, I’m not your brother. Still, death doesn’t change relationships, and I’d like to make peace—”

“You were the one firing off the ammo,” she reminded him politely.

“And I’m asking for your forgiveness.”

“What? Won’t Dad let you use his boat if I don’t think it’s just great that you’re back?”

He smiled, shaking his head. “Madison, you’re acting like a brat. First, my job pays decently—I could rent a boat if I needed one. Secondly, you’re overestimating your power over your parent. He has his own mind.”

“Oh, really?” She started to sip her beer, then realized her glass was empty. She looked around, as if she wanted another. Quickly.

Kyle leaned closer, somewhat amused. “I don’t think you should be drinking yourself silly—over me. Don’t you have another set to do?”

“I’d never drink myself silly over you, Kyle Montgomery. I’m just so damned mad—”

“Ah! So you are hostile.”

“Hostile? That’s an understatement.”

“I hurt you, Madison. And I’m sorry.”

“Since we’re talking about overestimating things, I think you’re overestimating your power, Kyle. You don’t have the power to hurt me.”

He shrugged, looking around. He saw the waitress and motioned to her. “I’ll take another beer, please—honey.”

He’d added the last on purpose. The waitress didn’t notice, but Madison winced.