In any man.
In Rick.
She was so close, she knew. Close to believing she too could have the happily ever after and stability that she’d always viewed from the outside looking in.
But lingering questions remained. Like what would she do with that all-encompassing fear of abandonment and betrayal? Where would she put the memories of being left and how could she overcome the years she’d spent teaching herself that being alone and moving from place to place was safer for her heart?
“Let’s go,” Rick muttered, breaking into her thoughts. He grabbed her hand and started for the field. “You owe me big time, little brother.” He was clearly not happy with being displaced by Roman.
Ten minutes later, they’d retrieved a blanket from the car and had joined the masses on the field. Despite the fact that they were surrounded by people, Kendall cuddled on a blanket with Rick. Music played from speakers around them and she couldn’t be more content. The show finally started with slides of Yorkshire Falls dating back to its founding.
Rick had been right. Though many of the pictures and some of the narrative were interesting, it made for more intimate moments under the stars than a movie that held anyone’s interest. Still, Kendall could see why it had become a town tradition and she was glad to know she’d been a part of it.
Rick pulled her closer, his arms wrapped around her waist and his face buried in her hair.
“Did you mean what you said earlier?” he asked.
She could pretend to not know what he meant but that wouldn’t be fair, not now that she knew his past and understood his latent fears. Turning so she could see his face, she met his serious gaze. “You mean about staying here?”
He nodded, saying nothing. But the way he looked at her—so full of longing and desire—sent shivers running through her. He waited for her to respond, like Rick, so full of patience and understanding.
And while he waited, his strong hands moved upward, brushing through her hair, tugging at her scalp, and creating both an erotic sensation and a sense of bonding and trust that slashed through her fears and reservations.
That made her want to trust for the first time. “Rick, I. . .”
He placed a finger over her lips. “Before you answer, there’s something I want you to know.”
He didn’t need to say anything. Everything she needed to see and hear was written on his expressive face. But he obviously needed to talk. “What is it?”
He cupped his palms against her cheeks. “I love you, Kendall.”
Her heart nearly stopped beating. Just as she’d reached a tentative agreement within herself, he offered her the ultimate, permanent expression of faith and commitment. One she wasn’t sure she knew how to return considering she’d never been shown how.
But she wanted to. He was a special man who deserved so much from life and he’d been denied it all for too long. He loved her. “Rick, I . . .”
Loud gasps all around cut off anything she’d been about to say. Kendall turned to see what the cause of the commotion could possibly be and jerked around toward the large screen that seconds earlier had held black and white, then sepia-toned pictures of the town. But instead of muted, boring photos, there was a huge, blown-up photograph Kendall recognized well.
She should considering she’d posed for it. Back when she’d needed money to get her aunt into the optimal nursing home and before Brian had come up with classier shoots, Kendall had posed for a lingerie catalogue in a variety of outfits. Some had included leather. In this one she held fur-lined handcuffs and a silk scarf. And though she’d never choose to wear or use the products she’d modeled, at the time, none of the photos had embarrassed or shamed her. Until now.
Because back then she’d been viewing the pictures in a sales catalogue, not in what was meant to be a display of town pride. The thought brought her back to her surroundings and she realized she was practically naked on screen, on display for the entire town to see. In front of all the people who respected Officer Rick Chandler and the rest of his family. It wasn’t just her reputation at stake, it was theirs too.
“Oh, my God. I have to get out of here.” She jumped out of Rick’s arms and stood, but as all eyes turned her way, she realized her mistake immediately.
Whoever had been focused on the photograph now turned their attention on the subject herself. Pointing, whispering, laughing. Kendall had become the immediate object of ridicule. Her face heated and flamed and waves of nausea washed over her. How had this happened?
Rick wrapped an arm around her waist and tried to nudge her forward. “Kendall, let’s go.”
But his voice barely penetrated the fog suddenly surrounding her. Glancing back, she saw the photograph had been replaced by a more recent one of First Street. The evidence was gone but the damage had been done, Kendall was forced to acknowledge. “I thought . . .”
“You can tell me whatever you thought later. Let me get you home first.”
She felt him push at her again, to get her to move but she remained rooted in place. “I thought I could finally belong.”
But obviously belonging wasn’t a word she’d ever have the right to use. The laughter, shocked gasps, and muted whispers of people she’d come to know and care about still rang in her ears, reminding her of her first day in the beauty salon, when folks had made it clear she was an outsider.
She always would be.
“You do belong,” Rick told her, hoping his words would penetrate. She belonged here in this town and to him.
Rick knew the people in Yorkshire Falls well and for the most part they were a warm, welcoming, forgiving lot. Minus a select few. Their reaction to the photograph had been borne of shock but no one would penalize Kendall for her choice in modeling jobs, of that he was certain.
However that didn’t take into account the photo’s immediate impact. The picture had been taken for the purpose of enticing buyers—men and women whose tastes ran for the extremely hot and sexy, and to the more eclectic games in the bedroom. And it had done its job well. When Rick closed his eyes, he saw Kendall in a leather bustier, her plump cle**age enticing him, her flat stomach calling to him. And though no one in town would hold a benign photograph or job against her, they wouldn’t quickly forget what they’d seen either.
Hell, he wouldn’t forget the sight of her in all that leather. Leather. He flashed back to the last time he’d seen a leather getup—on Lisa Burton. Come let me show you my props, she’d said and dangled a pair of fur-lined handcuffs at him. Son of a bitch, Rick thought.