Beyond the Rules by Doranna Durgin Read Free Book Online

had drawn him in, the one shouting I don’t need anybody when in fact she needed everything. Someone to accept and love her for who she was, just for starters. Petite but carrying hard, toned muscle, lightning-fast in reaction and as quick in improvised strategy as she was on her feet. Features saved from being cute by the hard line of her jaw and the look in her deep, clear blue eyes. And because being honest with Kimmer was the only option, Rio said, “No. Hank is not a good guest, or a welcome one. But it’s not about him, it’s about you.”
    “Exactly.” She gave an assertive nod, and if Rio didn’t know her so well he might have missed that faint tremble in her chin. “It’s about me never forgetting the things my family taught me—even if they didn’t mean to.” Not entirelytrue; Rio knew by now that Kimmer’s battered mother had deliberately left her with a set of rules to live by. “And I guess there’s no hope if I haven’t at least managed to learn that men like Hank will own you—if you let them.”
    “That’s not—” Rio started and then stopped, because he could see that the conversation was over, that Kimmer had gone to that place where her past very much ruled her, even if in a way she’d never acknowledge. She hesitated a moment, clad in lightweight drawstring pants and a French-cut T-shirt, and Rio’s experienced eye saw vulnerability beneath that hard edge. When she turned away, it was to stalk out to the front porch on bare feet that had been wrapped in sports tape at heel and ball to cover the damage the day had wrought—tree bark, asphalt, gouging bits of stick and gravel had all left their mark.
    Rio had thrown his socks away, but they’d lasted long enough to leave him with little more than a few pebble bruises.
    He lost himself in the appreciation of watching her walk away, and then he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, trying to call up the moments when he’d had her in his lap and they’d manage to forget—mostly—that Hank was here, and all the things he’d brought with him. Goonboys. Troubled past. A really bad attitude. And then he sighed and told himself, “Walk the talk, Ryobe Carlsen.”
    That meant switching off the heating pad and getting up to walk silently into the next room, where he interposed himself between Hank and the television and said, “I’ll make some coffee. Go out and talk to your sister.”
    Hank couldn’t have looked more startled. His gaze flicked past Rio to the television and then out to the front porch. Rio made his point by turning off the television. Before Hank’sopen mouth could emit words, Rio jerked a thumb at the front porch. “Go. Talk. She saved your ass today.” And then, as Hank slowly, uncertainly, stood, Rio added a low-toned, “And be nice. Don’t crowd her. Don’t boss her. Just try saying thank you.”
    Of course Hank had to open his mouth. “Kinda looks like she’s got you pussy-whipped.”
    “You think so?” Rio cocked his head to consider it. “You know what? I don’t. Maybe you and I will have a talk about that another time. For now, you want that coffee? You go be nice.”
    Hank shook his head, a gesture of disgust—at just exactly what, Rio wasn’t sure. And didn’t care. Hank headed for the front porch—and Rio found himself walking in the wrong direction to make coffee. He found himself following Kimmer’s brother, stopping to hover within earshot through the screen door.
    Hank, diplomat and master of subtlety, let the screen slam behind him, shattering what peace the porch might have offered Kimmer. “There you are,” he said, and it somehow sounded accusing, as if Kimmer had deliberately inconvenienced him by choosing to sit out in the cool spring night. Rio could see her there in his mind’s eye—on the porch swing, her shoulders wrapped with the crocheted afghan she kept out there. “I guess what ol’ Leo said was right, then. You sure did handle those guys. I was kinda hoping to