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Chapter Thirteen
"Ayla, I didn't mean-"
Ayla didn't stop to listen as she stormed from the room, and Regan winced as he heard the door slam.
Dammit! Crazy woman won't leave me alone, she's smothering me! he thought. She'll be back in a few minutes.
But Ayla didn't come back. Two hours later, Regan was cursing himself.
Real smooth, Regan, he thought cantankerously. You finally find a nice girl to fall for and you rail at her. Constantly.
Running a hand through his hair, he rolled onto his side. He really wanted a shower. Then he remembered he couldn't really reach down to dry his legs. Ayla did it for him.
"Damn," he muttered. Ok, no biggie. He'd just air dry his lower half.
In the bathroom he reached for the shower and sighed as he remembered it was a tub-shower combination, and he couldn't bend down to turn the water on or flip the switch to the shower. Ayla always turned it on for him. For a moment he stood glaring at the offending apparatus, then carefully eased his way into a squat and reached for the handle. After a moment of struggling and a flash of pain through his lower back, he rose again, smirking as the water was running.
A moment later his smile vanished when he realized the shampoo was out of his reach. Regan cursed his height for the first time in his life. Managing a couple more squats, he was able to secure what he needed.
When he reached for a towel, he sighed. Ayla had been doing laundry. There were no clean or dry towels.
For several minutes, Regan stood in the bathroom, dripping wet as he waited to air dry, his temper brewing more by the minute. Ayla knew he couldn't function quite on his own. As the pain throbbed through his back, his temper boiled. She had done this on purpose. She felt trapped anyway, guilty for Pluto throwing him. Now she resented him. Fine, he was just as resentful he couldn't get up and go riding, or tend his horses or anything else related to his job and life!
Managing to get a pair of sweatpants from his drawer, a spasm seized his lower back and he almost fell as the pain paralyzed him for a few seconds. Gasping at the pain, he managed to get to the bed, and lay down. Reaching for the oxycodone, he downed three and lay on his back, waiting for the floaty blissful feeling to take over. As he drifted, he thought about Ayla, wishing she was lying next to him.
He was being a class a jerk, he knew it. He shouldn’t have snapped at her this morning. Or last night. Or the day before. In fact, he was snapping at her a lot, he thought dimly. That wasn’t right. Regan loved her. Sure, love was new enough to him, but she didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of his anger. Ayla was eaten up with guilt over the accident, and while he didn’t blame her, Regan had stopped telling her so.
If he could just control his temper. He had gotten better at it the last few years, but now…he was constantly grumpy and cranky. Even Dan had called him on it twice recently. Regan knew Ayla talked to Dan frequently, which bothered him. His nephew was very popular with the ladies, and Ayla was a beautiful woman. Would she fall prey to Dan’s charm, if he turned it on her? No, she was loyal to him, through guilt, he thought.
Maybe that was the change, he thought as his body relaxed into a drug induced stupor. She was only with him now because of the guilt. Feeling sorry for him. Regan would be mad if the drugs hadn’t crept in and started taking over.
***
Ayla scowled as she handed over her credit card. She wasn't even sure what she had been buying, but she was loaded down with bags holding shoe boxes, and a couple of dress bags. In her mind, Ayla knew she’d end up donating most of what she just purchased, but she didn’t care. Her foul mood was only slightly lessened now.
Now she dropped the bag of cosmetics into one of the bigger bags. She didn't even like makeup, but she liked buying it. She'd probably never wear the colors she had just purchased, but the moisturizer could be handy.
Several hundred dollars blown, she winced. What a waste. She should have just written a check to the shelter. This week she was going back to full time volunteering; she needed space from Regan.
Bill Regan. The man who was permanently on her mind. The rising sexual tension was driving them both crazy and adding to his crankiness. He kept trying to be amorous and she was terrified of hurting him, that she found herself shying away. Then he’d get frustrated with her and an argument would ensue.
Ayla wasn’t sure how much more she could take. His constant grumpiness, the criticisms, it was all getting to her. She suspected he was taking too many pills, they were disappearing quickly.
"Ayla? Ayla Martin, is that you?"
Weary, she turned to see a tall, slender man about her age with precisely highlighted blond hair.
"Howard," she said flatly. The handsome tennis instructor beamed at her.
"I couldn’t believe that was you! Here, let me help you with those."
"No, really, I don't need-" But he had already grabbed some of her purchases.
"I haven't seen you in ages!" He was still beaming. Ayla wasn't.
"I've been busy."
"So I hear. You're dating a jockey or something? Heard he had an accident."
"Something like that," Ayla narrowed her eyes. Why was Howard fishing for information?
"Hey, don't get your back up. I was just curious."
"Not your business," she answered, less than polite.
"I can see you're in a lovely mood. Retail therapy huh?"
"Not that it's your business, but yes," she sighed. Her head was beginning to pound. Why did she have to run into Howard Osted? They had dated briefly last year. She lost interest around the third date and when he tried to get her clothes off after encouraging some heavy drinking on her part, she called it quits.
"You look kind of pale. Want to get some coffee?"
Not with him, but Ayla knew she had already been a bit rude. Plus she was tired, upset and hurt. "Fine," she agreed grudgingly. Maybe Howard wasn’t likely to bite her head off if she put too much sugar in her coffee.
Several moments later they were sitting at the café within the mall, and Ayla was blissfully sipping a large vanilla latte.
"So, tell about this man of yours," Howard smiled. Ayla hesitated.
"He's perfect for me. He's tall, strong, handsome, caring, loves animals and has a temper to match mine. He thinks for himself and owns his own business. He's partners with Matthew Wheeler; yes I see that impresses you. In short, he's everything that you aren't," she answered coolly.
"My my, Ayla, you are catty today," he said with a smirk.
"No, you just bring out the best in me," she chuckled, sipping her drink.
His dark eyes turned serious. “Look, Ayla, about last year, I really apologize. I was a total ass and my behavior was inexcusable.”
“You got that right,” she replied, but she noted how his features softened and the red polo shirt brought out his eyes. He was nice looking, she admitted, in the polished, metrosexual pretty boy way.
“It really was. I’ve almost called you a dozen times, but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me, and then I heard you were pretty serious with someone, so I figured it was best left alone.” He gave her a small smile. “Then I saw you at that counter and you looked so sad, well, it just struck a nerve with me.”
Ayla studied him, wondering if he was being sincere. Regan had been so mean and cantankerous lately, it was nice to be in the company of a gentleman.
“I’m having a bad day,” she said softly. He reached over and covered her free hand with his. She noted how smooth and weak his hands were, nails buffed. Completely different from Bill’s rough, calloused hands that she loved to feel on her.
“I can see that. And I hope your guy didn’t cause it, because if he did, then he’s a fool,” Howard said quietly. “I was stupid enough to let a beautiful, wonderful woman like you get away, I hope he isn’t, too.”
Ayla couldn’t help but smile at him. This wasn’t the Howard she remembered, something in him had definitely changed. And it was so nice to hear something flattering from a male. Regan didn’t tell her she was beautiful anymore.
“Thanks. I’m just…a bit worn out,” she sighed.
“I hate to see those beautiful eyes of yours so sad,” Howard squeezed her hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, thank you,” she said firmly. “It’s rather private.”
“Of course, I understand.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. “Would you be willing to let me take you out to dinner? You look like you need a nice night out.”
Ayla hesitated. Was it possible he had really changed? He seemed so sincere, and it had been so long since she had been out with Bill…
“It’s just dinner,” he said soothingly. “We can catch up.”
Ayla bit her lip. I really should tell him to stick it, she thought. I should go back to Bill's and check on him. Of course, he'll probably just tell me he's a big boy and he can handle himself and I’m just smothering him some more, she added bitterly.
Looking across the table at the gentle, smiling dark eyes, she made up her mind.
***
Dan pulled into Ayla's parking garage. Tom had called him earlier, to say he found Regan doped up and delirious. Tom managed to put Regan's slurrings together and deduce he and Ayla had had a fight. Through Regan's nonsensical ramblings, he determined Regan had yelled at Ayla about hovering. After a stop at Regan’s to check on his uncle and berate him for being a jerk again, he had headed to Ayla’s apartment, before he planned to go home and catch some sleep.
Why do I get myself involved in this? They're adults. Hell, they're older than me, he thought with a sigh. Because you want Uncle Bill to be happy and you know Ayla is the woman for him, another voice said. You have no plans to fall in love so at least one man in your family should be happy.
Waving to the doorman, Dan walked through the glass doors and punched the elevator button. He was still in uniform, forgetting the young man at the front desk liked to check him out in it.
"Officer Mangan," a soft voice purred. Turning, he smiled when he recognized the pretty brunette. Short and slender, she had run into him in the elevator more than once. Last time she had given him her apartment number and a clear invitation.
"Shelly," he rolled her name off his tongue easily. Dan never forgot a name or face. Especially a pretty female one.
"Did you come to see me?" she batted her big dark eyes at him as the doors slid open and they stepped into the elevator.
"I actually came to see someone else, but I won't be staying long." His eyes roamed over her. She dressed well, curves accentuated in all the right places, well tailored clothing with just enough of a neckline to tantalize without being trashy, hair done nicely. Pretty little thing.
The elevator dinged and the doors open. Before she stepped out she turned and ran her hand down his chest.
"Well, if you need a little recreational fun, no strings attached, you know where I am,” She winked at him, her message clear as she stepped off the elevator and sashayed down the hall, leaving Dan with a smile and the urge to forget seeing Ayla.
Then the door slid shut and he went up to the next floor.
As the doors slid open, Dan stepped out, and paused. Ayla was leaning against her door, but what startled him was the young man pressed up against her, pinning her shoulders to the door as he kissed her.
Dan's jaw dropped as Ayla managed to push the man back.
"What the hell are you doing, Howard?" she demanded.
"Aw come on, you’ve been teasing me all night!" he protested. Ayla turned and opened her door.
"You haven’t changed a bit! I was damn clear earlier-"
Howard shoved her inside and shut the door behind him. Dan sprinted forward.
"Get out of my apartment!" Ayla hissed, tossing her purchases down. “How dare you!”
Howard’s eyes were hard and dark. "Hell, no baby. You been flashing that smile at me all night, working me up good. Sitting close to me, touching me."
“What the hell? You picked the smallest booth in the restaurant and your leg was against mine. You think I was coming onto you?” she demanded.
“Quit playing, Ayla. You knew what I had in mind from the moment you agreed to go out with me tonight.”
"You go from plying women with alcohol to straight out rape?" she demanded, clenching her fists. "You low down son of a bitch!"
"Come here," Howard reached for her and the door flew open. Dan busted in, as Ayla sidestepped Howard and swung her fist into his jaw. The blow sent Howard backwards and he fell against the couch, flying backwards over it.
Dan stared at Ayla, whose blue eyes were flashing fire and temper.
"Nice shot," he commented.
"Crazy son of a bitch!" was her answer as she glared at Howard, who was struggling to his feet. Dan moved quickly and grabbed him by the arm.
"NYPD, buddy. And unless you want me to haul you in on attempted assault, attempted rape and whatever else I can think of, I suggest you get your scrawny ass out of here."
"You impudent brat! I'll have your badge! I have connections! You don’t know who you’re messing with!" Howard hissed, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth.
"Neither do you. And let me spell my name for you. M-A-N-G-A-N." he smirked.
Howard glared at Dan, then Ayla, and left.
"You all right?" Dan asked, reaching out for her.
Ayla nodded, disgusted to find herself shaking. She let Dan envelope her in a hug, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.
"Who was the creep?" Dan asked.
"Guy I used to date," she murmured, and gave him a brief recap of the afternoon. "That's the kind of guy I was expected to date. Someone in ‘station’ and social class. Before I met Bill, that is. My mother still wants me to date men like Howard. She sees them as nothing but a stepping stone to more social prominence. God forbid I actually fall in love with a real man like your uncle."
Dan hid his smile.
"What happened this afternoon?" he asked.
"Bill called you?" she looked up at him, surprised.
"Of course not. Tom did. Uncle Bill decided to self medicate. In fact, I think he's been doing a lot of that the last few weeks, from the way you and Tom have described his moodiness."
Ayla nodded, pulling away from Dan's comforting embrace and running her hands through her thick hair. "He's been so up and down, and goes into these . . . rages where he just yells at me, and today I couldn’t take anymore. I walked out. But the other times he's as sweet as always, and affectionate. The Bill I fell in love with."
"I think Uncle Bill is a bit too dependent on those pain pills," Dan said quietly. Ayla nodded.
"I know he'd never yell at me, normally, but today he was just off and started yelling about how I'm smothering him and he can do it by himself and he doesn't need me-" her ocean blue eyes filled with tears and Dan found himself comforting her once again, her golden head tucked against his neck.
"Hey, Uncle Bill does have a temper, but I know he'd never say that kind of stuff to you if he was in his right mind. It was the pain talking. Or withdrawal from the pills. The stuff they gave him is highly addictive."
"It still hurt," she said softly.
"I know." Dan rested his cheek against her soft hair. "But I also know Uncle Bill is crazy about you. I've never seen him so taken with someone. Which is why I really think he's got a dependency issue. His temper blows, and goes over quickly, but for him to be this
grumpy...isn't right. It's also a huge adjustment for him. He's been independent since he was seventeen. Suddenly he can't even really dress himself, let alone go take care of his horses. It's killing him."
"I just want to help," Ayla looked up at him and Dan suddenly realized his heart was pounding in his ears. The urge to kiss her was overwhelming. He knew he was on dangerous ground here, and had been for a couple weeks now. He thought about her entirely too much. "I'm so in love with him, Dan."
That was the cold water he needed. Ayla was devoted to Regan. Dan wiped her tears gently with his thumb. "I know. And he may not admit it, but I think he's in love with you. We just need to get him back on track and off those pain pills."
Ayla nodded and stepped away, running a hand through her hair. "It's really late, Dan. Do you want to stay? The couch is pretty comfortable."
Dan shook his head. "No, I’m going to head home. But thanks. I'm off tomorrow so I'll go by and check on Uncle Bill again. Give him a couple days to cool off and then go see him."
Ayla nodded, and a moment later, Dan was gone. Ayla went to draw a bath.
Lighting the ginger scented candles, she disrobed and stepped into the bath. Sinking into the large Jacuzzi tub, she settled the bath pillow behind her neck and closed her eyes, trying to breathe steadily.
An addiction to the oxycodone would explain a lot. Ayla had been trying not to think that Regan’s personality shifts were influenced by the medication and withdrawals, but she knew Dan was right.
Tears poked at her eyes. She wouldn’t let Regan see her cry, but he wasn’t here now. He wouldn’t be hooked on painkillers if she hadn’t distracted him the day of the accident. Things would be good, they’d be in love, spending their time together and maybe building a future.
Instead they argued constantly, he snapped at her, she snapped back.
It’s really my fault, she thought despairingly, no matter what Bill or Dan says. And that was something that hadn’t gone unnoticed. Bill no longer reassured her that the accident wasn’t her fault. Did he think it was?
Bill Regan was so unlike the men she was used to knowing. He was strong, physically and spiritually, intense on all levels, serious, but quick minded. Hot tempered, stubborn and feisty, all things she loved about him as well.
Dan’s words came back to her. Regan was so independent. She really was crowding him, she thought morosely, but he needed so much help. Maybe she should suggest they hire someone to come help him and then Ayla could just come every other day, if that. It was clear Regan didn’t want to see her.
Howard was a prime example of the men she couldn’t stand, the sort of men her mother wanted her to date. Spoiled, pampered, rich, weak, slimeballs. The sort who’d take advantage of any opportunity, and walk away without a second thought when they got what they wanted.
What on earth had made her think Howard had changed? A little bit of sweet talking and dammit, she was hurt by Bill. She needed some flattery and wining and dining and something to make her feel good about herself, instead of having her head snapped off every time she spoke. It had felt good for a little bit to be in the company of a man who appreciated her, even if he was a jerk.
Maybe she should just stick to that sort of man, she thought moodily. Maybe she and Regan just couldn’t mesh their worlds after all, and she should just date the men her mother bitched at her about.
No. I don’t want them. I want my Regan back, she thought sadly. But I don’t know if he wants me anymore.
***
Dan pushed the button for the floor below Ayla's. What the hell are you thinking Mangan? he wondered. You almost put a move on your Uncle's girlfriend, when five minutes before you were about to beat a guy for doing the same thing! She’s not Trixie. Just because she's blonde, it's not even the same shade!
Dan shook his head as he strolled towards Shelley's apartment. Mistake or no, she had made him an offer and he was lonely. It would be nice to take some comfort with a woman who expected nothing beyond some fun.
A minute after his knock the door opened, and she stood in front him wearing a little bit of black lace and not much else.
"Come on in, Officer," she smiled.
Author Notes
- A big thank you to my editor, Kate, and a huge, huge thank you to Mary, who saved this chapter from being a complete and utter disaster. Any mistakes are mine!
- Word Count – 3,168
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