Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series Page 5

  She wrapped her arms about her middle and suppressed a moan. God. What had she been thinking? She should never have agreed to this gig. She’d been dreaming to think she deserved a little respite from worrying about her daughter’s health and wellbeing, and struggling to make ends meet. She should have known that her desire for a little pampering—to have her hair and makeup done, wear nice clothes, pretend just for a little while she was someone else—would come back to bite her in the ass.

  “Opal? Talk to me, sweetie. It’s killing me seeing you like this. Talk to me!”

  Opal nodded. Desiree deserved an explanation—even if it took the remainder of the trip to get that explanation out.

  ~~~

  “This the right place?”

  Opal didn’t realize she’d drifted into a doze until Desiree’s voice dragged her from the fog of weariness. She pinched the bridge of her nose to clear the fuzz from her brain. “Yes.”

  As Desiree pulled up to the curb, Opal peered up at her house. Lights blazed in the sitting room. It took every ounce of control she possessed not to leap from the still moving vehicle. Instead, she waited until the car came to a complete stop before unfastening her safety belt and opening the passenger side door. She held herself in check and waited for Desiree. And was so damn grateful when the other woman clasped her hand that she wanted to bawl.

  “You ready?” Desiree asked.

  Opal responded with a sharp nod.

  “We can still call the cops and let them handle whoever might be inside with Sera.”

  Opal shook her head… and hoped to God she was doing the right thing.

  “I’m sure ringing you back just slipped his mind. He probably had his hands full with your little girl.”

  It took a moment to click that the “he” Desiree referred to was Peter Stone. And Desiree had a point. Her neighbor was hardly a young man and, like most eight year olds, Sera could be demanding when she got over-excited.

  “I’ve got my mobile right here,” Desiree said, brandishing the phone like a weapon. “Anything seems hinky, you give me the word and the cops’ll be on their way. Okay?”

  “O-k-k-kay.” Thank God Desiree was here. Because if this “Dan” turned out to be a real person, and something had happened to Sera and Peter, the local cops might not take Opal seriously when she could barely make herself understood. They might believe she was mentally impaired. Last thing she needed was someone believing she couldn’t take care of Sera and getting Child Protective Services involved.

  Opal fished her front door key from her tote. Arm in arm, she and Desiree marched up the stairs to the front door… which was unlocked.

  Anger washed away shock. So much for trusting her elderly neighbor. Anyone who would leave a front door unlocked at night was either criminally naïve or an idiot. Or maybe one step away from senility, in which case she should be a bit more charitable, but damn it was hard when she was so worried about Sera. God. Anyone could have wandered in!

  Opal untangled her arm from Desiree’s and burst into the living room at a run… only to stop dead at the sight that greeted her.

  Desiree skidded to a halt beside her. “Oh, my,” she said, one hand drifting to her heart. “That’s a calendar-worthy photo right there. And I’m about to melt into a gooey little puddle of girl-parts.”

  Ditto. Except rather than melting, Opal felt like she’d been kicked in the chest by a herd of grumpy donkeys.

  The man stretched out on the couch was big. And black. And… beautiful, which she knew was trite and unimaginative and terribly clichéd but she couldn’t think of a better way to describe him. She’d never seen such a gorgeous specimen of manhood outside of a glossy magazine. Curled up atop his chest, the top of her head tucked beneath his chin, was Sera. Her features were partially obscured by her unruly hair, but it was obvious she had felt safe and secure enough to drift off to sleep without her favorite stuffed toy—a fluffy red fox she’d instantly fallen in love with because its fur matched her hair.

  Sera’s human mattress must be her “friend”. Dan. The man who’d given Liza and her boyfriend their marching orders—reacting exactly as Opal would have done if she’d walked in on the two teens doing… what she suspected they’d been doing. This was the man her elderly neighbor had randomly left in charge of Sera.

  And what a man he was.

  Her horror at seeing a stranger cuddling her daughter segued to fascination and some other emotion Opal couldn’t identify. She didn’t realize she’d moved but she must have… because now she was standing by the couch, staring down at him, reaching for him, her outstretched hand hovering above his cheek, fingers itching to touch him.

  A large hand snaked out, manacling her wrist as he shifted, pushed himself into a seated position with Sera still cradled carefully in one arm. Before Opal could so much as squeak, his eyelids snapped open. And the breath was snatched from her lungs by the regard of shockingly blue eyes that were leached of all beauty, because right now they were so cold and piercing and… and… disapproving, that she instinctively threw her weight backward, and ended up on her butt, heels scrabbling for purchase on the wooden floor.

  Her wrist gave a sharp twinge, protesting the angle, but his grip was firm rather than bruising. He wasn’t deliberately hurting her. Not physically, at least. But the disgust skating across the depths of those sky-blue eyes and the defined curl of his lip were hurtful. He didn’t know her but he was judging her. And it was painfully obvious he didn’t approve of what he saw.

  Opal concentrated on relaxing the too-tight muscles of her back and chest and remembering how to breathe. “Thank you for looking after Sera. And now you need to go.”

  Happily, her stutter had taken a hike. It happened sometimes—randomly, and too infrequently for her to analyze exactly what she’d done and attempt to replicate it. But for now, rather than frustration she felt a flicker of fierce pride that she’d spoken her mind.

  That pride sputtered like a candle in a draft when his coolly assessing gaze skimmed her from head to toe, making her abnormally conscious she wore a skirt and was flashing not only far too much leg, but goodness knows what else right now.

  She clamped her thighs together. And then, when he didn’t seem inclined to take the hint and release her wrist, she used the tension in his muscled arm to haul herself to her knees.

  Big mistake. Being on her knees before him put her at even more of a disadvantage, as though she was some supplicant begging for mercy. Or just plain begging.

  She compressed her lips, forcing back unwelcome memories of the last time she’d begged a man.

  “Let go of her,” Opal heard Desiree say in a clipped no-nonsense tone. “Now. Or I’m calling the cops. See? This is me with my finger poised over the Call button.”

  Opal was grateful beyond words for Desiree’s courage, but bringing the cops into this was only going to open a can of worms. “P-P-Please d-d-don’t,” she said, not taking her gaze from the stranger’s face.

  Huh. Her reprieve had been temporary and the stutter had returned. Fantastic. She worked moisture into her mouth and swallowed to ease the strain of her vocal chords. Stuttering made her seem weak. And she didn’t believe for an instant this man respected anything weak.

  “You sure, Opal?” Desiree asked.

  Dan’s gaze flicked past Opal’s shoulder. And then returned to her. He gave her another once-over—a far more thorough one this time.

  He was comparing her to Desiree, damn him.

  Opal averted her chin, fixing her gaze on a dust bunny beneath his chair as the wave of heat painted her cheeks. The navy polyester skirt, shiny with age, and the plain white tee she’d donned after the show couldn’t compare to Desiree’s effortlessly stylish hot pink blouse and tailored black pants. Opal hadn’t cared prior to this moment. So long as she’d showcased the designer’s clothes on the runway, what did it matter what she wore afterward? But he made her care. Right now he made her feel as cheap and down-market as her clothes.

 
She shrugged off her hurt. Bastard. No one had the right to judge her. No one. Sera had nice clothes, and a few quality toys and gadgets—the best Opal could buy given her limited income. And if that meant there wasn’t much left to spend on clothing for herself, and buying new was a treat she saved for Christmas and her birthday, then it was no business of his.

  She jerked her wrist from his grip, all-too-aware that had he wanted to keep hold of her, she would have been powerless to prevent him. She scrambled to her feet, looming over him, channeling lioness protecting her cub for all she was worth. “G-G-Give me… m-m-my daughter. N-N-Now.”

  He arched one eyebrow—a challenge if ever she’d seen one.

  She sensed a flurry of movement and then Desiree was beside her, wafting expensive scent mingled with resolve. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Desiree said. “Give Opal her daughter right now or we’ll make you big-time sorry, you handsome asshole.”

  Opal slanted her friend an “are you insane?” glance and Desiree shrugged. “I tell it like it is, sweetie. He’s handsome as sin and a real—”

  “I have been called worse,” the handsome asshole said.

  Sera sighed, wuffled something incomprehensible, and settled back into slumber.

  A whimper tore from Opal’s throat.

  “You are her mother,” he said. “I see her in you.”

  She held out her arms, not trusting herself to speak.

  He stood, the movement sublimely graceful. And then, with the utmost care, he transferred Sera into Opal’s outstretched arms.

  The instant his hands grazed her bare skin all the feminine desires and yearnings she’d believed dead and buried roared to life. Some part she’d not known existed wanted this stranger to cup her face in his big capable hands and press those sensual lips to hers. She wanted him to kiss away her fears and worries, and help her forget a traumatic past. She wanted him.

  But she didn’t trust these emotions, and why the hell would she when he’d made it very clear what he thought of her? She was stressed and overtired, imagining things. That was all. She released the breath she’d been holding with a hiss and backed away, clutching her daughter to her heart and whispering soothing nonsense into Sera’s strawberry-scented hair.

  “You left an ailing child at the mercy of an immature guardian who cared nothing for her welfare.” He spoke slowly, articulating each word as though he wanted there to be no misunderstandings. “You do not deserve to be a mother.”

  Stunned by the bald cruelty of the statement, Opal’s chin jerked up and she found herself pinned by the contempt in those cold blue eyes. Her vocal chords spasmed and closed, leaving her mute and unable to defend herself. She could only stand there, statue-still and open-mouthed, as the initial hot-cold-hot wave of righteous “how dare he!” anger was trumped by guilt and shame.

  He was right. She’d left Sera alone for an entire weekend with a teenage girl who’d shown up dressed like every parent’s worst nightmare. A girl who’d invited her boyfriend over…. And done something that had provoked this man to toss them both out of the house, and then to stick around and supervise Sera. Opal shuddered to think what her baby girl might have witnessed.

  “Zip your lip, dude,” Desiree said, hands on hips, looking fierce and ready to kick butt, and not at all intimidated by the way Dan was scowling. “We’re not interested in your half-assed opinions right now. You said Sera was ‘ailing’. Did she get sick? Quit dicking around and spit it out.”

  Thank God Desiree had her head in the game. Opal stiffened her spine and confronted the man she should be thanking, not lusting after and hating in equal measure for uttering nothing but the truth. “T-T-Tell me what h-h-happened. N-n-now.”

  Before he could answer Sera stirred. “Mommy,” she murmured.

  “H-H-hush, baby. L-L-Let’s get you to b-b-b-bed.”

  Sera yawned and blinked sleep-bleared eyes. “Where’s Dan?”

  “The handsome— Uh, he’s right here, Sera,” Desiree said.

  Opal knew her friend been about to blurt that less-than-flattering nickname again and felt the insane desire to laugh. Talk about appalling timing. The stress was really getting to her.

  Sera twisted in Opal’s arms to fix her curious gaze on Desiree. “Wow,” she said. “You’re real pretty.” Another yawn. “You must be a real model, huh? My mommy used to be a real model. But that was a long time ago. Before I was born and stuff.”

  “I know, sweetie,” Desiree said. “Your mom told me all about it.”

  Well, not all. Not the incident that made Opal wish pop songs could help her get to sleep at night like they helped Sera. Unfortunately some memories were so bad nothing could suppress them.

  “Hey, Sera,” Desiree said. “Your friend Dan mentioned you weren’t feeling well earlier on, and we’re a bit worried about you. Wanna tell us what happened?”

  Sera sighed. “Do I have to?”

  Desiree’s gaze flicked to Opal. “Yes,” she said. “Now would be good, sweetie. The night’s not getting any younger.”

  Another sigh—this one loud and drawn out and completely Oscar-worthy. That urge to laugh was back again. Sera could be such a drama queen at times.

  “Okay,” Sera said. “I guess got upset ’coz Ryan—that’s Liza’s boyfriend—was being so mean. And Liza kept laughing so I got mad at her and she sent my to my room and I slammed the door. And then I wished on my crystal but I dropped it and it broke so I got even more upset. I was so mad at Liza I didn’t call out for her. And I guess I left it too long to get my inhaler and I had a little bit of an asthma attack. It wasn’t too bad, though. I’m sorry, Mommy.” She buried her face in Opal’s shoulder and hugged her tight.

  Guilt clamped Opal’s chest. She opened her mouth to reassure her daughter that none of this was her fault, that she had nothing to be sorry about, but Dan beat her to it.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about, Sera. Your mother should never have left you alone. It was irresponsible.”

  Desiree snorted. Loudly. “Oh please, spare us the sermon. You need get your head out of your ass and get real, Dan. Opal had every expectation Sera would be well cared for when she took this gig at the last minute—as a favor for someone else, I might add. This Liz girl was recommended as a reliable sitter. Unfortunately she chose tonight to let her teenage hormones get the better of her. This situation could have happened to anyone.”

  Dan crossed his hands over his impressive chest, drawing Opal’s full attention to his attire. Shit-kickers, leather pants and a leather vest—what was with that?

  Desiree must have been plugged into Opal’s thoughts because she slanted Opal classic WTF? eyes before turning her full focus to Dan again.

  “It was no minor attack,” Dan said. “The child was unable to breathe. If I’d understood there was medicine available I would have given it to her immediately. Instead, I was forced to improvise and hope for the best.”

  “Dan ran the hot tap in the bathroom so it got all steamy,” Sera said. “And he rubbed my back and breathed with me until I was okay.”

  Opal squeezed her eyelids shut against the censure in this stranger’s gaze. If he hadn’t been there for Sera….

  “And where was this young paragon of reliability she trusted to look after her child while this was happening?” His tone dripped acid, and Opal was glad she’d shut her eyes so she couldn’t see his expression. “In her bed, being tupped like a wh— ” She heard him counting beneath his breath. “In bed with her young man. Oblivious to Sera’s distress. If I hadn’t escaped the crystal when I did—”

  She opened her eyes in time to witness the horror in his expression that mirrored her own. Without Sera, what was the point of fighting the past anymore? She pushed back the wave of terror at the thought of losing her daughter.

  “Escaped the crystal? You seriously want us to believe that you came out of a fricking crystal?” Desiree had pounced on Dan’s unusual phrasing. She wasn’t giving him an inch. And much as Opal wanted t
o know exactly what had gone on in her absence, she also wanted this confrontation to be over. She wanted nothing more than to tuck Sera into bed and lay beside her until she fell asleep. And then crawl into her own bed… and figure out how to give Stella North the bad news, because no way was Opal leaving Sera with another sitter after this.

  “Come to think of it, Dan,” Desiree was saying when Opal tuned in again, “why did you crash this party in the first place? Did the old guy next door ask you to check in on Sera or something?”

  Dan shook his head.

  “Huh. No way someone who just happened to be strolling past the house could have known Sera was having an asthma attack, so how come—?”

  “It’s true,” Sera insisted, and wriggled until Opal set her on her feet. “Mr. Stone gave me a wishing crystal. I was supposed to give it to you, Mommy, but I wished for Dan. And when the crystal broke he came out and helped me.”

  Opal squatted on her haunches and took her daughter by the shoulders, willing her to listen. “S-S-Sweetheart—”

  “It’s true, Mommy. Tell her, Dan!”

  The vehemence in Sera’s voice about broke Opal’s heart. Damn Peter Stone for filling her daughter’s head with fairytale nonsense about a dratted hunk of stone. Obviously she needed to have a talk with him sooner rather than later.

  And damn this man, too, for pretending it was all true and feeding a little girl’s wild dreams. Wishes didn’t come true. You got dealt a crap hand and you had to figure out how to live with it. Life wasn’t a fairytale, and happy-ever-afters were for storybooks. There was a logical explanation for all this. She just needed to get to the bottom of it. Later.

  “’Tis true.” Dan’s full lips compressed into a stubborn, uncompromising line. “I was imprisoned in the crystal for centuries. And then Seraphine—” He sucked in a sharp breath and dug his fingertips into his temples.