Page 34 of Lay Down the Law

The little girl stared at Erin, her blue eyes wide with the kind of hurt Erin knew too well. She’d seen that look before; she’d felt it in her own heart a hundred times in the last several months. She knew intimately the harsh realities of shock and pain and betrayal. Her heart cramped in her chest when those bottomless blue eyes filled with tears.

“I can’t play basketball anymore,” Stephanie said in a small voice. “My legs…”

“Oh, honey, you can,” Erin said gently. “You can take lessons if you want to. Disabled people play basketball and win marathons and do all sorts of fun things.”

“I want to, but I can’t.” Stephanie looked at her father. “Why did she get this for me? I can’t play anymore.”

Erin’s breath jammed in her throat. The pain struck with such force that she couldn’t breathe. All she could do was press her hand to her breast and pray the little girl would understand. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt this child who had already been hurt so brutally.

“Oh, my,” Mrs. Thornsberry said. “Steph, honey, I’m sure Erin didn’t mean—”

“I can’t play!” the girl cried. “I don’t want it.”

“But you can play, Steph,” Erin said. “Honey, I’ll teach you—”

“That’s enough.” Nick’s voice cracked through the air like cold steel being snapped in half.

The words jerked Erin’s gaze to his. His jaws were clamped tight, his hands clenched at his sides. He glared at her, his eyes as hard and infinitely cold as glacial ice.

She stared, vaguely aware that the room had become as quiet as a tomb. Hector gaped at her as if she’d just pulled out her pistol and shot the chandelier off the ceiling. Mrs. Thornsberry made a show of gathering gift wrap off the floor.

Erin looked at Stephanie. “I’m sorry,” she said helplessly.

Spinning the wheelchair, uttering a single, heart-wrenching cry, Stephanie fled from the room.

Mrs. Thornsberry and Nick started after her simultaneously, but the older woman stopped him. “Let me handle this one, Nick.”

He halted, uncertainty etched into his features as he watched her disappear down the hall.

Erin felt physically ill. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that the basketball would upset Stephanie. How could she have been so insensitive? Why had she expected that little girl to understand something no one had ever bothered to explain?

Erin’s gaze swept to Nick’s. She nearly winced at the anger she saw burning there. “I didn’t mean to upset her,” she said. “I didn’t think—”

“That’s your problem, McNeal,” he snapped. “You don’t think before you act.”

Erin stepped back, hurt that she’d been so terribly misunderstood, angered that her judgment had been called into question once again by a man whose opinion was becoming increasingly important to her.

Erin didn’t lose control of her emotions easily or break down in front of people at the drop of a hat. She’d learned the futility of tears at a very young age. But as she stood there taking in Nick’s angry expression, thinking of how badly she’d hurt that little girl, tears threatened her dignity.

“I’ve got to get back to work.” Turning abruptly, she started for the door.

“Wait a minute.”

Erin didn’t stop. She didn’t trust her emotions not to betray her, and he was the last man on earth she wanted to break down in front of.

Letting herself out through the front door, she sucked in a breath of cool night air, thankful to be out of the house. When she reached the grass, she broke into a run.

The front door slammed behind her. Nick, she thought, and quickened her pace. When was she ever going to learn not to push the envelope in everything she did?

Blinded by the tears building behind her eyes, she stopped at her cruiser and fumbled for her keys.

“I’d like a word with you, McNeal.”

She looked over her shoulder to see him crossing the lawn. Terrific. Here she was about to lose it, and he wanted a word with her. She had to hand it to him—the guy had great timing.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” she said.

“It’ll wait.”