Finding Katie

Chapter 10

Katie

I don't know where the question came from, or the flirting tone of my voice. Probably from the same place as the lip-licking a moment before. From that place that really liked Ben and was attracted to him. Not because of information I had to gather to save my own butt, but because he was gorgeous and kind and sweet.

That same place all but hummed when he laughed out loud.

"Probably. I don't drink that often." Ben cradled his glass of water with those long fingers. "I've seen the negative effects of alcohol too often for it to hold much appeal."

"Yes, me too," I said, my smile dimming. "The first of our new residents at the centre is there for alcohol rehab. He's tried twice before, but relapsed both times. First time after two months, the second after a year. His story is enough to scare anyone off alcohol."

Sitting back, Ben considered me for a moment, then asked, "How long have you been a volunteer?"

"A little over six months. I started at the centre in Bournemouth, but when Vincent was moving here to open the new centre, he asked if I wanted to come along and help."

"You volunteer full-time there?"

"At the moment, yes." I kept my voice light and even. The truth was so very easy to tell him, but we were entering territory that could swiftly bring questions to Ben's mind that I didn't want to answer. At the top of that list was how on Earth I could afford to live in London, even in a tiny and grim flat, without some sort of income.

Which meant I had to choose my words carefully. My fingers tightened around my knife and fork, the tension creeping back into my shoulders. I breathed in as deeply as I could without it being too obvious and recited my carefully constructed story. "I'm using this time to try to figure out what I want to do next with my life. Whether I should go back to school. I'm considering either nurse or social worker."

Ben's head tilted a little as he studied me. Then said, "I can see you in both those professions."

"So can I. Which doesn't help in the slightest."

He chuckled. "I'm guessing your work at the centre is the reason for social worker, but why nurse?"

Something tightened around my heart. This was the part of the story I didn't usually tell anyone. Not of my own volition. Only if someone asked. "Six years ago, my mother suffered a severe stroke that left her bedbound. She needed help with everything and I... We both struggled with coping with her dependence on me."

My eyes closed for a moment before I met Ben's gaze again. "Before the stroke, Mum was always moving about, always doing something, and she absolutely hated being so helpless and having to rely on others, especially me, for even the simplest task. We ended up having a nurse living with us; Maria."

A smile tugged on the corners of my lips. There was one other thing I missed about Santo Domingo. "She was wonderful. She'd been a nurse for almost forty years, and if not for Maria, I don't know what would have happened to Mum and me. She helped us both. More than was asked of her. I would like to help others like she did."

Ben's gaze hadn't left mine. He was listening, but not smiling. Just looking at me with an intensity that sent a slow shiver up my spine; a feather running over the skin on my back with the lightest touch. It spread warmth through me from the inside out.

"How's your mother now?"

Swallowing tightly, I shook my head. Even six years later, it was still hard. "She had another stroke five months after the first. In the middle of the night. Maria told me she was asleep when it happened and that she didn't feel a thing."