“So, you and Sabrina. That’s . . . You told me your dad wanted to set you up, and look at you now. On your way to the altar.” She gives a wobbly smile. “How nice for your family.”
Does she really believe I’m going to marry Sabrina when I was confessing my love for her five months ago? Does she think love comes that easily for me? “We need to talk.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”
She looks beautiful tonight. She’s in a tank top with those skinny straps, her hair’s down, draping over her bare shoulders, and her cheeks are flushed. In a simpler world, we’d be on the same side of the booth, laughing instead of mincing our words. I’d be touching her under the table, teasing her with my fingers against her leg and my words in her ear until she was wet and begging me to finger her right here in the middle of the bar.
Something knots in my chest. I try to swallow it down and can’t. “I mean really talk. In private.”
“I thought you didn’t think we should be around each other. What was it you said? I make you lose your head? Because, you know, I’m the woman, so what happened between us is completely my fault. You’re just a poor, vulnerable man who should be expected to think with his penis.”
I’m almost glad to see her so angry with me. It beats the broken woman I turned my back to on Christmas Day. “There are things I need to say, to tell you.”
“Go for it. Say what you need to say so we can get away from each other.”
“Have you told anyone about Saturday night?”
She swallows. “A couple of people.”
“Fuck, Liz.” I hate this. I hate lying to her and I hate asking her to keep our night together quiet, like she’s my dirty little secret. I want her to know the truth about Sabrina and the engagement, but it would be too much of a gamble to tell her here. Too many big ears and curious eyes. We’ve probably already said too much. I lower my voice to a hushed whisper. “No one can know. I know it’s not fair to you, but—”
“Don’t worry,” she says. “No one will tell. It’s not exactly something I’m proud of. Now if there’s nothing else, I need to leave. I don’t like who I am when you’re around.”
Using every bit of self-control I have, I keep my hands to myself as she climbs out of the booth.
It’s a good thing she moved away after Christmas, or I never would have stayed away from her. Two minutes near her, and I want to . . . what?
Yell at her for not telling me about her online affair with Riverrat.
Take her to the bathroom and fuck her against the wall, making sure to get her off so she’ll remember how good it was between us.
Explain how her relationship with my father broke me in a way no one else can fix.
Drive her back to my place and slowly undress her. Kiss her slowly and all over until she’s trembling, and promise things I can’t deliver.
Take her hands in mine and tell her that I’m sorry for acting like an ass and that she deserves better.
Beg her to move home.
Ask her to stay away.
I am the scum of the earth. The hurt is all over her face, whether she’s trying to hide it or not. Maybe a few months ago I believed she deserved that, but tonight I just want to take back everything I’ve ever done to hurt her.
I need a drink.
“Goodbye, Sam.” She slides out of the booth and stands, giving me a view of her long, lean legs exposed in her short skirt. Why isn’t there anything in this universe I want as much as I want her?
“Liz,” I call as she starts to leave. She stops, and for a second I think I’d say anything to keep her from walking away. I’m not really engaged . . . There’s nothing between Sabrina and me . . .
I’m sorry.
But she’s not interested in listening and this isn’t the place, so all I say is, “I’m sorry. For everything.”
She stops but doesn’t look at me. “Thank you.”
What I would give to see her look at me the way she did on Christmas—eyes full of love, and the words on her lips. “You always deserved better than me anyway.”
Chapter 13
Liz
“Don’t you think it’s a little weird that he came back to town tonight?”
I frown. I’ve slept like crap since the night at the Conrad, and I might just be too tired to understand what Nix is saying. She’s my new favorite person, because not only is she making me coffee, she has a loaf of Hanna’s cinnamon raisin bread that she toasted up with apple butter for a midnight snack. I couldn’t be friends with those women who have declared carbs their mortal enemies.
“How was it weird?” I ask.
“Not just him coming back,” she says. “Their whole relationship, really. No one in this town can take a shit without the Tattler reporting it to the world, and yet somehow Sam and Sabrina have been carrying on in a very intense relationship the last five months—one so deeply emotional they’d have us believe they want to get married—and no one noticed?”
I get that niggling feeling again. The one that comes from my untrustworthy gut. “But what does that have to do with him being at Brady’s tonight?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s more of the same. They did the interview, but then they went their separate ways. They’re engaged? Seriously? I’m not jumping to Sam’s defense. As far as I’m concerned, he can suck goat testicles for the way he treated you Saturday, but I don’t know. Their engagement sounds more like a ploy to make their kinky pics more palatable. Even then, they don’t even act like lovers, ya know? Like, why come to Brady’s tonight when you can stay in Indianapolis and fuck Sabrina Guy?” She snorts. “God, what if that video isn’t even of Sam and Sabrina? What if the ginger is Governor Guy or something? Somehow that seems more believable to me.”
Does she really believe I’m going to marry Sabrina when I was confessing my love for her five months ago? Does she think love comes that easily for me? “We need to talk.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”
She looks beautiful tonight. She’s in a tank top with those skinny straps, her hair’s down, draping over her bare shoulders, and her cheeks are flushed. In a simpler world, we’d be on the same side of the booth, laughing instead of mincing our words. I’d be touching her under the table, teasing her with my fingers against her leg and my words in her ear until she was wet and begging me to finger her right here in the middle of the bar.
Something knots in my chest. I try to swallow it down and can’t. “I mean really talk. In private.”
“I thought you didn’t think we should be around each other. What was it you said? I make you lose your head? Because, you know, I’m the woman, so what happened between us is completely my fault. You’re just a poor, vulnerable man who should be expected to think with his penis.”
I’m almost glad to see her so angry with me. It beats the broken woman I turned my back to on Christmas Day. “There are things I need to say, to tell you.”
“Go for it. Say what you need to say so we can get away from each other.”
“Have you told anyone about Saturday night?”
She swallows. “A couple of people.”
“Fuck, Liz.” I hate this. I hate lying to her and I hate asking her to keep our night together quiet, like she’s my dirty little secret. I want her to know the truth about Sabrina and the engagement, but it would be too much of a gamble to tell her here. Too many big ears and curious eyes. We’ve probably already said too much. I lower my voice to a hushed whisper. “No one can know. I know it’s not fair to you, but—”
“Don’t worry,” she says. “No one will tell. It’s not exactly something I’m proud of. Now if there’s nothing else, I need to leave. I don’t like who I am when you’re around.”
Using every bit of self-control I have, I keep my hands to myself as she climbs out of the booth.
It’s a good thing she moved away after Christmas, or I never would have stayed away from her. Two minutes near her, and I want to . . . what?
Yell at her for not telling me about her online affair with Riverrat.
Take her to the bathroom and fuck her against the wall, making sure to get her off so she’ll remember how good it was between us.
Explain how her relationship with my father broke me in a way no one else can fix.
Drive her back to my place and slowly undress her. Kiss her slowly and all over until she’s trembling, and promise things I can’t deliver.
Take her hands in mine and tell her that I’m sorry for acting like an ass and that she deserves better.
Beg her to move home.
Ask her to stay away.
I am the scum of the earth. The hurt is all over her face, whether she’s trying to hide it or not. Maybe a few months ago I believed she deserved that, but tonight I just want to take back everything I’ve ever done to hurt her.
I need a drink.
“Goodbye, Sam.” She slides out of the booth and stands, giving me a view of her long, lean legs exposed in her short skirt. Why isn’t there anything in this universe I want as much as I want her?
“Liz,” I call as she starts to leave. She stops, and for a second I think I’d say anything to keep her from walking away. I’m not really engaged . . . There’s nothing between Sabrina and me . . .
I’m sorry.
But she’s not interested in listening and this isn’t the place, so all I say is, “I’m sorry. For everything.”
She stops but doesn’t look at me. “Thank you.”
What I would give to see her look at me the way she did on Christmas—eyes full of love, and the words on her lips. “You always deserved better than me anyway.”
Chapter 13
Liz
“Don’t you think it’s a little weird that he came back to town tonight?”
I frown. I’ve slept like crap since the night at the Conrad, and I might just be too tired to understand what Nix is saying. She’s my new favorite person, because not only is she making me coffee, she has a loaf of Hanna’s cinnamon raisin bread that she toasted up with apple butter for a midnight snack. I couldn’t be friends with those women who have declared carbs their mortal enemies.
“How was it weird?” I ask.
“Not just him coming back,” she says. “Their whole relationship, really. No one in this town can take a shit without the Tattler reporting it to the world, and yet somehow Sam and Sabrina have been carrying on in a very intense relationship the last five months—one so deeply emotional they’d have us believe they want to get married—and no one noticed?”
I get that niggling feeling again. The one that comes from my untrustworthy gut. “But what does that have to do with him being at Brady’s tonight?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s more of the same. They did the interview, but then they went their separate ways. They’re engaged? Seriously? I’m not jumping to Sam’s defense. As far as I’m concerned, he can suck goat testicles for the way he treated you Saturday, but I don’t know. Their engagement sounds more like a ploy to make their kinky pics more palatable. Even then, they don’t even act like lovers, ya know? Like, why come to Brady’s tonight when you can stay in Indianapolis and fuck Sabrina Guy?” She snorts. “God, what if that video isn’t even of Sam and Sabrina? What if the ginger is Governor Guy or something? Somehow that seems more believable to me.”
