A Home of Her Own. Brenda Novak

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      She hesitated. It felt so odd letting him take care of her. She hated the complexity it added to their relationship, hated the grudging appreciation that was getting mixed up with the resentment and everything else. But she didn’t have much choice. She could drink his coffee or she could go without. Providing for herself wasn’t an option at the moment. “Please.”

      He filled a cup and set it on the table, where a pitcher of cream and a bowl of sugar waited. “Breakfast is coming right up.”

      She was hungry, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep the food down. Her ulcer was aching, burning. She shouldn’t have stopped taking her medication. “Smells good.”

      He flipped the pancakes on the griddle, then leaned against the counter. She could feel his attention on her but refused to meet his eyes in case he wanted to initiate a conversation that went deeper than, “One pancake or two?”

      Unfortunately, that didn’t stop him. “So…” he said with just enough emphasis to warn her that she wouldn’t like what he was about to say.

      Ignoring his lead-in, she crossed to the window, distraught to see that the storm still raged.

      “Are you going to explain what happened last night?” he asked.

      She kept her back to him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

      “You should’ve told me you never had sex with anyone.”

      “It doesn’t matter.”

      “It does matter. A guy should know when he needs to…to take a little extra care and—”

      She didn’t want to hear this. “You’re going to burn the pancakes if you’re not careful.”

      “How do you know? You’ve barely even glanced in this direction.”

      “I can smell them.”

      “I don’t care about the pancakes. I’m trying to tell you that—”

      She held up her hand. “I know what you’re trying to tell me. I was an idiot last night. I get it. But it’s not your problem. And I don’t need your advice because I won’t ever be in that position again. A girl can only lose her virginity once, remember?”

      When he didn’t respond she turned to see why, and found him looking stricken instead of mollified. “It didn’t have to be that bad,” he finally said.

      “It couldn’t have been any different,” she said flatly. “Anyway, I was wondering if maybe I could get a ride into town.”

      He frowned. “What’s the matter, Lucky? You itchin’ to run again?”

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      “What is it you keep running from?”

      “Go to hell.”

      “Is it that you’re afraid?”

      She tried to throw him off with sarcasm. “Do you always analyze your bed partners?”

      “Only when something happens that I don’t understand.”

      “Forget about it,” she said.

      “Why, so you don’t have to face the truth?”

      “What truth? You rolled on top of me last night for a few seconds. That doesn’t mean you know anything about me.”

      “That wasn’t exactly what happened. First, you came into my room and asked for what you got. And maybe I know more than you think. At least I know what your actions tell me.”

      “And what do they tell you?”

      “You stay in one place for only a few weeks or months and leave about the time most other people begin to form friendships and put down roots. I’m guessing you do that because you’re terrified of growing close to anyone, of maintaining a relationship.”

      “If you’re applying that to this situation, we don’t even have a relationship.”

      “With me it’s something else.”

      She cocked a challenging eyebrow at him.

      “I think you’re afraid that if you stay, we might end up in bed again—and next time you might like it.”

      He’d hit a little too close to the truth, and she couldn’t bear for him to know it, so she shot him a withering “as if” look. “There’s no danger of that. I may not have the best judgment in the world, but I generally don’t make the same mistake twice.”

      A muscle twitched in his cheek at the insult. She thought he might come back at her with something equally hurtful and much truer: Who’d want you anyway? But he didn’t. “We can’t take the snowmobiles into town because the roads’ll be plowed once we hit Third,” he said, “but we can try to get you out of here in the truck.”

      

      LUCKY GRABBED Mike’s arm as they passed the Victorian. “Wait—aren’t you going to stop?”

      He gave her an incredulous look, and she let go. “We’re in the middle of a blizzard. If I stop, there’s a greater chance of getting stuck.”

      “But I need a pair of my own shoes and money to pay for a motel room.”

      The wipers struggled against the snow and ice although he’d done his best to scrape the windshield clean. “My boots will keep your feet dry,” Mike said. “And I’ll front the money for the motel and lend you some cash.”

      “But the house isn’t secure with all those broken windows.”

      He redirected the heat blasting through the vents so it wouldn’t hit him dead on. He was warm enough with his big coat. “You’re afraid of getting robbed?”

      “Maybe.”

      “Whatever you’re afraid of losing, you can afford to replace.” He slanted her a brooding glance. “I should know. I send you your check every month, remember?”

      After last night, and the conversation that had followed this morning, Mike wanted to punish Lucky. For returning to Dundee. For destroying his peace of mind. If he couldn’t achieve some kind of resolution or come to grips with what had happened, he at least wanted to vent his displeasure. But Lucky had become so aloof and withdrawn over the past hour that, predictably, she didn’t react, which only frustrated him further.

      “What I want can’t be replaced,” she said stubbornly.

      “Why not?”

      She didn’t answer his question, giving him the impression that she wouldn’t even if he pressed her. “And there’s no need to risk my ID and credit cards,” she added.

      He drew a deep, calming breath. He rarely had to struggle to get along with anyone, especially a woman. But Lucky had always been trouble.

      “Are СКАЧАТЬ