Under the Autumn Sky. Liz Talley

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СКАЧАТЬ didn’t blink. Was that really any of his business? No. It was hers. And when he said it out loud like that it made her feel pathetic. “You make it sound like a crime.”

      He lifted her off him, setting her onto the cold wood of the pier. “It’s not a crime. It’s sort of surprising, and it’s not something I…I think you should…”

      He closed his mouth. Then he swallowed. She could see quite clearly he had no clue what to say. It should have been sweet, endearing even, but it just pissed her off. It’s not like she hadn’t tried all this before. She had. But it hadn’t worked.

      “What? I should save it for someone special? Is that what you were going to say? My future husband maybe?”

      He blinked.

      “Well, it’s not special. It’s a burden. You don’t need to know the particulars, but I’m not a freak. I couldn’t date for many years because of stuff going on in my life, and when I could date again, well, things never progressed. For heaven’s sake, I’m a twenty-seven-year-old, decent-looking woman. I should be able to get laid.”

      She shoved herself up, rising more like a winged harpy than a fairy princess. Frustration made her dangerously angry.

      Abram sat there looking like a fish that had landed on the pier. If he had started flopping and gasping, she wouldn’t have been surprised.

      “Louise,” he said, climbing to his knees. “I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t think anything. I just don’t—”

      “Don’t trouble yourself to screw me. It’s no big deal. I can go another three years without a date. By then I’ll be thirty. Hey, maybe I could hire someone. A gigolo to service me. Won’t that be novel?”

      He stood and grabbed her arms, giving her a shake. His charming grin was gone, as was likely his erection. He looked annoyed. “If you really want me to get the job done, let’s go. I’ll stop by the gas station, grab a box of condoms, and we’ll head to my motel room in Ville Platte. I’ll screw you until your head bangs against the headboard. Maybe we can keep the other motel guests awake all night. Then I’ll leave in the morning after I shower. Sound romantic enough for you?”

      She wanted to hit him. Tears formed in her eyes, and that pissed her off even more. She looked around at their magic, romantic spot that wasn’t even remotely beautiful anymore. Dead plants floated on the surface and spiderwebs clung to the railing. A mosquito bit her on the neck. She slapped at it.

      He shook his head before lifting a finger and wiping away a tear that must have escaped. “You don’t deserve that, Louise. Some stranger, some crappy-ass hotel room. I’m not saying you need champagne and strawberries, but don’t give it up to me, baby. You’re worth more than that. Give yourself to someone who cares about you. A guy who’s not a random stranger.”

      She brushed his hand away. “Don’t worry. I won’t force you.”

      And then she slid past him, feeling like crap. Feeling worse than crap. She’d let him in on her most embarrassing secret. He’d seen her desperation and longing, and though he hadn’t flung it in her face, he hadn’t done anything to help her with it.

      “Louise,” he called after her. “Stop. I don’t want to leave it this way.”

      She didn’t stop. Kept going. She couldn’t have stopped if she tried. The liquor she’d gulped down to give her boldness, churned in her stomach along with what was left of her pride. She reached the end of the pier and grabbed her shoes, not bothering to put them on even though the damp grass made her toes numb with cold.

      She would get someone to give her a ride.

      If she had to, she’d call Waylon and have him come get her.

      She stomped up the hill, hearing Abram coming behind her. But she didn’t turn around. Kept moving toward the light of Rendezvous, toward the merriment. The loud music. The normalcy of the real world.

      Abram grabbed her elbow. “Hey, wait a minute.”

      She turned. “Look. I want to forget about this. Okay?”

      He didn’t say anything.

      “I don’t know you. You don’t know me. We were two strangers who became nothing more to each other than…strangers.”

      “I hurt you.”

      “You don’t have enough power to hurt me because you don’t mean anything to me. All you are is a missed opportunity to get this monkey off my back.”

      “Damn,” he breathed, shaking his head. “You don’t hold back.”

      “I’m being truthful. You’re a nice guy, doing a nice thing for a desperate chick. Saving me from myself and all that. Don’t feel guilty and don’t lose sleep over me.”

      He shook his head again. “Come on, Louise, I didn’t want things to end like this. Tonight was good. I enjoyed meeting you.”

      She inclined her head and gave him a sad smile. “I guess it wouldn’t have been so bad being your honky-tonk Cinderella if I hadn’t gone and made a fool of myself.”

      He lightly touched her cheek. “You didn’t make a fool of yourself. Let me take you home.”

      “No, I can get a ride. I’m sort of embarrassed and feeling emotional right now. It would be too uncomfortable for us both. Enjoy your stay in Ville Platte. It was nice meeting you.”

      She didn’t wait any longer.

      She turned and walked out of his life, thinking she was doubly glad he was a stranger. After all, what girl would want to live out the embarrassment of seeing a guy who didn’t want to sleep with her, or rather couldn’t, around town all the time?

      It would be brutal.

      She climbed the porch swinging her shoes and trying to come up with a plan for getting home. Her pride hurt too much to slip the vampy come-hither shoes on, so she set them near the railing and pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She’d call Waylon. He was likely up playing war games on the computer anyway.

      “Louise, stop being stubborn and let me drive you home.”

      She looked at the time on her phone. 12:00 a.m. “Too late. The fairy tale is over.”

      CHAPTER FOUR

      ABRAM HAD WOKEN with a headache that had nothing to do with the 1.5 beers he’d drunk last night, and everything to do with the mildew present in the damp carpet around the air conditioner in the motel room.

      The motel hadn’t been the worst he’d stayed in, but it wasn’t a night at the Four Seasons. Not that he frequented the Four Seasons often. Holiday Inns and Courtyard Marriotts were his home away from home when out on the road.

      This one had no continental breakfast. He wasn’t a fan of rubber eggs anyhow, so he’d found a Waffle House with a smart-aleck waitress, decent coffee and a small-town crowd, then tried not to think about the woman he’d hurt the night before.

      He СКАЧАТЬ