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Avery waved and pulled away as Lillian entered the store, the sharp, nose tickling scent of paints turning her fingers itchy to get back to work. With everything that had happened in the past week, it was doubtful she would still attend the Naples Art Show next week, and that was a good thing. Given her frame of mind, she wouldn’t have made a favorable impression on anyone even if the work she planned to enter was some of her best.

She spent two hours in the store and made the owner’s day with her purchases. After arranging to have them delivered to the motel, she set out on foot, figuring she could call Bob if she got too cold or tired before reaching the motel. The walk was necessary to clear her head as she couldn’t help the images planted in her mind from listening to Avery and Nan describe their husbands and relationships with them. After what Brad had subjected her to with his blackmailed control, she couldn’t imagine ever becoming a willing partner in such a relationship. It didn’t matter that her body grew warm and tingly when she thought of turning herself over to Mitchell’s dominant care. If she went off like a firecracker from having his hands on and in her, what would it be like to give herself over to his fully controlled possession?

Lillian shuddered as she imagined the possible heights he could drive her to. Lifting her face to the sun, she let the rays add additional warmth to her overheated body. There was no way of knowing if her strong, uncharacteristic reaction that night had been due to stress and/or grief, or a buildup of needy lust. She never denied Mitchell was an attractive, sexy man even if his bossy attitude turned her off. What turned her on had been those light slaps that left her aching for more and his talented fingers invading her body with ruthless determination and possession, wringing multiple orgasms from her before he was through.

After reaching the motel and letting Bob know she didn’t need the ride, Lillian warmed up in the shower and spent the rest of the afternoon painting. She was so immersed in her art, she jumped when her phone buzzed and Nan asked if she wanted to go to dinner.

“Is it that late already?” Glancing at the time, she saw it was almost six.

“Yes, and I’m starving. Dan will be at least another hour and Gertie’s special is fried shrimp tonight. I can be there in ten minutes to get you.”

“I’ll be ready. Thanks, Nan.”

“Don’t just stand there expectin’ me to escort you to a seat. Grab a stool.”

Nan smiled at the scowling older woman bustling behind the long counter inside Dale’s Diner. “Gertie, be nice. Lillian is stranded here until Mort gets her car fixed.”

Lillian eyed the crotchety woman with a bemused expression as she took a seat next to Nan. The corner diner resembling something out of the fifties with its black and white checkered floor and juke boxes in every booth was almost full, and if the food was half as good as it smelled, she understood why.

Slapping a menu down in front of her, Gertie gave her bruised face a critical once over before nodding, as if coming to some kind of conclusion about her. “I see our doc took good care of you. Next time, don’t be out on those back roads with weather coming in. There’s still shrimp left, if you want the special.”

“I take it Gertie’s sparkling personality is why this place is so popular,” Lillian drawled with humorous sarcasm as Gertie turned to grab two filled plates off the shelf separating the kitchen from the counter.

“Don’t let her fool you. She blusters a lot but has a heart as big as Montana. She gave Avery a job when she came to town alone and almost broke and never asked questions when Avery said she needed to be paid in cash. Instead, she offered to let her stay in the upstairs apartment as part of her salary.”

“I sense a story there.” Lillian scanned the menu, leaving it up to Nan whether to say more about how Avery had come to Willow Springs.

“Yes, but it’s hers to tell. It ended well for her, though, and she snagged our hot sheriff to boot.”

A shudder rippled through her as she recalled Sheriff Monroe’s icy glare when he saw her face. “He’s a little scary, and I don’t scare easily.”

Nan chuckled. “Like our Gertie, Grayson’s glare and sharp mouth is mostly bluster. I wouldn’t attempt to rub him the wrong way at the club, but I’d trust him with my life, and to have my back, just as I would any of my friends, including Doctor Hoffstetter. C’mon, Lillian,” she coaxed with an elbow nudge. “Spill about you and Mitchell. No red-blooded woman could stay closed up with him for long and not beg to get naked with him.”

“You’re married,” Lillian reminded her with an arched brow.

“But I’m not dead. I can look and fantasize.”

Gertie returned and they ordered the special, giving Lillian a minute to gather her thoughts. A change of subject was definitely in order. “Sorry, but there’s nothing to tell, like I said earlier. And i

f he’s a member of that club, I now know why we didn’t hit it off. No offense, but that’s not my thing.” Waving a hand around her face, she said bluntly, “One man beating on me was enough for a lifetime.” Which didn’t explain why she’d responded so strongly to those teasing butt taps.

“Yeah, and I’m sorry for you. I have experience with an abuser myself, and could tell you there’s a world of difference, like comparing apples to oranges, but it’s something that can’t be explained. You either see it, experience it and know, or you don’t.” Nan paused as Gertie set their plates in front of them.

“There you go. Eat up, you’re both too skinny.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. Thanks, Gertie.” Nan bit into a large, crusted shrimp and then changed the subject, much to Lillian’s relief. “Where are you headed once you get your car back?”

Anywhere. Nowhere. “I haven’t decided yet. Once I was free of that jerk, I just took off.”

Nan nodded. “I get that. Sometimes running without looking back or forward is easier than staying still and learning to adjust.”

Lillian dropped a shrimp tail on the plate, eyeing her askance. “Is that what you did, learned to adjust?”

“Nope, just the opposite. I stayed still and didn’t cope, not as well as I’d thought, even after counseling. Thankfully, my friends, Dan being the most important, showed me the error of my thinking and then offered me unconditional support. You know, Lillian, if you don’t have anywhere you have to be, you could do worse than hanging around here for a while.”

She scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes then paused to reply, “And how long would that take to get around?”

“Hey, cut us some slack,” Nan protested with a wide grin. “It’s winter and we get bored.”

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