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Brad wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her face, not stopping even when she went rigid in his embrace. “Since the Beatles are out, what do you feel like listening to?”
“I don’t care. Anything’s fine.”
“Sara. Look at me.”
She didn’t.
“Sara.”
“Look, it’s no big deal. I forget sometimes that we’re only fooling around, even though in my head I know we are. You’re just starting everything and I’m on the other side. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it’s reality. And I need to remember it.”
He gripped her chin and turned her face toward his. “You might just be fooling around, babe. If so, that’s your deal. I’m not. I’ve never been anything but serious as a heart attack about you.”
When moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes, he blinked, sure he was mistaken. She didn’t cry. Ever. Not during sad movies, not when she fell and scraped her shins raw on uneven concrete. Definitely not when she was talking with her boytoy lover she couldn’t even acknowledge having real feelings for.
“You made that playlist when you were with your wife, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t make it. She made it on our honeymoon. Said it was all the songs we’d had sex to.” Despite his effort to keep his voice even, he knew he’d failed when her gaze swung sharply to his. “More lies, since I don’t recognize half of them, and I sure as hell never fucked her to ‘Mmm-freaking-Bop’.”
“You were trying to start a family.”
“No. I thought we already had.” At her quizzical expression, he shoved a hand through his hair. Only Darla could ruin his night with Sara when she wasn’t even around. “I married her because she told me she was pregnant. She wasn’t. End of story.”
Chapter Eight
Sara shifted away from Brad, sliding toward the other side of the tub. He didn’t protest her slipping away. Actually he seemed to welcome the distance.
He’d almost been a father. Or he could have been. Obviously he’d wanted to be, enough to marry the mother of the child he believed he would have.
He hadn’t left Darla because he wanted to be with other women, as the rumor mill had suggested. Hell, maybe as Darla herself had suggested enough times until the gossips in town accepted it as fact.
Just like Sara did at first.
She hooked her arms around her updrawn knees, suddenly cold despite the warm, frothy bubbles. “Who does that? Who lies about something as important as a baby?”
He stared at her for so long that she had to struggle to hold his gaze. “Lots of people lie, Sara.”
The back of her neck prickled with heat, and she drew in a slow breath. She wasn’t going to run from this conversation or from the accusations he didn’t voice. Was he lumping her in with Darla? How could he compare her harmless wish to keep them secret for a while to a woman who would lie to him about his baby? A baby that didn’t exist.
“You’re sure she was never pregnant?”
He stabbed the MP3 player and the music stopped. Only the sound of the bubbling tub broke the eerie silence. “She admitted as much.”
“You didn’t…did you ever love her?”
“No. We had a fling, one of those that you keep coming back to even when you know you shouldn’t.” His thumb traced the circle on his music player as if he was lost in thought. “I knew it wasn’t serious, that I wouldn’t ever feel anything more for her than affection, but I didn’t break it off. Sometimes someone wanting you is the biggest aphrodisiac there is. It fills a lot of holes.”
She understood that well, part of why she’d chased after that elusive feeling more than once since she’d been in Fairdale. Why be alone when someone could smooth over the ache, even if it was only temporary? She’d never realized Brad was looking for more too. That hearing that same need in his voice would allow her to acknowledge her own desire for something beyond quickie hookups and even faster breakups.
“So you divorced her because she’d lied?”
“Like I said, I didn’t love her. And if I had, that would’ve killed it.” His lips quirked, but it wasn’t a real smile. More like a visual dart aimed at her. “Then there was my harem. You know, all those women I wanted so badly to bang, according to you and the town bigmouths. You’ve seen a ton of chicks parading through here, right?”
“You wouldn’t have done that while I was around. Not if—not when you wanted me.”
“Right. So for the two months you’ve been here, I’ve kept my manwhoring out of this house. But before then…” He whistled, and she shut her eyes tight. “Sure you should’ve gone raw with me? You might’ve put your health at risk. Since I’m such an indiscriminate bastard.”
Before she could reply, he jerked to his feet and stepped out of the tub, trailing water and bubbles across the floor as he strode into his room.
