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“No. There’s nothing you can do. Just…” She motioned for him to leave.
Her rejection made him feel like he had fangs and claws. His merest touch was a violation to her tender, feminine flesh. His size and sex suddenly felt incriminatory. He didn’t know why that was, but he felt burly and awkward and blameworthy as he stood up and backed into the open doorway. He went out and pulled the door closed behind himself.
When she came out, Griff was sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, his fingers making tunnels through his hair.
Hearing her, he looked up, his expression bleak. She felt self-conscious, wrapped from chin to ankles in the pink terry-cloth robe that belonged to a woman she’d never met. He’d found underwear for her. Sanitary pads. Even with her husband, she’d never shared moments as personal as the last few she’d shared with Griff Burkett.
He said, “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”
“Your fault?”
He came to his feet. “In the hotel, I was rough with you.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Yes, I was. I manhandled you. Then I forced you to run, made you crawl through a wall on your belly, dragged you—”
“It wasn’t your fault, Griff.”
“Like hell! It wouldn’t have happened if I’d left you alone. You’d still have your baby if you were safe inside your hotel room, not on this damn fool’s mission of mine.”
“Listen,” she said softly, hoping to calm him. “I’ve been feeling twinges for several days. I was spotting on the morning of Foster’s funeral. That’s normal during early pregnancy. I thought it was caused by stress, the shock of his death. I ignored it. But the cramps and spotting were signals. It would have happened no matter what, Griff.” She could tell by his expression that she hadn’t persuaded him.
“Are you still bleeding?”
“Some. I think I’ve already expelled the…” Unable to bring herself to say it, she ended with “I think the worst of it is over.”
“So, you’re going to be okay?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m sorry I caused you this delay.”
“Delay?”
“Manuelo.”
“Oh. Right.”
“Do you know how to get to Itasca?”
He looked at her like he didn’t understand the question, then said, “South on 35 out of Fort Worth. I’ll find it.”
“How long will it take you?”
“I don’t know. Hour and a half maybe.”
“And if you do find Manuelo, how are you going to convince him to come back with you? He doesn’t even speak English.”
“I’ll make myself understood.”
“He’ll be scared. When he sees you, God knows what he’ll do.”
“I can take care of myself. Can you?”
“I’ll be all right.”
“Can I get you anything before I go?”
“I can’t think of anything.”
