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The harsh sound of his breathing rasped in her ears. His weight pushed the air from her lungs. Finally, he fell off her with a moan. And then everything was still.
This was what she’d wanted since the first time they’d made love. To break through his control. But the cost to him had been too great, and as he came back to himself, she saw exactly what she knew she’d see. A good man stricken by remorse.
“Don’t say it!” She slapped her hand over his bruised mouth. Slapped his jaw. “Don’t say it!”
“Jesus . . .” He scrambled to his feet. “I can’t . . . I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Jesus, Meg . . .”
As he pulled his clothes together, she jumped up next to him, shoved her skirt down. His face was twisted, agonized. She couldn’t bear to hear his tormented apology for being human instead of a demigod. She had to do something quickly, so she poked him hard in the chest. “Now that’s what I’ve been talking about all along.”
But he’d gone pale, and her attempt at deflection fell flat. “I can’t—I can’t believe I did that to you.”
She wouldn’t give up so easily. “Could you do it again? Maybe a little slower this time, but not much.”
It was as if he didn’t hear her. “I’ll never forgive myself.”
She hid behind bravado. “You’re boring me, Theodore, and I have things to do.” First she’d try to give him back his self-respect. Then she had to face her parents. After that? She needed to turn her back on this town forever.
She grabbed her panties and adopted a cockiness she was far from feeling. “I realize I have managed to royally screw up the future of Wynette, so stop messing around here and do what you do best. Start cleaning up other people’s messes. Find Spence before he gets away. Tell him you lost your mind. Say that everybody in town knows I’m unreliable, but you still let yourself get sucked in. Then apologize for fighting with him.”
“I don’t give a damn about Spence,” he said flatly.
His words struck terror in her heart. “You will. You really, really will. Please. Do what I say.”
“Is that asshole all you can think about? After what just happened . . .”
“Yes. And it’s all I want you to think about. Here’s the thing . . . I need an undying declaration of love from you, and you’re never going to be able to give me that.”
Frustration, regret, impatience—she saw them all in his eyes. “It’s too fast, Meg. It’s too damned—”
“You’ve been more than clear.” She cut him off before he could say any more. “And no big guilt trip after I go. To be honest, I fall in and out of love fairly quickly. It won’t take me long to get over you.” She was talking too fast. “There wa
s this guy named Buzz. I went through a good six weeks feeling sorry for myself, but, honestly, you’re no Buzz.”
“What do you mean, after you go?”
She swallowed. “Strangest thing, but Wynette’s lost its appeal. I’m taking off as soon as I talk to my parents. And aren’t you glad you don’t have to be around to witness that conversation?”
“I don’t want you to leave. Not yet.”
“Why not?” She studied him, looking for some sign she might have missed. “What am I supposed to stay around for?”
He made an odd gesture of helplessness. “I—I don’t know. Just stay.”
The fact that he wouldn’t meet her eyes told her everything. “Can’t do it, pal. I—just can’t.”
It was strange to see Ted Beaudine look so vulnerable. She pressed her lips to the undamaged corner of his mouth and hurried to the car that her ever-thoughtful parents had left for her. As she drove away, she allowed herself one last glance in the rearview mirror.
He stood in the middle of the road, watching her leave. Behind him, the vast wasteland of the landfill extended as far as the eye could see.
Chapter Twenty-One
Meg cleaned up in the bathroom at the Chevron station on the highway, wiping away the worst of the dirt and covering up her tear streaks. She dug into the suitcase she’d wedged into the small restroom for her boho top, a clean pair of jeans to hid the scratches on her legs, and a gauzy green scarf to conceal the beard burn on her neck. Since the first time they’d made love, she’d wanted him to be so overcome by passion that he’d lose his legendary control. It had finally happened, but not in the way she’d dreamed.
She let herself in through the service entrance at the inn. Birdie would never permit guests as famous as her parents to stay anywhere but the recently renamed Presidential Suite, and she climbed the back stairs to the top floor. Each step was an exercise in willpower. From the very beginning, she’d gotten it all wrong with Ted. She hadn’t believed he’d loved Lucy, but he’d loved her then, and he still loved her now. Meg was nothing more than his rebound girl, his temporary walk on the wild side.
She couldn’t let herself give in to the pain, not when she was about to face such an excruciating reunion with her parents. She couldn’t think about Ted, or her uncertain future, or the wreckage she’d be leaving behind when she drove away from Wynette.
Her mother answered the door of the suite. She still wore the tailored platinum tunic top and slim-legged pants she’d had on at the landfill. Ironically, her fashion model mother cared little about clothes, but she dutifully dressed in the exquisite outfits her brother Michel made for her.
