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“It figures.”
The racing clouds threw his face into shadow, and the fruit she’d been trying so hard to touch came closer. She sucked in more air. “All those people know we’re a couple. But not Spence and Sunny.”
“This is Wynette. Everybody pulls together.”
The fruit hung so close she could catch its scent, no longer pleasant, but fetid and cloying. “Such loyal people.”
“They don’t make them any better.”
And just like that, she had the poisoned fruit in her hand. “You knew all along that nobody would say anything to Spence or Sunny.”
A distant roll of thunder . . . He craned his neck toward the video camera in the tree, as if he wanted to make sure it hadn’t moved. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“Oh, you understand, all right.” She spoke the rest on a single, painful breath. “When you kissed me . . . When you told all those women we were a couple . . . You knew they’d keep it a secret.”
He shrugged. “People’ll do what they’re going to do.”
The fruit split open in her hands, revealing its wormy, rotten flesh. “All your talk about openness and honesty, about how much you hated sneaking around. I bought it.”
“I do hate sneaking around.”
The clouds rushed overhead, the thunder rumbled, and a wave of fury caught her in its grip. “I was so touched when you kissed me in front of everyone. So giddy that you were willing to make that kind of sacrifice. For me! But you . . . you weren’t risking a thing.”
“Wait a minute.” His eyes flamed with righteous indignation. “You lit into me that night. You said what I did was stupid.”
“That’s what my head said. But my heart . . . My stupid heart . . .” Her voice broke. “It was singing.”
He winced. “Meg . . .”
The play of emotions on the face of this man who would never willingly hurt anyone was painfully easy to decipher. His dismay. His concern. His pity. She hated it—hated him. She wanted to hurt him as he’d hurt her, and she knew exactly how to punish him. With her honesty.
“I’ve fallen in love with you,” she said. “Just like the others.”
He couldn’t hide his dismay. “Meg . . .”
“But I don’t mean any more to you than the rest of them. Any more to you than Lucy did.”
“Hold it right there.”
“I’m such an idiot. That kiss meant so much to me. I let it mean so much.” She gave a harsh laugh that was mainly a sob, no longer certain which of them she was most angry with. “And the way you wanted me to stay at your house . . . Everybody was so worried about that, but if it had happened, they’d have killed themselves covering for you. You knew that.”
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing.” But he wouldn’t meet her eyes.
She took in his strong, clean profile. “Just the sight of you made me feel like dancing,” she whispered. “I’ve never loved a man like I love you. Never imagined the kind of feelings I have for you.”
His mouth twisted and his eyes darkened with pain. “Meg, I care. Don’t think I don’t care. You’re— You’re wonderful. You make me . . .”
He paused, searching for a word, and she sneered at him through her tears. “Do I make your heart sing? Do I make you feel like dancing?”
“You’re upset. You—”
“My love is hot!” The words burst from her. “It’s a burning thing. It boils and churns and runs deep and strong. But all your emotions are cool and spare. You stand on the sidelines where you don’t have to sweat too much. That’s why you wanted to marry Lucy. It was neat. It was logical. Well, I’m not neat. I’m messy and wild and disruptive, and you have broken my heart.”
With a clap of thunder, the rain began to fall. His face twisted. “Don’t say that. You’re upset.”
He tried to reach out to her, but she jerked away. “Get out of here. Leave me alone.”
“Not like this.”
