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“As I said, you’ll see when we get back to yours.”
I know this is a bad idea but I can’t stop myself. Since the kiss, I’ve been thinking about how this could be perfect for me. He’s not offering any attachment. He’s not going to make things complicated. One day together and then he disappears. I get to find out what all the fuss is about sex and no one in town has to hear about it afterward.
If I am going to be a notch on a bedpost, why not with someone this handsome? This confident?
He keeps driving and I say nothing else. I look out the window and wonder what would happen if I said the safe word now. Would he walk away like he says he would?
I get the feeling that no safe word in the world is going to keep me safe from him, not anymore, not since that kiss that still lingers on my lips like the bubbles from too much champagne.
15
ENZO
* * *
“You hungry?” he asks when we finally get back to town just as the sun starts to dip toward the horizon.
“Famished,” I reply. “But probably not as hungry as the bear that lost his dinner. I kind of feel sorry for him.”
“Don’t. He doesn’t give a shit about you.” He pulls up outside Maisie’s diner. I remember the last time I saw him here. A lot’s happened since then but the place hasn’t changed. Why would it? It’s only been a couple of days.
I feel like more time should have passed.
I’ve seen a photo of my parents for the first time since then. I’ve been threatened with a gun. I’ve been kissed. Not just kissed. Owned by his mouth. I’m going to lunch with the man who burned my police file. The man who can kick the shit out of the sheriff and not get in trouble for it.
Why am I even doing this? I should hate him. Whatever chance I had of finding out who my parents were, it burned up with the file.
Why did I have to let him kiss me?
I could tell myself I didn’t let him. He did it anyway. But I didn’t fight him. Didn’t tell him to stop. All I did was melt in his arms like fifty years of feminism never happened. What does that say about me?
He gets out of the car when we’re safely in the parking lot, looking across at me before we go inside the diner. “You can still walk away,” he says. “Still tell me to go fuck myself.”
“I’ll pick up the tab for lunch,” I reply. “You don’t need to keep hinting that you can’t afford it. It’s fine. I get it.”
He’s about to reply when there’s a buzzing from inside his jacket pocket. “I’ve got to take this,” he says. “Get us a good table.”
He puts the cellphone to his ear, walking away from me, talking in a low voice.
I could go home. I could run from him. I could say my safe word and end this before it goes any further. I could do all those things.
What I do instead is walk into the diner and find Maisie bringing out a tray of eggs and bacon for the sheriff and his son.
They look at me from their seats. Walter looks at the necklace, then turns away, talking to Andrew quietly, his neck bulging with barely concealed rage. Andrew looks as scared as he did when Enzo sent him packing.
Maisie gives them their food but they don’t even notice. She comes back past, looping her arm into mine, pulling me into the staff room next to the kitchen. “What’s going on?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Did I just see you pull into the parking lot with Enzo? Aren’t you meant to be at Chippewa Falls right now?”
“He gave me a lift back.”
She shrugs. “Gave me a lift back she says like it’s no big deal. What the hell, Chloe? What are you doing?”
“Can you keep a secret?”
“You’re not pregnant, are you?”
