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“Not any longer.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the hurt to stay far below the surface. Yes, I once did the club scene. I slept around a little more than I probably should have, considering I was a “nice” girl. I’d been looking so desperately for that one thing I need, and no one ever seemed to have it. No one even knew what I was talking about.
I hear her talking in the background, voices muffled because she put her hand over the phone, and I can imagine all too well what she’s saying. When someone comes back on the line, it’s not Sam.
“Sam says you met someone, honey?”
That carefully optimistic voice breaks my fucking heart.You owe me, Charlie MacNiall.“Hi, Mom. Yeah, I’m seeing someone, and he’d like to meet you all.”Although I don’t know why.
“Oh?” Her voice brightens. “Absolutely. We’d love to meet your young man. Wouldn’t we, Sam? Definitely bring him tomorrow. I can’t wait to meet him. So, what’s he like?”
My chest hurts so much it takes me a second to respond. “He’s nice. Real nice. You’ll like him.”
“I’m sure we will,” she says in that same brightly determined voice that seems to echo withoh dear Lord Jesus, not again. “Are you okay? I mean, I know how hard it’s been, honey. Do you need to see Dr. Huntington?”
Dully, I shake my head, though she can’t see. “No. I’m fine, Mom.”
“How’s your depression? Your anxiety?”
“I’m fine,” I repeat in that same, level voice. “I’ll see you tomorrow. So is it okay if Charlie comes too?”
“Absolutely, the more the merrier. Did I tell you that Michael’s going to be here?”
“Yes.” I can’t count the number of times she’s already bragged that my brilliant, successful brother will be attending our mundane, little family get-together. He probably had to reschedule half a dozen important business trips in order to come for Christmas all the way from sunny California.
“He’s bringing someone too. Her name’s Brittany.”
“Great.” She even sounds perky and perfect. Knowing Michael’s taste in women, she’ll be model thin, blonde and probably loaded.
Maybe I should hit my anxiety meds before going over tomorrow. I won’t have to call Dr. Huntington—I still have an emergency stash.
But then I remember that I won’t be alone. I won’t have to sit there at the table with a frozen smile and choke down another bite of dry turkey while everyone keeps treating me like I need a straitjacket.
Closing my eyes, I call up his face, the wicked heat in his eyes, the adorable dimple in his cheek. I’ll be going home with him, learning what makes him laugh or groan with desire. Now I know that beneath that charming exterior, he has plenty of tats for me to lick and nibble. Big, powerful hands he isn’t afraid to use in order to show me exactly how hard he can be.
While he plunges that lovely cock into me.Tonight, please, please. Let it be tonight.
“So you’ll be over for dinner, right?” Mom asks one last time. “You know your father would love it if you could come by three in the afternoon.”
That’s her way of sayingwe know you’re always late, so if I tell you to come at three, you might make it by five. This time I don’t mind the desperate edge in her voice. “Sure, Mom. We’ll be there.”
7
To keep myself away from his closed bedroom door, I zip up my jacket—with my gloves this time—and take Sheba for a long walk. I keep touching my cell phone, sure that he’ll text me if he wakes up and wants to know where we’ve gone. I left a note in the kitchen too, just in case.
I saw everything west of his house driving out from Springfield, so I walk east along the same narrow paved road. After about ten minutes, the road turns into dirt. Fenced pastures of cows and horses stretch out on either side, rolling hills and woods. I grew up in town with neighbors so close they could see you in the bathroom if you forgot the blinds were open. Yet here I walked for half an hour and haven’t seen a single driveway.
That must be some kind of super nice neighbor if he’s willing to come this far to check on a dog. Who am I kidding—I drove fifteen minutes out of town to get here.
But not for the dog alone.
The dust cloud ahead alerts me that I’m finally going to see someone way out here in the middle of nowhere. In a few moments, a big, gold Suburban appears, slowing once the driver sees me. I edge over to the dead grass and weeds by the ditch to give them plenty of room. Somehow I’m not surprised when the SUV stops and the window rolls down.
“Hi there.” A man with short dark hair smiles and waves, leaning across the console. “You must be the dog sitter.”
Sheba sits at my feet, her big ears perked. She doesn’t make any sound of aggression, but she seems taller, the fur rising up along her neck and back. She doesn’t like this guy. “And you must be the neighbor.”
“Sure am. I live a few miles away.” He waves vaguely in the direction he came, still all smiles and cheerful good-old-boy charm. “I’m glad Mac found someone to stay with Sheba on such short notice, especially with the holidays and all.”
