A Home of Her Own

Finally free of the bedding, she leapt to the carpet, but he caught her arm before she could go anywhere. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…I didn’t think it would matter,” she said, then yanked away from him and ran to her own room where she put on several layers of clothes and curled into a tight ball beneath the covers, trying to make herself as small as possible. She was shaking so badly she didn’t think she’d ever stop, and she wanted to cry. But the tears that had seemed so close a moment before suddenly wouldn’t fall.

CHAPTER FIVE

AFTER LUCKY LEFT his room, Mike groaned. Never in a million years would he have guessed that she was a virgin. She was younger than he was by a good stretch—too young for him, really. But she was certainly old enough to know what she was doing when she came to his room. With Red as her mother, she must’ve learned more about sex by the age of ten than most girls knew at fifteen. She could cuss like a sailor. She’d rambled around the whole United States. She had a body most men would die for. How did a woman like that get to be twenty-four without ever having sex?

And why the hell didn’t she tell him?

He would’ve been gentler with her. From the abandon of her response, from the signals she’d been giving him, he’d thought she was ready. Had he known the reality of the situation, he would’ve made sure—

Had he known, he probably wouldn’t have touched her. He’d welcomed her into his bed only because he assumed she’d take their lovemaking in stride—and maybe, after going to all the trouble of rescuing her, he felt somewhat deserving of a small reward. But this…He cringed. This was different. She’d been miserable, and he’d been miserable, and…and what had he expected? This was Lucky Caldwell. Of course getting involved with her would result in regret.

He sulked for several minutes, but then had to admit that there was more to what he felt than sexual frustration and disappointment. Now he could no longer believe that she was exactly like her mother and had therefore earned his derision. Besides her lack of sexual experience, he’d seen something vulnerable and sweet, even giving, beneath Lucky’s tough-girl attitude. He’d hurt her and disappointed her—deeply, he suspected—and yet she’d worried about being a generous partner.

I’m sorry…I did it wrong…Is it too late?

The contrast between the two images he now held of her troubled him—but only because he was dwelling on a situation better forgotten. It was for the best that their lovemaking had turned out the way it had; he and Lucky didn’t have any business touching each other.

With another curse, he got out of bed, kicked aside the sweatshirt she’d left behind and threw on his clothes. This night was so screwed up he was going to forget it was night and go to work. He wouldn’t think about Lucky again….

But his footsteps slowed as he neared her room, and he couldn’t help poking his head inside, just to make sure she was all right.

“Lucky?” he said softly.

She didn’t respond. He could see her curled up beneath the blankets, but he couldn’t hear her crying or anything. She must’ve gone to sleep. Wishing that made him feel better somehow, he closed her door and went outside to check on the horses.

MIKE WAS COOKING again. Lucky could smell the food, but she didn’t want to get out of bed. She didn’t want to face him. She felt incredibly stupid for ever believing that one night in his arms could change anything in her world. And she knew he had to be asking himself why he’d shown any interest in her. Going into his room had been as big a gaffe as flashing him—only more humiliating because this time she’d been hoping for a positive reaction.

She rubbed her temples to ease the pounding in her head as she tried to convince herself that last night’s embarrassment didn’t matter. He’d never liked her to begin with, so she hadn’t lost anything. Except a pair of panties. She felt uncomfortable without her underwear, but she wasn’t going back to his bedroom for any reason.

Getting up, she dressed and made the bed as perfectly as she could, wishing she could erase any trace of herself. The urge to leave town obsessed her. She wanted to get in her car and simply drive away. But she’d left Morris’s house vacant too long already, and the promise of those names in her mother’s journal held her fast. Besides, she might’ve been naive and foolish to do what she did, but she wouldn’t be a coward about it now.

After using her finger and a little toothpaste to brush her teeth, she raked her fingers through her unruly hair, which had reached almost wild dimensions, took a deep breath, and walked down the hall to the kitchen.

Mike didn’t turn at the sound of her approach. She thought he hadn’t heard her until he spoke. “Morning.”

Her nails curled into her palms. “Morning,” she said.

“Coffee?”

She hesitated. It felt so odd letting him take care of her. She hated the complexity it added to their relationship, hated the grudging appreciation that was getting mixed up with the resentment and everything else. But she didn’t have much choice. She could drink his coffee or she could go without. Providing for herself wasn’t an option at the moment. “Please.”

He filled a cup and set it on the table, where a pitcher of cream and a bowl of sugar waited. “Breakfast is coming right up.”

She was hungry, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep the food down. Her ulcer was aching, burning. She shouldn’t have stopped taking her medication. “Smells good.”

He flipped the pancakes on the griddle, then leaned against the counter. She could feel his attention on her but refused to meet his eyes in case he wanted to initiate a conversation that went deeper than, “One pancake or two?”

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop him. “So…” he said with just enough emphasis to warn her that she wouldn’t like what he was about to say.

Ignoring his lead-in, she crossed to the window, distraught to see that the storm still raged.

“Are you going to explain what happened last night?” he asked.

She kept her back to him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You should’ve told me you never had sex with anyone.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter. A guy should know when he needs to…to take a little extra care and—”

She didn’t want to hear this. “You’re going to burn the pancakes if you’re not careful.”

“How do you know? You’ve barely even glanced in this direction.”

“I can smell them.”

“I don’t care about the pancakes. I’m trying to tell you that—”

She held up her hand. “I know what you’re trying to tell me. I was an idiot last night. I get it. But it’s not your problem. And I don’t need your advice because I won’t ever be in that position again. A girl can only lose her virginity once, remember?”

When he didn’t respond she turned to see why, and found him looking stricken instead of mollified. “It didn’t have to be that bad,” he finally said.

“It couldn’t have been any different,” she said flatly. “Anyway, I was wondering if maybe I could get a ride into town.”

He frowned. “What’s the matter, Lucky? You itchin’ to run again?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What is it you keep running from?”

“Go to hell.”

“Is it that you’re afraid?”

She tried to throw him off with sarcasm. “Do you always analyze your bed partners?”

“Only when something happens that I don’t understand.”

“Forget about it,” she said.

“Why, so you don’t have to face the truth?”

“What truth? You rolled on top of me last night for a few seconds. That doesn’t mean you know anything about me.”

“That wasn’t exactly what happened. First, you came into my room and asked for what you got. And maybe I know more than you think. At least I know what your actions tell me.”