“Just not tonight,” I say, rolling off her and sitting up to run my fingers through my hair. With my back to her, it gives her time to straighten her clothes without me looking on. It gives me time to focus on not getting harder. And not trying to persuade her. Which I could do.
I know if I pressed her, I could get her to give in. But I won’t. When we do this, I want her body and her mind begging for it. “Tonight, I’m very interested to know how I came home to find you in my bed.”
“Are you complaining?”
I turn around to look at her, to see if she’s kidding. Her expression is unreadable. “Hell no!”
She smiles and draws her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. Even though it’s an innocent gesture, it’s so prim it’s somehow sexy. And it makes me want her all over again.
I stretch out on my side, crossways in front of her, resting my head on my palm. “So, tell me your tale, Goldilocks.”
Laney focuses on her toes as she wiggles them. I don’t say anything else to prompt her. She’ll tell me in her own time. She has to. She’s been sleeping in my bed, for God’s sake.
Finally she speaks. Her voice is quiet. Wounded.
“It won’t make any sense unless I start from the beginning.”
“Okay, then start from the beginning.”
She glances up at me then quickly away, almost like she’s embarrassed. Now I’m more curious than ever to know her deal.
“My whole life, all I’ve ever wanted was to get married and have kids, and find in life what my parents have.” I suppress a groan.
Damn! Why does she have to be that kind of woman?
“I met a guy my freshman year in college. He seemed like the perfect man. He was smart, responsible, ambitious, loving. He had pretty much the same goals as me. And I thought he was trustworthy. Turns out he wasn’t. I found him in bed a couple of months ago. With my best friend.”
“Oh shit! What an ass**le!”
Laney nods, still staring at her toes. “I’m sure you know . . . I mean, I doubt it’s any surprise to you that . . .”
When she doesn’t finish, I prompt her. “What? Spit it out? What should I know?”
She struggles with how to phrase whatever she’s getting at. I watch her small, white teeth chew nervously at her bottom lip. It’s distracting as hell. Makes me wish she’d finish her story and then ask me to lick her from head to toe.
Although I doubt that’s likely.
At least not tonight.
Maybe tomorrow night . . . If I can get her to stay . . .
When she still doesn’t speak, I bark, “Damn, woman! Out with it.”
“Look, I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you that people see you as a . . . a . . . kind of a wild guy.”
“Seems like I’ve heard that a time or two, but what’s that got to do with anything?”
She shrugs. “Well, my parents know that I’m working on your family’s estate, and . . .”
“Ahhh, and they don’t like you associating with the likes of me,” I finish for her.
“It’s not really that. I mean, I told them it was just work, but . . .”
“But what?”
“But they don’t believe me, of course. At least not after Sunday.”
“Why? What happened Sunday?”
“Well, you dropped me off at the curb and I had to walk in wearing a hoochie outfit, carrying my church clothes. It doesn’t make a very convincing argument for professionalism.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Those were hoochie clothes?” I nod. “Good to know.”
“To me they are. To my parents, they definitely are!”
“So the parents think I’m corrupting you?”
She shrugs. “I suppose so. They know I’m not that girl.”
“The kind that wears hoochie clothes,” I say, trying to hide my grin.
“Right. And goes to fun parties and indulges in meaningless flirtation.”
“Maybe they don’t know what kind of girl you are. ’Cause Sunday, you sure seemed like you were okay being ‘that girl.’”
“That’s exactly the problem. They know it’s not like me. So . . .”
“They think it’s me.”
“Right.”
“And the preacher disapproves.”
“Very much so.”
“And this is why you’re in my bed? You’re sticking it to the preacher by making it look like I’m sticking it to you?”
She gives me the stink eye, and I grin.
“No one is sticking anything to anybody.”
“That’s a damn shame, too.”
She looks surprised when she giggles, like she wasn’t expecting it. Couldn’t control it.
When her smile dies, she asks, “Are you gonna let me finish?”
“Of course. You have my full attention,” I say, narrowing my eyes on her. She gives me a dubious look then rolls her eyes and continues.
“Anyway, after my parents and I discussed where I was, who I was with, and why, we got into an argument. You see, they don’t know why Shane and I broke up.”
“Shane’s Mr. Perfect?”
Another withering look.
“Anyway, long story short, they didn’t like that we broke up, they didn’t like that I was with you, and they took it upon themselves to fix it. So after I came here and worked on the estate all day Monday, I went home to find that they’d invited Shane for dinner. Without even asking me. They totally ambushed me. Wanted us to talk so they could all tell me how stupid I’m being and how wrong I am to throw what we had away. So I left. And I haven’t been back since.”
“They brought the guy in behind your back?” She nods solemnly. “Damn, that was a pretty shitty thing for them to do.”
“I thought so, too. It’s like they just can’t understand. Or don’t want to. They see what they want to see, no matter how wrong or biased,” she says bitterly.
“Over the years I’ve learned that most people are judgmental as hell. They may think they’re not. And some probably even try not to be. But most are. It’s human nature.”
“I try really hard not to be like that.”
“And I think you do a good job. The fact that you’re here right now shows that you’re not as bad as most. Especially in this town.”