Page 99 of Tumbleweed Temptation
“It takes practice,” she said. “And I’m not good at it every time. I haven't even been here in probably a couple of years, so I’m out of practice.”
“You haven't had anything you want to contemplate on?”
“My life was just my life. Nothing big was happening, nothing small was happening.”
“Does something like that need to happen for you to want to come out here?”
“I felt like it needed to be something like that. I guess it doesn’t. Patrick would bring me out here when I got sad, so I guess I associated it with that.”
“Why you brought me.”
“Why I brought you.”
“Did it work every time?”
“No, not every time. I mean, I had a lot of issues. But it helped me to get out of my own head and feel something bigger. Patrick wasn't really religious, but I guess he’s pretty spiritual.”
“He’s been pretty good to you, hasn’t he?”
“I think he felt guilty, so he kind of felt he had a lot to make up for.”
“What did he feel guilty about?”
“He wasn't a great dad to my mother, which he readily admits. And so he blames himself for her making bad decisions that ended up with me an orphan.” She shrugged as if there wasn't more to that story.
“I guess I knew you were an orphan,” he said slowly. “Or at least that your mom died, too.”
“Both my parents. Together.”
“What happened? Was it a car accident?”
She looked off into the distance. “No. I mean, I tell people that, but that wasn’t what it was. My dad—he was abusive.”
“Gin.” He laced his fingers with hers, tightened his hold, not sure if he wanted to hear this or not.
“She tried to leave. He came after her. After he shot her, he turned the gun on himself.”
The tightness of her voice as she said those words struck him straight in the heart, and he turned to her, wanting to hold her, but the Jeep wasn’t exactly made for that. But he ached for her.
“Where were you?”
“I was there.” Her gaze remained straight ahead.
“Did you get counseling? Something?” There were no services like that in town now, and he was sure there hadn’t been when she was a kid, but maybe Patrick had taken her to San Angelo.
“A few times, we went to Kimmel. But it was hard for Patrick to get me there, and I really don’t know that the counselor knew how to deal with that kind of event, so I just—managed. I don't think about it much anymore, or talk about it. I wonder, sometimes, what I would have become if they’d lived. I would have grown up in a city, but I think I would be a completely different person, a different personality. I think I would have closed in on myself. I might have been okay with just my mom, but with my dad.” She shook her head. “I wouldn't be the same person.”
“I’m sorry you lived with that. I had no idea.” He never would have known. She’d never given anyone a hint of living through that trauma.
Why had she told him now?
She shook her head again. “It’s in the past. Tonight’s not—I don't want them to be here with us tonight, the thoughts of them. They were selfish people, both of them. But that’s why Patrick brought me here when I was young. I want to help you heal. I don't really know what to say, so I just thought I’d share this place with you.”
He brought her hand to his lips, then turned and touched her cheek. She smiled at him, that easy little smile of hers, and he leaned in for the kiss.
He didn’t know why it heated so fast, just flashed to life, and he had no idea they could make such contortions in the confines of the Jeep, but everything, everything dissolved around them, and there was only Ginny and him and heat and softness and pleasure.
He lifted his head to look down at her, her hair spread over the reclined seat, her eyes dark and sleepy, her lips swollen from his kisses.
