Page 136 of His Addiction
He was right. And everything about her reaction was wrong.
“A jar of cherry lips didn’t get me to talk to you then, and knowing she sucked you off won’t do it now.”
Bang.
A female voice cut through the sudden silence. “If you don’t want him, I’ll have him.”
Water dripped from the tap.
The same voice spoke again. “He’s gone, by the way. After he punched the shit out of the tampon machine.He’s probably gone to find the woman who sucked him off.”
Her cheeks flushed with a sudden surge of embarrassment. Taking a deep breath, she opened the cubicle door and stepped out, met by the curious eyes of an audience.
With a tight, controlled smile, she manoeuvred her way past them.
Back in the bar, she spotted Harry in the corner, seated with a woman whose wide-brimmed hat made it hard to see their faces, though she recognised his familiar tweed jacket straight away.
The guy deserved some fun, too. Before Shannon arrived at Meadow Dawn, Harry’s wife had left him for her Spanish hairdresser, leaving him to deal with everything on his own.
Turning away, she sat at a neighbouring table to catch her breath. She poured herself a glass of ice water, trying to pull herself together.
After a few minutes, she glanced over her shoulder to find Jamie at the bar, alone.
His hip leaned against the bar, his eyes lowered to the golden liquid in his glass. Shannon couldn’t avert her gaze, letting it wander all over him, drawn to the guy with every passing second.
The sight of him brought both pleasure and pain, a reminder of intimate moments and trust now lost. Niall had stolen everything, leaving her empty. And the most brutal realisation was that the heartache was hers alone.
Jamie had slipped into someone else’s life quicker than he’d once slipped into hers.
Out of the corner of her eye, Miss Fancy Pants entered, strutting to the bar with a confident sway. She was all bouncy curls, lacquered nails, and a gleaming smile.
Her fingertips danced up Jamie’s arm, and as her laugh rang out across the room, it pierced Shannon’s heart.
With a frustrated breath, Shannon stood and made her way to the exit, the fresh air biting at her flushed cheeks. Tears blurred her vision as the image of Jamie with that woman consumed her.
Breathe. Just breathe. Focus on something else. Pick a horse.
She moved to the parade ring, squinting as the sunlight broke through the clouds. Horses pranced in the paddock, led around the confined space.
She watched the rhythm of their movements, picking out the anxious ones, the ones that would burn out too soon or charge like demons to the finish line.
After a few minutes, she chose a lean bay mare with visible ribs and muscles taut under its glossy coat. Number 56.
She joined the bookmaker’s queue and waited. “Fifty quid on the nose. Number 56.”
The elderly man nodded and took her cash, printing out the ticket. “There ya go, love.”
His endearment stung, a silly reminder of Jamie’s face flickering through her mind. She pushed through the crowd, finding a space by the track just in time to see the horses burst off the starting line.
Pounding hooves reverberated through her body, adrenaline surging as the horses thundered past her.
Eyes locked on the large screen, she watched the jockeys urge their mounts forward, each one fighting for the finish line. Caught up in the thrill, she bounced on her toes, screaming as if Number 56 could hear her.
The winner crossed the line with a surge of energy, and Shannon couldn’t contain her excitement.
She clapped and smiled to herself, though even the thrill of winning a cool thousand pounds couldn’t fix the sadness in her heart.
The sky darkened and drizzle came. She groaned when it switched to a heavy downpour. Surrounding umbrellas opened in unison, a cascade of colour.
