Page 79 of Jensen
I clear my throat. “Yeah. Brothers asked us to meet him in the morning.”
The magic seeps out of the room. Reality is back, harsh and unwelcome.
“He did?” she asks.
“He just texted me. Eleven at his house tomorrow morning.”
She glances at the clock. “Eleven this morning.”
I brush her hair back, tilting her chin up. She’s giving me big, wide eyes, the kind I don’t know how to resist.
“You want us to go, don’t you?” I say.
She nods, biting her lip. “I know you have history with him, but he’s helped me.”
This is my weakness. When she betrayed me, I had enough pain and anger to hold it back. But now that I’ve grappled with that and let it shift to the side, I find I can’t resist the beautiful pleading face below mine. If a chain is as strong as its weakest link, I am a poor excuse for one, because I can’t say no.
“You want to see if he’s talked to Kayleigh,” I say.
She nods. “I just…want to ask how my son is, to hear how Kayleigh is.”
I clear my throat. “Alright. I’ll take you.”
Her hands slide up around my neck, her mouth finding mine. “Thank you,” she murmurs against my lips.
“But you listen to me while we’re there,” I say. “And don’t let your guard down.”
She shifts back, but I keep her close against my chest. Brothers couldn’t have picked a more effective weapon to use against me thanthis woman. At least, this time, I’m aware I’m being manipulated. I’m coming back to hell with eyes wide open.
“I’ll do anything you want,” she whispers.
I weave my fingers through hers, too numb for anything but the warmth of her body.
“I want one more dance,” I say “Real slow. Then, we’ll sleep.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
DELLA
At ten, I climb down the ladder in my fringe dress. It’s clean; I used the Maytag I found on the back porch to get our clothes washed up and hung them out on the line yesterday. He gives me a sharp glance as I step into my boots by the door. His mouth thins in silent judgement, and all the magic of last night dissipates in the wake of his general grumpiness.
“You don’t like it,” I say.
“I think half your ass is out,” he says.
He’s in a linen shirt, work pants, and his same old boots, like he doesn’t give a fuck, which I’ve come to realize, he, in fact, does not.
“Aren’t you lucky.”
He puts a Camel in his lip. “Get outside and get in the truck, Della.”
He’s using his bossy voice again. Rolling my eyes, I turn to unlock the door, stepping out onto the porch. He grabs the dusty cowboy hat he set on the table the day we arrived and follows me, veering around to where he parked the truck. The engine revs, then the Dodge circles into view and stops.
He pushes open the door, holding out his hand. I climb in awkwardly, trying to keep my dress from riding up. Then, he does that sexy thing where he backs the truck up with one palm flat onthe wheel. I look away, trying to get control of myself. I’m shameless. I can still feel what he did last night, wet between my thighs.
We pull out onto the road. His jaw is tight, his body tighter. I might struggle to read him sometimes, but not today. He’s set up his walls good and hard, so I lean against the door, the way I used to do with Leland, and let my forehead press to the glass. Only, this time, Leland isn’t there to tell me to sit up straight.
We leave the gorge, going out towards Byway. Then, we’re back in rich folk country, surrounded by high, dark walls that protect millions in horseflesh. I see signs for the city, and they bring back memories I’d rather forget. Those roll by, and we’re on the west side, out where the houses cost millions but somehow still less than the one I was kept prisoner in.
