“You’re my first with so many things, like buying me perfume, treating me kindly, helping me out, respecting me during sex. I could go on and on, but the point I was trying to make before we got side-tracked about my orgasms was that I don’t know much about your background. Do you have any brothers and sisters? Where do your parents live? Did you go to college? It’s only fair you share with me since I shared my backstory with you.”
“One sister, three nephews, no college, my mom’s dead, and my dad is as good as dead to me.” He picked up his glass and took a drink.
“Wait. I didn’t want the condensed story of your life. Does your sister live in Alina?”
“Nope. She’s married to a guy in the Army, and they live in Richfield, Utah. She’s got three boys, just had the third a month ago. That’s why I was driving through Utah when I stopped in Moab. I was coming back from my sister’s. She’s twenty-seven years old—three years younger than me. It’s just the two of us.”
“Are you from Alina?”
“Colorado Springs.”
“So you don’t get along with your dad?”
His face darkened and his jaw tightened. “He killed my mom, so I’d have to say that I don’t.” He lifted his hand and motioned for the waiter. “You want another drink?”
“Sure. Are you okay with me asking you these questions?”
“Yeah.” He turned to the waiter. “Another whiskey and Irish cream.”
“I’m so sorry about your mom… and dad. Why did he… kill her?” She gulped down the rest of her first drink.
“He wanted to marry his whore.” She winced at the word and he frowned. “I guess I should’ve said mistress.”
“Why didn’t he just divorce your mom?”
“To him, my mom was worth more dead than alive. He took out a million-dollar life insurance policy a few months before he hacked her to death. Not only is he a fucking sonofabitch sociopath, but he’s also a fucking dumbass. He really didn’t think he’d be caught.”
She reached for his hand and interlocked their fingers. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what to say. It must be awful for you. How old were you when it happened?”
“Fourteen. Kendra was only eleven. The bastard is dead to me.” Picking up his newly delivered whiskey, he looked at her straight on. “I’m done talking about it.”
Reflected in his eyes were pain and sadness. She leaned over the table and reached out for him to meet her halfway. He did, and she traced his bottom lip lightly with her fingertip. She lifted in her chair and pulled his lip in between her teeth, sucking and licking it. She had the urge to wrap her arms around him and pull him tight against her, cocooning him from his painful memories, from the horror that no son should ever have to deal with. His hand came behind her head, fisting her hair as his mouth pressed against hers, deepening the kiss.
“I’m sorry I made you conjure up the memories,” she said against his lips, but he swallowed her words. The urgency and passion in the kiss spoke volumes, telling her that he needed her at that moment to feel something other than sadness, anger, and broken memories.
He pulled away, his gaze intense with desire and something else.Admiration? Could it possibly be love? I don’t think so. It’s too soon, but then I feel something so wonderful for him, why can’t he feel it for me?
“What’s going on in your head? I can see you’re wrestling with something in there.” He squeezed her hand.
“Nothing really. It’s just that I’m glad you shared that about your family. I know it was hard.”
“Only a few people know that part of my life. Not even all my brothers do. You’re the only woman I’ve shared it with. I wanted you to know.” He pressed her hand to his lips and kissed each finger.
A smile danced across her face as she slipped her hand away. “I have to go to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”
On the way back to the table, she caught something from the corner of her eye. It was a form—familiar yet menacing. Slowly she turned toward the lobby, and all she saw was Bobby. Everything fell away: the low hum of conversation, the clink of glasses and dishes, the cars speeding down the street in front of the restaurant. She stopped dead; she couldn’t move a single muscle, not even to scream. Her pulse banged in her ears and sweat dripped down her back. The absolute horror of seeing him in her space completely paralyzed her.
Bobby came toward her, his beady eyes flashing with rage. His thin lips were pulled back in a snarl, exposing his crooked teeth. Raising his hands, he clenched them into fists as if foreshadowing what he was going to do to her.
The more she thought about running away, or even moving a bit, the more terrified and discouraged she felt. It seemed as if this was the end of the road for her.
One. Two. Three. Each step brought her tormentor closer to her. The heels of the new shoes Paco had bought her dug deeper into the plush carpet, immobilizing her even more.How is he here?He was so close she swore she could smell the stench of his armpits and cheap aftershave.
A choked cry for help forced itself up her throat, and she felt a drop run down her cheek.
“May I help you with something, miss?” the waiter asked her. Simple words, but they were the ones she needed to ground her.
Forcing her legs to move, she stepped back and grabbed the waiter’s arm. “I’m not feeling so well. Can you please escort me back to my table?”