Read Online A Wild Red Rose by Lynn Shurr - Free Book Online Page A

Nelle was a gift from your dad when you were just a pup.”
    “I lied.” At least, he could tell the truth about that. “I totaled my rig swervin’ to avoid a pronghorn, and Snuffy loaned her to me. The trailer, too. Didn’t want you to think I’m a bad driver, or you might not have come along.” And added another lie.
    “Just don’t do it again. I’ve been lied to by enough men in my life. For that, you only get a cuddle tonight. Besides, those children really wore me out.”
    “Yeah, kids can do that. A cuddle it is.”
    “You aren’t going to try to talk me into anything else?”
    “Nope. Let’s go to bed. And sleep.”
    The idea was so novel to Renee when in bed with a man, she couldn’t seem to close her eyes, even when she had one leg thrown over Clint’s warm thigh and her head nestled against his chest. She listened to the steady thump of his heart and thought back over the day. She’d never given or received so many hugs.
    “I’m not a person who hugs,” she announced to a half-asleep Clint.
    “Well, you were today. Good job.”
    “I think one of the boys groped me.”
    “I’d grope you, too, if you were hugging me.”
    “You are, sort of.”
    Clint reached a hand down and squeezed her behind. “Grope, grope.”
    “Stop that. I mean hugging and cuddling is not something I do normally. I don’t like to be touched unless I’m in control of the situation. When I have sex, I can control men. That’s what my analyst said.”
    “Okay,” Clint answered, afraid to go forward. “Guess you weren’t hugged enough as a child.”
    “I was, way too much. Later after I went to Paris with my Uncle Dewey, I didn’t want to be touched anymore.”
    Clint didn’t want to ask, but he had to. “He abused you?”
    “He didn’t make it seem that way. He said in France, an uncle was supposed to train a niece in the ways of the world. He meant sex. He bought me sophisticated clothes, changed my hairstyle, made me a woman, he said.”
    “How old were you?”
    “Twelve.”
    “Jesus H. Christ! Why didn’t you tell your parents?” Wide awake now, Clint held the woman in his arms a little tighter.
    “He said he’d tell my father everything. That I’d given him blow jobs and all the positions we used. I loved my dad. I couldn’t face his knowing. I think my mom knew. I think he might have abused her, too, when she was a teenager, but she never said anything or tried to stop him. Today, Ruth Ann said parents are supposed to protect their children. Some don’t.”
    Clint felt the dampness on his chest, his sweat or her tears, he couldn’t be sure because her story gave him the chills. Her eyelashes fluttered against his skin like a butterfly caught in a net, but she did not cry aloud. “How long did this go on, sweetheart?”
    “Until I turned eighteen and moved away to college. He was married, had a daughter younger than me. His wife left him when my cousin turned twelve—and I think I know why—so he came over more often, on all the holidays. He tried to take my younger sister to Paris, too, but I insisted he take me instead. That’s the one thing I’ve done right in my whole life, Clint. I saved Cathy from Uncle Dewey.”
    “There must have been other good things.”
    “No. Mostly I’ve made trouble for men, used them for what Uncle Dewey did to me. Ask Bodey or my cousin, Rusty.”
    “They know about Uncle Dewey?”
    “No. Just that I’m bad, bad to the bone.”
    “I don’t think that, Tiger.”
    “Well, you’re wrong. Wait and see.”
    Renee turned over, pushed his arm away when he tried to cuddle her again, and bunched her knees up under her chest. She stayed frozen in that position until certain Clint had drifted off and disturbed, he took a long time to doze. He left a little space between them because Renee insisted on it. When she heard his breathing fall into a strong, steady rhythm, she reached down to where her leather satchel leaned against the bed and took out the toy