Maybe masochist was a better description.
She jerked the car into reverse and peeled out of the lot. The longer she was around him, the harder she knew it would become to remember all the reasons she had for not getting involved with a wild man again. That type simply didn’t appeal to her anymore. Not really.
Slow and steady. Stable. Those were the kind of men she chose to date now. A man who’d grown up and learned to take responsibility for his life and for the lives of those he loved. A man more committed to home, hearth, and a nice nine-to-five job, than to looking for the next high, the next joyride. That only led to foolish risk. To tragedy. To pain. Especially for the ones left behind.
And Zach was far from slow and steady. His motto was live for the moment. He’d seen her as an unattached, consenting adult. Someone to play with for a while.
But a man like Zach wasn’t cut out for the long term or stability, much less taking any sort of responsibility for those he cared about or those who cared for him.
And if she let herself get involved with him, in any way, no matter what rationale she used to protect herself, Dara knew that when the fall came, she would be the one not wearing a parachute.
Saturday was the sort of bright sunny day that made staying inside feel like a criminal offense. Dara shifted her attention away from her window and back to her desk. Her paper-strewn, folder-filled desk. She sighed, and pushed her chair back. She loved her job. It fulfilled her professional needs and her personal ones. But today her stable, steady life felt a whole lot more like dull and boring. Maybe a cola would help her focus on the reports she had to fill out.
“That and not wondering every other second what Zach is doing with a perfect summer day like this,” she muttered. She stopped several feet from the door. “Oh, the hell with this.”
She spun back to her desk, stacked the most urgent third of the pile into a canvas tote, then grabbed her purse and marched out of her office before common sense reemerged.
Guilt began to creep in as she neared the front door, making her glance around, despite the fact that she knew she was the only one there that day. The feeling vanished the second she pushed through the door. The warm breeze brushed her skin, and the blinding sun made her shade her eyes as she locked the heavy plate glass doors.
“I’ll work tonight,” she promised herself, her mind already sailing away on thoughts of what she would do first. The day seemed full of endless possibilities.
Music suddenly blasted through the air, making her jump. She barely held on to her tote bag. The tune was instantly recognizable, and she couldn’t stop the grin that stole over her face as Roy Orbison belted out, “Oh, Pretty Woman.”
She scanned the lot, instinctively looking for theblack pickup, but except for her car, the area in front of the building was empty. Dara swallowed the pang of disappointment, then laughed ruefully at her fickle nature. Hadn’t she spent a good part of every hour since she’d left him convincing herself to get him out of her life as soon as possible?
The music was most likely coming from the gym located in the row of industrial buildings directly behind the foundation. She shrugged and strolled to her car, feeling alive and more than a bit wicked for ditching work. Her hips naturally began to sway in a sort of exaggerated walk to the beat of the still-blaring music. And so what, there was no one around to see.
She tossed the canvas bag onto the passenger seat, started the engine, then lowered the windows and climbed back out to let some of the heat dissipate. She was lip-synching along with Roy, drumming on the roof of her car and swinging her hips when her car phone rang. She jumped guiltily and cast an automatic glance across the empty lot.
Another self-deprecating laugh escaped her as she sat gingerly on the edge of the still-hot leather seat and reached for the phone.
She jerked the car into reverse and peeled out of the lot. The longer she was around him, the harder she knew it would become to remember all the reasons she had for not getting involved with a wild man again. That type simply didn’t appeal to her anymore. Not really.
Slow and steady. Stable. Those were the kind of men she chose to date now. A man who’d grown up and learned to take responsibility for his life and for the lives of those he loved. A man more committed to home, hearth, and a nice nine-to-five job, than to looking for the next high, the next joyride. That only led to foolish risk. To tragedy. To pain. Especially for the ones left behind.
And Zach was far from slow and steady. His motto was live for the moment. He’d seen her as an unattached, consenting adult. Someone to play with for a while.
But a man like Zach wasn’t cut out for the long term or stability, much less taking any sort of responsibility for those he cared about or those who cared for him.
And if she let herself get involved with him, in any way, no matter what rationale she used to protect herself, Dara knew that when the fall came, she would be the one not wearing a parachute.
Saturday was the sort of bright sunny day that made staying inside feel like a criminal offense. Dara shifted her attention away from her window and back to her desk. Her paper-strewn, folder-filled desk. She sighed, and pushed her chair back. She loved her job. It fulfilled her professional needs and her personal ones. But today her stable, steady life felt a whole lot more like dull and boring. Maybe a cola would help her focus on the reports she had to fill out.
“That and not wondering every other second what Zach is doing with a perfect summer day like this,” she muttered. She stopped several feet from the door. “Oh, the hell with this.”
She spun back to her desk, stacked the most urgent third of the pile into a canvas tote, then grabbed her purse and marched out of her office before common sense reemerged.
Guilt began to creep in as she neared the front door, making her glance around, despite the fact that she knew she was the only one there that day. The feeling vanished the second she pushed through the door. The warm breeze brushed her skin, and the blinding sun made her shade her eyes as she locked the heavy plate glass doors.
“I’ll work tonight,” she promised herself, her mind already sailing away on thoughts of what she would do first. The day seemed full of endless possibilities.
Music suddenly blasted through the air, making her jump. She barely held on to her tote bag. The tune was instantly recognizable, and she couldn’t stop the grin that stole over her face as Roy Orbison belted out, “Oh, Pretty Woman.”
She scanned the lot, instinctively looking for theblack pickup, but except for her car, the area in front of the building was empty. Dara swallowed the pang of disappointment, then laughed ruefully at her fickle nature. Hadn’t she spent a good part of every hour since she’d left him convincing herself to get him out of her life as soon as possible?
The music was most likely coming from the gym located in the row of industrial buildings directly behind the foundation. She shrugged and strolled to her car, feeling alive and more than a bit wicked for ditching work. Her hips naturally began to sway in a sort of exaggerated walk to the beat of the still-blaring music. And so what, there was no one around to see.
She tossed the canvas bag onto the passenger seat, started the engine, then lowered the windows and climbed back out to let some of the heat dissipate. She was lip-synching along with Roy, drumming on the roof of her car and swinging her hips when her car phone rang. She jumped guiltily and cast an automatic glance across the empty lot.
Another self-deprecating laugh escaped her as she sat gingerly on the edge of the still-hot leather seat and reached for the phone.
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