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Authors: Linda Winfree
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shoulder.
Yeah well, you’re not going to. Frightened little girls ran home to Mama and she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She’d handled worse than this.
A tear slid down her cheek and she sucked in a harsh breath. Nerves continued jumping in her chest and fine tremors shook her. She blinked away a blur of tears and tried to focus on the road. Her concentration was shot and she needed to stop and get herself together before she got them killed.
Just ahead on the right sat a sad-looking convenience store. Without speaking, she pulled into the parking lot and scrambled from the car. Fighting against sobs already burning her lungs, she hurried inside.
“Do you have a restroom?” she asked the teenager working the register.
“Through there.” Popping her gum, the girl pointed toward an archway at the back of the store.
“Thanks.” Brushing away tears, Tori found the tiny room and locked herself in. Avoiding the mirror, she leaned against the wall, wrapped her arms around her midriff and gave in to the sobs. She cried until the postadrenaline crash passed, until the heaving lessened to harsh breaths and finally to sniffles.
Pulling toilet tissue from the roll, she blew her nose and dared to look at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red and swollen in her blotchy face and the little mascara she’d worn now streaked her cheeks. She grabbed a handful of paper towels, dampened them and scrubbed. The water kissed her skin with coolness, offering relief from the hot tracks of her tears.
A light tap at the door stiffened her body. “Tori, are you all right?”
All right? Suppressing a hysterical bubble of laughter, she pressed the back of her wrist to her forehead. She swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”
Fabric whispered against the cheap wooden door and an image of him leaning close to the door flickered in her mind. Humiliation burned her throat, heat flushing her face. She’d acted completely insane, going off the deep end because he raised his voice. Maybe she should have just left his “nothing” alone. She blew out a long breath. Some psychologist she was turning out to be. She’d seen the signs something was bothering him, and she’d stomped all over his personal boundaries.
She rested her forehead against the cool mirror. He had to think she was an unstable flake. Oh, time to face facts—unstable flake was right. She gulped back a fresh wave of tears.
“Tori?” Another soft tap.
She sighed, a shaky exhalation of breath. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry I lost my temper, sorry I raised my voice at you.” He cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have—”
She jerked the door open, stopping the words. Sure enough, he stood close to the doorway, his face drawn, eyes a darker, stormier shade of gray. She clutched her damp paper towels tighter. “I’m the one who needs to apologize. I pushed past your personal boundaries and then I acted like a…like a…”
“Someone who got yelled at?” he offered, a hint of humor tugging at his mouth, although his eyes remained serious and concerned. “Although Tick would use the term ‘spoiled brat’.”
Glad he was back to normal, she gave his upper arm a light smack. The muscle didn’t give under her touch. “Be nice.”
“Listen, I…this town makes me tense. I shouldn’t take that out on you and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“If we keep this up, we’ll never get to St. Augustine.” She brushed her tangled hair away from her face. “No more apologizing. We’re both guilty and we’re both sorry it happened. So we move forward. Deal?”
She stuck out her right hand. He looked down at it a moment and nodded. “Deal.”
His hand engulfed hers. A rough palm slid along hers, warm fingers moving across her skin. The contact set off a tingle that traveled from her hand into the deepest part of her. She wanted more. She wanted that hand on her upper arm, her shoulder, her nape, pulling her in.
She looked up at him. In his somber gaze, the
Yeah well, you’re not going to. Frightened little girls ran home to Mama and she wasn’t a little girl anymore. She’d handled worse than this.
A tear slid down her cheek and she sucked in a harsh breath. Nerves continued jumping in her chest and fine tremors shook her. She blinked away a blur of tears and tried to focus on the road. Her concentration was shot and she needed to stop and get herself together before she got them killed.
Just ahead on the right sat a sad-looking convenience store. Without speaking, she pulled into the parking lot and scrambled from the car. Fighting against sobs already burning her lungs, she hurried inside.
“Do you have a restroom?” she asked the teenager working the register.
“Through there.” Popping her gum, the girl pointed toward an archway at the back of the store.
“Thanks.” Brushing away tears, Tori found the tiny room and locked herself in. Avoiding the mirror, she leaned against the wall, wrapped her arms around her midriff and gave in to the sobs. She cried until the postadrenaline crash passed, until the heaving lessened to harsh breaths and finally to sniffles.
Pulling toilet tissue from the roll, she blew her nose and dared to look at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red and swollen in her blotchy face and the little mascara she’d worn now streaked her cheeks. She grabbed a handful of paper towels, dampened them and scrubbed. The water kissed her skin with coolness, offering relief from the hot tracks of her tears.
A light tap at the door stiffened her body. “Tori, are you all right?”
All right? Suppressing a hysterical bubble of laughter, she pressed the back of her wrist to her forehead. She swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”
Fabric whispered against the cheap wooden door and an image of him leaning close to the door flickered in her mind. Humiliation burned her throat, heat flushing her face. She’d acted completely insane, going off the deep end because he raised his voice. Maybe she should have just left his “nothing” alone. She blew out a long breath. Some psychologist she was turning out to be. She’d seen the signs something was bothering him, and she’d stomped all over his personal boundaries.
She rested her forehead against the cool mirror. He had to think she was an unstable flake. Oh, time to face facts—unstable flake was right. She gulped back a fresh wave of tears.
“Tori?” Another soft tap.
She sighed, a shaky exhalation of breath. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry I lost my temper, sorry I raised my voice at you.” He cleared his throat. “I shouldn’t have—”
She jerked the door open, stopping the words. Sure enough, he stood close to the doorway, his face drawn, eyes a darker, stormier shade of gray. She clutched her damp paper towels tighter. “I’m the one who needs to apologize. I pushed past your personal boundaries and then I acted like a…like a…”
“Someone who got yelled at?” he offered, a hint of humor tugging at his mouth, although his eyes remained serious and concerned. “Although Tick would use the term ‘spoiled brat’.”
Glad he was back to normal, she gave his upper arm a light smack. The muscle didn’t give under her touch. “Be nice.”
“Listen, I…this town makes me tense. I shouldn’t take that out on you and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“If we keep this up, we’ll never get to St. Augustine.” She brushed her tangled hair away from her face. “No more apologizing. We’re both guilty and we’re both sorry it happened. So we move forward. Deal?”
She stuck out her right hand. He looked down at it a moment and nodded. “Deal.”
His hand engulfed hers. A rough palm slid along hers, warm fingers moving across her skin. The contact set off a tingle that traveled from her hand into the deepest part of her. She wanted more. She wanted that hand on her upper arm, her shoulder, her nape, pulling her in.
She looked up at him. In his somber gaze, the
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