Read Online Highway To Hell by Alex Laybourne - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alex Laybourne
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forgotten.
“Drop it, Mand, Jesus, just pipe down and let me get you home alright?” Sammy found his patience slipping. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, and although he knew he would never hit a woman no matter what the circumstances, he could still feel rage building deep down inside him. He forced it down: an argument was the last thing he wanted, and he would avoid it at all costs.
“Why, are you gonna ignore me, sleep on the sofa, wait until morning and hope it’s all blown over?” She continued to push, somehow intent on making a big deal over a snide comment that Sammy made when he arrived – despite the fact that Nate had been throwing his own snide remarks around about Sammy the entire evening or close to it – and his refusal to sit down and have a drink.
“No, I was going to propose, you silly mare. I busted my balls getting everything set up the way I wanted before you came home.” Sammy blurted it out, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. He had been planning the best moment for several weeks, the ring purchased a few months before, just in case the opportune moment arrived early. He had spent the bonus he had been given by his boss on a bottle of expensive champagne and a punnet of strawberries, coupled with scented candles, and a plan for a hot bath scattered with rose petals. Only for Mandy to call and say she was going out for drinks instead.
“What?” Mandy’s mouth stopped after that one word, her mind all of a sudden sober, as if the previous sentence had blown all of the windows out of the car, letting the cool night air and steady rainfall wash the alcohol away.
“That’s right, I had this whole romantic evening planned, and everything was perfect until Nathan got in the way,” Sammy began but stopped himself; he had finally turned the corner in their disagreement and didn’t want to go throwing any more fuel onto the fire.
“You were going to propose?” Mandy asked in a moment of clarity so stark and sudden that it slapped the remaining haze of her drunkenness and all thought of arguments out of her mind.
“Yeah,” Sammy answered her, not certain that an answer was needed.
“Were,” Mandy repeated.
“Am.” Sammy finally understood the previous sentence. He reached into the pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a small velvet box. “I had much bigger and better plans for this, you know,” he said, passing Mandy the box, which she took with hands that trembled from nerves.
“This is one hell of a way to win an argument, Sam,” Mandy answered, laughing. The smile that was stretched across her face, even in the darkness of the car, was answer enough.
“Well, think of all the fights we can have in the future,” Sammy joked. He took his eyes off the road and looked at her just for a second. He felt a sudden need to see the sparkle in her eyes, even if they were bloodshot from a night of drinking. She still made his heart skip a beat, the delicate outline of her features, the way she poked her tongue out between her teeth when she smiled – a real smile, that was – and the creases around her eyes when she laughed, her smooth skin, and full lips that gleamed in the halogen amber haze that was cast down by the streetlamps.
Mandy giggled at him, and turned her head as if embarrassed, then sensing the weight of his gaze she turned and looked at Sammy. Her face was youthful, and Sammy never stopped wondering how he had managed to keep someone who looked as amazing as Mandy and had the brains to match. She opened her mouth to speak, to answer his question at last; despite the certainty of its affirmation, a yes was still the necessary prerequisite for the occasion. However, what came out was a blood-curdling scream better placed in a scary movie.
“Sammy,” was the only discernable word that came out. Her face was frozen in a look that was somewhere between the height of orgasm and sheer horror, color drained from her face, as if the blood had packed up and
“Drop it, Mand, Jesus, just pipe down and let me get you home alright?” Sammy found his patience slipping. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, and although he knew he would never hit a woman no matter what the circumstances, he could still feel rage building deep down inside him. He forced it down: an argument was the last thing he wanted, and he would avoid it at all costs.
“Why, are you gonna ignore me, sleep on the sofa, wait until morning and hope it’s all blown over?” She continued to push, somehow intent on making a big deal over a snide comment that Sammy made when he arrived – despite the fact that Nate had been throwing his own snide remarks around about Sammy the entire evening or close to it – and his refusal to sit down and have a drink.
“No, I was going to propose, you silly mare. I busted my balls getting everything set up the way I wanted before you came home.” Sammy blurted it out, unable to keep his mouth shut any longer. He had been planning the best moment for several weeks, the ring purchased a few months before, just in case the opportune moment arrived early. He had spent the bonus he had been given by his boss on a bottle of expensive champagne and a punnet of strawberries, coupled with scented candles, and a plan for a hot bath scattered with rose petals. Only for Mandy to call and say she was going out for drinks instead.
“What?” Mandy’s mouth stopped after that one word, her mind all of a sudden sober, as if the previous sentence had blown all of the windows out of the car, letting the cool night air and steady rainfall wash the alcohol away.
“That’s right, I had this whole romantic evening planned, and everything was perfect until Nathan got in the way,” Sammy began but stopped himself; he had finally turned the corner in their disagreement and didn’t want to go throwing any more fuel onto the fire.
“You were going to propose?” Mandy asked in a moment of clarity so stark and sudden that it slapped the remaining haze of her drunkenness and all thought of arguments out of her mind.
“Yeah,” Sammy answered her, not certain that an answer was needed.
“Were,” Mandy repeated.
“Am.” Sammy finally understood the previous sentence. He reached into the pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a small velvet box. “I had much bigger and better plans for this, you know,” he said, passing Mandy the box, which she took with hands that trembled from nerves.
“This is one hell of a way to win an argument, Sam,” Mandy answered, laughing. The smile that was stretched across her face, even in the darkness of the car, was answer enough.
“Well, think of all the fights we can have in the future,” Sammy joked. He took his eyes off the road and looked at her just for a second. He felt a sudden need to see the sparkle in her eyes, even if they were bloodshot from a night of drinking. She still made his heart skip a beat, the delicate outline of her features, the way she poked her tongue out between her teeth when she smiled – a real smile, that was – and the creases around her eyes when she laughed, her smooth skin, and full lips that gleamed in the halogen amber haze that was cast down by the streetlamps.
Mandy giggled at him, and turned her head as if embarrassed, then sensing the weight of his gaze she turned and looked at Sammy. Her face was youthful, and Sammy never stopped wondering how he had managed to keep someone who looked as amazing as Mandy and had the brains to match. She opened her mouth to speak, to answer his question at last; despite the certainty of its affirmation, a yes was still the necessary prerequisite for the occasion. However, what came out was a blood-curdling scream better placed in a scary movie.
“Sammy,” was the only discernable word that came out. Her face was frozen in a look that was somewhere between the height of orgasm and sheer horror, color drained from her face, as if the blood had packed up and
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