Read Online The Long Road Home by H. D. Thomson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: H. D. Thomson
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combination at ten in the morning. But hey, if you want bulging hips, that’s your business.”
John selected a bag of chips. He turned and frowned at Vivian. “Don’t start. None of us are in the mood.”
Vivian’s eyes narrowed to icy slits, and she spun around and strode to the car. John and Clarisse followed more sedately.
Vivian flung her door open. Its hard metal edge hit Clarisse’s knee. Pain ripped into her knee and shot up her leg. She bit off a scream and nearly fell to the ground but managed to latch onto the side of the Explorer. Tiny white dots swirled before her eyes. She fought against the nausea that rose to her throat.
“Vivian, for God’s sake! Can’t you watch what you’re doing?” John’s hands came up and supported Clarisse’s weight. His voice gentled. “Are you all right?”
She couldn’t get sufficient air to answer.
“I didn’t mean to hit her!”
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Clarisse clutched on to John’s shoulder and regained some of her composure.
“Are you sure about that?” The skin around John’s jaw tightened with anger.
Vivian flicked her red mane behind one shoulder and regarded them with narrowed eyes. “Excuse me!”
John searched Vivian’s face. “You know, I’m beginning to wonder if I even know you.”
Vivian raised her hands in supplication. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. This heat’s getting to me.” The thin-lipped smile she gave Clarisse didn’t reach her eyes. “I hope it doesn’t hurt that bad.”
Her false concern grated on Clarisse’s nerves. “I’ll be fine,” she said in a strained voice. She slid into the back seat, gingerly moving her leg into a comfortable position. John closed the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. Clarisse glanced to her right and saw Vivian’s dress lying in a rumpled heap on the floor. Oh hell! She rolled her eyes. She wasn’t about to touch it. The last time she’d tried to help, she’d almost had her head bitten off.
“My dress!” Vivian cried in dismay. She jumped out and opened the back door. Picking the gown from the floor, she brushed the creases and carefully hung the garment on the hook. She threw Clarisse a disgusted look before slamming the door and climbing back into her seat.
Determined to ignore the other woman, Clarisse pulled her painkillers from her purse. Without water, the tablets grated past her throat to her stomach. She grimaced, hating the things because at times they made her feel sluggish.
Clarisse glanced down at her watch and absently pulled her shirt from the waistband of her pants. Ten thirty and already exhausted. And the heat wasn’t helping.
“Do you have the air on?” Clarisse asked.
“Yes.” John put a hand in front of air vent. “And the fans are on high. It looks like the air-conditioner isn’t working.”
“What do you mean the air’s not working?”
“Exactly that.” John’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “The compressor’s blowing hot air.”
Wearily, Clarisse rubbed the heel of her palm against her forehead. Of course, why not? It seemed appropriate. After all, everything imaginable was going wrong.
“For crying out loud!” Vivian wailed. “This can’t be happening. Can’t you do something?”
“Like what?” John bit back.
“Well, I don’t know! Fix it. You must know cars. You’re a man.”
“Come off it! Talk about reverse sexism. Be reasonable. Just because I’m a man doesn’t automatically mean I’m an expert mechanic.”
“What ever!”
Clarisse ground her teeth and balled her hands into fists, curbing the angry retort on her lips and the urge to throttle the redhead. Goodness knew she was tempted. Vivian possessed the talent to drive a rational law-abiding citizen to assault and battery.
“Vivian, I don’t want to hear another word. You’ll have to deal with the heat.” John smacked the control panel and simultaneously opened the windows. “We’re stuck with it, whether you like it or
John selected a bag of chips. He turned and frowned at Vivian. “Don’t start. None of us are in the mood.”
Vivian’s eyes narrowed to icy slits, and she spun around and strode to the car. John and Clarisse followed more sedately.
Vivian flung her door open. Its hard metal edge hit Clarisse’s knee. Pain ripped into her knee and shot up her leg. She bit off a scream and nearly fell to the ground but managed to latch onto the side of the Explorer. Tiny white dots swirled before her eyes. She fought against the nausea that rose to her throat.
“Vivian, for God’s sake! Can’t you watch what you’re doing?” John’s hands came up and supported Clarisse’s weight. His voice gentled. “Are you all right?”
She couldn’t get sufficient air to answer.
“I didn’t mean to hit her!”
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Clarisse clutched on to John’s shoulder and regained some of her composure.
“Are you sure about that?” The skin around John’s jaw tightened with anger.
Vivian flicked her red mane behind one shoulder and regarded them with narrowed eyes. “Excuse me!”
John searched Vivian’s face. “You know, I’m beginning to wonder if I even know you.”
Vivian raised her hands in supplication. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. This heat’s getting to me.” The thin-lipped smile she gave Clarisse didn’t reach her eyes. “I hope it doesn’t hurt that bad.”
Her false concern grated on Clarisse’s nerves. “I’ll be fine,” she said in a strained voice. She slid into the back seat, gingerly moving her leg into a comfortable position. John closed the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. Clarisse glanced to her right and saw Vivian’s dress lying in a rumpled heap on the floor. Oh hell! She rolled her eyes. She wasn’t about to touch it. The last time she’d tried to help, she’d almost had her head bitten off.
“My dress!” Vivian cried in dismay. She jumped out and opened the back door. Picking the gown from the floor, she brushed the creases and carefully hung the garment on the hook. She threw Clarisse a disgusted look before slamming the door and climbing back into her seat.
Determined to ignore the other woman, Clarisse pulled her painkillers from her purse. Without water, the tablets grated past her throat to her stomach. She grimaced, hating the things because at times they made her feel sluggish.
Clarisse glanced down at her watch and absently pulled her shirt from the waistband of her pants. Ten thirty and already exhausted. And the heat wasn’t helping.
“Do you have the air on?” Clarisse asked.
“Yes.” John put a hand in front of air vent. “And the fans are on high. It looks like the air-conditioner isn’t working.”
“What do you mean the air’s not working?”
“Exactly that.” John’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “The compressor’s blowing hot air.”
Wearily, Clarisse rubbed the heel of her palm against her forehead. Of course, why not? It seemed appropriate. After all, everything imaginable was going wrong.
“For crying out loud!” Vivian wailed. “This can’t be happening. Can’t you do something?”
“Like what?” John bit back.
“Well, I don’t know! Fix it. You must know cars. You’re a man.”
“Come off it! Talk about reverse sexism. Be reasonable. Just because I’m a man doesn’t automatically mean I’m an expert mechanic.”
“What ever!”
Clarisse ground her teeth and balled her hands into fists, curbing the angry retort on her lips and the urge to throttle the redhead. Goodness knew she was tempted. Vivian possessed the talent to drive a rational law-abiding citizen to assault and battery.
“Vivian, I don’t want to hear another word. You’ll have to deal with the heat.” John smacked the control panel and simultaneously opened the windows. “We’re stuck with it, whether you like it or
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