regretted it in the morning. I’m not that girl. I don’t sleep around. I never did. I’ve only been with three guys my entire life. All of them long term relationships.
“My loneliness got the best of me tonight. I’m sorry you got caught up in it.” A lone tear streaks down my face and his thumb reaches out to catch it.
“I don’t like to see you cry.”
“I’m not a fan of it myself.” An awkward silence fills the air, and I shuffle on my bare feet. “Thanks for bringing me home. I would have never gone into that bar, though.”
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and cups my jaw. “I know.” His lips press against my forehead, and he tells me to lock up before disappearing.
4
Sam
THREE WEEKS I’VE AVOIDED Courtney. I make sure to be gone when she gets home from her shift at the grocery store, which I know is seven to three. I could have had her a few weeks ago, fucked her against the front door. I kick myself in the ass every time I think about not taking her. And fucking Lisa hasn’t curbed the need I have, either. This crazy, raw need to feel myself sink into Courtney.
Imagine my surprise at four-thirty when I put my beer and rotisserie chicken on the conveyer belt and Courtney’s here working. And I swear, if the motherfucker in front of the line doesn’t walk away from her, I’ll rip his fucking head off.
By the suit and tie he’s wearing, I can only assume he’s some rich corporate type. His wine, French bread, and mozzarella cheese don’t help the equation much. He leans farther over the credit card machine than necessary to hand over his cash. Her head stays down while she finishes the transaction, clearly uncomfortable.
“‘Scuse me? Do you mind if I go in front of you? I only have the two things,” I ask the elderly woman in front of me.
“Sure. Go ahead.”
I nod in thanks and walk around her. Courtney hands douchebag his change and his hand curls around hers. Now that I can hear him, I get it.
“Come on, Misty. You can keep the change if you meet me around back. I’ll be fast, I promise.”
The last time I felt this angry was when I saw the cut on her face. And before that, never. She’s doing something to me, and I’m not sure I like it.
“Let go,” I tell him, anger lacing my words.
She whips her head up, and when I see the tears brimming her scared eyes, I twist my head and crack my neck, pointedly staring at the bastard.
Suit and tie releases her hand and gives me a smug look. “Whatever. She’s a whore, anyway,” he spews.
Through squinted eyes, I track him until he leaves the store. When I finally turn to make sure she’s okay, I’m hit in the chest with a yearning that sits low in my gut.
A tear rolls down her cheeks, and her pouty lips are open as she tries to control her breathing.
I look uncomfortably at the woman behind me. She’s reading a magazine so didn’t even see what happened. Connecting with Courtney again, I tell her, “You’re fine. He was an ass.”
Her head bobs up and down, and she wipes her face. “Yes. He was. Thank you.” Quickly brushing her hands on the ridiculous green apron she has to wear, she grabs my items to ring them up.
“Seventeen forty-nine.”
I slide my card through the reader without responding because really, what the fuck am I going to say? She rips off my receipt and puts it in the bag. I grab it and walk out, but not before glancing over my shoulder to find her watching me.
* * *
Headlights blur my vision for a second when Courtney’s car pulls up in front of the house at almost midnight. I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t waiting for her. Why? Hell, if I know. I’ve never felt possessive of a woman before. And a woman with a kid? I avoid them like the plague. Just another complication I don’t need, even if her kid’s probably the coolest five-year-old I’ve ever met.
Her car door shuts, and she opens the back and pulls Ben from the seat. Using her foot to slam the door,
“My loneliness got the best of me tonight. I’m sorry you got caught up in it.” A lone tear streaks down my face and his thumb reaches out to catch it.
“I don’t like to see you cry.”
“I’m not a fan of it myself.” An awkward silence fills the air, and I shuffle on my bare feet. “Thanks for bringing me home. I would have never gone into that bar, though.”
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and cups my jaw. “I know.” His lips press against my forehead, and he tells me to lock up before disappearing.
4
Sam
THREE WEEKS I’VE AVOIDED Courtney. I make sure to be gone when she gets home from her shift at the grocery store, which I know is seven to three. I could have had her a few weeks ago, fucked her against the front door. I kick myself in the ass every time I think about not taking her. And fucking Lisa hasn’t curbed the need I have, either. This crazy, raw need to feel myself sink into Courtney.
Imagine my surprise at four-thirty when I put my beer and rotisserie chicken on the conveyer belt and Courtney’s here working. And I swear, if the motherfucker in front of the line doesn’t walk away from her, I’ll rip his fucking head off.
By the suit and tie he’s wearing, I can only assume he’s some rich corporate type. His wine, French bread, and mozzarella cheese don’t help the equation much. He leans farther over the credit card machine than necessary to hand over his cash. Her head stays down while she finishes the transaction, clearly uncomfortable.
“‘Scuse me? Do you mind if I go in front of you? I only have the two things,” I ask the elderly woman in front of me.
“Sure. Go ahead.”
I nod in thanks and walk around her. Courtney hands douchebag his change and his hand curls around hers. Now that I can hear him, I get it.
“Come on, Misty. You can keep the change if you meet me around back. I’ll be fast, I promise.”
The last time I felt this angry was when I saw the cut on her face. And before that, never. She’s doing something to me, and I’m not sure I like it.
“Let go,” I tell him, anger lacing my words.
She whips her head up, and when I see the tears brimming her scared eyes, I twist my head and crack my neck, pointedly staring at the bastard.
Suit and tie releases her hand and gives me a smug look. “Whatever. She’s a whore, anyway,” he spews.
Through squinted eyes, I track him until he leaves the store. When I finally turn to make sure she’s okay, I’m hit in the chest with a yearning that sits low in my gut.
A tear rolls down her cheeks, and her pouty lips are open as she tries to control her breathing.
I look uncomfortably at the woman behind me. She’s reading a magazine so didn’t even see what happened. Connecting with Courtney again, I tell her, “You’re fine. He was an ass.”
Her head bobs up and down, and she wipes her face. “Yes. He was. Thank you.” Quickly brushing her hands on the ridiculous green apron she has to wear, she grabs my items to ring them up.
“Seventeen forty-nine.”
I slide my card through the reader without responding because really, what the fuck am I going to say? She rips off my receipt and puts it in the bag. I grab it and walk out, but not before glancing over my shoulder to find her watching me.
* * *
Headlights blur my vision for a second when Courtney’s car pulls up in front of the house at almost midnight. I’d be lying to myself if I said I wasn’t waiting for her. Why? Hell, if I know. I’ve never felt possessive of a woman before. And a woman with a kid? I avoid them like the plague. Just another complication I don’t need, even if her kid’s probably the coolest five-year-old I’ve ever met.
Her car door shuts, and she opens the back and pulls Ben from the seat. Using her foot to slam the door,
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