With a Grain of Salt (Lindell Book 3)

Chapter 16

Claire

As quick as I am to tell women that they have every right to experience pleasure in any situation that is appropriate, it doesn”t take long for the shame of what I”ve done to hit me square in the chest.

What self-respecting woman would be okay with getting dicked down in the backroom of a bar by her boss, no less?

”Fuck,” he groans as he pulls out of me.

I know he came. His size made every throb of his orgasm very noticeable, but the man is still hard as a rock. Was it enough to get him off, but not enough to satisfy him?

”Excuse me,” I say, pressing my hand flat against abs no man should ever have the right to own as I sit up.

As if he can”t stop being a gentleman even in this moment, he reaches down and helps me sit up.

I resnap my bra, covering my breasts by pulling down the cups. I must look like a fool to have the damn thing all scrunched up under my chin.

I feel the heat of my embarrassment when I look down and realize just how noticeable it is that my bra doesn”t even come close to matching the panties tangled up in my jeans clinging to my right ankle.

There was a time in my life when I made sure to match my underclothes, but these days it”s more about what”s clean and comfortable than anything else.

”So umm, yeah,” I say as I struggle to get my left leg back into the other side of my jeans. I can”t look up at him when he holds his arm out to help me balance. ”Thanks.”

”For the orgasms or the help?” he asks, a smugness in his tone that both thrills me and makes me angry.

”Both,” I mutter because there”s no denying how easily he played my body.

I manage to get my shoe back on without falling over and smacking my head on the wall in this too-tiny office.

”See you next week.”

I rush from the back hallway and to the door, hating that I have to pause my escape in order to turn the deadbolt to get out of there.

A blast of cold air hits my face as soon as I step outside, but it honestly feels good from the humid air left in the office after we were done panting.

I shake my head, wishing I could make better life decisions, as I pull my car key from my pocket and unlock the driver”s side door.

It takes three tries before my trembling hands can manage to get the key in the ignition, and then, as luck would have it, the engine doesn”t start when I turn it.

I stare above the steering wheel, knowing I shouldn”t be surprised because it”s just my luck. Other than having an amazing daughter, it”s just the way my life plays out.

I contemplate walking home, but it”s cold and dark. I have too many responsibilities to risk what could happen on the way there.

I swallow my pride and go back into the bar.

I don”t run into Walker heading out. Instead, I find him sitting at his desk chair with his head dropped into his hands. It”s hard to witness his regret even though I feel it too.

”Hey,” I say, hating the way he jolts because I startle him.

Just what the man needs, disappointment twice in one night.

”My car won”t start. I know it”s some sort of cable, and this happens often, but I don”t know which one it is.”

Instead of telling me to fuck off, he stands and follows me down the hallway, grabbing his coat off the hook at the end before following me outside.

I pop the hood for him, but he doesn”t immediately step up to open the thing.

”Should I just take you home?”

I shake my head, declining the offer immediately. That would leave me with no car to pick Larkin up in the morning. It would make me have to ask another favor of someone else, and this is already hard enough.

With a frustrated sigh, he steps up and lifts the hood.

”It has something to do with the battery cable or something,” I explain, once he”s bent over the motor. ”At least that”s whatthe guy told me at the grocery store last week.”

”This has happened before?” he asks, a hint of irritation in his tone.

”Yes,” I answer, not going into full detail that it has happened more than once before. I imagine it would only piss him off more because I”ve somehow made it his problem now.

He cusses when his hand slips, and I hate the sight of blood on his knuckles when he pulls it up to inspect.

”Why don”t you have a fucking dependable car?” he growls as he leans back over it again.

I can tell he”s talking more to himself than to me, but I”m seconds away from clawing the man”s eyes out. Walking home in the dark is sounding more and more appealing right now.

”Maybe you have the luxury of buying a new car, but I don”t. Check your small-town, everybody-has-your-back privilege, asshole,” I growl.

He stands, the lights on the side of the wall I”m parked near glinting off his face. ”Maybe you should”ve been more responsible with Hux”s payout.”

My jaw literally hangs open. ”Are you serious?”

He shrugs his shoulders before bending back down to inspect my motor. I fight the urge to slam the damn hood down on his head.

”I don”t know if you know anything about kids, but they aren”t exactly cheap. I know you”re chock full of opinions, but it”s none of your damn business what I did with that money. Besides, twelve grand doesn”t go very fucking far.”

”Twelve? What the hell are you talking about? Twelve wouldn”t get you very far but that four hundred thousand could”ve gone a long way. Maybe a car built in this century?”

”Four hundred? Have you lost your mind?”

He stands, wiping his hands on his jeans, and the grease left behind on them is just one more thing to feel guilty about.

”The SGLI payout is four hundred thousand, Claire.”

I blink at him. ”What?”

”You”re serious?”

”What?” I repeat, the threat of tears burning the backs of my eyes.

”Claire,” he says, taking a step closer to me, but he freezes when I hold my hand up and take a step away from him. ”You don”t have a damn clue what I”m talking about, do you?”

”I got twelve,” I whisper.

”You need to get an attorney because you might have money waiting for you.”

My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I know better than to let any form of hope climb inside of me. It”s just not how my life ever plays out.

”Crank your car, Claire, since you”re in such a hurry to get away from me.”

Guilt swims inside of me. Instead of arguing, I listen to him, grateful when I put the key in and turn it, the car starts. He closes the hood and walks away before I can even thank him for helping me.

Maybe if I weren”t so shocked by what happened between the two of us, combined with the bomb he just dropped on my life, I might”ve had more manners. Instead of climbing out of my car and following him to his truck, I close the car door and drive out of the parking lot.

I hate the emptiness of my house when I get there, and I don”t even bother turning on the lights in the bathroom before stripping and climbing into the shower.

Every second I wash his touch from my skin, I can”t stop thinking about the way we came together tonight. It was perfect. At least for me anyway. Then his words infiltrate, and by the time I climb out, dry off, and get pajamas on, I can”t resist the urge to look up payout benefits for deceased veterans.

Sure enough, it says that there”s a four-hundred-thousand-dollar payout through something called the Servicemembers” Group Life Insurance. And to think I felt lucky when I received the little over twelve thousand I got.

I know tomorrow is my one day to spend uninterrupted with Larkin, but I”m already wishing it were Monday so I could see about an attorney to figure out if the SGLI is something I qualify for. Even a quarter of that amount of money would change my entire life.