Chapter Twenty-Six
Judging by her blank look, she hadn’t heard him correctly.
“I said I’m in love with you.”
She tugged down her skirt and secured the front of her dress with trembling hands.
Paul realized she was avoiding his gaze and his heart sank.
She’d heard him, but she didn’t feel the same way.
His reckless, clumsy, slobbering attentions hadn’t changed her mind.
Jackhammering her into the mattress hadn’t convinced her to give him a second chance.
They’d ended their summer fling with an exclamation point, and that was it.
He stared at her in desperation, grasping for the right words to say. He didn’t know how to talk about his feelings. How could he win her back?
Releasing a slow breath, she sat up and smoothed her tangled hair. The dark, silky mass fell to her shoulders. His gut clenched with longing even though he’d had her two minutes ago. He’d had her for the last time.
“You’ll get over it,” she said finally.
“No. I won’t.”
“Look, we both needed this. We needed a break from reality. We needed to feel alive again, to feel pleasure.”
“I’ve felt pleasure before. This is different.”
“We didn’t get a chance to enjoy each other fully and let this run its course. But it would have.”
“You don’t know that.”
“What you’re feeling is disappointment. Your cake is being taken away before you’re finished eating it.”
“Goddamn it, Vanessa. You’re not cake.”
She piled her hair atop her head and secured it with an elastic band. “Maybe if we’d taken our time, you’d feel more satisfied.”
He flushed at the subtle dig at his sexual performance.
He’d yanked off her panties and buried his face in her.
He’d gone at her like a wild beast, and the fact that she’d enjoyed it didn’t mean much.
She’d been starving for a man’s touch. “We just had unprotected sex,” he said. “I’ve never done that before.”
“Well, no wonder you think you’re in love.”
He considered climbing on top of her again and kissing some sense into her. If he couldn’t make her believe him, at least he could shut her up for a while. “I knew I was in love with you four days ago.”
Her lips parted in surprise. He caught a hint of vulnerability in her eyes before her face hardened into a cool mask once again.
“I knew it the last time we went to bed together. I knew it when I bandaged your knee, and when I saw you with Emily at the lemonade stand. Maybe I knew it even earlier. Maybe I’ve known it all along.”
Instead of responding to his emotional declaration, she rose from the bed with her hand cupped between her legs. It dawned on him that he’d spilled inside her like a reckless teenager. He felt a stab of shame for failing to use protection. He hadn’t even thought to withdraw.
Why hadn’t he taken that basic precaution?
The moment punctuated every mistake he’d made with her. It was a mess, literally and figuratively. It was the opposite of romantic.
She brushed past him and continued down the hall, and he heard the bathroom door slam. The sound of running water indicated she was tidying up. Washing away the traces of their encounter, which could have life-long repercussions.
“Goddamn it,” he swore, dragging a hand across his jaw.
What he’d just done was incredibly stupid, borderline unforgivable, and he might never see her again.
He donned his rumpled T-shirt and picked up her discarded panties.
He held the scrap of lace in a tight grip, his stomach churning.
This morning, when he’d folded the laundry from the dryer, he’d found a similar pair.
He’d studied the panties for a long time, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. He’d even lifted the lace to his cheek.
He didn’t repeat the action, because he didn’t have to. He still had her scent on his hands, and he could taste her on his lips. She emerged from the bathroom, flushed and dewy and beautiful, before he’d decided what to do. He wished he’d savored her slowly. He wished he hadn’t wronged her.
She accepted the panties from his outstretched hand.
“Does what I said mean anything to you?” he asked. “It’s not every day I tell a woman I love her.”
She stepped into the panties and slipped on her sandals. “In my experience, love doesn’t mean that much to men. It doesn’t mean they’ll be faithful, or honest, or reliable. So, no. Those words don’t mean anything to me.”
“I just came inside you. Does that mean anything?”
“What do you think it means, Paul? That I’m going to have your baby?”
“We should talk about the consequences,” he said.
“I absolve you.”
“I don’t want to be absolved. I want to take care of you and Emily.”
“Too bad,” she said in a flippant tone. “We exchanged body fluids, not vows. It’s the wrong time of month, regardless.”
It dawned on Paul that her glib attitude was a defense mechanism.
She wasn’t unaffected by his confession.
He’d rattled her, and she was trying to hide it.
She’d been crying last night; he’d seen the evidence.
If she didn’t care about him, none of this would matter to her.
She wouldn’t have to work so hard to push him away.
She tried to skirt around him, so he captured her upper arms.
“I don’t want it to end like this,” he said. “I don’t want it to end at all.”
“You’re leaving, remember?”
“I’ll come back to you.”
Tears glittered in her eyes as she stared up at him. “Don’t make it harder,” she said, and jerked out of his grasp. “Just let me go.”
Paul let his hands drop, stunned by the harsh rejection.
“You were right about one thing,” she said over her shoulder. “I lied when I said you weren’t that good. You’re the best time I’ve ever had, too.”
He stared at her retreating form in utter devastation.
He wasn’t sorry she appreciated his physical prowess.
What bothered him was her refusal to acknowledge their emotional connection.
She was putting on a show of indifference, and he hated it.
He followed her outside and shoved his hands in his pockets.
He couldn’t think of a way to make her stay.
He could only watch her leave, like a chump.
As she walked toward her vehicle, he felt a new flicker of unease.
Something wasn’t right.
“Wait,” he said, lurching forward. “Don’t go.”
“I have to get back to Emily.”
He stepped closer to Vanessa. Although he avoided looking directly into the cab to confirm his suspicions, he knew someone was there. He’d spotted the outline of a human shape. “What about Penelope?”
Vanessa paused, frowning. “Penelope?”
“She’s inside the cabin.”
She seemed confused by this pronouncement, probably because it made no sense. He’d returned Penelope to her father’s house last night. The doll was safe and sound. “What are you talking about?”
Paul kept his tone mild, calculating how long it would take to get his gun. “You can’t leave without her.”
“She’s not here.”
“Don’t get in the car,” he said quietly.
The warning edge in his voice must have struck her as she reached for the door handle. Either that, or she saw the dark figure crouched in the cab. She jerked her hand away and scrambled backward, but it was too late.
Bennett was already stepping outside.
Paul didn’t have the luxury of going for his service weapon.
He jumped in front of Vanessa and shoved her backwards as Bennett emerged from the vehicle with a crazed smile.
His fancy clothes were disheveled, his shirt was damp with sweat, and he had leaves in his hair.
The dark bruise around his eye added to his dishabille.
Paul’s greatest concern was the snub-nosed pistol, held in a loose grip.
Paul raised his palms to show he wasn’t a threat.
“Sorry to interrupt this little tête-à-tête,” Bennett said. He made an idle gesture, waving the gun around. Vanessa drew in a sharp breath. “I was going to wait until you were alone, but your boyfriend ruined the surprise.”
“What do you want?” Paul asked.
“I want my wife,” Bennett said. He flashed another weird, tense smile. “I need her assistance.”
Vanessa gripped Paul’s arm, but she didn’t move.
“Let her come with me, and no one gets hurt.”
Paul swallowed hard. The last time he’d faced an armed assailant, three people had been shot, himself included.
Bennett didn’t strike him as a cold-blooded killer, but Paul wasn’t going to make any sudden moves.
At this range, no expertise was needed. Bennett could blow a hole right through Paul and hit Vanessa, too.
“What happened to your car?” Paul asked.
“I got rid of it,” Bennett said, glancing toward the lake. The muzzle wavered as his attention shifted. Paul considered tackling the man to the ground and ending this farce. Bennett wasn’t proficient with a weapon. He might pull the trigger on accident.
“Leave us alone, Bennett,” Vanessa said. “I’m not going with you.”
Bennett’s mouth curled downward. “But you are, my love. I need a new vehicle and a ride to Mexico. If you take me across the border, our custody agreement stands. I won’t petition to withdraw it.”
Her fingernails dug into Paul’s arm. Bennett’s threat to renege on the custody deal was effective emotional warfare. Paul sensed Vanessa wavering.
“Help me just this once,” Bennett continued. “As soon as I’m safe, you can walk away. You’ll never hear from me again.”
“That won’t work,” Paul said.
Bennett pointed the barrel at his face. “I didn’t ask you.”
“You can’t cross the border in any vehicle,” Paul said.
“It doesn’t matter if she’s driving or you are.
Mexican agents have the technology to ID you, and the right to stop anyone for inspection.
If you’re running from the law, they’ll detain you.
If you’re running from criminals, they won’t protect you. ”
“How would you know?” Bennett asked idly. “Are you a cop?”
“Bennett, please don’t do this,” Vanessa said. “Going to Mexico won’t solve your problems.”
“Neither will going to prison,” Bennett said, his teeth clenched. “Now get in the goddamned car!”