Almost Perfect (Fool's Gold #2)(29)

She’d just had sex with Tyler’s father—on a kitchen bar. She’d been back in town less than a week and she’d already surrendered to a man who had rejected her years ago, accused her of lying and keeping his son from him. A man who was nothing but trouble, with a huge family and ties to a town she couldn’t wait to leave.

“Crap,” she muttered as she carefully slid to her feet, then stood and steadied herself. “Crap, crap, crap.”

“Liz,” he began.

She held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t,” she ordered as she pulled down her skirt. Her panties were somewhere on the floor, but she didn’t bother looking for them. “Just don’t. This was really stupid. On the stupid scale, it gets a ten.”

He pulled up his boxers and jeans. “It’s not like I planned this. It was just one of those things.”

Typical man, she thought, picking her way through the broken glass. It was a whole lot more than that. It was trouble. No matter what happened between them, the sex would be lurking. She’d given in when she’d meant to be strong.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she demanded. “Don’t you ever use a condom?”

He stiffened.

She sucked in a breath. “I’m on the pill, you idiot, but haven’t you learned anything since high school? This was a huge mistake. It never happened. Am I clear? Never.”

“You can’t pretend it away.”

“Watch me,” she declared as she made her way to the front door.

Her purse was where she’d left it, on the small table in the entryway. She grabbed it and left, walking briskly to the sidewalk, ignoring the slightly squishy feeling that was the lingering proof of what they’d just done.

Ethan didn’t come after her and she was grateful. By the end of the block, she was willing to admit she might have overreacted. By the second block, she knew the person she was really angry with was herself, not him. By the time she got home, she didn’t feel any better about what had happened and she didn’t have a clue how she was ever going to face him again.

Whoever said you couldn’t go home again had been dead wrong, she thought as she climbed the steps to the house where she’d grown up. You could and being there was nothing but a disaster.

CHAPTER SEVEN

PASSING THROUGH A METAL detector, then being patted down before going into prison had a way of putting one’s life in perspective, Liz thought the next morning as she waited while the guard searched her purse. When she’d been cleared to proceed, she followed yet another guard into a small room with a table, half a dozen chairs and a small window looking out onto a courtyard.

Since it wasn’t a regular visiting day or a normal visiting room, they would have an element of privacy. She pulled out a metal chair and sat down. The room was cool and despite the small size, she felt oddly exposed. Although that could have more to do with what had happened the previous evening than her meeting with Roy.

She hadn’t slept at all. Telling herself she’d acted irresponsibly and impulsively didn’t make for a restful night. Nor did the waves of sense memory that shuddered through her from time to time. Physical reminders of the music Ethan had played on her skin.

The last thing they needed were more complications, but here they were. And she had no one to blame but herself.

Sucking in a deep breath, she pushed the memories and recriminations to the back of her mind. She would beat herself up some more on the drive back to Fool’s Gold. Right now she had to concentrate on seeing her brother for the first time in nearly eighteen years.

As if on cue, the door—opposite the one she’d used—opened and a man entered. He was a few inches taller than her, with thin gray hair and weary green eyes. She knew Roy was in his forties, but he could have easily passed for a man in his sixties. For a second he stared, confused, then he smiled.

“Damn. Look at you,” he greeted as he approached. “They said I had a visitor. I couldn’t figure out who. It’s not the regular day and no one comes to see me. I thought it was a mistake. How you doing, Liz?”

“Hi, Roy. It’s been a long time.”

She’d been twelve when he’d taken off without warning, leaving her in the hands of an indifferent parent. Still a child. She’d grown up a lot that summer.

“You look good,” he told her, pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down. “I’ve read your books. You’re famous now, aren’t you?”

“Not exactly.” She settled in a chair across the table. “But I know a guy who got me in to see you on a non-visiting day.”

“That’s something.”

He looked tired—as if the road of life had been too long.

“I’m real proud of you, Lizzy,” he continued. “Real proud.”

“Thanks.” She glanced around the bleak room. “What happened? How’d you end up here?”

He shrugged. “There was a fight in a bar. I defended myself, but the D.A. didn’t see it that way. It wasn’t my fault.”

The words were familiar. It had been like this before, she thought sadly. When she’d been younger. Nothing had ever been his fault.

“How long are you in?” she asked.

“Fifteen to twenty. I’ll get out sooner. For good behavior.” He leaned toward her. “You seen my girls?”