Kiss an Angel(9)

He reappeared in the doorway a moment later and watched her wobbly approach. When she reached the bottom of the bent metal step, he gave her a cynical smile. “Home sweet home, angel face. Do you want me to carry you over the threshold?”

Despite his sarcasm, she chose that particular moment to remember that she’d never been carried over a threshold, and regardless of the circumstances, this was her wedding day. Maybe a small bow to sentiment would help both of them salvage something positive from this terrible experience.

“Yes, please.”

“You’re kidding.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to.”

She tried to swallow her disappointment. “All right, then.”

“It’s a damned trailer!”

“So I see.”

“I don’t even think trailers have thresholds.”

“If something has a door, it has a threshold. Even an igloo has a threshold.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that they were beginning to draw a crowd. Alex noticed, too. “Just get in here, all right.”

“You’re the one who offered.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I’ve noticed you’re that way a lot. In case no one has ever pointed it out, it’s an annoying habit.”

“Get inside, Daisy.”

Somehow a line had been drawn, and what had begun impulsively had turned into a battle of wills. She stood at the bottom of the step, her knees shaking with dread, but still trying to hold her ground. “I’d appreciate it if you’d at least honor this one tradition.”

“For chrissake.” He jumped down, scooped her up, and carried her inside, kicking the door behind him. As it shut, he dumped her onto her feet.

Before she could make up her mind whether she’d won or lost that particular skirmish, she became aware of her surroundings and forgot everything else. “Oh, dear.”

“You’re going to hurt my feelings if you tell me you don’t like it.”

“It’s awful.”

The inside was even worse than the outside. Cramped and cluttered, it smelled of mildew, old age, and stale food. A miniature kitchen sat just in front of her, its blue Formica top faded and chipped. Dirty dishes had been piled in the tiny sink, and a crusty pan sat on top of a stove, just above an oven door held shut by a piece of twine. The threadbare carpet had once been gold but now held so many ancient stains its color could only be described in terms of body functions. To the right of the kitchen, the faded plaid upholstery of a small couch was barely visible beneath stacks of books, newspapers, and remnants of male clothing. She saw a chipped refrigerator, cupboards with peeling laminate, and one unmade bed.

She whirled around looking for another. “Where are the rest of the beds?”

He regarded her evenly, then stepped around the bags he’d dropped in the center of the floor. “This is a trailer, angel face, not a suite at the Ritz. What you see is what you get.”

“But—” She clamped her mouth shut. Her throat felt dry and her stomach quivered.

The bed took up most of one end of the trailer, separated from the rest only by a sagging length of wire holding a faded brown curtain that was pushed back against the wall. The bedsheets tangled with a few items of clothing, a bath towel, and something that appeared from a distance to be a heavy black belt.

“The mattress is nice and comfortable,” he said.

“I’m sure the couch will be fine for me.”

“Whatever.”

She heard a series of metallic clinks and turned to see him unloading his pockets on the cluttered kitchen counter: change, truck keys, wallet. “I was living in another trailer until a week ago, but it was too small for two people, so I arranged for this one. Unfortunately, I haven’t had time to call my interior decorator.” He jerked his head. “Donnicker’s in there. It’s the only thing I’ve had time to clean up. You can try to fit your stuff into that storage closet behind you. Spec starts in an hour; stay away from the elephants.”

Donnicker? Spec?

“I really don’t think I can live like this,” she said. “It’s filthy.”

“You’re right about that. I guess it needs a woman’s touch. There’s some cleaning stuff under the sink.”

He moved past her to get to the door, then paused. The next thing she knew, he had crossed back to the counter and repocketed his wallet.

She was deeply offended. “I’m not a thief.”

“Of course you’re not. And let’s just keep it that way.” His chest brushed her arm as he turned sideways to slip past her to the door. “Today we have shows at five and eight. Be at both of them.”

“Stop it right now! I can’t stay in this awful place, and I’m not cleaning up your filth!”

He glanced absently down at the toe of his boot, then back up at her. She gazed into those pale golden eyes and felt a quiver of dread, along with a sensation of heightened awareness that she was afraid to examine too closely.

He slowly lifted his hand, and she flinched as he clasped it gently around her throat. She felt the light abrasion of his thumb as he began rubbing the hollow just beneath her ear in something that felt very much like a caress. “Listen to me, angel face,” he said softly. “We can do this easy, or we can do it rough. Either way, I’m going to win. You decide how it’ll be.”