The Great Escape (Wynette, Texas #7)(35)

“They’re overprotective.”

“You’ve gotten threatening letters. You’ve been knocked over a couple of times. And you were part of a high-profile wedding. There is such a thing as exercising reasonable caution.”

“The only person who caused me any harm was you!”

He flinched, which should have made her feel better than it did. “You’re right,” he said. “I should have kept my hands to myself no matter how crazy you made me.”

Knowing she’d made him crazy encouraged her to continue her attack. “Whose idea was Caddo Lake?”

“It was a good place to keep you out of sight. The rental house was isolated, and your parents wanted to give you time to sort things out and realize you’d made a mistake.”

“All of you thought that sticking me on the back of a death machine was the best way to get me to Caddo?”

“I didn’t plan on that.”

“And here I thought you planned everything.”

“Yeah, well, next time I guard a bride, you can be damned sure I’ll anticipate that she might take off.”

She couldn’t listen to any more of this, and she headed for the door. Before she reached it, he spoke again. “I got the bike from a guy in Austin. It was good cover. I rode into Wynette a few days before you arrived so I could hang out in the local bars without anybody getting suspicious. It gave me a chance to see if I overheard anything that made me uneasy.”

“And did you?”

“Mainly I heard a lot of people saying that no woman was good enough for Ted. He’s some kind of local god.”

She frowned. “I knew they didn’t like me.”

“I don’t think it was personal. At least I didn’t think so at the time. I might have changed my mind about that.”

She’d heard enough, but as she headed for the back door, Mr. Talky was right behind her. “When your great escape started,” he said, “I figured it’d only last a couple of hours. How was I supposed to know you were having some kind of existential breakdown?”

His use of the word unnerved her. She wanted burps, not verbal erudition. “It wasn’t a breakdown.” She stalked across the kitchen floor and out onto the porch. But now that she didn’t want to talk, he stayed with her, and he wouldn’t shut up.

“I could have traded in the bike for an SUV the next day, but I’d have blown my cover, and you’d have tried to pull another disappearing act. Frankly, I didn’t want to work that hard. And don’t try to pretend you didn’t love being on that bike.”

She had loved it, but she wasn’t admitting anything. She pushed open the screen door and stepped into the yard. “Unfortunately, the ferry doesn’t leave for a few hours, so I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me alone. I’m sure you have things to do.”

He moved in front of her, blocking her way. “Lucy, that night …”

She stared at his collarbone. He jammed his hands in his pockets, studied her nose ring. “I’ve never let anything like that happen with a client.”

She didn’t want to hear about his remorse, and she shot around him.

“You have a right to be pissed,” he said from behind her. “I screwed up.”

She spun back. “You didn’t screw up. You screwed me. And don’t think it’s the sex that bothered me. I’m a grown woman. I can have all the sex I want.” Big talker. “What bothers me is that I didn’t know who I was having sex with.”

“Loud and clear.”

“Great. Now leave me alone.”

“Fine.”

But he stayed where he was. She couldn’t bear hearing more apologies, and she thrust her finger in the general direction of the sunroom. “Try taking care of your house for a change instead of bothering me.”

“You want me to wash windows?”

She hadn’t meant that at all. She didn’t care about the windows. “I suppose you could shoot them out,” she sneered, “but that seems a little excessive. Still, it’s your house. Whatever works for you.” With that, she reached the staircase. But with every step she took, her resentment burrowed in deeper. She didn’t want to leave this house. She wanted to stay, to eat breakfast on the screen porch, and take the kayak out, and hide from the world. He didn’t deserve this house. If it were hers, she’d give it the love it deserved. But it wasn’t hers.

She stomped back to the top of the stairs. “You don’t deserve this house!”

“What do you care?”

“I don’t. I—” It came to her in a flash. An impossible idea … She closed her mouth. Opened it. “When are you leaving?”

He regarded her suspiciously. “Tomorrow morning.”

“And … Are you coming back soon?”

“Not sure. I’m starting a new job. Maybe September. What difference does it make to you?”

Her mind raced. She loved this house … this island … She swallowed. “If … you’re not going to be using the house for a while …” She did her best to keep her voice even, not let him see how important this had become to her. “I might want to rent it. I have some things to do, and this is as good a spot as any.”