Set Loose by Isabel Morin Page A

then. She gazed into the last bedroom, sparsely furnished with a twin bed and chest of drawers. But instead she saw what it could be, a child’s room with walls covered in bright pictures, a bookshelf with stories to be read before bed.
    They were quiet as they returned to the kitchen.
    “I hope you like lasagna,” he said, opening the oven to peek inside.
    Heavenly smells wafted out. Emily let out a deep sigh of appreciation.
    “Who doesn’t love lasagna? I just haven’t eaten it since I was about eleven. When I was dancing I was always watching my weight. I feel like I’ve been pigging out for months now, but it’s so nice to be able to eat good food.”
    Cutter quirked an eyebrow at her as he looked her up and down.
    “If this is how you look when you pig out, then I’m happy to help feed you.”
    “Good. Maybe you’ll invite me back again.”
    “Oh, you can count on that,” he said, his heated look stopping her breath.
    The chemistry between them was as potent now as before they’d started their fling. It seemed counter-intuitive, like they should have diffused all the sexual tension by now, but nothing of the sort had happened. Now the tension contained the knowledge of what was possible between them, memories of how crazy they made one another.
    Overwhelmed by the constant hunger, the utter craving he called forth from her, she turned away. It didn’t matter how vital he made her feel, it couldn’t last, no more than a dance could last after the lights went up.
    From behind her she heard Cutter leave the room, then the soft croon of a saxophone. Coltrane, if she wasn’t mistaken. The music’s sensual throb surrounded her, loosening her limbs. She would take things one day at a time and enjoy pleasure where she found it. What was the point of anticipating pain while they were still together?
     

Chapter Seven
    “Everything all right?” Cutter asked, coming in from the other room.
    “Absolutely.”
    “Then let’s eat.”
    They sat together at a round wooden table in front of glass doors that led to a generous deck and the backyard beyond. The lasagna was delicious, so homey and substantial she felt the burn of tears behind her eyes and had to distract herself with conversation.
    “So is it just you and your sister here, or do you have other family in the area?”
    As soon as she asked, it struck her how odd it was that they’d never exchanged even this basic information. She knew so little about him.
    “Just me and my sister. My mom’s still on the rez and my dad’s in Reno. I came here right after college. There was so much building going on then it was easy to find work. Lisa ran into some trouble in Carson City and came here.”
    Emily looked at him questioningly, not sure if she should ask what sort of trouble he was talking about. Cutter hesitated but then continued, his face schooled to show no emotion.
    “When I was fifteen I went to live with my dad in Reno but Lisa stayed with my mom. Things were fine for a few years but by the time Lisa turned sixteen I think she was already in pretty bad shape. I was in college by then and my mom was too out of it to notice or do anything about it. I didn’t even know Lisa had started into heavy drugs until a friend of mine ran into her. She was strung out on heroine and stripping in a place that makes the Pink Pussycat look like a palace.”
    His face contorted with emotion and he stopped talking as if unable to go on. He scrubbed his face with his hands as if he could wipe away all feeling.
    “Never mind,” she said, putting her hand on his. “You don’t have to tell me everything.”
    But he seemed to want to get it all out now.
    “It was another year before she let me help her, and probably another year before she was clean. She lived with me for a while but she’s doing great now and has her own place. She waits tables and goes to school part-time.”
    He stopped and shot her a wry look. “I don’t usually have to pick her up at work