lot. How the hell had the best five minutes of his entire year turned FUBAR in a matter of seconds? Moving in a mechanical daze, he didn’t bother to put on his coat before trudging out to his truck. By the time he pulled his door closed against the rain sodden afternoon, he was soaked, cold to the bone, and disgusted with himself. His truck started with a roar, but he sat and stared out the window until his heater warmed the interior and defogged the windshield.
“Dumbass,” he muttered, gazing at his reflection in the rear view. “You couldn’t let her walk out the door and trust her?” He knew Carrie wouldn’t do anything as stupid as to take Dave back. She’d worked too damn hard for her independence. He shook his head, disappointed in his own insecurities.
Never again would he let fear from his past marriage control his tongue. Starting now, he’d put everything behind him and be a better man for the woman he...what? Loved? Did he love her? He liked her courage, her determination to have a better life, to provide her children with a chance for a better future. He admired every intelligent, sensitive, stubborn inch of her, from her glossy curls to her dimples, to her hot-pink and polished toes. He welcomed her ability to hold her own in an argument with him or anyone else, man or woman. Reveled that she didn’t back down from a challenge. But did he love her?
The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to apologize.
Sam threw his truck in gear. He’d give her an hour and a half to get back to Gardiner before calling to tell her he was sorry. That should be easy enough
***
. Swish-swash...swish-swash...swish-swash...The hypnotic rhythm of the wipers did nothing to ease the tension in Carrie’s shoulders as she hugged the steering wheel to get a better view of the roadway. Even set at the highest speed, her wipers couldn’t keep up with the torrential rain.
“Folks, if you can hear my voice, you’ll be seeing this super heavy precipitation for the rest of the afternoon and night.”
She groaned at the weatherman’s words, thinking about the shopping she needed to do before driving to Christie’s. Disappointed in the way she and Sam had ended their conversation, she drove on, feeling down and depressed. Two hours after leaving the office, she fell into the doorway of Christie’s kitchen door, kicked off her shoes, and hauled the three dripping bags of groceries to the sink to drain. She went to the bathroom and slipped out of her drenched clothes, placing them straight into the washer and starting the cycle. She pulled on a pair of dry jeans and a sweatshirt and pushed her feet into her fuzzy slippers. The shrill ring of the phone sliced through the metallic ping of raindrops hitting the aluminum covered carport. She ran to answer it, determined that if it was Sam, she’d give him a chance to explain. She answered, fully expecting to hear the deep, sexy, bass of the voice she loved.
“Hey,” she said, breathlessly.
“Where’ve you been?” a hoarse voice whispered.
She passed her hand over the curls plastered to her wet cheeks, wishing she’d remembered to pick up her umbrella this morning. “Excuse me?” she said, not quite sure she’d heard what she thought she’d heard.
“Where’ve you been...Carrie?”
“Who is this?” she asked, as terror caused a tightening in her chest. “Who are you?”
“You’ll know soon enough, sweetness.”
“What do you want from me?” She waited, her breath coming in shallow, frantic puffs. In the next several seconds of jaw clenching silence, she’d almost begun to believe he’d hung up.
The voice answered, in a slow, evil sounding hiss that made her skin crawl and had her wrenching the phone away as though it scorched her.
“Everything...”
***
By eight o’clock, Sam had dialed the number at least a hundred times. Finally hearing something other than the dreaded busy signal, he waited with bated
“Dumbass,” he muttered, gazing at his reflection in the rear view. “You couldn’t let her walk out the door and trust her?” He knew Carrie wouldn’t do anything as stupid as to take Dave back. She’d worked too damn hard for her independence. He shook his head, disappointed in his own insecurities.
Never again would he let fear from his past marriage control his tongue. Starting now, he’d put everything behind him and be a better man for the woman he...what? Loved? Did he love her? He liked her courage, her determination to have a better life, to provide her children with a chance for a better future. He admired every intelligent, sensitive, stubborn inch of her, from her glossy curls to her dimples, to her hot-pink and polished toes. He welcomed her ability to hold her own in an argument with him or anyone else, man or woman. Reveled that she didn’t back down from a challenge. But did he love her?
The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to apologize.
Sam threw his truck in gear. He’d give her an hour and a half to get back to Gardiner before calling to tell her he was sorry. That should be easy enough
***
. Swish-swash...swish-swash...swish-swash...The hypnotic rhythm of the wipers did nothing to ease the tension in Carrie’s shoulders as she hugged the steering wheel to get a better view of the roadway. Even set at the highest speed, her wipers couldn’t keep up with the torrential rain.
“Folks, if you can hear my voice, you’ll be seeing this super heavy precipitation for the rest of the afternoon and night.”
She groaned at the weatherman’s words, thinking about the shopping she needed to do before driving to Christie’s. Disappointed in the way she and Sam had ended their conversation, she drove on, feeling down and depressed. Two hours after leaving the office, she fell into the doorway of Christie’s kitchen door, kicked off her shoes, and hauled the three dripping bags of groceries to the sink to drain. She went to the bathroom and slipped out of her drenched clothes, placing them straight into the washer and starting the cycle. She pulled on a pair of dry jeans and a sweatshirt and pushed her feet into her fuzzy slippers. The shrill ring of the phone sliced through the metallic ping of raindrops hitting the aluminum covered carport. She ran to answer it, determined that if it was Sam, she’d give him a chance to explain. She answered, fully expecting to hear the deep, sexy, bass of the voice she loved.
“Hey,” she said, breathlessly.
“Where’ve you been?” a hoarse voice whispered.
She passed her hand over the curls plastered to her wet cheeks, wishing she’d remembered to pick up her umbrella this morning. “Excuse me?” she said, not quite sure she’d heard what she thought she’d heard.
“Where’ve you been...Carrie?”
“Who is this?” she asked, as terror caused a tightening in her chest. “Who are you?”
“You’ll know soon enough, sweetness.”
“What do you want from me?” She waited, her breath coming in shallow, frantic puffs. In the next several seconds of jaw clenching silence, she’d almost begun to believe he’d hung up.
The voice answered, in a slow, evil sounding hiss that made her skin crawl and had her wrenching the phone away as though it scorched her.
“Everything...”
***
By eight o’clock, Sam had dialed the number at least a hundred times. Finally hearing something other than the dreaded busy signal, he waited with bated
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