somehow betrayed him, too.
Resigned to an even more tense ride back to the ranch, Lyndie got in the car, but found her seat taken by Susan. With Kim and Justin in the middle seat, she had no choice but to sit up front with Bruce.
She slid into the truck, confused and chagrinned.
She desperately wanted to talk her way out of the situation, but she couldnât, when all had witnessed what was crystal clear. She and Bruce had been kissing and it hadnât been their first kiss. And even if she could lie to him, she could no longer lie to herself.
She had let him kiss her. She had wanted him to kiss her.
Twisting her lips in a wry grin, she tried to think of something humorous to say that might make the ride back a little more tolerable.
But it was no use. She didnât utter a sound. Nor did Bruce before he sped out of Katown as if a posse were after them.
Eight
T he rain started about midnight. Lyndie knew it because theyâd been back at the ranch for almost an hour.
Bruce had unceremoniously left the group at the bunkhouse and gone to park the SUV in the ranchâs garage. She didnât see him again, though his light was on in his cabin.
Cold droplets sprayed on her face as she rocked on the porch and studied the thin yellow glow coming from beneath his door. The cabin was over a hundred yards away and looked even farther in the falling mist.
Emotionally, she believed the cabin was in another universe, where honesty and bravery ruled, not in her universe where she was wounded and afraid.
She wanted to hate him. Bruce Everett represented everything Mitch had done to her. His swagger and easy seductive manner was very similar to Mitchâs, and it frightened her.
Instead of being an adult and telling Bruce she wasnât up to a flirtation with him right now, she wanted to play games, and kiss him. And run away.
Adults didnât behave this way, she admonished herself.
But the hurt little girl in her kept crying.
She needed to apologize to him. Heâd protected her when all sheâd done was amuse herself at his expense. In fact, thatâs all sheâd done since sheâd arrived at Mystery.
In the distance, a flood of yellow light illuminated the rain.
Lyndie looked up and found Bruceâs silhouette standing in the open door to his cabin.
Her knee-jerk reaction was to stand, as if readying forâ¦
A thrill wove down her back as she watched him walk toward her in the dark and the rain. The icy sting of the rain pelted her face, but she hardly noticed. All she saw was him, walking to her. All she heard was the primal drum of rain on boards.
She watched as he came ever nearer, his shadowed form growing larger and more ominous with every step.
Finally, when he was close enough to see her, he stood in his tracks, rain-sodden and tense, staring, as if she were prey.
âI am sorry.â She half swallowed her words. Her throat was choked with some unnamed emotion.
âI didnât come for an apology.â His words were harsh.
He came no nearer. He had to wipe the rain from his face.
âThen, why did you come?â she asked in a hushed voice. But her question was rhetorical. She knew.
âFrom the day I laid eyes on you, something came alive inside me. Something I thought was dead. That night at the mill, I knew I wanted you. I havenât thought about much else since.â
She took in what he was saying like a beggar, and she hated herself for it. Her reaction to him proved she was susceptible game. There was no longer any need to protect herself, because heâd won. Heâd made her recognize her need. She was still alive inside, too. She was still a woman. His last conquest would be to make her need him and him alone.
Numb and yet strangely giddy, she drew back and opened her bunkhouse door.
The light inside spilled onto the porch, onto him.
He stared at her in the rain, his jeans soaked, hisT-shirt clinging like transparent film. He was tall
Resigned to an even more tense ride back to the ranch, Lyndie got in the car, but found her seat taken by Susan. With Kim and Justin in the middle seat, she had no choice but to sit up front with Bruce.
She slid into the truck, confused and chagrinned.
She desperately wanted to talk her way out of the situation, but she couldnât, when all had witnessed what was crystal clear. She and Bruce had been kissing and it hadnât been their first kiss. And even if she could lie to him, she could no longer lie to herself.
She had let him kiss her. She had wanted him to kiss her.
Twisting her lips in a wry grin, she tried to think of something humorous to say that might make the ride back a little more tolerable.
But it was no use. She didnât utter a sound. Nor did Bruce before he sped out of Katown as if a posse were after them.
Eight
T he rain started about midnight. Lyndie knew it because theyâd been back at the ranch for almost an hour.
Bruce had unceremoniously left the group at the bunkhouse and gone to park the SUV in the ranchâs garage. She didnât see him again, though his light was on in his cabin.
Cold droplets sprayed on her face as she rocked on the porch and studied the thin yellow glow coming from beneath his door. The cabin was over a hundred yards away and looked even farther in the falling mist.
Emotionally, she believed the cabin was in another universe, where honesty and bravery ruled, not in her universe where she was wounded and afraid.
She wanted to hate him. Bruce Everett represented everything Mitch had done to her. His swagger and easy seductive manner was very similar to Mitchâs, and it frightened her.
Instead of being an adult and telling Bruce she wasnât up to a flirtation with him right now, she wanted to play games, and kiss him. And run away.
Adults didnât behave this way, she admonished herself.
But the hurt little girl in her kept crying.
She needed to apologize to him. Heâd protected her when all sheâd done was amuse herself at his expense. In fact, thatâs all sheâd done since sheâd arrived at Mystery.
In the distance, a flood of yellow light illuminated the rain.
Lyndie looked up and found Bruceâs silhouette standing in the open door to his cabin.
Her knee-jerk reaction was to stand, as if readying forâ¦
A thrill wove down her back as she watched him walk toward her in the dark and the rain. The icy sting of the rain pelted her face, but she hardly noticed. All she saw was him, walking to her. All she heard was the primal drum of rain on boards.
She watched as he came ever nearer, his shadowed form growing larger and more ominous with every step.
Finally, when he was close enough to see her, he stood in his tracks, rain-sodden and tense, staring, as if she were prey.
âI am sorry.â She half swallowed her words. Her throat was choked with some unnamed emotion.
âI didnât come for an apology.â His words were harsh.
He came no nearer. He had to wipe the rain from his face.
âThen, why did you come?â she asked in a hushed voice. But her question was rhetorical. She knew.
âFrom the day I laid eyes on you, something came alive inside me. Something I thought was dead. That night at the mill, I knew I wanted you. I havenât thought about much else since.â
She took in what he was saying like a beggar, and she hated herself for it. Her reaction to him proved she was susceptible game. There was no longer any need to protect herself, because heâd won. Heâd made her recognize her need. She was still alive inside, too. She was still a woman. His last conquest would be to make her need him and him alone.
Numb and yet strangely giddy, she drew back and opened her bunkhouse door.
The light inside spilled onto the porch, onto him.
He stared at her in the rain, his jeans soaked, hisT-shirt clinging like transparent film. He was tall
Similar Books
