Kathy Altman - Staying at Joe's

Embarrassment shoved her back another step and she started to turn away. Then suddenly he was there, looming on the other side of the windowpane. Not naked. Not from the waist up, anyway. The door swung inward.

“Come in before the moths do,” he said.

She hesitated. Something in his voice... His hair was rumpled, his feet bare and he wore sweatpants and a T-shirt—clothes that could be pulled on in a matter of seconds.

Or off.

She blinked away an unwanted memory. “I don’t want to interrupt...anything. You alone?”

“Mostly.”

She started to ask what that was supposed to mean when she heard the kitten, meowing softly in the background. Funny guy. She gave a half shrug and sidled past, holding her breath so she wouldn’t breathe in the scent of bed-warmed male.

He shut the door behind her and turned, hand still on the knob. “There a problem?”

“Could you turn off the light?”

“Come again?”

It took real effort to keep her mind from going in an X-rated direction. For God’s sake, Allie, grow up. “The outdoor light. Those poor moths.”

He stretched a hand to the wall. The room went black. Allison blinked and thrust out her hands, feeling suddenly off-kilter.

Asking him to turn off the light might have been a mistake. Still, she couldn’t get that pinging noise out of her head.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

Damn that “throw me to the floor” voice of his. “I know it’s late, but I hoped we could talk.”

“No.”

She frowned in the abrupt silence. Then the refrigerator gurgled and she found her voice. “It won’t take long.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Huh. So maybe “mostly” alone didn’t involve the kitten, after all. Maybe “mostly” meant his date was asleep. Or maybe Allison needed to remember that just because they’d declared a truce, it didn’t mean he was happy she was here in Castle Creek.

She clamped her teeth together. “Fine. We’ll talk in the morning. Sorry I bothered you.”

“My answer will be the same when the sun comes up.” A whisper of fabric—she imagined him folding his arms across his chest. “I mean, I’m assuming you’re here to wriggle out of our deal, right?”

“I didn’t come to wriggle out of anything. I came to have a rational conversation. But obviously this isn’t a good time.” She took a step toward the door. He didn’t move. She blew out an impatient breath. “If you don’t get out of my way I can’t get out of your hair.”

“I can offer more than conversation.”

A mingling of anger and longing sapped the strength from her knees. Had she considered him funny at one time? Try hateful. She sneaked a step to the left and sagged against the counter. Not one of her better ideas, coming here at this hour. Though she wouldn’t admit to it now, she actually had hoped to talk Joe into letting her leave. Now all she wanted to do was scuttle back to her room and lock herself in.

“If you mean coffee,” she managed, “I’m in. Anything else and you’re out of your mind.” Like me.

He grunted, but that was all the reaction she got. His breathing remained steady—unlike hers. She let her hands slap back against her sides.

“Are we really going to just stand here in the dark?”

“I like the dark. It hides a multitude of sins.” When she didn’t—couldn’t—respond, he laughed softly. “Follow me.”

He paused beside her, and ran his fingers down her arm to her wrist, the heat of his touch suggesting an erotic promise she almost wished he could keep. He tugged lightly. She let him lead her out of the kitchen and down the hallway, past a tiny bathroom to the seating area she’d caught a glimpse of before. He let go of her wrist and pressed a palm to her back, encouraging her to cross the threshold.

A rickety-looking card table sat in front of a pair of windows overlooking the field behind the motel. On top of the table sat a bronzed, bottom-heavy lamp, which shed its light on a thick book of crosswords, a mason jar full of pencils, a clear glass tumbler and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. A cold, crawling bleakness filled her belly. She wandered into the center of the room then slowly turned. He watched her, his mouth forming an arrogant slant, his navy eyes glazed with a falseness she’d learned to despise a year ago.

“You’ve been drinking.” Inwardly she winced at the accusation in her voice. None of your business. Not anymore. Still, she couldn’t help mourning the day-old hope that just that moment unwound itself from around her heart and slunk away. She took a breath and added quietly, “I thought you’d given it up.”

“I gave up getting drunk. Drinking? Not so much.”

She jerked her chin at the bottle of Glenlivet. “This is what you meant when you said you weren’t alone.”

He shrugged. “I’m guessing I don’t need to hunt up a second glass.”

A mewling sound. They both looked down in time to see the kitten launch herself at Joe’s leg. He bent and plucked her free of his sweatpants, cradled her in his arms and scratched her belly. A soft, satisfied rumbling filled the room.

Allison swallowed, but the ache in her throat refused to recede. An overwhelming sadness crowded her chest, pressing painfully against her heart, and she shook her head.

“I can’t do this again. I won’t do this again.”

“If you’re talking about renovating it’s obvious you’ve never done it before.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” She strode back to the doorway but Joe stayed put. Why hadn’t she realized the moment he’d opened the door? The moment he’d spoken? She could have left then, instead of finding herself in the position of having to bluff her way past him.

“Excuse me,” she said briskly. “I have to pack.”

“You leave, I stay.”

Damn him. “You gave your word.”

“So did you.”

“When I thought you were sober.”

“Does it matter? We made no stipulations.”

“We did, actually. Something about keeping your hands to yourself?”

He took his time looking her over, from her flip-flops to her brand-new jeans to the baby doll pajama top she hadn’t bothered exchanging for a shirt. His gaze seemed to settle on her shoulders, and she found herself wishing stupidly that she’d taken the time to brush her hair. She was worse than pathetic.

“Just so we’re clear,” he drawled, “the same doesn’t apply to you.”

Despite herself, despite...everything...a heated thrill of remembered pleasure zinged straight from her heart to her belly. Stop that. She struggled to focus on all the long-ago nights she’d been desperate to touch him, to lose herself in his caresses, but instead had lain frozen and aching on her side of the bed. Why? Because he’d been too drunk to realize she was there, let alone to make love to her.

Did he really think it would be that easy? Did he think it was even an option?

You’ve thought about it, too. She had. Of course she had. At one time they’d been good together. Very good. And as different as he’d seemed to be...

Now she knew that only his appearance had changed. And that he’d found a new hobby. Everything else that counted had stayed the same.

“Is this part of the plan? Seduce the woman who plotted against you? Make her fall for you all over again so she’ll beg you to let her stay? Then of course you’ll respond with, ‘Sorry, my sweet. Offer expired. Let me get the door.’” She tipped her head. “I can see the poetic justice.”

“Nice touch, that thing with the door.” He leaned over and released the cat onto the sofa. When he straightened, brushing the orange hairs from his T-shirt, his expression had loosened. “No plan. Just fond memories. I miss the look of stunned bliss on your face when you come.”