Connecting Strangers (Discovering Emily) (7 page)

Consigning myself to an evening that probably isn’t going to have anything to do with food unless it’s breakfast the next morning, I tug my hand free and scurry into the kitchen.

Francine is manning the doors, and she pulls one open as I come running. “So what does Adam want for breakfast besides you?”

“Can you take his order for me? I need some air.” I remove my apron and place it atop the pristine stainless steel counter.

“Honey,” she snags hold of my arm, “you need to stop running. Adam will only bite if you give him permission.” She winks. “If he was my type, he’d have carte blanche to bite me wherever he wanted.”

Art releases a loud snort and flips another pancake. “He’d have a lot of places to choose from.”

She waves a hand over her shoulder. “Just ignore him. He hasn’t had a girlfriend in thirty years, and his outlook isn’t nearly as promising as yours.”

“Do you not remember that I have a boyfriend?” I lower my voice even though the din outside the kitchen is loud.

“Had. Past tense. And whether you’ve been broken up one year or one day, the past is the past. You just have to move on. You’re over and done with that other fella, and you have another one who’s a damned sight better than he ever was.”

I sigh. Warning bells chime in my head. The last time I tried to break up with Mark, he came after me, and his daddy had to pay off a lot of business owners when he busted up half a town street. If Marks finds out about Adam while looking for me, the damage could be catastrophic. He’s only one man, but when combined with alcohol, he’s a 260-pound tornado.

“Your hesitation is understandable. You don’t want to end one relationship and go straight into another, but how long has it been since you really loved Mark?”

I try to think of the last time I felt even the slightest trace of affection for my high school boyfriend, and I come up empty. It’s been years. “That’s a really good question, and if you ask me next why I stayed with him, you’ll get the same answer.”

“Oh, I know why you stayed with him. The same reason I stayed with my man. They convince you they love you and will do anything for you. That they’re sorry and will change. You wanted to believe Mark because you’d given him so many years of your life. I can’t blame you for that, but he had too many chances for you to ever believe he’ll be anything more than he is. Now it’s time you gave yourself a chance.”

Francine’s my own personal cheering second, and I smile at her. I’ve missed out on having a friend like her in my life. Mark didn’t like me to get too close with anyone else, less I lose my dependence upon him. Little by little, though, I had been planning my escape, looking forward to the day when I’d be able to live my life anyway I wanted to. And it had happened. No, it didn’t go off without a hitch, but I’m free. At least…for now.

“I’m going out with Adam tonight.” I blurt the words out then quickly look over my shoulder to make sure no one is listening. Then I remind myself I’m not in Broomtown. No one in Juniper Springs is going to report my latest move to my ex-boyfriend.

With a squeal of pure glee, Francine hooks her arm through mine and propels me toward the back door. “And here I was thinking your cheeks were flushed because of the heat of this kitchen.”

“Don’t get too excited. It’s just dinner.”

“Francine’s never had just dinner.” Art snorts. “If she doesn’t do the walk of shame the next morning, it wasn’t a date.”

Her eyes narrow. “I swear someone is going to find his dead body in a ditch one day.”

“I’d better get back to work.” I touch her arm to let her know I appreciate her support. When I turn, Adam is standing by the kitchen door, and I wonder how much of the conversation he’s heard.

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop.” The reprimand falls on deaf ears.

“Wasn’t. Needed some cream for my coffee, and my waitress was nowhere around.”

“I believe you asked for black coffee.”

A dimple appears when he smiles. “I did, didn’t I? I guess I’m busted. You’re good at catching me.” He winks before leaning in to whisper. “In truth, I just wanted to see if you looked as good going as you do coming.”

I give him a little shove. “Go back to your coffee. I have other customers.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Francine’s gone shopping again, and the proof is littered all over my bed. Bags and bags of pants, dresses, shoes, everything. Tears spring to my eyes as I stand there in a towel, sorting through the wardrobe. Here I’d been in the shower wondering what I was going to wear tonight, and she swoops in again with a resolution.

“Thought you might like some change of scenery.” Her husky voice has me turning around.

I don’t know what to say to her so I just walk over and hug her. Emotion is clogging my throat so tightly I can’t speak anyway. Francine pats my back then pushes me gently away.

“You need to get dressed. It’s already six-thirty.”

Time is going too fast. I’d gotten home at a little after five which should have been plenty of time. But I spent thirty minutes on my make-up which is twenty-nine minutes longer than I usually take.

“Oh, don’t worry if you’re running a little late. He’ll wait. Good things are always worth waiting for.” She winks and spins around toward the door. “Since you were traveling so light, I picked up some other essentials for you, too. In case you didn’t already see them, you’ll find them in the bathroom under the sink, and in the dresser, and there are a few more things in the closet.” Her voice trails off as she heads down the hallway.

It’s a little hard for me to believe I’m going out on a date when less than forty-eight hours ago, I didn’t know if I’d make it out of my house alive. As I try on several outfits, my spirit grows lighter. Francine is right. I
do
deserve this.

By the time I decide on a maxi skirt with high-heeled boots and a fitted cream sweater, I’m singing. I twirl in front of the bathroom mirror with a smile. I can’t remember the last time I sang, but, by this time tomorrow, I’m pretty sure I’ll have a whole lot more to sing about.

Francine pokes her head back in the open doorway, grinning at my impromptu pirouette. “I forgot to tell you I put some condoms in that cute little purse hanging on the doorknob of the closet.”

“Francine!” Though there’s heated denial in my voice, I can’t look her in the eyes. How is it that she knows so much when she isn’t that much older than I am? Unless she wears her age a hell of a lot better than I think she does.

“It’s only dinner.” The words sound hollow.

“To start with, but the way the two of you are together, I’ll be surprised if I see you again before Monday.”

Sure my cheeks are burning, I turn to look at the purse behind me. “I have to work tomorrow morning.”

“If you have other plans, I can cover for you.” She chuckles and starts to back away, but I call her name again. “Yeah, honey?”

“I feel like I’m getting ready for the prom, and everyone knows what happens on prom night.”

“And those who don’t go to prom are jealous as hell the next morning.” Her grin threatens to split her face. “Just go enjoy yourself. No one here is judging. I’ll be the jealous one sitting on the couch tonight.”

Adam picks me up in his black, shiny truck with chrome fenders. It’s so high off the ground he has to help me up into the passenger seat. His hands linger a little longer than necessary on my hips before he lifts me. The leather interior smells like him. Warm. Woodsy. Intoxicating.

He climbs up beside me and looks at me, his gaze sweeping over me from head to toe, while the truck is idling. “You look incredible.”

I smile. “I feel pretty close to that way, too.” Without restricting myself, I reach over and touch his knee. “So where are you taking me?”

His hand scoops up mine. He kisses my knuckles then puts my hand back on my own side of the truck. “In a truck this size, it’s best if I keep both hands on the wheel. You can help me out by keeping both of yours over there.”

Heat flashes down my spine. I barely know him, but I know I don’t want to waste this chance, this moment. Tonight there would be no doubts, no regrets. Only second chances. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He hasn’t backed out of the driveway yet. Hazel eyes meet mine. “Where do you want to go?”

“Not a busy restaurant,” I whisper, almost scared of saying the words aloud. I’m taking a risk, and my excitement is edged with uncertainty. I can’t be sure I’m really out from under Mark’s thumb. But I don’t want to hide from this connection with Adam. He makes me feel…well, he just makes me feel. And if I don’t take the risk that’s right in front of me, I know I’ll regret it forever.

“There’s no rush, Emily.” Adam leans in and brushes his lips over mine.

I catch hold of his shirt before he can move back to his side of the truck. We stare at each other for a long moment before one of us moves. Maybe both of us move. However it happens, we connect, kissing with such abandon we might as well be in a hotel room.

Something ignites inside of me, and I let my hands travel everywhere. His arms. His neck. His leg. And below his belt buckle where his hardness presses against my palm.

He makes a noise that sounds like a groan and catches my wrist. “Maybe we should go somewhere we don’t have an audience.” He indicates the front window of Francine’s house with a jerk of his head.

I shift my gaze in time to see the curtain fall back into place. I don’t know whether to laugh or curse. Adam kisses me again and squeezes my injured thigh as he starts to pull back.

Pain shoots down my leg and into my calf. I try to muffle the cry, but it’s not low enough to prevent Adam from hearing. His gaze whips to mine. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I paste a smile on my face though my leg is on fire. My hands clench into fists because I don’t want to rub the wound. Sweat pops out on the back of my neck as waves of nausea roll through me.

“Don’t give me that. I heard you. Where are you hurt?”

I can see him doing the mental calculations. Where did he last touch me? Was it my face? My arm? My leg. His eyes clear, and he hovers his hand over my thigh. “Is it here?”

I don’t move because I see our evening being shredded because of Mark even without his presence. “Adam, it’s fine. Let’s just go.” No amount of convincing is going to make him leave. The determination on his face is fierce.

“As soon as you let me see the leg.” He touches the fabric of the skirt gently and begins inching it upwards. “I pictured doing this at a different time and in a much different way, but…” He stops talking when he sees the line of bandages I’ve used to cover the mark.

I cover one of his hands with both of mine. “It’s just a small cut. It stings more than I thought it would.”

“I’m trained in first aid, Emily, and a cut wouldn’t have caused you that much pain nor would it require that much bandaging. Let’s try the truth this time.”

Instinct is telling me to get out of the truck. He wants answers I can’t give. Shouldn’t give. I close my eyes and tug his hand away. “Okay, it’s not a cut, but it’s okay. I’m taking care of it.”

His face tightens, and his jaw clenches. “So what is it?”

Now I get annoyed, and I reach for the door handle of the truck. It pisses me off that he is so insistent, like it hasn’t even occurred to him that this might be something too personal to share with him. “Maybe I should just go. We can do this another night.” I’m sure my tone tells him otherwise.

He takes hold of my wrist. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong with your leg, Emily? Are you protecting someone?”

The question draws a laugh out of me, but it’s bitter. As if Mark needs anyone to protect him. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

The fingers around my wrist go gentle, and he starts stroking my skin with the pad of his thumb. “How can I? You’ve been hurt. I want to make sure you’re okay. And even though I don’t understand why, I
need
to make sure.”

His words melt me, and before I can think about the many reasons why I shouldn’t, I raise my shirt to just above the top bandage and slowly peel it back. Then I move to the second one. And the third. As the blistered skin finally comes into view, Adam’s curse is so furious and loud, I’m surprised Francine doesn’t come running out of the house.

“Who did this to you? Your boyfriend? Is this why you left him?” He snags my wrist as I try to cover it again. “MM. Are those his initials? What’s the bastard’s name, Emily?”

“You have no jurisdiction in his county.”

“I don’t give a shit about jurisdiction.”

“I know you don’t, but you can’t arrest him.”

“Someone will. That son-of-a-bitch is going to jail, Emily I promise you.” He raises his hand and strokes my cheek. I hear each labored breath he takes as he tries to rein in his temper. Then he draws me close and kisses my cheek “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“The hospital?” I sit up straighter and lower my skirt. “What are you talking about?”

“That wound’s infected, badly unless I miss my guess. You need to be on an antibiotic before it gets any worse, and since no other places are open, the hospital is it.”

“I don’t have to go tonight.” The last thing I want to do is spend the evening in the emergency room. “I can see a doctor tomorrow. The emergency room isn’t for cuts and scrapes.”

Adam shifts the truck into reverse. “That’s isn’t just a scrape, Emily.” The fury is back in his voice. “And, no, you can’t wait. You’ve waited long enough as it is.” As though sensing his anger was taking its toll on me, he softens and covers my hand with one of his. “I’m sorry.”

I keep my gaze trained on his fingers. “There’s no need to apologize. I’m sure you’re used to dealing with stuff like this.”

As he rolls the truck out onto the road, he glances at me. “Stuff like what?”

I can’t say the words aloud. It sickens to me even think about associating my name with domestic violence. But that’s exactly what this boils down to. I place one hand over my stomach in a useless attempt to quell the nausea that has taken up permanent residence in my stomach.

“Hey,” Adam prods me. “I don’t lump everyone or everything into the same category. And, no, I’m not used to dealing with stuff like this. Men in this area don’t treat their women like…” he breaks off, but I finish his sentence for him.