Just a Little White Lie(8)
“Fact is,” he said, “might be two, three days before I can get the part for that fancy little foreign job of yours, tomorrow bein’ Sunday and all. Then, gotta figure another day at least to fix the dadgum thing.”
“So I’m looking at three or four days?” She glanced at Jake. “Is there a car rental in town?”
“Nope. Nearest rental place is thirty miles from here.”
Her shoulders slumped. She wanted to cry. She’d just been handed that proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.
Jake took the phone from her. “Thanks, Maynard. We’ll stop by tomorrow.”
Lucinda’s brows shot up.
He disconnected and pocketed his phone, then stretched his long legs out under the table. “Hey, Mabs.”
“Yeah?” She moved close and rested a hand covered with rings on their table. “What you need, handsome?”
In her late forties, Mabs was pretty in a worn-out kind of way. A faded version of her younger self.
Jake flashed her a killer smile. “Any nice motels in town?”
Her gaze moved to Lucinda, then back to Jake, the glint in her eyes all-knowing. “Honey, I’ll see what I can do. Let me make a couple calls. Our little burg’s pretty full what with the Peach Festival and all. Brings a lot of people—and money—into town.”
She topped their coffees and left. A few minutes later, she came back, slipping Jake a scrap of paper. “You’re in luck, darlin’. Delores has one room left, and she’s saving it for the two of you.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” Jake said. “You’re exhausted. Done for today. A shower and a bed. That’s what you need.”
Mabs and her coffeepot moved on to the next table and Lucinda turned to Jake. “She said one room.”
“Yeah?”
She waved a hand between them. “In case you haven’t noticed, there’re two of us.”
“Think I’ve got that, sugar. However, I learned to share in kindergarten. You?”
Lucinda pushed back her chair and stood to leave.
His hand snaked out, grabbed her arm, and pulled her back down. “Sit, Lucy.”
“My name is not Lucy. Nobody, absolutely nobody, calls me that.”
“Until now.”
When she opened her mouth, he said, “Look, we’re two adults, for heaven’s sake. What do you think’s gonna happen? The minute the door’s closed, I’m gonna tear your clothes off and have my way with you?”
Heat pooled in the pit of her stomach. Yes, she could imagine that, and from the look in those dark green eyes of his, so could he. She was suddenly very glad she was sitting, because the mere idea made her weak-kneed.
Tipping her chin defiantly, she said, “No, of course not.”
“But you don’t really know me, do you?”
She shook her head. She didn’t know anything about him really. Only that he loved his grandmother.
His voice dropped, gentled. “You’re safe with me, Lucy. You’ve had one hell of a day. Let me take care of you tonight. Then we’ll see what tomorrow brings.”
Take care of her. When was the last time, if ever, someone had offered to do that?
At the door of their room at the Sleep-Tight Motel, Lucinda allowed herself one moment of wistful regret as she thought of the luxurious Caribbean resort suite she and Donald had booked for the week. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, be sorry about Donald, but oh, how she longed for a stroll along the moonlit beach with the surf crashing ashore. Room service and whirlpool tubs.
She lassoed her mind and dragged it back to reality.
She wasn’t on an island in the middle of the tropical Caribbean. She was here, in this unbelievably brown room. Light brown walls, brown furniture, spotty brown carpeting and a darker brown bedspread—over a saggy bed. One saggy bed. One small, saggy bed.
A plastic chair had been jammed into the corner of the room. No way to make a bed for either of them out of that.
Her eyes returned to the bed. No two ways around it. She and Jake were going to have to share it. Her heart hammered against her ribs. He was so…so male. Most of the men she knew were civilized through and through. With Jake she had the feeling civilization was a very thin veneer and that beneath it lay the real Jake, the one who’d worked the oil rigs.
An inch or two over six feet, the man was all muscle. Not scary, in-your-face, vein-popping muscle. More the yummy, can-you-imagine-it-wrapped-around-you-holding-you-close kind.
“You goin’ in, or are you planning to camp out in the doorway?” Jake asked from behind her.
“Sorry.” She stepped into the room and off to the side so he could squeeze by. He dropped his own bag, along with hers, on the low dresser.