Once Her Man, Always Her Man(6)
The hell she’s walking away.
He tossed a couple of bills on the bar and strode after her. He caught up to her at the curb and handed a hundred to the girl she gave her claim check to. “My car, not hers.”
“Excuse me?” Rebecca wheeled around, but not before he saw her wiping away glittering tears from her eyes.
“My car. Not yours.” His heart constricted. He’d made her cry and that made him the lowest form of life. He’d have to take himself out back to get the shit kicked out of him for that. He knew a couple of guys who’d help him out.
Later.
“You can’t just order me around, Luke.” The wash of tears thickening her voice evaporated in a blast of anger.
“I didn’t order you around. I ordered her.” He nodded toward the valet who’d already disappeared with his money. Rebecca’s sweet mouth rounded into a silent O and he grinned. That was his girl, emotions running riot across the smooth, pristine face. Anger, irritation, sadness and yes, lust, all paraded through her expression. As if aware of his delight, she faced away, her shoulders stiff and jerky.
“That’s semantics.”
“No, that’s fact. I’ve never given you an order.”
“No, you just took the choice out of my hands.” She folded her arms across her chest, a shiver trembling through her tight frame. Shrugging out of his suit jacket, he draped it around her, closing his hands on her shoulders when she would have pulled away.
“You’re cold. It’s a jacket. It won’t bite.” He carefully measured the words, savoring the feeling of her under his hands although touching her had been a mistake. He didn’t want to stop.
The valet pulled his F450 into the slip in front of the Sybarite Club. The engine idled as she stepped out. He circled Rebecca, keeping one hand on her shoulder in case she tried to dart away again. He opened the passenger door and dared a look at her.
The pain and confusion shimmering in her eyes strangled him. I really do need to have my ass kicked.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to come with me and I want to apologize.” Honest, straightforward and not shying away from the problem. He could take the well-deserved lumps, but she didn’t deserve them. He’d done her a huge disservice. Time to put that right.
Long past time.
“Will you come with me?” Careful not to give her an order, not to push too hard, not to force a retreat.
“Why?”
“Because I won’t leave you behind this time….” I won’t leave you behind ever again.
She hesitated. “My car is here.”
“When you want to come back, I’ll bring you back.”
White teeth pulled at her lower lip, clearly conflicted.
“Becca, I don’t deserve the chance, but I need one. Just one. Please.”
She dropped her gaze. Luke held his breath. He wasn’t above begging. Not for her.
“Okay.”
He barely heard her too-quiet reply, and remained uncertain he heard the answer correctly until she took a step toward the truck. “I’ll go.”
He handed her up into the truck, careful to watch that she didn’t turn an ankle in the insane stilettos, no matter how great they made her legs look. Shutting the door behind her, he caught the doorman’s bemused expression. The man nodded his head, mouthing good luck.
Luke nodded in return, taking it.
He needed all the luck he managed to bank over the years and then some. He’d left her once, but this Marine didn’t make the same mistake twice. And he knew where to go. Leaving Dallas on I-30, he headed for Rockwall.
Chapter Three
The vents blasted a blanket of warmth into the silence, but the heat couldn’t quite touch the icy core solidifying in her chest. She sat next to a stranger. No, she sat next to Luke, far worse than a stranger. She didn’t know what to say. Her tongue seemed thick against the back of her teeth.
Two glasses of wine left her mildly tipsy. The only explanation for why she got into the truck with the man eleven years after he walked away and never looked back. Stupid, stupid, childish mistake. You’re not seventeen anymore, Becca.
At twenty-eight, she had no excuses for bad choices.
“Better?”
“What?” She pulled away from her internal monologue to stare across the shadowy gulf to the man driving.
“Are you warmer?” His voice gentled and she wished he’d stop doing that. Stop sounding like the boy who used to carry her over muddy spots rather than risk her slipping, or the guy who listened intently to every critique she gave him on his homework, or the sweet boyfriend who grinned like an idiot when she raced up to hug him.
She’d missed that boy for years.