My heart was hammering in my chest now, making me feel like I was going to start panting like a dog any second. Control yourself, Fido! He’s just a guy!
I pulled my hand back more insistently this time, and he let it go. “Sex isn’t love. Don’t fool yourself into thinking it is.” Memories of my mother flashed before my eyes. She was always in a dreamy state after being with her boyfriend in the bedroom at night, but it never stopped him from smashing her in the face later.
“You’re not her, Andie. You’re not your mother.”
“Shut up! You don’t get to talk about her to me!” My shouts echoed around the small space of the truck’s cab, making my ears ring. My face burned with embarrassment over losing my temper. “Sorry for shouting. Just … don’t talk about her, please. She’s off limits.”
“Sounds to me like you’d be better off talking about her rather than pretending she doesn’t exist, but I’ll leave it alone for now.” He reached over and put his hand on mine, stroking the side of it with his thumb. “I got some things for us so we can take a little ride this afternoon.”
“A ride? Where?” I asked, suspicion ruling my emotions. “I don’t want to take a ride with you.” The words came out, but the feelings weren’t backing them up.
“Up into the hills a little bit. I think we need some privacy so we can talk this out and get things straight. I know you have a lifeplan to follow and all, so no reason to delay anymore.”
I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or sad or anything else. “I’m surprised I met you that night,” I said.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because with that poker face of yours, I’ll bet you could make a lot of money at the poker tables instead of the blackjack tables.”
He smiled, sending a shock of attraction right through my chest and down to the space between my legs. “I do like to play poker now and again, but I always warm up with a little twenty one first.” He patted my hand before putting his back on the wheel. “Glad I did that night, I can tell you that.”
I said nothing, not sure whether he’d changed my life for the better by playing blackjack that night or doomed me to a life of misery.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I SAT ON THE PORCH waiting for Mack to come around to the front. He’d told me he was getting our transportation. I leaned against one of the posts holding up the porch’s roof, my feet resting on the steps. My mind wandered as a cool breeze moved bits of my hair around my face, tickling my skin.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat in the sun and just let my thoughts wander. It was nice, making me wish Mack wouldn’t come back too quickly. Right now, I’d willingly pay big money for a spell that would make time freeze so I could sit here and just breathe for a while without worrying about Bradley or Hannah or my future. It was all such a mess.
Replaying the things Mack had said to me in the truck was helping me piece together what had happened in Las Vegas. Not all of it was making sense, but some of it was. Obviously, the first thing that had gone wrong was my complete lack of self control. Mack’s sexual energy was like a magnet, pulling me in and making me do stupid things like forget my plans and all the things I’d sacrificed to leave the past behind and accomplish my goals. Just the idea of abandoning what amounted to my life’s work made me scared senseless, like I’d be floating in the wind with no direction forever - a complete lack of control. And on top of all that, in the space of maybe six hours, Mack had somehow convinced me to unload all of my personal garbage onto his shoulders to carry around. The skeletons that used to live in my closet had come out to dance in the hot, Las Vegas night.
Even so, he still acted like being married to me wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened to him. He’d said the L-word while we were in the middle of having shower sex, but that kind of declaration can’t be taken seriously. So he wasn’t in love, but he wasn’t in a hurry to divorce me either. What was he, exactly?
A small smile played across my lips. Him loving me was too ridiculous to even consider part of my reality. People don’t fall in love with strangers. Strangers could be anything, anyone, with an unlimited amount of awful baggage no one would ever want to bear. How could he know I wasn’t a serial killer or mother of eight kids or already married? He couldn’t. Smart people like us don’t do stupid things like get married at twenty-four-hour chapels by a man named Elvis. That’s what irresponsible people who have nothing to lose do.