“With you,” he repeated. Disbelief stormed in his eyes. “Did we…uh…”
“No, not…” This was the single most embarrassing conversation she’d ever had.
Daniel laughed, taking her hands in his. “I didn’t hump you like some horny teenager, did I?”
In spite of herself, Amelia giggled. “It’s a pretty good description.”
“Damn, I’m sorry–”
“Don’t,” she cut him off. “Don’t apologise. You were there, I was there, and we both wanted… We both…”
In a flash he was at her side, his big arms wrapped around her, holding her tight. For a second she tried to fight the urge to return his embrace. Amelia failed. And as her hands slid up to link behind his neck, a shudder tore through Daniel. He held her like he’d never let her go. Held her like he was acting out his heart’s desires.
She returned his embrace just as firmly, her face shoved into the crook of his shoulder against his neck where she inhaled his manly scent and drove herself wild with the memories of last night.
Later that afternoon the rain let up to a fine drizzly mist. They decided to continue on with their journey and play by ear when it came to the weather. She’d checked on her computer and the storms were predicted to keep up through the day and into the night.
He stopped at a beach so she could continue spreading her grandfather’s ashes. Each time she performed the task, lovingly and with her head held high, Daniel longed to hold her close and kiss away the pain. Instead he stood back giving her time and space.
After the beach, Daniel spotted a pub and decided they needed to stop for some food. It was already close to four and the last thing they’d eaten was a plateful of biscuits early that morning. He pulled up to the small stone building and parked.
“Hungry?”
Her head rolled to the side. Exhaustion oozed from her pores. “Starving.”
“Let’s go get something to eat then. Might as well sit outside with it while the rain has stopped, aye?”
“Sounds good.” She waited for him to come around to the passenger side to help her out and into the pub.
Though she took no notice, Daniel was acutely aware of the number of eyes attached to him during their walk through the doors. It was to be expected though. In prison he received taunts through the cell bars from other inmates, beatings from the guards and, when sent out with the general population, was attacked with all manner of weapons.
Most of the time, he prayed for death. Prayed for it so hard that, by the time he was told about his impending release, Daniel no longer believed in a God. If one existed, surely he wouldn’t have allowed any of that to happen to one of his children.
Amelia guided him to the bar and, in her usual pleasant way, greeted the large man drying pint glasses. He handed her two menus and she instructed Daniel to have a look at what they were offering. Even before she spoke, he knew exactly what they would be having. It was her new favourite thing, and a dish he’d been missing ever since he was a lad.
The barman came back, ignoring Daniel as he blatantly flirted with Amelia. The whole display was shameless and despicable. A married man – the thin gold band on his finger told him as much, not to mention his wife in the photograph above the till of the pair of them kissing – carrying on like this and the worst he’d be likely to get is a sharp word from his wife. The world had gone topsy-turvy and he wanted off the ride.
“Damned Yanks,” the old man at the end of the bar muttered into his pint glass.
Blood boiling, Daniel straightened up to right the bastard’s mistake when she put a hand on his arm. Daniel turned, looking down at the woman who, despite receiving as warm a welcome as himself, had a smile on her face. It was a real one too, not the forced kind. He could tell, since it reached her cobalt eyes.
“It’s not worth it, really,” she whispered.
“Not worth it? How can you let him think you’re one thing when it’s not even close? He meant it as an insult!”
Amelia shrugged her shoulders. “Doesn’t matter. Just proves his ignorance and I’m only insulted if I allow his comment to get under my skin in the way he intended it to. There’s nothing wrong with being American, or Canadian, or anything else for that matter. The only thing I need to worry about in life is that I treat people the way I want to be treated. If they don’t return the courtesy, well, there isn’t really anything I can do about it. The man must have had a bad experience sometime in his past and I’m unlikely to change his opinion.”
“You’re a better person than I am then,” he mumbled, collecting the paper bag from the bar as it was placed there. He held out his arm for her to take and she did, leaning into him for support.