on this very private, very loving moment.
Something nagged at the periphery of his consciousness:
He’d never been one to envy what others had…but it sure would be nice to know a love like that before he met his Maker.
After giving the ranch hands their orders, Reid drove to Amanda’s hotel and found her waiting for him outside the entrance. “I figured you’d be driving some kind of monster truck,” she said, giggling when she opened the passenger door, “so I wore blue jeans.”
She sidled up, intent on planting a kiss right on his lips. He gave her his cheek instead, and pretended not to notice the disappointment that registered on her face. She recovered quickly, though—he had to give her that. After a second or two of silence, she snuggled close.
“I hate to sound like an old codger,” he began, pointing at the passenger seat, “but you need to slide right back over there and buckle your seat belt.” He stared straight ahead. If Rose London had been wearing her seat belt thirteen years ago, she might have survived the accident. Since that night, he’d been a stickler when it came road safety.
But Amanda had no way of knowing that, and her wide-eyed expression proved it. “Had a fender bender last night,” he added, “so it’s making me more cautious than usual.”
“How sweet,” was her breathy reply.
Amanda chattered about turbulence during her flight as Reid drove to Georgia’s Diner and parked in the lot, babbled about too few towels in her hotel room as they walked inside, yammered about Amarillo’s gray skies and chilly temperatures as they scanned menus. “You look wonderful,” she said, once the gum-snapping waitress had left with their order.
Reid knew she expected him to return the compliment, but to say anything flattering right now would only make his speech that much harder to deliver. No point putting off till tomorrow what you can do today, he silently quoted Billy. Taking a deep breath, he plunged in, saying it was all his fault that she’d come to believe they had a future as anything but friends. To spare her feelings, he called himself a fool, a self-centered jerk, a boor.
To his amazement, Amanda didn’t resort to tears, didn’t disagree. In fact, she said nothing, nothing at all. Instead, she simply stood and gathered her things before walking woodenly out the door. Groaning inwardly, Reid put a twenty on the table to cover the cost of the food they’d ordered, and followed her. He caught up to her on the entrance to the parking lot.
“Amanda,” he began, “don’t go away mad. There’s no need—”
She threw herself into his arms and held on tight. Reid looked up, as if the answer to this problem was written on the underside of a rain cloud. He was about to offer to drive her back to the hotel when movement across the street caught his eye.
Cammi—in tiny black shoes and a bright white sweater—mouth agape and eyes wide, looking directly at him.
It was as if the world had come to a dead halt. Cammi no longer heard the steady din of traffic, didn’t see sparrows flitting to and fro, pecking the sidewalk in search of food scraps dropped by hurrying pedestrians, couldn’t feel the biting blast of autumn wind against her cheeks. She wasn’t even feeling the rush of satisfaction from the successful interview she’d just come from with the principal of Puttman Elementary that had resulted in a teaching position. Instead, she was aware only of Reid, locked in an intimate embrace with a tall, striking blonde.
It made no sense why jealousy reared its ugly head, started her heart beating faster.
Reid hadn’t mentioned a woman last night in Georgia’s Diner. But then, why would he? He certainly didn’t owe her any explanations. The sight of him, face half buried in the blonde’s long, gleaming tresses, made her fumble-footed, and she tripped over a protruding blob of hard tar, squeezed into a crack in the curb.
Tires skidded, horns honked, brakes squealed as she landed on hands and knees in the road. She felt ridiculous, crawling around in a small circle, grabbing up the tube of lipstick and ballpoint pens that had spilled from her purse.
She had no idea when Reid had crossed the street, or when he’d knelt beside her. But there he was, lips a fraction of an inch from hers, smiling as she stuffed a rat-tail comb, a pack of tissues and a quarter into her bag.
“We’ve gotta quit meetin’ this way,” he drawled. Cammi giggled nervously, despite the dull ache in her lower back, despite the burning, bloody scrapes on her knees and the palms of her hands.
As they neared the curb, a wave of nausea and dizziness staggered her. But, just as he had the night before, Reid steadied her.
“You okay?” he asked, voice laced with concern.
She was about to answer, when the blonde he’d been hugging so tightly flounced up. “Well,” she huffed, “at least now I understand why you wanted to end things.” She blinked mascara-blackened lashes at Cammi. “I hope you’ll be very happy, following your rodeo cowboy from town to town.” Glaring at Reid through narrowed eyes, she added, “I feel it only fair to warn you, you won’t be the only one!” With that, she spun on her stiletto heels and click-clacked off. “And don’t you even think about following me, Reid Alexander,” she tossed over her shoulder.
Reid seemed torn between helping Cammi and fixing things with the angry woman. “I’m okay,” Cammi assured him. “Really. Now hurry, or she’ll get—”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
