show up now and then. No big deal.”
“Are you going to let him use your parking lot like that?” Christie asked, fearing the other regulars might connect her with the limousine. She’d never hear the end of it if they did.
“Sure, why not?” Kyle was the one who responded. “It brings a bit of class to the place, don’t you think?” He directed the question to the bartender.
Larry was too busy filling glasses to respond.
Christie finished her second beer. She usually drank three, but after two she’d begun to feel light-headed. A third, which normally didn’t faze her, might be too much. Time to call it quits. Besides, she was tired.
“You goin’ home?” Larry asked when she paid her bill.
“Yeah.”
“You need me to call you a cab?”
“No. I’m fine, thanks.”
“See ya,” he said.
Christie waved goodbye, pulled on her short wool jacket, then wrapped the scarf around her neck and set out to brave the elements. The wind had begun to rise, picking up the last few scattered leaves and sending them hither and yon. Christie noticed that the smell of snow hung in the air and while the schoolkids would love a snowfall, she could do without it.
Outside The Pink Poodle, she heaved a sigh of relief that James had apparently given up and left. He’d come here to talk to her. When she didn’t immediately appear, he’d gotten the message that she wasn’t interested, and that was okay with her. Moreover, she didn’t want anyone seeing the two of them together.
In spite of all that, she felt disappointed. She was still worried about him and hoped his condition had improved. But ever since the kidnapping he’d acted as if he didn’t want her around. Fine. She, too, could take a hint.
A hundred thoughts swirled frantically, like the autumn leaves at her feet, as she struggled against the wind and around to the side of the building, where she’d parked her car.
“Christie.”
She’d recognize his voice anywhere. Peering into the darkness, she saw him. The limousine stood beside her dilapidated Ford and James was waiting for her there, out of sight of those inside the tavern.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded in a none-too-friendly voice. Her lack of welcome was part shock, part feigned anger.
“I came to check on you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” she protested. “Did Teri and Bobby send you?” That would be just like her sister.
“No.”
“I don’t believe it.” Christie knew that Teri and Bobby wouldn’t have missed her yesterday; they’d invited plenty of friends to their Thanksgiving dinner party. Having to be at work so early this morning was a convenient excuse. Not that she’d given anyone the opportunity to question her about it. She’d stayed home all day and hadn’t answered her phone, although it must have rung a dozen times.
“You didn’t come to dinner.”
“So? I didn’t realize you were keeping tabs.” She kept the derision in her voice so he wouldn’t think she cared about his opinion of her. An opinion he would no doubt divulge any second now.
There it was. “You were rude to let your sister down.”
“So now I’m rude,” she muttered. “And you’re an expert on polite behavior?” Actually, he was, and he rightly ignored her question.
“Miss Teri held off serving dinner while she tried to reach you,” he said.
Christie felt bad about that, although she wouldn’t let James know. “What’s it got to do with you?” she asked flippantly.
“You aren’t usually a rude person, Christie.”
“Apparently I proved you wrong.”
“You stayed away because of me, didn’t you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she responded, although of course he was right. She’d skipped Teri’s Thanksgiving event for fear of another rejection from James. Instead of feasting on a turkey dinner at her sister’s, she’d eaten a microwave pizza and watched reruns of Seinfeld for three hours straight.
“Is that why you’re here? To criticize me? If so, message received. Can I go now?” she asked as though she’d grown bored with the conversation. Her ears were getting cold, even if her heart was pounding unmercifully fast.
“I’d like to apologize,” James said.
“For what? Embarrassing me in front of my friends just now?”
“No.” He paused. “For the other night.”
“What other night?” she asked, pretending that his hurtful words had no impact on her, that she’d forgotten whatever he’d said. In reality, it was something she’d never forget.
“Last month. You came to me—”
“Oh, that,” she returned breezily. “Hey, don’t worry about it. You didn’t want me around. I understand. It’s not a problem—at least not for me.”
He frowned, shaking his head. “I didn’t want your sympathy. Or anyone’s,” he added in a lower voice.
“Do I look like the sympathetic sort?” she asked, making a joke of it. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter.” She forced a laugh and with it came a loud hiccup, which mortified her.
“You’ve been drinking?”
“No.” She did an exaggerated double-take. “You think I sat in The Pink Poodle and drank?“
“I’ll drive you home.”
“Absolutely not.” She’d had two beers over the course of as many hours. She was perfectly capable of driving herself home.
“Christie …”
“I said no.” She wasn’t going to put up with any more of his disapproval. “Just leave me alone. You don’t want to see me and that’s fine, because I don’t want to see you, either. Do I need to make it any clearer than that?”
He turned away, then seemed to change his mind. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, wrenching open her car door, which to her intense embarrassment made a loud groaning noise. She should’ve taken it to the repair shop, but hadn’t—because of the inconvenience and, more than that, the bill. A squeaking door was the least of her problems with this vehicle. It was on its last legs—or tires.
Rather than stand in the cold arguing with James, Christie climbed inside her car and started the engine. Thankfully it didn’t die right then and there, as she’d half expected. That would’ve made her humiliation complete.
Without
