Love Me Not (12 page)

Around nine, Penny came to my door and wished me good-night. She didn’t mention Kimber’s disappearance this afternoon. I figured she bought the story. Why wouldn’t she? Surely, she’d never guess at what was going on. She knew better than anyone that I didn’t date.

Then I sat on the edge of my bed and waited for Kimber. Ten minutes passed. I started to wonder if she wasn’t coming. That would certainly make life easier. Maybe she decided she didn’t want to date her boss’ brother, the creepy guy who watched her at the bookstore and delivered books to her house. I tried not to be overwhelmed with disappointment at these thoughts. It didn’t work.

A knock.

I smiled—and then I ripped it off my face.
Keep your distance, Heath. Be careful.

I got up and opened the door. My God, she was beautiful, and when she smiled, she…I couldn’t think of good enough words.

“Hi,” she said. “I don’t have any other clothes, but I figured—”

“You look lovely.” I liked the way her shirt fit, tighter than anything else she wore. Usually, I could barely see her figure.

She smiled brighter.

I stepped into the hall and then closed the door behind me.

She took a step to the left.

“This way,” I said as I gestured for the back door.

“Aren’t the restaurants all the other way?”

The fast food restaurants were. Did she really think I’d take her to
McDonald’s
?

I started toward the back door, and she followed. We walked out into the darkness and around to the side of the building.

The walk was quiet. I didn’t know what to say, still trying to feel out where my barriers should be. The plan was to give her enough attention so she didn’t feel bad but not so much as to keep her interested. Everything would be better if she got bored with me. Well, not better, but definitely easier.

At least that’s what I told myself.

“So, you live there?” she said.

“Yeah.” If I said no, then I’d have to explain why the room held a bed.

I turned to cross the street. I hoped she didn’t get offended that I didn’t take her hand. I could hardly get away with walking around with an erection.

“Why do you live in the back of the shop?”

“Combination of circumstances.”

“Which means you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Yeah.”

We kept walking. I was shocked she didn’t push the subject.

I needed to get my game back. Usually, I was perfectly confident around women. No matter who they were or how much money they had, they always bent to my will. But Kimber made me feel off. It wasn’t a bad feeling. It was actually kind of nice in a way—like skydiving, the wind, the freedom of movement. The problem was I didn’t have a parachute.

“Where are we going?” she said.

“A little place up here that’s open late.” Then I realized, “Is this too much of a walk for you? I’m sorry. We could have taken your car.”

“No, the walk is nice.”

“Are you warm enough?”

“Brought my jacket.” She pulled it across herself, concealed her figure. I wished it was summer.

“You walk a lot, huh?” she said.

Surely, she’d noticed her and Penny’s cars were the only ones left in the lot at the end of the night. “Walking is faster than driving around here.” Traffic was hell in the mall.

“That’s why I never leave for lunch. I’d never get a space when I got back.”

We continued walking in silence. I was thankful she didn’t ask any more about me.

The place where we were going was just ahead. It was one of those places with American cuisine, but not a family place necessarily. It was nice—art on the walls, modern décor, but comfortable. I came here for dinner reasonably often.

She paused at the door. “Are you sure I’m dressed all right?”

The place was decent but certainly not fancy, and it was a chain restaurant, one I assumed she would’ve been to before, at least once. She seemed honestly nervous, as if she really didn’t know what was acceptable.

I almost took her hand to lead her in. Then I remembered I shouldn’t touch her.

I leaned closer to her. “You look lovely, Kimber. You would look lovely in a housecoat.”

She looked up at me, met my eyes. My heart beat faster. Yeah, my game, that was out the fucking door with her.

“You, um…” She rested her hand on my chest and let it slide down an inch or so. “You look really nice in this sweater.”

My smile was slow and devilish. “So, you do know how to flirt.”

Rosy color blossomed across her cheeks. I decided I rather liked fair skin. Her hand stayed on my chest.

Women touched me like this all the time and, usually, without clothes on. Kimber’s touch was infinitely more powerful—too much. I took her hand from my chest and brought it to my lips. She watched me with the softest expression, as if my kissing her hand was something magical.

She definitely didn’t have much experience with men. I wondered why. Curiosity gnawed at me. I wanted to interrogate her, figure her out. With most women, my curiosity didn’t make it past her bra size.

At least some of my charm seemed to be working. She looked like she was incapable of looking away from me.

I held her hand in mine and led her into the restaurant. Perhaps once we sat to eat, I could get her to talk about herself.

Over the heads of all the people crowded around the hostess station, I saw the usual girl. She smiled.

I opened my mouth to give my name.

“Heath,” she said, still smiling. “It’ll be just a few minutes.”

“Thank you.”

Kimber and I moved to the side. I hoped the hostess wouldn’t be annoyed that I had a woman with me and not give me a table as quickly as she usually did.

“She seemed friendly,” Kimber said. She didn’t sound jealous, just curious.

“I come here fairly often.” Then I answered the question I knew she wouldn’t ask. “I’ve never gone out with her.” I hadn’t even screwed her—she couldn’t afford me.

Kimber smiled and then looked away as if she noticed something interesting, maybe the Impressionist painting on the wall. I’d always liked it.

“Mother, we should eat somewhere else.” A young man standing not far from us spoke louder than was necessary.

Kimber’s head whipped around.

The older woman sitting on the bench next to the young man stood. “Yes, we can’t possibly dine here.”

Kimber looked up at me and murmured, “Please can we go?”

I was about to ask why when the older woman walked past us. She sneered at Kimber. “Whore.”

Chapter 22

The Divorcee

Kimber walked so fast she was almost running.

“Kimber,” I said, “what was that? Are you all right?”

“It was nothing.” She wiped a tear off her cheek.

I took her hand and made her stop. We were standing in front of a line of closed shops.

“What was that?” I said.

“Just, um…” She wiped another tear. Then she turned and tried to walk away.

I held on to her hand. “Kimber.”

She stayed turned away from me, and her voice barely made sound. “I’m not a whore.”

“I know.”

She turned and looked at me.

“You’re accomplished at
rejecting
men.” I touched her cheek. “From what I know so far, that’s your best talent. You do it with such vigor.”

Her lips twitched slightly. The smile barely started and then stalled out and died.

“Come here,” I murmured and pulled her into a hug. She clung to me as if she hadn’t been held properly in years, if ever.

I didn’t want to let go. It felt impossible. She fit in my hold exactly right, as if I’d been molded just for her.

She rested her head against my chest, and I felt as her body relaxed into me. I realized, with startling clarity, that she trusted me. She walked through the dark, deserted mall alone with me, the one man she didn’t want to reject.

“Are you all right?” I said as I pulled her hair away from her face.

She took a breath and held a little tighter.

I moved my hand soothingly across her back. “You can talk to me.”

She kept her face down. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me feel better.”

My lips curved. Trying to stop it would be as impossible as trying to stop the sun from rising.

She looked up at me, and her expression relaxed. Then she took my hand and started walking. I wasn’t ready to let go of the hug.

I gave her a few minutes before I pushed her to explain.

My gaze forward as we walked, I said, “You know I’m not going to let it go.” Someone had called my date a whore. She was lucky I hadn’t hit someone.

“I know.”

Another minute passed. I realized she was leading me to the lot behind the shop, to where she parked.
Oh, hell no
. She wasn’t getting away that easily—without explaining
and
without dinner.

Before we reached her car, I stopped her. She didn’t look at me.

“I didn’t push you,” she said.

“Excuse me.”

“About where you live.”

“And what was that scene in my room earlier?”

She sighed. “Look, maybe this was a mistake.” She still wasn’t looking at me.

“What do you mean this was a mistake? The dinner we didn’t have? The fact that you made me talk? Or is it the kiss, the one you enjoyed so much?”

“All of it.”

Go, Heath. Get the hell out of here.
She was giving me the perfect opportunity. I should just walk her to her car and tell her I hope she feels better. And I could stay away from her—it would be her decision. She couldn’t even hate me for it.

A tear rolled down the side of her cheek.

I couldn’t walk away from her like this.

“Kimber.”

She didn’t look at me.

I gently turned her chin. “This isn’t a mistake.” Or it wasn’t a mistake in the sense she thought.

“Why did you hide, then? You wouldn’t have started this if I hadn’t recognized your handwriting.”

She had to ask the fucking hard questions, didn’t she? I kept my voice gentle. “This isn’t about that.” I smoothed my thumb across her cheek. “And I really want to.”

The fight in her eyes lessened. “You do?”

“Pretty is easy,” I said. “Even beautiful isn’t hard to come by, but interesting, someone who can really challenge me, that’s someone I want to know more about.”

Another tear fell down her cheek.

“Please,” I said, “talk to me, even if just a little.”

She took a step and sat on the curb that ran along the side street. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees. I sat next to her, very close.

“Who was that woman?” I said.

A pause. Kimber stared at the grate across the road. “She belongs to my church, the one I used to belong to.”

I waited.

“She’s close to my parents. She used to babysit me when I was little.”

Babysit her? Whenever Penny saw someone she used to babysit, she treated them like her long lost children.

“Penny said you left your church,” I said.

“I was thrown out.”

“Like excommunicated? Don’t you have to do something really horrible?” What in the hell could sweet Kimber have done?

“It was horrible to them. I just couldn’t…live like that anymore.”

I smoothed my hand down her arm and took her hand to hold it on my leg.

She glanced at our hands. “He never did that. All I wanted from him was a little affection.”

“Who?”

“My husband.”

“You’re married?”

“Not anymore. That’s why they threw me out. You don’t get divorced in my church, and women don’t disobey their husbands.” She paused, and I rubbed her hand to let her know I was still listening.

“He wasn’t mean, really,” she said. “He just…I told my mother once that I wasn’t happy. She locked me in a closet and lectured me about obeying and respecting my husband. She kept quoting the same passages.” She looked up at me. “All I kept thinking was everyone seemed to skip certain passages. Shouldn’t we obey
all
of God’s word?”

As if I’d know. I just smiled a little at her.

“I didn’t talk to my mother again about it. I didn’t talk to anyone.”

“How long were you married?”

She took a breath and turned back to the grate across the road. “Eight years.”

“You couldn’t have been older than—”

“Seventeen.”

“That’s legal?”

“If your parents consent. I shouldn’t have done it. I wasn’t ready to make that kind of decision.”

“Your parents forced you.”

“I didn’t fight them. They kept telling me what a good man he was, that I was lucky someone so high in the church wanted me. The pastor told me it was God’s will that I be with him. Who am I to question God, or men?”

I leaned forward to catch her eye and smiled. “You question me.”

She smiled a little. “And I frustrate the crap out of you.”

“Better than being with a doormat.”

She looked down at her knees. “I don’t know what it is about you. I thought for sure I was done with men. I just couldn’t…I couldn’t go through that again.”

I wondered what exactly she’d been through, why she wasn’t happy with her husband, but I decided to shut up and let her talk about whatever she wanted. I had the feeling I knew more than anyone else. I didn’t want to push too hard.

“I’ve gotten used to being alone,” she said. “I thought that would be harder.”

“But you don’t like being alone.”

“Sometimes it’s nice, quiet.” She shrugged. “This is what I’ve chosen, and I don’t regret it.”

“You also chose to be out with me.” I lifted her chin. “Do you regret that?”

She met my eyes as if she could see clear through me. I almost looked away.

“No,” she said. “You were a good choice.”

My lips curved as if some invisible puppeteer was tugging at the corners. I stood and helped her to her feet. “I promised to take you to dinner.”

“It’s late.”

“Restaurants are still open. What kind of food do you like?”

“Um…what about, like, Arby’s or something?”

“Sure.” Well, at least it was a tiny step up from McDonald’s. I really didn’t care where we went, as long as she was happy.