Page 15 of Hooked on Marshall

“Promise?”

She smiles at this. Then she looks back up at me.

“If I told you I wasn’t interested, would you back off?”

“Yes,” I nod. “I wouldn’t like it, but I’d leave you alone.”

She nods again. And I have to question her.

“Is that what you want?” I press. “For me to leave you alone?”

“No,” she says softly. “I’ll be in touch later.”

“Good,” I smile.

Then she turns and climbs out of my Jeep. I climb out as well and head into the Alehouse while she heads home. I send her a text so she has my number and pray that I can make some progress with her tonight.

Twelve

I am an absolute bundle of nerves as I drive home. And not just because of Marshall, either. I’m not looking forward to facing my family. As an only child, they have a tendency to overreact when something bad happens to me. Which prompted my decision to stay with Marshall last night. But now, I wonder if perhaps I should have just sucked it up and let my mother come and get me.

The only thing I’m grateful for right now is the fact that my phone is dead. That way I don’t have to look at the text from Marshall, or see anything else from Jonas, either. When I pull into the driveway, I can see movement in the front window. And by the time I reach the door, my mother pulls it open. She gasps, and then I’m in her arms. I reassure her that I’m fine while she cries and frets. By the time I get inside, my father and grandfather have appeared.

It’s another round of hugs and reassurances before the real questions start. And I know better than to lie to them. Because when you live in a small town, you never know what people see and who they’ll tell. So…

“Whose clothes are those?” my grandfather chuckles. “You look like you had a sleep over at your boyfriends house.”

My parents chuckle, too. But my face flames with heat. And when they see it, their laughter stops.

“Lana?” mom asks. “Who did you stay with last night?”

She’s frowning. As are my father and grandfather.

“Marshall Jones,” I sigh.

My mother’s eyebrows almost fly off her head at that. Then my grandfather pats my shoulder and walks away. My father looks…amused.

“He’s still here?”

“He just came back,” I explain. “He sold his bar in the city, bought the Alehouse, and moved back here.”

“Oh, how nice,” mom says.

“Yeah,” I say.

There are a few moments of weird silence and then I excuse myself to take a shower. Before I do that, I plug in my phone. I spend longer in the shower than I should, but it feels good to wash the grime of my double off, as well as the slight hospital smell. Then I pull on a comfy pair of sweats and do some laundry so I can wash Marshall’s clothes, too.

At the thought of him, I touch my fingers to my lips. The memory of his kiss warms me even more than my shower just did. His kiss was…perfect. And the feel of my body pressed against his made me want to do more. But I can’t. Well, it’s not that I can’t, but I shouldn’t. Even though he doesn’t see an issue with him being my boss, I don’t know if I can get past it. A small part of me wants to, but a bigger, more rational part of me doesn’t want to take the risk.

Jonas has me gun shy.

I will never forgive myself for not being able to resist him. And the sad part is, we weren’t even that good together. What I really loved was the thrill of being with him because it was against the rules. Not to mention the risks we took by having our trysts in his office. I was so caught up in the excitement, I didn’t care about what it was going to cost me.

As if the memory of him was a summons, my phone rings with an unsaved number. I silence it. Then I see that I have a text message. Also from an unsaved number. But when I see the first two words, I quickly open it.

It’s Marshall. Let me know when you’d like me to pick you up. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.

I’m smiling at his words until another text comes through. From Jonas.

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