Page 8 of The Jilted Lovers Club
I don’t feel like arguing. The girl isn’t my responsibility, but if not me, then who? I retrieve her purse and slip her card inside, but not before I see the name on it.Alexander Winslow.I’d be happy if I never see that name again. Somehow, I know that isn’t going to be the case.
“Can you walk?” I ask, and she looks up nods.
“I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed,” she whispers.
“It’s not your fault. Come on, I’ll get you to the hotel.”
Jordy shakes her head. “Won’t let me. Said they lost my reservation. No room left.”
Goddamn Bernie. I know damn well she has room. That place is barely a quarter filled most nights. “Come on, let’s go. You have a room. I’ll make sure of it.”
It takes us twenty minutes to walk across the street to the Lahoma Hotel. While the fresh air seems to help Jordy’sstomach, she still moans and limps with every step, her soiled shoes dangling in her hand while I hold her up on the other side.
When we reach the hotel, I set her carefully on the chaise lounge in the lobby, then stalk toward Bernie.
“Ash, doll. What brings you here?” Bernie flashes me a bright smile, her weathered face lighting up as she takes me in. Then it dissolves into an expression of pity. “How you making out these days? I know it can’t be easy.”
“It’s fine,” I say curtly. I hate to be sharp with her. Bernie reminds me of my late grandmother, a woman who cured ailments with baked goods and warm hugs. In fact, the hotel lobby always has a plate of Bernie’s famous chocolate chip cookies, which she bakes every morning before she arrives to work.
But as sweet as Bernie is, there’s also a sharp edge to her, especially when she goes into protective mode. I know that’s exactly what she’s doing now—protecting our town.
And I suppose, protecting me.
“Listen, earlier today you—”
“What is she doing in here?” Bernie’s eyes narrow as she looks past me, then back at me. “That woman is not welcome in this hotel, or anywhere else in Lahoma Springs. If I were you, I’d distance myself from her.”
“That woman did nothing to deserve what you and the rest of our town are doing to her. She’s only doing her job.”
Bernie leans in. “Her job is to dismantle our town, brick by brick. First it’s The Till. Then it’s replacing our other small businesses with major retail shops, our restaurants with fast food, and our cobblestone streets with a subway system. And you think I’ll let her into one of my hotel rooms? Next thing you know, she’ll be mocking up plans on how to tear this historic building down and build a high rise for a bunch of out-of-town tourists.” Bernie leans back, her jaw tight as she foldsher arms across her chest. “I will not house the enemy in this establishment, even if it means she has to sleep on the streets.”
I’m not getting anywhere with Bernie. I glance at my watch and wince. It’s later than expected. I told Bob and Bec I’d be home an hour ago, though Bec had insisted I stay out later. “You never take time off,” she’d said, practically pushing me out the door. “Go see your friends. Do what young people do. Take a load off.”
Well, this night isn’t exactly what I’d imagined.
“We’ll talk about this tomorrow, Bernie,” I say.
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Bernie reaches under the desk and hands me a bag of cookies. “You make sure to give these to that sweet girl of yours.” She glares past me. “But don’t give any to that piece of trash.”
I roll my eyes, but take the cookies anyway. There’s no way I’d turn down Bernie’s homemade desserts.
“Told you,” Jordy mumbles as I make my way over to her. I’m not sure how much she heard, but her assumptions are spot on. I help her stand, guiding her as we walk to my truck parked a block down the road.
“Where are we going?” she asks as she rests her head against the glass window. I drive slowly, not wanting to clean up my truck if she gets sick again. I doubt she has anything left in her since she only got in a few bites of dinner, but I can’t be too careful.
“I’m taking you home.”
It’s not exactly home. Not my home, at least. Jordy is asleep by the time I pull into the gravel drive of the Felix Family Farm, her heavy exhales taking over the noise in the cab when I cut the engine. I brush my hand across her shoulder, but she doesn’t stir. I pause, watching her sleep in the glow of the low cabin light. She’s an attractive woman, even in her disheveled state. I’dnoticed it when our paths first crossed earlier today. Her long, dark hair. Her smooth olive complexion interrupted by a light spray of freckles.
Her smile.
It was so slight and fleeting, as if she didn’t give them away often. But when she’d met my eyes in that first encounter, offering that small upturn of her lips, I’d felt the strike of it straight to the center of my soul. It was like seeing the face of someone I’d missed, and feeling that small part of home I’d almost forgotten, but now feels like I can’t live without. Just in her smile. Just in the casual way she flashed her brilliance at me, rendering me speechless.
Of course she isn’t from around here. Jordy’s fancy pencil skirt and six-inch stilettos are a dead giveaway. The way she carries herself, all straight and poised—completely stunning, so damn tall, and way out of my league. Then she dropped the bomb that she worked for Alexander Winslow. If I cave to that smile, even dare to breathe in her direction, it will be the second hugest mistake I’ve made this month.
Yet here she is passed out in my truck, and I’m moments away from letting her breach the sanctity of everything that matters to me.
I leave her shoes in the cab as I unbuckle her seatbelt and gather her in my arms. She’s feather light, and I feel my heart lurch as the smooth warmth of her long legs rests against my arm, her head against my chest. Her hair even smells fancy, all lilac and sunshine in the dead of night.
