Page 42 of Any Cowboy of Mine
“Let’s go, then. I’ll be fine. Can I get a ride with you two?”
“For that matter, can I?” Jackie asked. “We can get my car tomorrow. I wanna make sure Soph gets home okay.”
“Of course, darlin’, but Sophie, are you sure you don’t want me to go talk to Brad? I mean, this is pretty effed up, even by my standards.”
Sophie smiled weakly.
“No, leave it. He’s made his choice.” Sophie looked wistfully at the door, behind which was a silence that unnerved her. She’d rather not know what was going on now that the talking had stopped. She knew all too well what replaced it, her body tingling in the places Brad had touched her when they’d stopped talking. She faked a smile as best she could. “I’d rather you drive so Jackie and I can talk about you like you aren’t there. I need to find out what happened to both of you last night. Because I’m not ruling out bitten by zombies. There’s no other explanation for the abominable cuteness that’s taken over the two of you single-for-lifers.”
She laughed, an empty gesture. It was meant to change the subject so she didn’t continue to replay the night before, followed by what they’d just overheard, on a never-ending loop and make herself crazy.
It seemed to work. Jackie threw her arm around her best friend and giggled. “Well, we don’t need to wait for the car for that. Let me just start by saying, my man is the best kisser this side of the Rockies.” She winked at Sophie, who balked accommodatingly. “He does some other things pretty good, too,” she whispered conspiratorially.
“I can hear you, love,” Steve chimed in, a grin on his face like he’d won the lottery.
“That’s the point, hun. I’ve got no intention on keeping you a secret. I want the whole world, including you, to know you’re mine and I couldn’t be happier about it.”
Sophie nodded along as Jackie gushed about how she and Steve hit it off, when she knew he was “it” for her, what their plans were now that they were engaged. She tried to be happy for her friend, but all she could muster were “hmmms” and “awwwws” and the occasional tight-lipped smile.
Down in the lobby, Marge waited in the dismal line of overindulged guests waiting to check out, the same pissed-off look on her face as she’d had the night before. Alan wasn’t there, but Sophie didn’t care if he could save her or not. She was past caring about any of that now. She asked Jackie to wait for a minute and ran up to Marge, trying not to seem as hurt or desperate as she was. She felt Jackie’s and Steve’s eyes on her but was thankful they left her alone to handle this. She needed to regain at least some of the control over this situation.
“Hi, Marge,” she began, but when the woman didn’t respond with a smile, let alone an outstretched hand or mirrored greeting, Sophie dove headlong into her question, her chest out, shoulders back.
Trial Sophie was there to play.
“Marge, have you or Alan seen Brad this morning? He wasn’t in the room when I woke up.” Marge’s arms crossed over her chest, tight against her shirt, and her eyes became virtual slits. Sophie wondered how she could see out of them, they were so narrow.
“I haven’t seen him since last night when he left early without saying so much as a goodbye to me or his father. The bride was upset at his departure as well. Maybe he went to see her this morning to apologize for his inexcusable behavior, and for yours as well. Since they have so much history, that is.” Marge’s voice hadn’t warmed at all since the night before, and Sophie thought she saw a hint of a smile on the woman’s lips when Sophie said she hadn’t seen Brad that morning.
“Thanks for your help,” she said, not meaning a word of it.
The only redeeming news regarding Brad’s defection was that Sophie would be rid of Marge, though that was barely enough of a consolation to take the edge off the hurt enveloping her chest. She jogged back to her friends as Alan walked up to Marge with what looked like breakfast. Sophie waved at him, her eyes wistful. He smiled back, his face joyful. If Marge hadn’t grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him away from Sophie, she had a feeling he was getting ready to walk over to her. Oh, well. She’d miss him, but she’d miss his son more than she had words to describe.
Moments later, still no sign of Brad, she left the hotel with Jackie and Steve. She couldn’t wait to be home. When they got to Steve’s car, Sophie whistled low and appreciatively at the ride.
“Wow, Steve. This is nice,” she told him, gesturing to the just-off-the-lot white Dodge Charger. She ran her hand along the red racing stripes affectionately.
“Thanks. I finally traded in my piece of shit truck yesterday. Damn thing was costing me more to fix than she put out. This here’s my brand-new baby, my first and truest love,” he said, patting the hood like he might have done to a puppy. “That is, she was until last night.” Steve nudged Jackie, who blushed. Their budding romance was at once intimate and passionate, everything Sophie wanted for her friend. If she was being honest, though, the timing for her ability to be truly thrilled for Jackie was less than perfect. It was downright awful, actually.
Still, she played the part of the best friend, telling Steve he’d better not hurt her girl—like Brad had hurt her, she wanted to add, but didn’t—and asked questions that the happy new couple was all too eager to answer about the wedding plans, the bachelorette party, and all things love.
Despite the distraction of Steve and Jackie’s relationship, Sophie tried to tune out a small voice in her head that told her to turn around, to go back and confront Brad, to have it out with him and ask him why he’d slept with her if his plans were always to go back to Julia. It didn’t work, though, and the rest of the way back to the city, she barely heard a word Jackie said, her stomach was so unsettled.
She somehow felt like even though her heart was in a million pieces, she’d been the one to do something wrong.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Mistake
Brad whistled hisway down the quiet hallway, a jazz interpretation of “Jingle Bells” playing almost inaudibly on the speakers above him. He replayed the conversation he’d had with his mom, walking to the beat of the music. Normally, any time they’d argued, he’d been the one to back down and acquiesce to her demands. Each time, it left him feeling like he was an unruly teenager who’d screwed up, even if all he’d done was disagree with her about something as innocuous as dinner plans.
This time, Brad damn near sauntered back to his hotel room he was so proud of himself. He knew it was a short-lived high, since he’d likely face a wrath unlike any he’d encountered from his already less-than-gentle mother when he got back. He didn’t care. He took the back way through the hotel, each step bringing him closer to Sophie. His father’s words telling him life was too short, that he’d been through too much, sped up his pace.
He was more than a little anxious to get back to the naked, beautiful woman in his bed.
It was intoxicating, imagining what she might be dreaming about, what shape her body had contorted to in her sleep, what creative ways he could use to slowly rouse her from her sleep and make her feel how excited he was to come back to her.
For a split second, as he battled with chills chasing down his thighs and a growing heat that pooled in his stomach picturing coming home to her every night in the same way, he thought he saw Sophie crossing the other side of the parking lot through the window by the pool. He could have sworn it was her by the way the woman’s hips moved to their own music, but whoever it was ducked into the back of a Dodge Charger he didn’t recognize, so it couldn’t be. She’d told him she came in Jackie’s car, a Prius that was so old it was starting to sound like a Ford F-250. Jesus, he was seeing her everywhere.
