A Home of Her Own. Brenda Novak
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I don’t understand.”
“Forget about it,” she said.
“Why, so you don’t have to face the truth?”
“What truth? You rolled on top of me last night for a few seconds. That doesn’t mean you know anything about me.”
“That wasn’t exactly what happened. First, you came into my room and asked for what you got. And maybe I know more than you think. At least I know what your actions tell me.”
“And what do they tell you?”
“You stay in one place for only a few weeks or months and leave about the time most other people begin to form friendships and put down roots. I’m guessing you do that because you’re terrified of growing close to anyone, of maintaining a relationship.”
“If you’re applying that to this situation, we don’t even have a relationship.”
“With me it’s something else.”
She cocked a challenging eyebrow at him.
“I think you’re afraid that if you stay, we might end up in bed again—and next time you might like it.”
He’d hit a little too close to the truth, and she couldn’t bear for him to know it, so she shot him a withering “as if” look. “There’s no danger of that. I may not have the best judgment in the world, but I generally don’t make the same mistake twice.”
A muscle twitched in his cheek at the insult. She thought he might come back at her with something equally hurtful and much truer: Who’d want you anyway? But he didn’t. “We can’t take the snowmobiles into town because the roads’ll be plowed once we hit Third,” he said, “but we can try to get you out of here in the truck.”
LUCKY GRABBED Mike’s arm as they passed the Victorian. “Wait—aren’t you going to stop?”
He gave her an incredulous look, and she let go. “We’re in the middle of a blizzard. If I stop, there’s a greater chance of getting stuck.”
“But I need a pair of my own shoes and money to pay for a motel room.”
The wipers struggled against the snow and ice although he’d done his best to scrape the windshield clean. “My boots will keep your feet dry,” Mike said. “And I’ll front the money for the motel and lend you some cash.”
“But the house isn’t secure with all those broken windows.”
He redirected the heat blasting through the vents so it wouldn’t hit him dead on. He was warm enough with his big coat. “You’re afraid of getting robbed?”
“Maybe.”
“Whatever you’re afraid of losing, you can afford to replace.” He slanted her a brooding glance. “I should know. I send you your check every month, remember?”
After last night, and the conversation that had followed this morning, Mike wanted to punish Lucky. For returning to Dundee. For destroying his peace of mind. If he couldn’t achieve some kind of resolution or come to grips with what had happened, he at least wanted to vent his displeasure. But Lucky had become so aloof and withdrawn over the past hour that, predictably, she didn’t react, which only frustrated him further.
“What I want can’t be replaced,” she said stubbornly.
“Why not?”
She didn’t answer his question, giving him the impression that she wouldn’t even if he pressed her. “And there’s no need to risk my ID and credit cards,” she added.
He drew a deep, calming breath. He rarely had to struggle to get along with anyone, especially a woman. But Lucky had always been trouble.
“Are you going to let me out?” she asked.
“I’m thinking about it.”
“I’ll jump if you don’t.” She opened her door. Because they were only traveling a few miles an hour and the snow looked deceptively soft, he believed she just might try it.
With a grimace, he applied the brakes. “Make it quick. I have to stay in the middle of the road because the snow’s too deep on the sides.”
She hopped out and hunched against the wind as she made her way to the Victorian. A few minutes later, she appeared with a little bag, probably filled with toiletries, her purse and a black book tucked under her coat.
“That’s what you wanted?” he said, eyeing the book curiously as she climbed in.
She slipped it farther under her coat, out of sight, and bent over to brush the snow off her jeans before closing the door. “Thanks for stopping.” Her tone let him know that she didn’t plan to explain.
With a sigh, he managed to get the truck moving again, but the going was slow and tedious and they drove several minutes without speaking. “Why’d you come back, Lucky?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
Lucky knew better than to answer that question honestly. She might have grown up in Dundee, but she was sure Dave Small, Eugene Thompson and Garth Holbrook, if they were still around, had more friends here than she did. Some people might not appreciate her digging around in their pasts.
She turned to stare out the window. “There’s something I have to do.”
“What?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“Or my family?”
She laughed bitterly. “Or your precious family.”
“Will you be staying long?”
“I don’t know. A few weeks—” she shrugged “—maybe a few months.”
“And then you’ll be gone again?”
“And then I’ll be gone.”
The tension in his jaw seemed to ease with this news, which didn’t make her feel any better.
“What about the house?” he asked.
She studied his profile. “What about it?”
“Are you planning to leave it empty?”
“Maybe.” She’d promised herself that once she found her father, she’d sell out and put Dundee behind her forever. But she wasn’t sure she could let the Victorian go. It had come to represent the only love she’d ever known. Morris was associated with that place, along with all her childhood hopes and dreams, which was why she’d hung on to it for so long.
“You know you don’t give a damn about the house or anyone here in Dundee,” Mike said.
She said nothing.
“So why are you being so obstinate? Why not sell it to me and forget about it?”
He believed she’d refused his purchase offers just to spite him. In all honesty, Lucky knew her feelings toward Mike had played a part, but there was more to it than that. Morris’s Victorian meant a great deal to her because she’d never had a real home. But if Mike’s family wouldn’t relinquish their emotional claim to the property, she could never feel good about living there. So what was she hanging on to? The memory of a man Mike and his family felt they had first “dibs” on? Childhood dreams of warmth and belonging that would never come true?
She thought of that kiss she’d witnessed in the barn, and juxtaposed it to the reality of last night. Mike had finally broken through her defenses when it came to selling the house, but she had too much pride to let him know she was ready to give it up without a fight. Lifting her chin, she met his gaze squarely. “How much are you willing to pay?”
He scowled. “I’ve already offered you twice as much as you could get from anyone else. How greedy can you be?”
How much were her dreams