The beeping of the car tells me we’re near his truck. He opens the door, hauls my body off his shoulders, and pushes me inside. His movements are annoyed but gentle at the same time. Like he’d love to slap my ass again but refrains from doing so for some ethical to him reason.
I don’t know why he hesitates—I’d let him.
I sit with my hands under my thighs and wait for him to get inside too. When he climbs in, he starts the engine but doesn’t shift gear, and I know something is brewing because the Kenneth I’ve known always switches gears right away. He doesn’t like wasting time.
I turn toward him and wait.
“Josie,” he sighs, placing his hands on the wheel at the perfect two-and-ten position. Oh, it’s going to be good.
“Yes?” My voice is timid. He’s been poked enough for one evening, and there should be a limit for one man.
“I’m sorry for the way I acted there.”
“For fuck’s sake!” I cry out, throwing my hands in the air, wanting to shake my fists with outrage.
He sends me a questioning look, rearing back a little.
“What? Stop apologizing. Seriously. It pisses me off.”
“What does exactly?”
“Your apology.” I point my finger at him. “What exactly are you apologizing for?”
“For pressing you to the wall and mauling you in a fucking dirty bathroom of a damn bar! You deserve better.” His voice rises, bordering with annoyance.
“That’s precisely what I needed though, so stop it.” I roll my eyes and stare ahead.
“You wanted to be mauled in a dirty bathroom?”
“Yes!” I turn toward him. “For a moment, I wanted to forget all my problems and just feel, you know. And you make me feel all sorts of things, so no, Kenneth, I am not sorry, so shove your apology up your firm ass.” I angrily fold my arms over my chest.
“I make you feel?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “That’s all you got from what I said? Typical.” I snort.
“So do I?” he repeats the question. “Make you feel.”
I drop my guard down, showing a piece of the real me. Of my vulnerability, something I don’t let anyone see.
“You do.”
Something sparkles in his eyes but dims the moment I continue.
“But I don’t want to feel it.”
He swallows hard. “Why?”
“Because I’m not here to stay, I already told you that.”
“Why not?”
I sigh and decide to go with the truth despite what he might think of me. “Because I can’t confine myself to a small town. And because I need money, Ken. And I can’t make it by staying in Little Hope forever because once I’m done fixing Archie’s house, I’ll have to find another job that pays well.”
His eyes turn steely. “What do you need the money for? Are you in trouble?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not in trouble or on the run or paying off some gambling debt. Nothing like that, but I need the money.”
I can tell he wants to pursue the issue, but something—must be the bitchy narrowed eyes—tells him to drop it.
