Читать книгу My Christmas Cowboy - Shelley Galloway - Страница 11

Trent didn’t want to be alone with Jolene. And he had made it his number one goal to stay away from moms. Single mothers sought stability—and he was not up for anything remotely resembling that. He made a living on the back of a bull, after all.

And, well, no offense to Jolene, but one day—in the distant future—when he was ready for a relationship, he’d settle down with someone who had class. Someone people respected.

Someone nice.

Trent thought about that some more. What he wanted was a nice girl. Yeah. That’s right. What he was going to want was a lady.

Not a woman half the men in the town knew too well.

Knowing he was in that group of know-it-alls didn’t help his peace of mind none, either.

Jolene’s past—and his part in it—did mean he needed to treat her with respect. His dad would expect that much. So would his conscience. Looking at her closer, seeing the longing in her eyes, brought him back to their past. Back to when he’d first realized that he had so much and she had so little.

“Jo, if it’s money you need …”

“I don’t want a handout.”

He bit his lip, steeling his resolve. He felt bad for her situation, and also a little irritated with her, too, for putting him in this position. He wanted to help her, but he also wanted some time to process what she’d just sprung on him. He wanted to take her to the door and tell her that he’d see her later. But the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her feelings.

Fact was, she made him nervous. All of a sudden, he couldn’t help but recall just how well those lips had fit on his. Just how well they’d parted for him. How sweet she’d tasted.

How, for just a second, he’d felt tender toward her.

But he’d been drunk.

Since he was sober now, he needed to remember that Jolene was in his past. She was a nice woman, but she was never going to be much more than a gal on the trashy side.

Their paths really didn’t need to cross again. Ever.

At least, that’s what he’d planned on. He was a man who liked things being exactly what they seemed. These new developments with Jolene? Well, they were making him crazy, and that was a fact.

She was still standing there in that snug red sweater, looking like a cornered hen just hours before a Sunday dinner. When their eyes met, her chin went up. “Don’t you have anything to say, Trent?”

By now he’d forgotten what they were even talking about. Desperately, he tried to smooth her ruffled feathers. “Jolene, don’t get all emotional, now.”

She adjusted that ugly purse on her shoulder and picked up the baby in the carrier. “You haven’t even seen emotional from me. Of course, I don’t know if you’d even know what honest emotion was if it bit you in the butt.”

That made him squirm. “I would. We were plenty emotional the night we got together.”

“I’m surprised you even remember. We, uh, weren’t at our best.”

“No, we weren’t.” All that whiskey had bypassed his empty stomach and gone straight to his head. But because he wasn’t proud of his behavior, and because she was acting so snippy—he struck back. “I don’t suppose it mattered all that much to you anyway, Jo. I mean, I was just one of many men rolling on your carpet, right?”

Fire flickered in her eyes. “Trent Riddell, comments like that show you don’t know anything. At all.” And before he could open his mouth to defend himself, she walked out of the room and through the front door.

He managed to get it together, and followed her outside.

A burst of wind greeted them both. The sky was dark and the vehicle she was walking to looked like it had seen better days in 1989. “Hey, Jo, let me give you a couple of hundred,” he said, pulling out his money clip.

She paused as she buckled the baby’s carrier in. “I don’t need charity.”

“It’s not a handout. Consider it payment for …” His voice drifted off. He couldn’t really think of anything to say.

“For sleeping with you?” She slammed Amanda Rose’s door, surprising a startled cry from the baby. “That would have to mean that what we did together was good, Trent. And believe me, it was hardly worth a nickel.” She drawled out her last words as she looked him up and down. “I’ve had better sex from men double your age.”

Double?

He was still trying to come up with a sharp retort when she drove out of sight.

DRIVE. INHALE. EXHALE. Brake at stop sign.

As Amanda Rose cooed and jabbered in her carrier, Jolene did her best to concentrate on what she had to do. Did her best to concentrate on getting them back to their apartment in one piece. At the moment, she didn’t know if that was going to be possible because her hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Jolene was sure there were dozens of times she’d been more embarrassed, but she sure couldn’t remember when.

Trent Riddell had looked at her as if she was no better than the burst of snow that had blown in with her when she’d arrived. Maybe “no better” wasn’t an apt description. Maybe it was fair to say he didn’t have any feelings for her. At all.

She’d been mortified. So mortified that she found herself being glad that Amanda wasn’t old enough to realize that her mother was being judged and found wanting.

Oh, that look on his face!

Around her, snow swirled and blew pretty designs in the night sky. The patterns reminded her of one of those geometric screen savers on the computer she used to have. If you blinked, the pattern changed and morphed into something entirely different.

That was kind of how she felt at the moment. She’d realized that Trent Riddell thought of her in a completely different way than she thought of herself. She imagined herself fairly organized and a survivor.

He thought of her as white trash.

She’d imagined that though they’d slept together after a few shots of Jack, their long history and friendship would have been brought to the forefront again. He’d remember that underneath all that eyeliner, she was a nice person. A person who was trying to do her best.

A person he was once friends with. A person his whole family had been friends with.

He, obviously, only viewed her as some kind of easy floozy. And a mistake. A big mistake.

Of course, Trent was right. Seeing him in that big house with the marble and the woodwork and the leather couches in the living room, she’d been all the more aware of her status. Of her look in gray slacks and boots and thrift-store coat.

And of how different she must look from the women he probably dated. When, you know, he wasn’t catting around in honky-tonks.

The women he took out to dinner probably wore gold watches and had facials and manicures. Their sweaters probably came from Neiman Marcus. Their boots from Lucchese.

Twenty minutes later, she pulled into her parking place and shook her head in dismay at her sweet baby. Of course Amanda Rose was now sound asleep. A ride in the car never failed to do that to her. Jolene knew the moment that they entered the apartment little Amanda was going to open her eyes and start fussing. Just when her momma needed to settle down after her tangle with Trent Jerkface Riddell.

She’d just unhooked the carrier, locked her car and swung her purse on her shoulder when one of her neighbors called out.

“Jo, is that you?”

Addison Thomas. She struggled to keep her voice even. “Yep.”

Before she could think of anything more to say, he was trotting over. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing much. I’m just getting home.”

He reached out to help her carry Amanda. With a bit of reluctance, she let him. Her biceps would appreciate the break, even though a part of her hated to give up her baby’s care. Ever.

“Home from where?”

No way was she going to tell him about the disastrous meeting with Trent. “Nowhere special.”

“Oh. I’ve just been working out.” He grinned.

“That sounds like fun.” She fought to smile as they walked side by side through the dark, snowy parking lot. Addison was not exactly all brawn. Actually, he was more along the lines of lean and stringy. With a bit of belly flab built in.

“It wasn’t fun at all. Did I tell you I started working with a personal trainer? He’s kicking my butt.”

“I thought that was the point.”

“Maybe … maybe not.”

Now they made it to her door. “You can just set Amanda Rose down, Addison. I’ll get her inside.”

“I’ve got time. I’ll wait until you unlock your door.”

She was getting uncomfortable. “All right,” she said slowly. She dug a hand in her purse and fished around for her keys. And then fished some more. Finally, when she located the key and slid it into the lock, a good two minutes had passed.

To her dismay, he turned the knob and walked right inside. She flicked on the light behind him. “Well, thanks again.”

After carefully setting the still sleeping baby down, he turned to her. “So, since you’re not doing anything now, how about we visit for a while?”

“I don’t think so. I’m pretty tired.”

“You’re not ready for bed, are you? It’s only nine.”

The innocent question was accompanied by a look of wanting. “No. But I am ready to just sit. Thanks again, Addison. I’ll see you around.”

Instead of stepping toward the door, he leaned back against the white paint of the wall. “You look sad. How about some company?”

“No thanks. I’m not in a very good mood. I wouldn’t be much of a conversationalist.”

“We wouldn’t have to talk, Jo.”

So, that was where his kindness had been leading. Why was she even surprised?

Oh, but her hand ached to slap him. But they were neighbors. And that was her reputation. The good-time girl. So she laughed him off. “Good night, Addison.”

Surprise knotted his brows. “You’re serious, huh?”

“I am. Good night.”

“Well, sure. ‘Night, Jo.”

The moment he walked through her doorway, she closed the door with a snap and dead bolted it. Oh, he made her want to take a shower!

As Amanda Rose slept on, Jolene went to go do just that. Maybe the hot water flowing over her shoulders would relax the knots that had suddenly appeared there.

Maybe all her worries would disappear down the shower drain, too.

She had bills and a baby and a reputation in ruins.

And only about another month’s worth of money in her checking account.

And very few options.

Moments later, she learned that even the cleansing water of her shower did no good. No matter where she went, her problems seemed to be glued to her. No amount of soap was going to wash them off.

Tears soon mixed in with the spray. And then her knees went weak.

Before she knew it, Jolene was sitting on the cold, hard tile, crying her eyes out. And a very sweet baby sat silent, watching her on the other side of the glass.