“Let me guess. You want to know if it bothers me. That Tackett’s basically holding my future for ransom. Am I right?” An incline of his head signaled that she’d guessed correctly. Her gaze dropped to the bag in his hand. “You realize you’re doing the exact same thing.”
“There’s a difference between two weeks and an entire career. And unlike Tackett, I honor my word. After I’ve served my four weeks he’ll ask for more. He’ll offer a bonus if I stay, forget to pay me if I don’t. I won’t be staying. You shouldn’t, either.”
“So now you’re looking out for me. How very—” Wait a minute. She pushed away from the car, a blush of fury scorching her from head to toe. “You want me to quit. To get back at the old man. Or are you hoping you won’t have me to deal with once you’re there?” When he didn’t answer she swallowed against a pang of...something...and glowered. “You don’t like that question? Fine. Here’s another one.”
A muscle car drove past the motel, engine growling, radio blaring an energetic song. Allison blinked back inexplicable tears.
“Were you and Danielle lovers?” she asked.
Joe took his time positioning the bag on the hood of her car. When he looked back up his face had lost all expression. “We were barely friends.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No. We were never lovers. I had you. I didn’t need anyone else.”
She released the breath she’d been holding, but the pressure in her chest didn’t ease. She turned away. “Good night, Joe.”
“You forgot your sandwich, Allison.”
It would be churlish to refuse, though her appetite had vanished. At least he’d stopped calling her by her last name. When he did that he sounded like Tackett.
She reached for the bag. So did he. He didn’t let go. Instead he held out his free hand. “Truce?”
“So this is a bribe.”
“More like a peace offering.” When she hesitated he wiggled his fingers. “Come on. I’m not asking to be friends. You don’t want to be here and I don’t want to go back. But we’re stuck with each other. And two weeks is a long time to trade dirty looks. So what do you say? Truce?”
“Well.” It was easier just to give in. She put her hand in his. “You did say extra pickles.”
* * *
“JOE?” NO ANSWER. Another rap of her knuckles on the glass, but the lobby remained dark. Damn. She had no way of knowing whether he’d already gone to bed or just couldn’t hear her knock. And she’d never thought to ask for his cell number.
She shivered in the cool night air and glanced around. At each end of the motel lurked a tall, skinny pole, the beams from the lights at the top casting broad puddles of pale yellow onto the broken pavement. The light glinted off the windshield of Joe’s truck. He was definitely here.
She drew in a resolute breath and marched around the side of the building. The sooner they got this settled, the better.
The dew-damp grass slicked her toes, making her feet slide in her flip-flops, every step a rubbery squeak. She hesitated at the corner—no lights back here but for the dim bulb over the door. A pair of moths flirted with the scrawny light, making tiny little pings whenever they connected with the glass.
She yanked at the hem of her top, skirted the wooden box that protected his garbage cans and stepped onto the slab of cement that served as a porch.
Nothing but darkness on the other side of the square window in the door. For God’s sake, it was only ten o’clock. He’d always been a night owl—surely he couldn’t have changed that much?
Then again, there didn’t seem to be a lot to do in Castle Creek. Especially after dark. Except maybe— Allison’s breathing hitched and a prickling heat swept across her skin. An image of what Joe could very well be doing in the dark had her snatching her hand away from the door and stumbling back a step.
After her encounter with the mouse, Joe had said he had to go help a friend. Maybe that friend was female? And maybe she was in his apartment at this very moment, in his bed, and they were shaking their heads at the idiot outside who couldn’t take a hint?
Embarrassment shoved her back another step and she started to turn away. Then suddenly he was there, looming on the other side of the windowpane. Not naked. Not from the waist up, anyway. The door swung inward.
“Come in before the moths do,” he said.
She hesitated. Something in his voice... His hair was rumpled, his feet bare and he wore sweatpants and a T-shirt—clothes that could be pulled on in a matter of seconds.
Or off.
She blinked away an unwanted memory. “I don’t want to interrupt...anything. You alone?”
“Mostly.”
She started to ask what that was supposed to mean when she heard the kitten, meowing softly in the background. Funny guy. She gave a half shrug and sidled past, holding her breath so she wouldn’t breathe in the scent of bed-warmed male.
He shut the door behind her and turned, hand still on the knob. “There a problem?”
“Could you turn off the light?”
“Come again?”
It took real effort to keep her mind from going in an X-rated direction. For God’s sake, Allie, grow up. “The outdoor light. Those poor moths.”
He stretched a hand to the wall. The room went black. Allison blinked and thrust out her hands, feeling suddenly off-kilter.
Asking him to turn off the light might have been a mistake. Still, she couldn’t get that pinging noise out of her head.
“Anything else I can do for you?”
Damn that “throw me to the floor” voice of his. “I know it’s late, but I hoped we could talk.”
“No.”
She frowned in the abrupt silence. Then the refrigerator gurgled and she found her voice. “It won’t take long.”
“Not gonna happen.”
Huh. So maybe “mostly” alone didn’t involve the kitten, after all. Maybe “mostly” meant his date was asleep. Or maybe Allison needed to remember that just because they’d declared a truce, it didn’t mean he was happy she was here in Castle Creek.
She clamped her teeth together. “Fine. We’ll talk in the morning. Sorry I bothered you.”
“My answer will be the same when the sun comes up.” A whisper of fabric—she imagined him folding his arms across his chest. “I mean, I’m assuming you’re here to wriggle out of our deal, right?”
“I didn’t come to wriggle out of anything. I came to have a rational conversation. But obviously this isn’t a good time.” She took a step toward the door. He didn’t move. She blew out an impatient breath. “If you don’t get out of my way I can’t get out of your hair.”
“I can offer more than conversation.”
A mingling of anger and longing sapped the strength from her knees. Had she considered him funny at one time? Try hateful. She sneaked a step to the left and sagged against the counter. Not one of her better ideas, coming here at this hour. Though she wouldn’t admit to it now, she actually had hoped to talk Joe into letting her leave. Now all she wanted to do was scuttle back to her room and lock herself in.
“If you mean coffee,” she managed, “I’m in. Anything else and you’re out of your mind.” Like me.
He grunted, but that was all the reaction she got. His breathing remained steady—unlike hers. She