Backwards Honeymoon by Leigh Michaels

Author:Leigh Michaels
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-11-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

AS KATHRYN began to weep, Jonah lifted his face out of his hands. At the moment, he thought, she sounded more frustrated than anything else, but it wouldn’t take much to turn her defeated sobs into a full-blown case of hysterics. He didn’t blame her. In fact, if he’d thought it would do any good, he’d have been tempted to join her.

Instead, he put his arms around her, and she huddled against him more tightly than he’d thought possible, her face buried in his neck. The corner of her purse, still slung from her shoulder, dug uncomfortably into his midriff. But dislodging it would mean letting go of her, and in her present state of mind she’d probably take that as rejection. So he braced himself against the discomfort and leaned his cheek on her hair. “Hang on, Katie,” he said. “We’ll figure something out.”

The clerk looked baffled by the storm she’d set off. “It’s only a formality,” she said helplessly. “Especially around here, where we know everyone. Actually, the driver’s license is just to prove that you’re really who you say you are, because the law says we have to check your legal name.”

Jonah muttered, “Bringing along a witness isn’t enough?”

The clerk stood her ground. “Begging your pardon, sir, but Jennie hasn’t known you any longer than the rest of us have. She’s taking your word for it all.”

Jennie said gently, “Yes, I am. I’m quite sure if these young people were playing games with the truth, we wouldn’t be here this morning.”

“But I can’t do that,” the clerk said doggedly, “or I’d lose my job. I have to look at some kind of identification that includes a photo—like a driver’s license.”

Kathryn sniffed. At least she’s stopped crying, he thought.

“Besides, everybody has a driver’s license,” the clerk said. “Don’t they?”

In a rural area like this, Jonah thought, without the kind of mass transportation available in cities, she was probably right—everybody who was old enough learned to drive a car. Not that the fact was any help to them, under the circumstances.

Kathryn huddled closer. The purse jabbed him harder. He frowned, then gently pushed Kathryn away, which relieved the pressure on his rib, and took hold of her purse.

For such a tiny thing, it was amazingly full of compartments—at least six of them, each closed off by a separate zipper or snap. And it was stuffed full, he realized as he opened the first section.

Methodically, he started emptying the purse onto the marble counter. Lipstick, mirror, comb…a bundle of keys….a pen and matching mechanical pencil, each with her initials engraved on the clip…a neatly folded handkerchief…two twenties and three one-dollar bills…a tube of hand lotion…two pieces of peppermint candy…a nail file and emery board…the cash register receipt for her crazy souvenir from West Podunk…a small white envelope…

“What’s that?” she said, reaching for it.

“You don’t even know everything you’re carrying around?” He handed it over and turned back to his task, pulling out a slim gold case full of business cards.

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