Big Sky Secrets by Linda Lael Miller

Author:Linda Lael Miller [Miller, Linda Lael]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Western
ISBN: 9780373778317
Amazon: 0373778317
Barnesnoble: 0373778317
Goodreads: 18006099
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-12-31T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

RIA WAS SURE she could guess at least some of what Landry was thinking in those strained moments after she’d blocked the speedy exit he’d been about to make—from her kitchen, from her house, from her presence.

She suppressed a sigh and stood her ground. Okay, she had basically asked the man to spend the night with her, but they were both adults, weren’t they, she widowed, he divorced? Not to mention that Landry had been the one to make the initial suggestion, the one who’d told Ria boldly that she needed holding and he was ready and willing to fulfill that need.

So what was the big deal? It wasn’t as if she’d specifically offered sex, after all, though she certainly wasn’t ruling it out, either. She’d said, “Hold me,” that was all.

Under other circumstances, Ria might have been insulted by Landry’s reaction. Because he was always so damn sure of himself, so used to being right, she could only conclude that he’d decided a few things: that she, Ria, didn’t know that she wasn’t quite herself, that she might think she was sober, when she was actually still very much under the influence, that she was missing her husband and wanted a temporary stand-in for Frank, not Landry himself.

All of which, in his lofty opinion, would make her vulnerable, defenseless and, therefore, off-limits. Well, Ria thought, if she’d read Landry correctly, his reasoning was faulty.

First of all, she’d never been herself in quite the way she was right now, standing barefoot in her shabby but clean kitchen, heels dug in, because Ria wasn’t playing around. Her mind was razor sharp, her attention focused enough to ignite anything or anyone in her path. For once in Ria’s up-and-down life, she wasn’t self-conscious, a miracle in and of itself. She knew she looked about as unglamorous as possible, without a ratty bathrobe, a head full of curlers and a thick layer of goopy face cream to complete the look, and she didn’t give a damn.

Second, although Ria knew she’d suffer for overindulging, that was a simple matter of cause and effect, of science, not sin. Alcohol didn’t agree with her; she’d known that and gone ahead and chugged down about a gallon of the stuff anyway, and in very short order.

But damn it, she was inside this body, thinking with this brain, feeling with this heart, looking out through these eyes, and she knew she wasn’t merely sober, but stone-cold sober, as surely as if she’d suddenly been snatched out of a hundred-year nap by a giant hand—just call her Sleeping Beauty—summarily immersed in a star-splattered northern sea, between icebergs, and then just as quickly plucked out again, jolted awake by the chill, keenly aware of everything around her and wanting to live, really live. For so long she’d been in a trance, surviving, though just barely, putting one foot in front of the other with no permanent destination in mind, marking time while she waited for—what? A celestial wake-up call?

And

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