High Stick by Alicia Hunter Pace

Author:Alicia Hunter Pace
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crimson Romance
Published: 2018-01-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

When Merry woke the next morning, her first thought was that Jarrett was in Chicago. Her world felt a little emptier, but a little safer too.

He talked a good game. “We will see each other again,” he had said. “Or we will if I have anything to say about it.” But phases lasted a while and then ended. That’s why they were called phases—like the moon.

There was something worse than a phase—a lark. She could be lark for him. A lark didn’t even rate as a carriage ride. It was more of a roller coaster ride—fun, fast, exciting, and short.

Enough of this. She needed to shower and get to work. He’d call or he wouldn’t.

But the rivulets of warm water running over her put her in a sensuous state of mind, and the memories of that kiss came barreling back. That had been no ordinary kiss. He’d felt it, too.

But still—it was very possible that despite the kiss, despite his vague references to making drinks and seeing her in the future, she would never hear from him again. No reason to think otherwise. He hadn’t made any firm plans, hadn’t asked her out again.

Out of sight, out of mind. He was gone to play hockey. He might not even think of her again. Just spending enough on her meal alone to feed an Ethiopian village for a year was no indication that he really wanted a relationship.

And if she never heard from him again? How would she feel about that? Disappointed, certainly, but not devastated. Certainly not heartbroken.

So really, what did she have to lose? If he showed up, she’d see him again without expectations. He could not fairly say he had not been well warned that there would be no sex. But then, men—people—were not always fair.

The truth was, she’d been shut down since Anderson humiliated her on that ski trip and the horrific aftermath of the calendar.

She stepped out of the shower, dried herself, and pulled her hair back in a ponytail. Now for a little makeup.

Maybe it was time to move on. Come New Year’s Eve, the calendar would be a full two years out of date, and it had been almost seven months since anyone had recognized her from it. She couldn’t go on like this forever, telling herself that there was no time, or people weren’t fair, or she wasn’t good enough.

Her father had always espoused the necessity of forgiving yourself. He said God’s grace was a given and there for the taking, but people were harder on themselves than they needed to be. Of course, that was his general philosophy. Her parents had no idea what Merry had done. God willing, they never would.

Though she’d considered telling him earlier, maybe Jarrett would never have to know either. It wasn’t as if she owed him—or whomever she happened to end up with—the truths of her life. She’d made a mistake and she’d borne the consequences. It was none of anyone else’s business.

At any rate, she didn’t have to decide today.

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