Last Call at the Doghouse by Linda Winstead Jones

Last Call at the Doghouse by Linda Winstead Jones

Author:Linda Winstead Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sorin Rising


CHAPTER 9

Duncan said she could trust him, and then he turns around and disappears in the middle of the night. He’d been gone for hours! To think, she’d been worried about him sleeping on the hard floor and had actually considered asking him to share the bed with her even though she knew where that would lead.

Where had he been? Who had he been with?

Andrew had ruined her. She might never trust any man ever again.

“I went for a walk,” he said.

“A long one.” With her back resting against the headboard, she crossed her arms over her chest. “A late one,” she added.

“Just trying to get the lay of the land.” He sounded casual, not at all like someone who’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

“Alone?” She regretted the snapped question as soon as the word was out of her mouth. She didn’t want to be that woman, the one always looking for betrayal, the one waiting to be hurt again. If she didn’t love Mitch Duncan—and she didn’t—he couldn’t hurt her. No one could. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”

He sighed, then sat on the edge of the bed. Springs squealed and wood creaked. The lumpy mattress dipped under his weight, causing her to roll toward him. She caught herself and fought to stay upright.

“I’m not your ex,” he said.

“I never said you were.” She sounded far more defensive than she’d intended.

“If you were mine, I’d never look at another woman.”

He caught her by surprise with those words; words that sounded sincere, not at all like he was pulling her leg. The sentiment was almost romantic.

“You’re just trying to talk your way out of…”

“Out of what, Armi? I went for a walk. You were sound asleep when I left and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“So you were being thoughtful.”

“Is that a crime?”

It should be, but no. She felt her anger fading, a little. “Of course not, but…”

Frustration showed on Duncan’s features. “You have no idea how hard it is to share a room with you and keep my distance.”

Armi took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She did know; she knew too well. “Dammit, I was worried. With everything going on, how could I not be? You should’ve said something.”

“Like I said, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Well, you did.” Had her sleeping self somehow sensed that he wasn’t in the room? Had she already come to need him that much? “I woke up and you were gone. How was I supposed to sleep after that?”

He grinned. Damn him, he did have a charming smile. “You missed me.”

All she had to do was give him a little shove, and he’d be gone. He’d stand up, move to his pallet on the floor, and this would be over. Should she tell him that sharing a room with him was difficult for her, too?

They weren’t kids and hadn’t been for a long time. Life was uncertain—more uncertain than she’d ever realized—so why not take all the pleasures



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