“Yes, I love you, but that doesn’t mean I have to do anything about it!”
“What about Patrick? Didn’t you start that relationship in bed?” The words sprang from nowhere, and he knew he’d said the worst thing possible. He expected to feel the palm of her hand across his cheek. Instead, she stepped back, gaping, eyes flooding with tears.
“Yes. I suppose you could say that.” Her voice was quiet again, trembling, rational. “And you know how well that turned out.”
Roman caught her wrist. “You just admitted you’re in love with me, and now you’re leaving? Make me understand the logic.”
All the steam went out of her when she looked at him. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Why bother? You wouldn’t understand. You don’t want anything more from me than Patrick ever did.” Her voice broke. She yanked free and left him standing in the entry. She slammed the door as she went out.
Grace sobbed all the way back to the cottage. She was shaking, still pulsing with the emotions he’d stirred in her. How could she have allowed herself to fall in love with Roman Velasco? She’d known the minute she met him that he was trouble. She should have run that first day. She never should have given in to temptation and rented this cottage.
She couldn’t work for him anymore, not under these circumstances. If Roman came over right now, she’d weaken. She’d let him in, hoping he’d say he loved her. How easy it would be to convince herself everything he suggested would be fine. Wasn’t everyone doing it? Who got married anymore? A few more kisses would end whatever resistance she had. She’d never felt knee-weakening, heart-pounding desire for anyone before Roman, not ever. If he touched her again, she’d let him stay.
She’d let passion rule once before and paid the price. She was still paying.
Trembling, Grace phoned Shanice. “Can I come over and spend the night with you?”
Shanice expelled a foul word. “What’d Velasco do?”
“He kissed me. That’s all. But I’ve got to get out of here. Now.”
“Are you all right to drive? You sound—”
“Yes! I can drive!”
“Okay. Grab what you need and come. We’ll talk when you get here.”
Grace pulled her suitcase from the closet, tossed in several changes of clothing, toiletries, and her Bible. She packed her laptop and books in her backpack. Grabbing her keys, she went out the front door, locking it behind her. She’d have to come back and box everything else. Or could she arrange for someone to do it for her? Grace didn’t want to come within a mile of Roman Velasco. She couldn’t trust herself.
Angry, confused, Roman paced. Pain shot up his leg. Raking his hands through his hair, he wondered what he’d done wrong and how he could fix things. Why had he thrown Patrick in Grace’s face? What did she mean that he was exactly like her ex-husband? Grace just didn’t get it. He’d never asked a woman to spend an entire night, let alone move in with him. That should count for something.
He’d wait a few minutes to let her cool off. Then he’d go over and talk with her. Maybe if he told her she didn’t understand how deep his feelings ran. Maybe she needed to know she meant more to him than any woman he’d ever met, and he wanted her in his life, for however long these feelings lasted.
He’d give her some time to think. Maybe a night to sleep on the idea. Talk again in the morning.
Do you really think the girl is coming back, Bobby Ray?
Roman headed for the door. He limped along the walkway and saw taillights leaving the driveway. Without the leg injury, he would have run after her. He exhaled a four-letter word. Where would Grace go? Wherever her son lived during the week, probably. Where was that? Burbank! Where in Burbank? Maybe she’d stay with a friend. Which friend? Shanice? Doubtful. Or was it? He couldn’t remember her last name. He killed the urge to get in his car and follow her. She’d be long gone by the time he reached the road. Even if he did catch up, chasing her would only endanger her and make everything worse.
Think!
Roman pulled out his phone and texted her. Don’t run and hide. Talk to me. He knew she wouldn’t read it until she got to wherever she was going. He pocketed the phone and looked out into the darkness.
Grace had to come back. Calm down, Roman. She still works for you. She’ll cool off. She still lives in your cottage. Everything she owns is in that place. She’s not going to leave it all behind. You’ll have a second chance.
Roman closed his eyes, struggling with the tsunami of emotions. He’d forgotten how much love hurt, and now the tide of pain was rolling in and over him, pulling him under. “Jesus, help me.”