seats. "Are
you ready to talk?"
Staring
out of the windshield, she coolly asked, "What did they say?"
Tom
sighed, and Charlise knew her lack of communication ticked him off. Tough. She
no longer wanted to jump his bones and play nice. Ever.
"You
got your wish. I'm taking you to a motel."
Chapter Eight
Tom
pulled into the parking lot of a one-story motel that had seen better days.
Charlise's lips twitched in agitation at the sight of older model cars in the
parking lot. She didn't look forward to drunken neighbors and two-hour
customers all through the night.
"Stay
in the car. I'll get you a room." Tom got out and slammed the door.
She
waited for him to disappear inside the office before kicking her feet against
the dashboard. She screamed in a high-pitched squeal, drawing the attention of
a couple walking past the car.
She
pulled down the visor and pretended to check herself out in the mirror to hide
from their curious stares. She wrinkled her nose at her reflection. It was bad
enough she brought unwanted attention, but the way she looked would scare
anyone.
Being
left alone without any money and no shoes wasn't her idea of the perfect
advertisement for blending into the scenery. She mentally kicked herself for
her carelessness. She'd always made sure she carried her money and the spare
car key in her pocket at all times. She'd lost it all.
With
Tom around, depending on him for her safety, she'd left everything back at The
Ridge and the beach house. Pieces of her only possessions were scattered miles
apart over the state. Not that she blamed Tom. They'd left both places in a
hurry.
She
sat still when then the driver's side car door opened. If he planned to drop
her off and leave, he only needed to say the words. She'd survive somehow.
Tom
got back in the car and said, "Here's the room key."
He
handed her a key with the number twelve on the tag. "Go ahead and get
settled in. I'm going to park up the street and set up surveillance."
"You're
not leaving?" She sat up straighter and broke her earlier promise of never
setting her eyes on him again.
He
ran a hand through his hair and then braced both hands on the steering wheel.
"I said I was going to keep you safe. That was a promise."
He'd
said that, but after the events of the last few hours, she thought he'd want to
hightail it out of here and forget he ever met her. She'd proved her mental
state—he should want to drop her off at any street corner and escape the
craziness she called life on the run.
She
swallowed. "I thought—"
She
ducked her head, embarrassed at how she'd behaved. If she could take back
today, she would. It was unfair of her to unleash her anger on Tom.
Tom
reached over and tilted her face up with a finger. "Hey, you okay?"
She
cleared her throat, and evaded his question. How could she ever explain her
irrational thoughts?
"Charlise.
I promise, when this is over we're going to sit down and hash this out. Don't
give up on me."
She
bowed her head, afraid to say anything in case it came out wrong and she blew
it again. Her behavior ashamed her. He'd done nothing wrong.
With
the motel key digging into her palm, she climbed out of the car and walked to
the door with number twelve on it, and let herself in. Once inside, she bolted
the lock and leaned against the door.
She
gazed around the room. Shrouded in shadows, she admitted to herself that she
was afraid to stay alone in the motel room.
Scarred
bedside drawers, worn out shag carpeting, and the old faded bedspread sent
shivers down her spine. She sighed and pushed away from the door. She might as
well try to make the best of it.
Once
she'd stripped off the old bed linens, she shook them out to check that there
weren't any creepy crawlies. Deeming the sheet clean if not grayed with age, she
remade the bed and lay down, closing her eyes. Exhaustion won out over the
willpower to stay awake, and her body relaxed into sleep.
Later,
the sound of firecrackers outside had Charlise springing up
you ready to talk?"
Staring
out of the windshield, she coolly asked, "What did they say?"
Tom
sighed, and Charlise knew her lack of communication ticked him off. Tough. She
no longer wanted to jump his bones and play nice. Ever.
"You
got your wish. I'm taking you to a motel."
Chapter Eight
Tom
pulled into the parking lot of a one-story motel that had seen better days.
Charlise's lips twitched in agitation at the sight of older model cars in the
parking lot. She didn't look forward to drunken neighbors and two-hour
customers all through the night.
"Stay
in the car. I'll get you a room." Tom got out and slammed the door.
She
waited for him to disappear inside the office before kicking her feet against
the dashboard. She screamed in a high-pitched squeal, drawing the attention of
a couple walking past the car.
She
pulled down the visor and pretended to check herself out in the mirror to hide
from their curious stares. She wrinkled her nose at her reflection. It was bad
enough she brought unwanted attention, but the way she looked would scare
anyone.
Being
left alone without any money and no shoes wasn't her idea of the perfect
advertisement for blending into the scenery. She mentally kicked herself for
her carelessness. She'd always made sure she carried her money and the spare
car key in her pocket at all times. She'd lost it all.
With
Tom around, depending on him for her safety, she'd left everything back at The
Ridge and the beach house. Pieces of her only possessions were scattered miles
apart over the state. Not that she blamed Tom. They'd left both places in a
hurry.
She
sat still when then the driver's side car door opened. If he planned to drop
her off and leave, he only needed to say the words. She'd survive somehow.
Tom
got back in the car and said, "Here's the room key."
He
handed her a key with the number twelve on the tag. "Go ahead and get
settled in. I'm going to park up the street and set up surveillance."
"You're
not leaving?" She sat up straighter and broke her earlier promise of never
setting her eyes on him again.
He
ran a hand through his hair and then braced both hands on the steering wheel.
"I said I was going to keep you safe. That was a promise."
He'd
said that, but after the events of the last few hours, she thought he'd want to
hightail it out of here and forget he ever met her. She'd proved her mental
state—he should want to drop her off at any street corner and escape the
craziness she called life on the run.
She
swallowed. "I thought—"
She
ducked her head, embarrassed at how she'd behaved. If she could take back
today, she would. It was unfair of her to unleash her anger on Tom.
Tom
reached over and tilted her face up with a finger. "Hey, you okay?"
She
cleared her throat, and evaded his question. How could she ever explain her
irrational thoughts?
"Charlise.
I promise, when this is over we're going to sit down and hash this out. Don't
give up on me."
She
bowed her head, afraid to say anything in case it came out wrong and she blew
it again. Her behavior ashamed her. He'd done nothing wrong.
With
the motel key digging into her palm, she climbed out of the car and walked to
the door with number twelve on it, and let herself in. Once inside, she bolted
the lock and leaned against the door.
She
gazed around the room. Shrouded in shadows, she admitted to herself that she
was afraid to stay alone in the motel room.
Scarred
bedside drawers, worn out shag carpeting, and the old faded bedspread sent
shivers down her spine. She sighed and pushed away from the door. She might as
well try to make the best of it.
Once
she'd stripped off the old bed linens, she shook them out to check that there
weren't any creepy crawlies. Deeming the sheet clean if not grayed with age, she
remade the bed and lay down, closing her eyes. Exhaustion won out over the
willpower to stay awake, and her body relaxed into sleep.
Later,
the sound of firecrackers outside had Charlise springing up
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