Every Waking Moment - Page 63/91

That was where the confusion came in, she decided. But she didn’t have anything to worry about. After Manuel, admiration was probably all she’d ever feel for a man. Love was too risky, especially if children were involved.

As if he could feel her watching him, his blue eyes flicked her way, and she quickly averted her gaze. “I take it we’ll have one more mountain to climb?” she said, hoping she’d accurately picked up the conversation where they’d left off.

He responded as though she hadn’t missed a beat. “That’d be Bigelow Bench. It’ll take us into Bridger Valley.”

“How far will we travel today?”

“We’ll see how Max does. I was hoping to make Cheyenne.”

We’ll see how Max does? For all his dislike of her son, he sure seemed to be taking Max’s needs into account. At lunch, he’d brought out a baseball and bat, and played with Max for nearly forty minutes. Then he’d given him that expensive game.

“How far is Cheyenne?” she asked.

“Another three hundred fifty miles or so.”

“I know it’s the capital, but is it a big city?”

“As big a city as you’re going to find in Wyoming. Cheyenne has about fifty-thousand people, I think, but there are probably less than half a million in the whole state.”

“I can see why,” she said, staring out at the wilderness surrounding them. “What do people do for a living here?”

“Ranching, mining, oil and natural gas, for the most part. Up ahead there are some trona mines.”

“What’s trona?”

“It’s used to produce baking soda and detergent. From what I’ve heard, it can only be found in two places in the United States. Here and in Trona, California.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Neither had I until I visited here.”

“Now spell far,” Max’s computer told him.

“Have you ever been to Yellowstone Park?” she asked Preston.

“No.”

“Me, neither, but I’d like to see it someday.”

“Manuel wasn’t interested in vacationing?”

“He didn’t mind going on a cruise or flying to Hawaii, but I could never interest him in anything that might get him dirty.”

“Like camping?”

“Exactly. Someday I’m going to Yellowstone Park, where Max and I will camp for as long as we like. And when Max gets to be a teenager, we’ll visit the Grand Canyon and backpack down to the Colorado River, and—”

“Sounds as though you plan on being alone with Max for a long time.”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “After what I’ve been through, staying single is the only way to go.”

“Now spell dog.”

“It’s tough to have any…intimacy,” he said, in obvious deference to Max, “when you’re not married and you have a kid at home.”

She couldn’t meet his eyes. Before she left Manuel, she would’ve sworn she could happily go without sex for the rest of her life. He’d soured her on the whole lovemaking experience.

But then she’d met Preston, and was already wondering if sacrificing that part of a normal existence would be as easy as she’d thought. “I don’t care. I’m tired of being dominated.”

“I’m not talking about domination.”

He wasn’t. He was talking about the way he’d make love, the give-and-take she’d sampled before, the respect he’d shown for her and her body.

Goose bumps broke out on her arms. “I made one error in judgment. I don’t want to make another.”

“So that’s it? You’re never going to make love again?”

“Love and sex aren’t always the same thing, right? If I start to miss that…aspect, I’ll just have to quit being so conservative and…I don’t know, pick someone up, I guess.” She knew she’d probably never do it, but taking charge of her sexuality sounded good—as though she wouldn’t let herself be deprived simply because she’d screwed up and gotten involved with the wrong man.

If the expression on his face was anything to go by, Preston wasn’t happy with her answer. “That’s not very safe.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“You’re not the type to enjoy casual sex.”

“How do you know?”

He gave her a look that said he knew her better than she thought—and he probably did. Although they’d been together a very short time, he’d seen her at her lowest, her most “undone.” Her situation hadn’t allowed for the usual social masks that made it so difficult to know someone.

“Maybe it’s something I can learn,” she said.

“How many men have you been with so far?”

She lifted her chin. “What difference does that make?”

His teeth flashed in one of his knee-weakening smiles. “Too many to count?”

“Maybe.”

“Or only one?”

She scowled at him. “So what if it’s only one? I’m now a stronger, more assertive person.”

“Emma, I know you want to believe you can fulfill all your own needs. But I can guarantee that sleeping around will cause more problems than it solves. Besides, it’s…empty, meaningless. A woman like you would feel worse instead of better.”

“A woman like me? What about a man like you?”

He looked at her frankly. “Actually, I’ve only slept with three women.”

“In the past week?” she said irritably.

“In my life.”

This announcement was such a surprise that she dropped her combative demeanor. “Really?”

He nodded. “My wife, a woman I was briefly engaged to before Christy, and a girlfriend I had for over two years in high school.”

“Then you don’t really know what it’s like to sleep around any more than I do.”

“I don’t have to try it to know I won’t like it,” he said. “How fulfilling could it be?”

It wouldn’t be fulfilling at all. She just didn’t want to acknowledge that there seemed to be no good alternative to inviting someone else into her life, giving someone who could be as bad as Manuel the same opportunity to wreck her happiness. How could she trust enough to risk her heart a second time? How could she trust enough to carry another child?

She couldn’t. Yet she was only twenty-nine. Was she doomed to devote the rest of her life to Max and Max alone?