He eyed her leftovers. “I thought you were hungry.”
“Not anymore.”
“Don’t you like it?”
“It’s fine. I’m just…full.”
The way his lips drew into a straight line—the same lips that had touched every part of her body this morning—indicated he wasn’t pleased by her answer, but he didn’t press her to eat more. “Where’d you meet this guy?”
She sighed. “Somewhere between Indiana and Illinois.”
“Most people are able to come up with a more specific answer to that question.”
She glanced at the battery-powered clock over by the small generator-run refrigerator. “I think I should be heading out.” She knew she was going to feel stupid asking for money after everything that’d happened, but she had no choice. Clearing her throat, she broached the subject, trying to get it over with quickly. “Is there any chance you could lend me forty bucks?”
When he didn’t answer right away, she hurried to explain. “I’ll send it back to you, of course. You can pick it up at the motel in Portsville since you don’t have mail service out here. I have a friend who’s wiring me some money, but it’s in New Orleans, and I need gas to make it back.” She faltered as she began to realize he might not have money. “If you don’t have it, maybe you’d vouch for me so I could borrow it from someone you know. I’m good for it.”
“Fishing is a living,” he said, obviously offended. “I’ve got money.”
“Great.” She smiled in relief. “So…”
“No problem.” Getting up, he started clearing away the dishes. “But right now, we’ve got to get ready or we’ll be late.”
She frowned, her coffee cup halfway to her mouth. “Late for what?”
“Dinner at my parents’.”
“I’m not going to your parents’,” she said. “I have to get back to New Orleans.”
“It’s Christmas.”
“So?”
“You can’t have that much to do.”
“I have a lot to do.” She gave up on her coffee, too, and carried the rest of the dirty dishes to the sink. “In any case, Christmas isn’t my favorite holiday. I don’t mind skipping it.”
“It’s not mine, either. But it’s important to my parents.”
She threw their paper napkins in the trash. “Wonderful. I’m sure you’ll have a nice visit with them.”
“You’re not returning to that hotel room alone,” he said. “And I can’t go with you until tonight.”
Jasmine pulled up the sweats he’d lent her because they were puddling at her feet and probably made her look too small to take care of herself. “That’s ridiculous.
I don’t need you to come with me. I just need forty dollars. If you’ll risk the loan, I’ll get out of your way.” She started from the room as if to change and leave, as if it’d already been decided, but he caught her elbow and turned her toward him.
“Listen, I understand that you’re finished with me, that you wouldn’t let me touch you again even if I begged. I screwed up and now you can’t wait to get the hell out of here. I deserve that. But regardless of what you might think of me, I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Funny that he’d been the only one to hurt her in years. “I appreciate the sentiment,” she said. “But I’m not your problem.”
He laughed softly, almost bitterly, and dropped his hand. “You came to me.”
“Then we both got what we wanted and now I’m ready to leave.”
Something passed through his eyes, but Jasmine couldn’t identify it. She was too busy struggling with her own emotions. “I’ll give you the money when we get back,” he insisted.
She couldn’t spend the whole day with him. Every time she looked at him, she craved another taste, another touch. It was like being mesmerized by flames, like reaching out to them even after she’d been burned. “But your parents aren’t expecting me,” she said, trying a different approach.
“They’ll be glad to see you. If you’re there, my sister and I will have less of an opportunity to ruin the big feast.”
“Your sister?”
“She’s visiting, along with her family.”
Jasmine remembered that Black had mentioned Romain’s brother-in-law, but it was such a long shot that said brother-in-law would have any involvement in Kimberly’s disappearance—or anything else of consequence to her—she wasn’t willing to take the risk of accompanying Romain just to meet him. “I don’t know them. They don’t know me,” she argued. “And I don’t have anything to wear.”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“I’m definitely not wearing your clothes.”
“I know a girl about your size.”
“A girl? Don’t bother her.”
“She won’t mind.”
He was being far more stubborn about this than she would’ve expected. “Why don’t I stay here and wait for you, then?” She waved at the dishes they’d stacked near the sink. “I could finish cleaning up.”
“You wouldn’t wait. You’d walk to Portsville and hitchhike from there.”
“So? What do you care?” she snapped, frustrated by his unyielding refusal.
He studied her for a moment. “I guess meaningless isn’t meaningless, after all.”
“Do they fit?” Romain asked, standing outside his bedroom door.
Jasmine didn’t answer right away but, after a moment, he heard her voice.
“Close.”
When he’d handed over the clothes he’d borrowed from Casey’s teenage daughter, she’d shut him out, which disturbed him almost as much as the way breakfast had gone. He wanted to watch her dress. Not because he wanted to see her body as much as he longed to regain the intimacy he’d so impetuously destroyed.
“Are you going to open the door?” he asked, growing irritated.
“I’m coming.”
The door swung open and she stood in the entryway.
The jeans fit nice and tight, the way he liked them. Unfortunately, so did the sweater. It pulled in front, drawing attention to her br**sts, and she kept fiddling with the fabric in an attempt to loosen it.
“It looks great,” he said, trying to sound believable. It was great, but the kind of great a man would be more likely to appreciate than a woman.