Dream a Little Dream (39 page)

Sometimes she’d catch him watching her, and even her inexperienced eyes recognized the desire she saw there. It should have made her happy. Wasn’t that what she’d wanted? But the knowledge only depressed her. She didn’t want to be some babe he lusted after. She wanted to be his love.

She realized he’d passed the fast-food restaurants that sat near the freeway exit. “I thought you said you were hungry.”

“I am.” But he continued to drive down the two-lane country highway. Finally he slowed and made a left turn into the parking lot of a dingy diner that sat next to an eight-unit motel.

The diner’s gravel lot contained mostly pickups. As he parked between two of them, she regarded the place with distaste. Its dirty mustard asphalt shingles and flickering neon beer signs hardly looked promising. “I think we should go back to the Hardee’s.”

“I like this place.”

“It’s not respectable.”

“Good.” He jerked the keys from the ignition and threw open the door.

It was going to be a long weekend if his mood didn’t improve soon. Gruder Mathias, one of the town’s retired clergy, was preaching for Ethan on Sunday, and Monday was his day off, so he wouldn’t be in any hurry to get back.

With a sigh of resignation, she trailed after him to the entrance, which featured a pair of heavy wooden doors in a fake Mediterranean motif. She heard the whine of a country ballad even before they stepped inside.

A blast of air-conditioning plastered her tomato-red ribbed tank dress to her body. She smelled hot grease and stale beer. At the dimly lit bar, a group of ol’ boys wearing gimme caps and muddy jeans sat drinking beer and smoking.

Since it was still relatively early, most of the tables were vacant, as were the brown vinyl booths. Dusty plastic vines that looked as if they’d been stapled to the paneled walls a decade earlier provided the decor, along with some framed health-department certificates that had to be forgeries.

Ethan steered her to a booth in the back. As soon as they were settled, the bartender, a no-neck bald-headed man, called over for their drink order. “What’ll you have?”

“Coke,” she replied, hesitating only a moment before she added, “In the can, please.”

“I’ll have scotch on the rocks.”

Kristy gazed at Ethan in surprise. She’d never seen him drink strong liquor. He didn’t even order margaritas in Mexican restaurants.

She had to remind herself that he was no longer her responsibility, so she bit her tongue.

One of the men at the bar turned to stare at her. Having men notice her was still new enough to make her uncomfortable, so she pretended not to notice.

The bartender brought over their drinks, then slapped down two laminated menus sticky with old condiments. “Jeannie’ll be with you in a minute. Special tonight is fried catfish.” He walked away.

Kristy poked the grubby menus out of the way with her little finger. Ignoring the empty glass of ice cubes, she wiped the rim of the can with her paper napkin before she took a drink. The Coke was warm, but at least it was sanitary.

The man at the bar continued to watch her. He was young, maybe in his mid-twenties, with a Miller Lite T-shirt and powerful biceps. She tugged nervously on one of her fake diamond studs. Her short tank dress was sexy, but not so trashy that it served as an open invitation, and she wished he’d look somewhere else.

Ethan took a sip of scotch and shot the man an accusing glare. “What do you think you’re looking at?”

She gasped. “Ethan!”

The man at the bar shrugged. “Don’t see no ‘sold’ sign on her.”

“Maybe that’s because you can’t read.”

Her eyes widened with dismay. Ethan, the dedicated pacifist, seemed to be spoiling for a fight with a brute who outweighed him by at least fifty pounds, all of it muscle.

The man at the bar uncoiled from the stool, and she swore she saw the light of anticipation in Ethan’s blue eyes. Her mind raced. What would Rachel do?

She gulped and held up her hand toward the muscular man. “Please don’t take offense. He hasn’t been the same since he gave up the priesthood.” It wasn’t much of a lie, she thought.

But the bully didn’t appear to be buying it. “He doesn’t look like a priest.”

“That’s because he isn’t anymore.” She took a deep breath. “He’s very protective of me. I’m . . . uh . . . Sister Kristina, his . . . sister.”

“You’re a nun?” His gaze slid to the scooped neck of her tank dress.

“Yes, I am. And God bless you.”

“You don’t look like a nun.”

“My order doesn’t wear habits.”

“Aren’t you at least supposed to wear crucifixes or something?”

She tugged on the delicate gold chain around her neck and withdrew the small gold cross that nestled between her breasts.

“Sorry, Sister.” He shot another dark glance at Ethan, then he settled back on his stool.

Ethan regarded her with annoyance. “Just what in the Sam Hill do you think you’re doing?”

“Keeping you out of a barroom fight!”

“Maybe I don’t want to be kept out.”

“Catfish!” she called over to the bartender. “We’ll have the fried catfish. And bless you, too,” she added belatedly.

Ethan rolled his eyes, but to her relief, he didn’t pursue the subject. Instead, he pursued his scotch, and by the time an overly made-up, dark-haired waitress wearing cutoffs and a Garth Brooks T-shirt arrived with their food, he’d finished it.

“I’ll have another scotch.”

“Ethan, you’re driving.”

“Mind your own business, Sister Bernadine.”

The waitress gave her a suspicious look. “I heard you earlier. I thought you said your name was Sister Kristina.”

“Uh . . . Bernadine was my name before I went into the convent. Then I became Sister Kristina.”

Ethan snorted.

The waitress turned to him. Ethan was as handsome as ever, and she was clearly interested. “So what’s it like not bein’ a priest anymore?”

He jerked his thumb toward Kristy. “Ask her.”

“He’s . . . Well, it hasn’t been easy. Nothing’s easy for people who turn their backs on their
true calling
.” She twisted the cap off the ketchup bottle and cleaned the crusty rim with another paper napkin before she handed it to him. “They feel empty. Hollow. They try to fill that hollow with
liquor
, and the next thing you know, they’re lonely alcoholics who’ve lost their looks.”

The waitress brushed his shoulder with the tip of a frosted blue fingernail. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that, Father.”

He gave her a lazy smile. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

As the waitress sauntered toward the bar, Ethan openly enjoyed her swinging rear door. She returned with his scotch and departed with a smoky smile.

“Eat your dinner before it gets cold,” Kristy snapped.

He sipped from his fresh drink. “What do you care whether my food’s cold or not?”

“I don’t.”

“You’re a liar.” He glared at her so intently that she wanted to squirm. “You know what I think? I think you’re still in love with me.”

“And I think you’re getting drunk.” She willed herself not to flush. “You’ve never had a head for alcohol.”

“So what if I am drunk? ”

That made her angry. “You haven’t turned in your resignation yet, Ethan Bonner! You’re still an ordained minister.”

“Not in my heart,” he retorted angrily. “In my heart I’ve already resigned.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he winced. She watched as he went very still, almost as if he were listening to an internal voice speaking a message he didn’t want to hear. Finally he muttered something she couldn’t quite make out and picked up his fork to stab the catfish.

“It’s already dead,” she pointed out.

“Just pay attention to your own food and leave mine alone. Where’s the salt?”

“Right next to you.”

He reached for it, but, as angry as she was with him, she still loved him, and she couldn’t watch him poison himself, so she whipped the salt shaker up before he could touch it and scrubbed at the corroded lid with another napkin, then thrust it at him. “Try not to touch anything.”

His long fingers curled around the salt shaker at the same time his eyes curled around her. “You know what I want to touch, don’t you?”

Her tongue wouldn’t move.

“I want to touch you. Just like I did that night at the drive-in.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, either.” He pushed aside his catfish, picked up his scotch, and gazed at her over the rim of the glass. “I want to do it.”

She knocked over her Coke can, then scrambled to right it before it spilled all over the table. Her skin felt hot under her dress. “We . . . We have to be in Knoxville in half an hour.”

“We’re not going to make it. As a matter of fact, I don’t care if we make any of the conference.”

“But you’ve already paid the registration fee.”

“So what?”

“Eth . . .”

“Let’s get out of here.”

He tossed down a few bills, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her outside. Her pulses raced. This was a new and dangerous Ethan she’d never seen.

He drew her down the stairs, and the next thing she knew, he was pressing her against the side of his Camry with his hips. “I can’t stop thinking about that night.”

He rubbed her bare shoulders with his thumbs, and she felt the heat from his body through the knit of her dress. A truck buzzed by.

“You care about me,” he whispered. “Shouldn’t I be the one you lose your virginity to instead of somebody you don’t care about?”

“How . . . How do you know I haven’t already lost it?”

“I just do.”

Her conscience went to war with her desire for him. “It’s not right.”

He dipped his head and she felt his jaw move against her hair. “Why don’t we lose our virginities together? ”

“You’re not a virgin.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve had sex that I feel like one.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t believe it works that way.”

“Sure it does.” His lips touched her earlobe, and his scotch-soft breath brushed her cheek. “Yes or no. Your decision.”

He was the snake, tempting her. He knew the way she felt about him, and it wasn’t fair for him to deliberately manipulate her emotions like this.

“I don’t love you anymore,” she lied. “I never loved you. It was just infatuation.”

His hands curved around the sides of her hips, and his thumbs brushed the tiny elastic ridge left by her skimpy panties. “You smell so good. I love the way you smell.”

“I’m not wearing any perfume.”

“I know.”

She sighed. “Oh, Eth . . .”

“Yes or no?”

Anger exploded inside her, and she slapped away his hands. “Yes! Of course, yes! Because I’m weak and needy and I don’t like you very much right now.”

If she’d expected her outburst to slow him down, she was proven wrong.

“I can fix that.” Within seconds, he had the car door unlocked and pushed her inside.

Instead of turning back out onto the highway, he simply swung the Camry across the gravel parking lot and into the narrow lane that led to the office of the EZ Sleep Motel.

“Oh, no . . .” She stared with dismay at the row of white wooden units with three large pines standing guard in front.

His voice held a pleading note she’d never heard before. “I can’t wait any longer. I promise, Kristy, the next time it’ll be champagne and satin sheets.”

Without waiting for her to respond, he vaulted from the car and shot into the motel office. He was back within minutes. Again, he settled behind the wheel and drove to the end unit, where he parked crookedly, jumped out, and raced around to open her door.

The good Pastor Bonner hustled her inside like a teenager ready to score.

Ethan pushed the door shut behind them and let out a sigh of relief as he saw that the room was shabby, but clean. He knew there was no way on earth he could have kept her here if it had been dirty. And he wouldn’t let her go. He simply couldn’t stand this sense of separation between them any longer. He had to keep her here until he marked her for life.

The need to mark her was important, although he wouldn’t do it with a hurtful bite or a marring bruise—that would be intolerable. But he wanted to do it with something indelible. He wanted a mark that would keep her by his side forever and make them best friends again. And the only way he could think of was to do it with sex.

No matter what she said, sex meant something to Kristy, or she wouldn’t still be a virgin. Any man she had sex with would be important to her forever, and that’s why it had to be him. Only him.

He searched for a less selfish reason to justify what he intended to do, and quickly found it. She was too precious for him to allow another man to ruin her. Kristy was unique, but everyone didn’t understand that. What if her first lover didn’t take care with her? What if he didn’t understand how precious she was?

There were so many pitfalls awaiting her. Kristy was a nut about cleanliness, and that could make sex a problem for her. A man would have to be patient with her eccentricities, distract her with a little gentle teasing, a few deep kisses, until she forgot about hygiene and just enjoyed herself.

“This room is plenty clean,” he pointed out.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

The idea that she might be disappointed made him defensive. “I know what you’re thinking. Just because something’s shabby doesn’t mean it’s dirty.” He crossed to the bed and whipped down the spread and blanket to reveal a crisp white sheet. “See.”

“Ethan, are you drunk?”

She looked so pretty standing there in that short red dress, with her eyes big and uncertain, that a lump formed in his throat. “I’ve got a nice buzz, but I’m not drunk. I know exactly what I’m doing, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

You don’t have a clue what you’re doing.

He ignored the voice, just as he’d been ignoring it ever since that night at the Pride of Carolina.

The old linoleum floor creaked beneath his feet as he moved to her side, drew her into his arms, and kissed her. He tasted spearmint, and he realized she’d popped a breath mint while he’d been registering for the room. As if she needed something artificial to disguise her own sweet taste.