by K. Webster
“What are you doing?”
“Harley wants to go hunting. I paid a lot of fucking money for this gun and I’ve yet to use it. Back off, Care,” he sneers, “Who will boss me around when you’re gone?”
I, at first, ignore his sarcastic question and cringe at the mention of his brother. Harley is a barbaric mountain man. Well, not really, but he’s crude, “lives off the land,” and doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything. He’s gross and I can’t stand him.
“I guess your bimbo secretary can. She’s already sucking your dick,” I finally smart off, but the pain in my chest is palpable. Biting my lip, I swallow my tears back.
“Unfuckingreal, Care,” he scoffs.
We go around and around about Ginny. I accuse him of sleeping with her. He denies it. Over and over again. But I’ve seen the way she bends over his desk to show him a file with her tits right in his face. The woman has had her talons in my husband since the moment she accepted the job.
“How is Ginny? Is that why you looked like a mess? Were you already eager to start fucking her, knowing that our divorce is underway?” I’m bitter about it, and it shows.
He becomes furious and prowls toward me. With the way his rifle bounces on his shoulder as he angrily makes his way to me, I almost fear he’ll use it on me.
Almost. Bentley would never hurt me. That much I do know.
“Yeah. I fucked her on the hood of my new car, and her pussy was so sweet,” he growls as the heat from his body envelops me.
I gasp in horror at his words, suffocated by his familiar scent.
He shakes his head and swipes a stray blond hair from my forehead. “I didn’t sleep with her. Ever. And I don’t plan on it.”
My heart rate slows as I digest what he said. Even though we’ll soon be divorced, I take comfort in his words—his proclamation that he hasn’t cheated on me with her.
“Just hurry,” I whisper, stumbling away from him. His nearness only confuses me. After having spent so much time apart, I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed the way he smells.
I give him one last, long look before leaving him to do whatever the hell he does at the last minute.
THIS HAS BEEN one of the quietest drives to Mom’s we’ve ever experienced. Usually, Caroline chatters on and on about anything and everything. Tonight, she’s staring out the window, lost in her thoughts. My fingers twitch to reach over and thread themselves with hers, but I know that it’s inappropriate.
We’re over.
And have been for some time.
I’m not even sure how we got here. We woke up one day and decided that life would be more pleasurable without the other in it. Well, Caroline decided that. And like the dickhead I’ve become, I agreed.
As sleet pings off the windshield, I want to kick myself for not having checked the weather before taking this drive. Normally, we’re running from a winter storm on the way there or chasing one on the way out. Tonight, it looks like we’re driving into one.
I clear my throat and glance over at my wife. She may not be my wife for long, but until that day comes, she’s still mine.
“Care, can you check the weather?”
“Already did yesterday, and then I glanced at it again while I was waiting for an hour for you to get home. Chilly temperatures but no precipitation,” she says in the know-it-all tone that always gets under my skin.
“Clearly, things have changed,” I snap. “Check it again.”
She huffs in annoyance but leans forward to dig through her purse. The glow from her phone fills the car as she searches for the forecast.
“Oh.”
I know the tone. You can’t be married to someone for as long as I have and not know what her tones mean. That’s her “oh shit” tone.
“What?” I grumble.
“Pull over at the next gas station. You need to look at this.”
We ride several more miles in silence until we reach the last service station between here and Mom’s. Caroline stays glued to her phone, probably texting with that stupid bitch she recently befriended.
As I whip into the empty station and park near the door, I throw her a questioning glare. “What?”
She hands me her phone, which is opened to the weather app, and waits for my reaction.
“Shit, Care. I thought you said the weather was fine!” I blow up.
She flinches at my words, and I force myself to calm back down.
“I swear, Bentley. It was all to the west of us. Something changed since I checked,” she whines.
I make the mistake of glancing at her mouth. Her cute pout is what drew me to her in the first place. Back at the end of our freshman year in college, I first saw those plump lips pouting when she tripped over some dipshit’s leg, which was sticking out in the aisle of the classroom. Poor thing hit the floor with such force that her books skidded halfway across the room. All semester, I’d watched her, but that day, I found the nerve to talk to her. As I helped her stand and scooped her books up for her, I was drawn to everything that was her.
God, I miss those days.
“It’s okay. Just looks like the pattern changed and we got hammered with a blast of arctic air from the north.”
“Shit,” she groans.
I follow her eyes to the windshield to see that we’re beyond sleet. The snow is coming thick and fast. “Run in and grab me a Coke. Maybe some chips too. Oh, and a Snickers. I’ll fill up and figure out if we need to turn around or hurry and get to Mom’s,” I order harshly.
She gapes at me but snaps her mouth shut and grabs her coat from the back. I start to apologize but figure why bother. Caroline has her mind set. In her eyes, I’m an asshole.
I watch her climb out and stalk toward the building. Once she’s inside, I drop my eyes back down to the weather app. From what I gather, if we turn around now and hit one of the hotels three hours back, we’ll run right into it. Now that we’re only two hours from Mom’s, even though it appears that we’ll hit some of the winter storm, heading her direction is the safest bet.
Dammit, I should have kept the Land Rover. I only traded it in to piss Caroline off one last time, but apparently, the last laugh is on me. With a grunt, I put the car into drive and pull over to the gas pump. Once I’ve bundled up in my coat, I open the door and get blasted by icy wind.
“Fuuuuuuck!” I shout against it as if my words will make it retreat.
Instead, it laughs in my face and whips at my skin, causing tears to sting my eyes.
Hurrying, I shove the nozzle into the gas tank and prepare to jump back into the car. I pause, though, when I see my wife prancing across the parking lot toward me. She looks like a baby fucking deer trying to walk across a frozen pond.
“You’re going to fall,” I call out to her.
She glares at me and hoists the bag higher in her arm. “I’ll be fi—” she starts and then goes down just like I knew she would.
“Shit,” I grumble as I tear off around the car to help her.
When I reach her, she looks up at me with tears in her eyes, the snacks scattered all around her. She’s wearing the same expression she gave me so long ago—the frustrated, desperate one. And like I did all those years ago, I drop to my knees to help her. When it comes to Caroline, she’s a damsel in distress and I’m the knight in fucking Armani.
“Are you okay? Did you break anything?” I demand urgently as I tenderly stroke her cheek.
Her eyes close and the tears roll out as she gives way to a defeated sob.
“Babe, you’re scaring me,” I whisper and pull her against me.
“D-don’t call m-me that,” she wobbles out.
I bite back a smartass remark and release her so I can stuff the contents back into the bag. Thankfully, the snacks survived the fall. When I turn back to her, she’s back on her feet, brushing snow off her ass. The leggings were a casualty of the fall, though, and have a huge snag running from her butt to her knee on one side.
“Told you jeans were a better cho
ice,” I snap as I slip and slide back over to the pump.
“Asshole,” she mutters as she skates over to the car.
I toss the bag of snacks into the back seat and finish up at the pump. Once we’re inside the vehicle, she starts rapidly texting with someone.
“Are you tattling to your skanky friend?” I growl as I peel out of the gas station fast enough to cause us to fishtail.
“Slow down, Bentley!” she screams.
My heart is thumping angrily in my chest, but I do slow down when we turn off the main highway and head toward the older one that takes us through the mountains to Mom’s.
“What happened to us?” I mutter aloud. I don’t expect her to give me an answer, but I still want one.
I’m met with silence. No surprise there. That’s the story of our marriage. When shit gets too difficult, Caroline clams up and stares out the fucking window of life. She remains quiet, like a damn statue, for the next hour.
My phone rings, and I’m thankful for the reprieve from our uncomfortable car ride.
“This is Harrison,” I greet. The boys at the firm all affectionately call me by my last name. My boss told me long ago that Harrison was a more esteemed name than Bentley. He’d said that people would take me more seriously. And he was mostly right. Everyone except my Caroline.
“Hey,” James blurts out and launches straight into what he’s called for. “Did you hear about what happened over in France? I know you’re headed to butt-fucking Egypt, but man, you need to get to a computer. Shit’s about to hit the fan and the market is about to tank.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I roar.
Of all the times for this shit to happen, now’s not the best of them. But I trust James. He joined the firm when I did, and we’ve been best friends ever since.
“Nope. I’d offer to help you out, but I’m swimming in my own shit. You owe me for the warning call,” he says before hanging up on me.
When I start to slow the car down, Caroline snaps her head over to me. Now, I have her fucking attention.
“What are we doing?” she asks.
It’s dark as hell out here in the middle of nowhere, and I shouldn’t be pulling over, but I have to—fucking have to—if I plan on keeping all the clients in my portfolio.
“Taking care of business,” I huff as I park the car on the side of the barely visible road.
As the wind whistles and howls around us, I’m thankful as hell for these heated seats in the Audi. The Land Rover’s heated seats were finicky and old, only working some of the time. Even though Care hates that I got this car, I would bet my entire life savings that she loves the warmth the seats put off.
Reaching behind me, I rustle through the back seat until I find my laptop bag and haul it up front with me. Caroline glares at me with an icy look that could give the massive winter storm we’re dealing with a run for its money. Wisely, though, she doesn’t say a word as I power my laptop on. She knows how important my job is. When global emergencies arise, the markets are always affected. If I can help my clients buy and sell accordingly before the bottom drops out, I make a lot of money. End of fucking story.
“What about the storm?” she asks in a whisper.
I flash her a look of annoyance. “What about it? This is important.”
A loud exhale bursts from her, but she turns her head to stare out the window. Rolling my eyes, I attempt to access the Wi-Fi Internet hotspot I use for traveling. The signal is weak, but I’m able to open my spreadsheets and my e-mail. For the next hour, I’m both on the phone and e-mailing clients in an effort to make necessary trades. At one point, I manage a glance Caroline’s way and see that she’s fallen asleep. Good. I won’t feel so guilty about working.
The wind hisses around my car suddenly and with such force that the entire thing shakes. Shit, this thing is hitting us hard. As if on cue with the ferocious wind, my signal drops to nothing.
Fuck.
“Care, hold my laptop,” I order, waking her up.
She blinks sleepily at me but puts it on her lap. “Are you done?”
Her perfect, blond hair has been ruffled, and she has a line on her face from resting on the seat belt. Knowing her, she’d be horrified at her appearance, but to me, right now, she looks like a sleepy angel. Dragging my gaze from hers, I shake my head. Then, after putting the car into drive, I start to roll farther up the road to see if I can catch a better signal.
“Not close. I lost my Internet connection. We’ll drive until we find another one.”
My wheels spin in the thick snow, and I once again curse the fucking fact I traded the Land Rover in. Caroline sits tight in her seat as I cuss like a sailor.
“This is bullshit!” I snarl as I slam both fists on my new steering wheel. “I’m going to dig us out. Stay here and let me know if the signal comes back up.”
She nods as I yank my coat from the back. Once I’ve pulled it back on, I get my gloves from the pockets and stuff my hands into them.
“Be careful,” she says quietly, and my mind is instantly flooded with an old memory.
“Be careful.”
“He’s going hunting, Blondie, not being hunted,” Harley snorts with laughter.
Mom, who’s holding a dish towel, smacks him with inhuman speed upside his head. Fucker deserved that.
After sauntering over to her, I slip my hands down her back and grab a handful of her cute ass. She tilts her head up to meet mine, and our lips connect softly. We’ve only been together for a few months, but I know I’ll marry this girl one day. Everything about her is perfect. And right now, as she’s meeting my family for the first time and worrying fretfully over me, I just know. She’ll always be mine.
“I love you, Care Bear.” I smile and kiss her again, this time much harder.
When she breaks for air, her eyes are shining with tears. “You do?”
Of course I fucking do. “Don’t you love me too?”
She nods with a grin. “I think I always have.”
Harley grumbles from near the door. “Enough with the mushy-gushy shit. Either get a room and fuck your girl or let’s get the hell out of here and shoot us a buck.”
We hear the snap of Mom’s dish towel again as I steal one more kiss from her.
As the memory fades, I want to ask her if she remembers the love we once had. But I know her. She’ll brush it off and ignore that there was ever any heat between us. Hell, the last heat we had was about three months ago when we’d both had a little too much wine.
We ended up in another goddamn argument. I followed her unstable ass into the bathroom, where she decided to ignore me and take a shower. The moment she wiggled her sexy butt as she opened the shower door and climbed in, I knew I had to have her. My clothes were off and I had her backed against the shower wall in an instant. At first, she tried to resist, but the second my fingers connected with her clit, she melted at my touch. We fucked hard and wild that night. It was the last time like that.
The thought of never making love to Caroline ever again causes my stomach to roil. But that’s the cold, hard truth. In a short few weeks, we’ll be fucking divorced.
I grab the door handle but throw her a bitter glare. “I’ll never stop loving you,” I spit out as if the words are venomous.
That, too, is the fucking truth.
I STARE AT him in shock as he climbs out of the car without a backwards glance. What the hell does that even mean?
“I’ll never stop loving you.”
“Screw you, Bentley,” I murmur and then burst into tears. How dare he confuse me after everything we’ve been through! I pray that the moisture from the snow that blew in ruins something in his stupid, expensive car.
I’m absolutely furious that he’s jeopardized our safety so he can work. Typical Bentley. Work always comes first these days. It has for some time. In fact, I remember one of the first times I was sidelined for his job.
“Ma’am, can I get you another glass of wine?” the server asks with a frown. I
’m sure he’s annoyed that I’ve taken up a table in his section for the past hour and a half without ordering a meal.
“Sure,” I grumble and wave him off.
I pick my phone up, checking if Bentley’s responded yet. Four texts from me asking where he is and zero texts back from him. I would worry that something’s happened to him, but I’ve already called the office and spoken to his secretary. He’s in his office with a client.
I sulk for another twenty minutes, sipping my wine, before a deep voice startles me.
“Pretty women like you shouldn’t dine alone,” the voice rumbles.
Cringing, I meet the eyes of the person harassing me while I pout. The man is tall and built, with broad shoulders. He’s wearing a knowing smirk that I’m sure has landed him plenty of women. But I’m married, so he won’t be landing this one.
“I’m not dining, I’m drinking,” I reply sarcastically.
As if my grumpy mood is an invitation, he sits in the chair opposite me. “Then let’s have a drink together.”
“I’m here with someone. Please leave,” I snip out.
He chuckles as if I’m hilarious. “Now, you are.”
I am about to get up and leave when suddenly he’s plucked from his chair and shoved to the floor. Biting back the grin that tugs at my lips at seeing the sophisticated man sprawled out on the ground, I lift my eyes to meet those of my husband.
Extremely pissed, brown ones glare back.
“What the hell is your problem?” the unwanted dinner guest exclaims as he shoots back up to his feet.
Bentley’s hard stare is menacing, and he looks like he’s about to kill him. “My problem is that you’re moving in on my wife, asshole. Get out of here before I break your pretty nose,” he snarls.
The man isn’t riled though, and he squares his shoulders. “Next time, stake better claim on your property, because I just watched her pine over wherever the hell you’ve been for the past hour. One of these days, you’ll make her wait one time too many and someone like me will sweep her off her feet.”
Once he’s said his piece, he stalks off, leaving Bentley to glower after him.
