Twice Upon a Roadtrip

by Shannon Stacey

  “No, I liked macaroni and cheese…when I was twelve.”

  “It’s a very versatile dish. You can add hamburger to it, or chopped ham. You can even add broccoli and sautéed chicken and you have a casserole.” She couldn’t tell if that was a gagging sound he made, or if he was simply clearing his throat. “What’s your favorite food?”

  “Broiled swordfish.”

  “Figures.”

  “What figures?”

  Jill gave him an angelic smile. “Not only are you a stick in the mud, but you’re a food snob, too.”

  “Keep your eyes on the damn road.” He shifted his body so he half-faced her. “Now that you’ve insulted me—several times—tell me about this near miss at the altar.”

  She may as well come clean about it. His opinion of her couldn’t sink much lower without a wake of dead bodies popping up.

  “I thought I wanted to marry Eddy. I really did. And then…” she paused. It was so hard to put into words.

  “And then what?”

  “I was standing in front of the mirror in my wedding dress, and I was so happy and so excited.”

  “That’s usually a good thing, sunshine.”

  “Liz—my sister—looked happy and excited, too, when she got married. For a little while, and now her life’s in a total rut. I don’t want that.”

  He was quiet for a minute and she wondered if he was thinking about his ex-wife. Did she leave because she was stuck in a rut?

  “What makes you think her life’s in a rut?” he finally asked. “Maybe she’s just in a content place.”

  Jill rolled her eyes. He would side with her sister. “I wish you could see the pictures Liz used to take. She wanted to be a photographer for National Geographic magazine—and she could have. She was that good. Now she takes pictures of screaming kids at the department store.”

  “Is she happy?”

  She risked another rebuke by taking her eyes off the road to frown at him. “How can she be happy? She gave up all her dreams. Now she knows every day she has to do the same thing over and over and the biggest mystery in her life is whether it’s her son or her husband that keeps peeing on the back of the toilet. She sacrificed everything.”

  Ethan drained his coffee cup and she saw him shudder. It must have cooled more than she expected while he was sleeping. “Maybe it was worth it to her, sunshine. She’s got a family she loves and a good job. Maybe it satisfies her to take a bunch of fussy kids and capture one smiling moment their parents can treasure forever.”

  “Now you sound like my mother. Are you going to lecture me about my sex life, too?”

  “Well…actually, I’m kind of happy with your sex life…for now.”

  Jill stifled a giggle when his cheeks flamed her favorite color. The man was so uptight he embarrassed himself. “For now?”

  “Yeah. For now.”

  A little ache settled in Jill’s chest, but she told herself it was coffee-induced heartburn. She wasn’t looking for serious, she reminded herself, so for now worked.

  She didn’t want a white picket fence or two and a half kids. Baking was for Sara Lee, and microwave directions were her best friends. Her dust bunnies multiplied so fast they must have leporine Viagra stashed under the couch.

  Ethan was the kind of guy who expected his wife to qualify for a spot on the Better Homes and Gardens Channel. He was Ward Cleaver in jeans and sneakers. Heck, he probably got his taxes done before April fifteenth every year. She didn’t need that kind of pressure.

  Ethan cleared his throat. “So having a family would keep you from living out your dreams?”

  “Absolutely! It’s hard to live your life to the fullest when you have a houseful of people demanding food and clean laundry and…more food. And how are you supposed to tour the Amazon with a baby? They have piranhas and snakes and stuff.”

  Jill felt his gaze on her profile, but she resisted the urge to turn and look at him. She didn’t have to justify her life to him. He wouldn’t understand anyway. She’d bet ten dollars Mr. Domestic even owned an apron with Kiss the Cook printed on it. His idea of adventure probably extended to putting extra lighter fluid on the barbecue.

  “Yeah,” he said in a sarcastic voice that grated on her nerves. “I can see how having children would really clash with being a children’s librarian.”

  Jill clenched her teeth. She was this close to opening the door and pushing him out.

  She could find her way to the hotel alone. Maybe. And even if she couldn’t, she’d rather drive around in circles than listen to Ethan criticize her life for one more second.

  Of course having children didn’t interfere with working at the library. They didn’t interfere with work—only the fun stuff. When she had enough money saved, she was going to travel. She would see the world, taste adventure—without a baby carrier slung around her neck like a noose. Then she would think about a family.

  Reminded of her pitiful finances, Jill grimaced. The numbers on her credit card statements were larger than the numbers on her bank statements and now she was unemployed to boot. At this rate Jules Verne would have to tinker with her biological clock by the time she was ready to have kids.

  “I wasn’t going to work at the library forever,” she said. “Just until…”

  “Until some wealthy patron was so grateful the new Stephen King book was in he swept you off to a life of grand adventure?”

  “That’s it.” Jill yanked the wheel and pulled the Taurus into the long grass that passed for a shoulder. “I am so tired of your attitude.”

  The car shuddered to a stop and she threw it into park. She hit the button to release Ethan’s seat belt, and then before he could react she reached across him and opened his door. “Get out.”

  * * * * *

  “Are you insane?” Ethan waved his hand at the windshield. “I’m not letting you abandon me in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I signed for this car. I paid for this car. And I want you out of this car.”

  “I was only teasing you, sunshine.”

  “Well, I’m not teasing you, little black raincloud. Out.”

  She couldn’t be serious. After all she’d done to him? No way was he letting her ditch him on the side of the road.

  “All you’ve done is insult me since we left the motel—since we met,” she continued. “I am not a bad person and I’m sick of you trying to make me feel like one.”

  Guilt wormed its way into his thoughts. He’d been a jerk all morning, and taking out his frustrations on Jill wasn’t really fair. Even if his most recent problems were her fault, she was stranded, too.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “You said that about ten minutes ago, then you started right in again.”

  True. But he meant it this time. “You’d really leave me here in the middle of nowhere with no car, no money, no identification?”

  “Flighty, stupid people do that kind of thing all the time.” He could tell she tried hard to hide behind a jaunty tone, but he could hear the hurt behind the words and it made him feel about two feet tall.

  “I never said you were stupid.”

  “You implied it.”

  Ethan groaned and leaned his head back against the seat. He’d been married long enough to know he couldn’t argue with what he hadn’t said.

  “How about we make a deal?” he said, ready to brace himself if she tried to shove him out the door and drive away. “If you don’t dump me here—lost and penniless—I promise I’ll be nice. And I’ll ask my mother to give you your job back.”

  That got her attention. Jill stared at him, gnawing at her lip, until he was convinced she wanted him gone more than she wanted to pay her rent.

  Ethan cursed the new sneakers he wore. If he had to walk, the blisters would be hell. “Well?” he prompted.

  “I don’t want my job back.” But she did. He could see it in her eyes.

  “You told me on the bus that you did—that you need it. Why did you change your mind?”

 
“Because…because we had great sex.”

  He frowned, letting her words tumble around his brain, hoping they’d line up in some way that made sense. “So, you would want your job back if the sex was lousy?”

  Jill’s cheeks burned and for one second Ethan was sure she was going to push him backward out of the Taurus. “Of course not.”

  “Then what exactly does incredible, mind-blowing, super-hot sex have to do with your job?”

  Jill blushed, but she didn’t look away. “It might seem like I was trying to get my job back by having…delicious…breathtaking sex with you.”

  He watched her mouth—watched her lips draw each syllable—and for one insane second wished they were still stuck in that motel room. His plans be damned. That mouth had brought him to knees. Literally. And the memory was a little hazy, but he thought he might have actually begged at some point.

  Then her words sunk in. The questions slammed into Ethan like a baseball bat. Did she offer her body in exchange for her job? Had she seduced him just to get him on her side?

  Of course she had, his bruised and battered ego agreed at once. He wasn’t the kind of guy who inspired mad lust in women. He was boring—a stick in the mud, as Jill herself had said. Several times. If he weren’t, his wife probably wouldn’t have run off with a testosterone-overloaded adrenaline junkie.

  But he thought of the way she had come to him in the motel room. He remembered the feel of her lips under his—the catch in her breath when his tongue slid across hers. The woman simply wasn’t that good an actress.

  While fully clothed, they were as compatible as ammonia and chlorine, but between the sheets they had the real deal.

  “I never thought you did,” he said.

  Jill narrowed her eyes at him and he knew he was in trouble. “You were thinking it just now.”

  Guilt warmed his cheeks. He couldn’t deny it. She wouldn’t believe him anyway, especially with the damn guilty flush. “Only because you brought it up. It never crossed my mind until you said it.”

  “You’re only saying that so you won’t have to walk to Orlando.”

  Ethan almost laughed at her flippant reply, then he saw something flicker across her face. He couldn’t decipher it. Hopefulness? Desperation?

  Her comments about the screwups in her life echoed through his mind. Maybe Jill Delaney expected people to believe the worst about her.

  “Sunshine, if my life were a bathtub you’d be the plugged-in hairdryer. You’ve done nothing but complicate my life since the moment we met. But I don’t believe you’d do something like that.”

  He thought he saw a tear glisten in one eye before she turned her gaze back to the road. “Close the door and let’s go.”

  His relief at not being tossed out of the car like an empty fast food wrapper was eclipsed by this new glimpse into Jill’s personality. Self-fulfilling prophecy—a phrase he’d heard tossed around on those trashy talk shows Betty liked to watch. Probably the same shows that convinced her to run off and find herself—and a new husband.

  Jill expected to mess things up. Her family probably expected her to mess things up. So, things got messed up. She’d come to expect it, and a cycle of trying and falling flat on her face was born.

  Well, he’d promised to be nice to her. Maybe if he complimented her a lot—built up her confidence—he could help her break the cycle. At this point, anything that got them to the hotel and then on to Florida in one piece was worth a shot.

  He glanced over at her, racking his brain for just the right compliment. Something that boosted her self-esteem—made her feel strong.

  “You…umm…have beautiful breasts.” What?

  “What?” Jill turned to gape at him and he felt his face go red.

  Ethan prayed she would hit a bump, causing his door to fly open so he’d go tumbling out. That had to be the most asinine thing he’d ever said to a woman.

  “I…uh. Well, you do, dammit.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Thank you,” Jill muttered, trying to ignore the heat that pulsed into her face. Where on Earth had that come from? “And you have beautiful—”

  “Don’t! Just forget I said anything.”

  Laughter bubbled up in Jill’s throat. “It’s okay, Ethan. I wasn’t going to say condom.”

  “Oh, God.” He covered his face with his hands. “Don’t say…whatever it was you were going to say.”

  Jill giggled and shrugged. “Okay. But they’re so big. And round. And—”

  “Jill!”

  “Brown”

  “Brown?”

  “You have beautiful eyes, Ethan,” she said, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. The man was just too easy to wind up. Wind him up—he walks, he talks, he has nervous breakdowns.

  “A restaurant!” Ethan shouted, and she heard the relief in his voice even as she hit the brakes and turned the wheel.

  The restaurant was small, with a paint job older than any of their fellow Spring Flingers, but the parking lot was full. Hopefully that meant the food was good, because she was starving. She squeezed the Taurus into a spot and killed the engine with a sigh of relief.

  A sign on the door told her the Nickel Hill Cafe took all major credit cards. At least she could pay for the meal. Rip was cruising around in his MG with all of her cash. She made a mental note to find an ATM and get a cash advance, since Ethan had so conveniently left his wallet on the bus.

  It would serve him right if she bought herself a steak for lunch and made him wash dishes for a grilled cheese sandwich.

  They could grab a quick bite to eat and ask directions back to the highway, which Ethan would write down. Then he could drive. Their fate would be out of her hands and anything that went wrong would be his fault.

  Jill was surprised to find a table open, but most of the patrons were seated at a long counter nursing coffees. They hit the restrooms, ordered from a menu full of things that would go straight to her hips and fixed their coffee. Jill noted the lack of sugar in Ethan’s and smiled. That explained the grimacing in the car.

  He cleared his throat and she looked up. “I really like your hair like that,” he said in a gruff voice.

  She reached up and smoothed the messy ponytail. “Thank you.”

  The man was up to something—she just couldn’t figure out what. She watched him squirm for a long moment. “You know, when I said you had to be nice to me or walk to Florida, I meant don’t actively insult me. I didn’t mean you had to fawn over my hair and my breasts.”

  From behind her came a male cough of choked laughter, followed by a female squeal of disgust and the rattle of dishes. Jill winced. Oops.

  “Jill!” Ethan hissed. “Keep your voice down.”

  The waitress appeared with their fried lumps smothered in gravy, so she decided to let Ethan off the hook…for now. She’d figure out what he was trying to accomplish with his misguided flattery later. For now they concentrated on their plates, since they hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Except for the candy bar she’d bought at the gas station for lunch. And since he’d been playing Sleeping Beauty and she was still hungry, she’d eaten his, too. The wrappers were hidden in her purse.

  “Tell me about yourself,” she said when the worst of the hunger had been satisfied.

  He looked up from slathering real butter on a homemade roll. “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, we’ll start with the easy stuff and then I’ll pry my way into your closet like you did mine. What do you do for a living?” She paused with her fork half-raised. “No…let me guess.”

  “I don’t do anything right now,” he reminded her. The tone of his voice warned her she was treading on very thin ice. “My ex-wife and her new husband apparently needed some start-up money and the household account wasn’t enough.”

  Ouch. Way to pick an icebreaker. She felt as if she’d just thumped him over the head with a conversational sledgehammer.

  “Okay, I’ll guess what you did before she left. Accountant?”


  He snorted. “Don’t you think if I was an accountant I would have protected my money a little better?”

  “A lawyer?”

  “If I was I’d have gotten it back,” he snapped.

  Jill frowned. “An embalmer?”

  “Of dead people?”

  “If you embalm live people I’m leaving you here.”

  “Very funny. What makes you think I’m an embalmer?”

  “Your people skills, maybe?”

  He made a sour face, but Jill didn’t care. His recent marital and financial disasters might make for a touchy subject, but she didn’t think knowing his occupation was too much to ask.

  “I refinished furniture,” he grumbled at his plate.

  That shut her up for a minute. Refinishing furniture? She was so sure he did something more academic, more…cerebral.

  But then again, he was damn good with his hands. “What kind of furniture refinishing? Antique restoration?”

  “Nope. Yard sale restoration.”

  Jill swallowed the last bite of the most delicious, calorie-laden meal she’d ever eaten and laughed. “You? Yard sales? I doubt it.”

  “So now I’m a second-hand snob, too?”

  “You said it.”

  Ethan pushed away his plate and leaned back against the booth. “I used to work twelve hours a day helping people maximize their retirement dollars.”

  “Ha! I knew it.”

  “Then one day,” he pointedly ignored her, “I saw an old bureau on somebody’s front lawn. It was painted green and covered in stickers, but I could just see the ornate woodwork from the road. I paid ten bucks for it.”

  He paused while the waitress refilled their coffee cups, but Jill barely noticed. She was too busy noticing the way his face lit up just thinking about that ratty dresser. The planes of his face softened and his mouth relaxed into a half-smile.

  It was a look she usually only saw when he was sleeping, and she let the warmth in his eyes wash over her. It didn’t matter that the look was meant for furniture. She’d take what she could get. And that pissed her off to no end. He didn’t need to be warm and smiling for vacation sex. He just needed to be hard and horny as hell.