Bring Me Home for Christmas - By Robyn Carr Page 0,13
freaking god,” Denny muttered.
“Jeez, what is up your butt?” she asked.
“I just thought a stand-up guy would get you out of what could be a bad situation. If you’re practically engaged, you probably shouldn’t be messing around with Troy.”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t. Unless you call having a cup of coffee and talking messing around. If so, I mess around almost daily.” She smiled indulgently. “I’m very loose that way.”
“Damn it, Becca, don’t you get what I’m saying?”
“No, Dennis, I’m completely lost. I don’t know what your deal is. You almost act like you’re jealous or something…”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “Why would I be jealous?”
“I can’t imagine,” she said.
“I guess I just don’t get it, why you’d go hunting with a bunch of guys if you have a serious boyfriend. It makes no sense. Maybe I can do the guy a favor by a little intervention…”
“Intervention?” she asked, frowning.
“Well, you get a little flirty. And that’s not smart.”
She inhaled sharply, not sure if she was more offended by being called flirty or not smart. Her mouth formed a thin line, her nostrils flared, her eyes glittered and she said, “Stop the truck.”
He looked over at her. “What?”
“I said, stop the truck!”
“This is a bad place to stop!”
“Stop anyway!” she yelled back.
There wasn’t much of a shoulder, but he pulled over. The road was built up about three feet and ran between drenched fields that were probably lush with grain and corn in the summer. He stared at her.
“I made a big mistake here and I’m going to cut my losses,” she said. “I thought if we spent a little time together, we might get some closure so we could both move on, but it’s impossible if you’re going to be such an ass! I’m going back to where we were hunting. I’ll either sit with the guys or in the truck, but I’m not putting up with this bullshit anymore. I haven’t heard a word from you in years. You have no right to judge me or my behavior.” She opened the door.
“Becca, wait a sec,” he said, reaching toward her.
“Seriously, if you had anything to say to me, you might’ve called or maybe shot me an email or—hey! You could’ve ‘liked me’ on fricking Facebook! But I haven’t heard squat from you, so trust me, you have absolutely no right to even suggest who I talk to.” She made a derisive sound. “Flirty,” she muttered. “Of all the nerve.”
“Becca, no—” he said, reaching out to her.
“Denny, yes!” And with that, she stepped out of the vehicle, forgot it was such a long step down from her brother’s jacked-up truck, hit the very narrow shoulder with one booted foot, twisted her ankle, buckled, fell and rolled off that raised road and down to the mushy, muddy field below. And she did it all with a scream that included a very unladylike expletive.
In spite of himself, he laughed and lowered his head to the steering wheel. Well, he was an ass, like she said. And she never had listened. She was always full-steam ahead. He got out of the truck, walked around to her side and stood on the road, hands on his hips, looking down at her. She was sprawled, looking a little like she was ready to make a snow angel—in the mud. She glared up at him.
It was all he could do to keep from doubling over in hysterical laughter.
“I tried to stop you. I tried to tell you I’d take you back there…”
She blew a sputter of air through her lips to rid them of a splatter of mud. “Sure.” Then she sat up. “Screw you.”
“Come on,” he said, trying to carefully slide down the bank to help her. “You’re right and I was wrong. I have no right to tell you how to act or who to flirt with… I mean, talk to.” He smiled, ready to duck if a mud clot came at him. “All right, let’s just get you back to town so you can get out of those muddy clothes. I’m sorry, Becca,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice as he looked at her. He reached a hand out to her. “Really, I’m—”
“Ah!” she cried, trying to stand. She grabbed her right leg. “Oh, crap!”
“What?” he said, jumping in the mud with her.
“Oh, God, I think I did something!” She reached for her ankle. “Damn, oh, damn! Oh, God!”