Entice - By Ella Frank Page 0,59

I wanted. You agreed,” he told her firmly.

“But—”

“No buts. I took what I wanted, and now we’re even. You used me, and I used you. Quite well, too, I must add,” he leaned down and kissed her nose.

Shelly narrowed her eyes, almost going cross-eyed. “That was not the deal, Daniels.”

“I don’t care what you think this was about. I’m telling you. I will not be used like that ever again. If you have issues and want to talk to me, then, fine, we’ll talk. But don’t ever use me to fight your battles without at least telling me what I’m getting into.”

Shelly stood silent, shocked that he was so angry about what had happened.

After all, why does he care? We hardly know one another.

“I just thought we were going to—”

He let out a deep breath, and it slid over her mouth and tickled her nose.

“I know what you thought, Georgia, but I will not have sex with a woman who is angry, hurt, and who just finished humiliating me. This lowly construction worker has higher standards than that.”

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving her standing in the barn with her shirt, no shorts, and what little dignity she thought she had broken in pieces.

Chapter Fourteen

It was 5:30 a.m., and Shelly hadn’t gotten any sleep at all.

After she had gone back to the house, all the lights had been turned off, and it had been so quiet, you could have dropped a pin and heard it land. She had made her way upstairs and had been precariously close to knocking on Josh’s door. But, after her performance tonight, she didn’t think he would have welcomed her.

Instead, she had gone into her empty bedroom and climbed into a cold bed.

What the hell was I thinking, bringing him home with me? He didn’t know me, my problems, and more to the point, my family. Maybe that had been the whole point. She was finally realizing that she wanted him to know all of it.

A little happier with that conclusion, Shelly climbed out of bed and got ready to face the day. She needed to remind Josh that he wanted her, and then she would show him why he should like her.

Putting on a different pair of Daisy Dukes that were faded at the pockets, she paired it with a flowy white shirt that had long loose sleeves. Tucking in the shirt at her small waist, she then framed it with a brown leather belt. Leaving her blonde hair down, she pulled on her cowgirl boots and made her way downstairs.

When she reached the kitchen, she heard some movement and made her way toward it. Shelly stopped, waiting quietly at the door, and watched as her mother stood in front of the large bay windows that overlooked the back lot, scrubbing the big pots she must have used last night.

Her mother was humming softly as she worked with her hands in the sudsy water.

Shelly walked over toward her, and as her boots hit the tile, her mother turned to look over her shoulder. Stopping mid-stride, Shelly locked eyes with this woman whom she loved more than anyone else, even though the woman always managed to let her down in some fundamental way.

“Good mornin’, Shelly,” her mother said softly as she turned back to the sink. Gone was the use of “Shel,” which meant she was in trouble.

Sidling up beside her mother, she took the hand towel hanging over the rail and started to dry the dishes.

“Morning, Ma.”

The silence was awful.

It stretched and tightened like a taut rope with each breath Shelly took. Finally, when the air was pretty much suffocating her, Shelly asked, “So, where’s Father?”

Without looking her way, Shelly’s mother answered, “Your Father got called into the hospital. He’ll be gone most of the day.”

Before she thought better of it, Shelly muttered, “Typical.”

She heard the pot clang down, hitting the bottom of the stainless steel sink, as her mother whipped her head around to face her.

“What on earth has gotten into you, Shelly Monroe?” she demanded, taking a deep breath before shaking her head. Softly, in a tone that almost sounded defeated, she whispered, “I don’t remember raising such a rude and cruel young lady.”

Shelly couldn’t bring herself to look at her mother, so she continued staring out the window at nothing in particular.

“What did you hope to achieve with your lil’ performance last night?” her mother asked quietly. Her country accent was still present, but it was not as obvious