His Old Lady - Debra Kayn Page 0,26

job reminded her that Cal had stopped by in the middle of the night. That was something he hadn't done before. She figured quitting her job would stop the harassment.

"What gave you and your friends the idea to work in a topless bar, shoving your stuff in other men's faces?"

"We're women, Curley. Don't talk about us as if we're selling ourselves on the street. Kingston Bar doesn't sell sex, and I'm not shoving any part of myself at anyone." Her shoulders tensed. "Things changed at the lounge. We all quit, and when we couldn't get another serving job—thanks to you, Angela cracked a joke about working at a titty bar. I guess because I wasn't going at it alone, it seemed like something I could do with friends. The tips are good."

"What about the nursery? I thought that was your dream," he asked.

"It is."

"Then, concentrate on that job." He eyed her. "Unless you like the attention the men give you when you know damn well, all they're thinking about is shoving their dick between your breasts."

"I doubt that. There's nothing sexy about me. With or without a shirt." She walked out of the kitchen.

"That's a load of bullshit," muttered Curley.

Out of sight of him, her stomach fluttered, wanting to believe him. But she'd lived with the truth since she'd slept with Curley. For how much they were attracted to each other, he always stopped himself from acting on his feelings.

Because he rejected her, she knew exactly what men thought of her.

Whatever.

Other people disappointed her all the time.

Grabbing the dirty-clothes basket, she went into the laundry room and filled the washer, so when she got back, she could start the load.

There was no reason why she had to explain herself to Curley. He'd made his choice on not having her in his life long ago.

Shaking her hands to rid herself of the nerves leaving her shaking, she returned to the kitchen.

She turned on the faucet and wet the washcloth, wiping down the counters. "Don't you have something you need to do today?"

"I don't want you associated with Kingston Bar."

She turned to him. "Then, please, tell me what I can do? What's going to make you happy?"

What is going to make you leave me alone?

Her pulse roared in her ears. She couldn't take the back and forth of the conversation any longer.

She shouldn't have to listen to what he wanted. He could take the stupid belief that because he grunted and swore to take care of her straight to hell.

"I don't know what's going to make me happy." His gaze hardened. "I know you're more likely to get killed or raped at Kingston Bar than you would any other place in Missoula."

"Yet you screwed me over getting a job at Riverside Bar where I could work with all my clothes on. Explain that one to me because I don't understand what's in your head." She crossed her arms.

"The owner..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Shit is going down there, Faye. I don't want you mixed up in it all when something happens."

"What do you want me to do?"

His gaze burned into her. Tears blurred her gaze. She was tired of wanting him.

The pain of his rejection that had lingered long past the night they'd had sex never went away. Out of all the men who'd flirted with her, asked her out, and tried to be a part of her life, none of them ever compared to Curley—in reality, and in her mind.

She'd tried to forget him and stop loving him, and the harder she tried, the more he showed back up in her life, pushing his power over their relationship on her.

Looking away from him, she blinked. "I need to get going."

"Where?"

"It's the first Sunday of the month." She gazed back at him as if that day meant something.

He should know where she'd go.

He'd gone with her to the prison for years, using the same schedule. Her visits had to happen when Tarkio members weren't waiting to see Uncle Walker. Because Tarkio always came first.

"I'm sure Uncle Walker has mentioned I still visit him. I'm his only living relative left." She inhaled deeply. "I need to go put gas in my car. You can let yourself out."

He remained in the kitchen, studying her. Escaping from those dark eyes of his, she found her purse and emptied it of everything but her license and keys. They'd check everything at the prison and lock it up for her until the visit was