She had tears on her cheeks that were running slowly down her face and into the water at her feet.
“That was just plain mean, Annabelle, and here’s me getting my feet wet, losing the feeling in my toes and all before I’ve even had my morning coffee.”
She didn’t speak, and Ethan thought that was maybe because she couldn’t. The tears were flowing faster now.
“See, here’s the thing, Annabelle: I’m a toucher. I can’t stand by and see a woman in any kind of distress and not comfort her, so suck it up, baby, because I’m coming in.”
He moved to face her, then, as if he were approaching an animal that had really long, pointy, venomous barbs, he opened his arms wide then slowly wrapped them around her body. He could feel the tension in every muscle, so he tightened his grip and hauled her in to his chest. She resisted, of course. Hell, this was Annabelle, the woman who called him the Texan Tomcat and refused to yield to his charms. She’d attacked his manhood in so many ways he’d lost count, and that was just with words.
“It’s alright, honey.”
“Please stop.”
“You know I can’t do that. When there’s a woman in distress, I have to take action. It’s in my genetic makeup.” She didn’t say anything else, so he kissed the top of her head as the tears began to flow faster. The hands she had braced against his chest grabbed handfuls of his shirt. Slowly she softened and that body he’d lusted after for months sagged against him.
Ethan realized his error the minute he hugged her. There’d always been sparks between them, but they’d kept them at bay like two dogs continually circling each other. Now he knew what she felt like. Her breasts weren’t too big, or too small, but perfect, and pressed to his chest they felt damned good. She was tall, but then so was he, so the top of her head reached his nose. She smelled of roses, the soft scent that drifted into his nostrils as he brushed the flowers in passing on a hot summer’s day.
“It-it’s okay now, th-thank you.”
The hands at his chest pushed so he had to release her and she took a step backwards and away from him.
“These shoulders have to be good for something, honey, so if you need them at any time, they’re yours.”
She lifted her head and looked at him. Brown was too weak a term for her eyes. They were flecked with gold and reminded him of a lion he had once seen, their depths ever-changing. Usually when they were turned on him they were angry or pissed off, but now she looked beaten and weary, as if just the effort of focusing on him was more than she could handle. Ethan didn’t like that. Annabelle Smith didn’t ever look like this. She was a fighter, tough and ready to blister him with a few well-placed words, but she was never beaten.
“Annabelle, talk to me.”
“I’m okay, really, just having a bad day.” She dropped her eyes and waved a long-fingered hand about.
“I’ve known you for two years, and that look you’re wearing right now is a new one, which tells me that the something bothering you is big.”
“It’s not,” she snapped at him, which made Ethan feel better, because he could handle her when she did that. “And I don’t want you opening that big mouth of yours all over Howling and telling my friends about any of this, Gelderman, you got that?”
Before he could move, she’d walked from the water, picked up her shoes and bag, and was heading back into town.
“Thanks, Ethan, for the hug and the kind words,” he muttered, following her seconds later.
Annabelle walked up the hill slowly. She wasn’t going to show that smooth-talking Texan what she was feeling; only when she was on the street and out of sight did she look over her shoulder. There was no sign of Mr. Sexy, so she ran. Weaving in and out of the crowd of people, she found a café and entered. She pulled on her shoes, then ordered a coffee before using the restroom.
Bracing her hands on the edge of the sink, she sucked in a deep, steadying breath, as she looked in the mirror before her.
“Not your best day, Smith.” Her eyes were red, the bow in her hair had slipped and her makeup was smudged.
Damn you, Cooper.
Annabelle had two brothers: Zach, who was the youngest and in the Navy, and Cooper, one year her junior. Unlike Zach, who had always found trouble until he’d walked onto his first ship, Cooper had been a brother that any sister would envy until he left Howling to go to college, and then everything had changed.
Drugs, alcohol, gambling—he had embraced every vice he could, and in doing so had pulled Annabelle and Zach into his sins. At first, they had both sent Cooper money every month, paid his debts, but eventually what they could send was never enough.
When he followed a girl to Vegas, she and Zach had flown there to try to get him to come home, and when he’d refused, Annabelle had found counseling and rehabilitation services who would take him. Cooper had refused any help, declaring that he could clean himself up, but what he’d done was the opposite, and now he’d cleaned out her bank account.
Cooper was a computer genius who could hack into anything, and she’d foolishly believed he would never do anything like that to her, but now she knew better.
$25,000 had been in that account. The money for her mortgage payment, the money to buy food, and the extra she’d been saving in case of emergency and in the hopes that maybe one day she could take a holiday somewhere.
“And now I can’t make my next payment,” she whispered to her reflection.
She’d needed to cry again, but this time she wanted to howl, loudly. She needed that release because now she was no longer numb, she was just plain angry. How could her own flesh and blood do this to her?
