Beth threw her bags into the cab of the truck and pulled around the corner to Dixon’s for gas. As she replaced the nozzle and waited for her slip, she heard his voice.
“Hey, Beth, just getting off work?” Lang stood on the sidewalk, laden with bags from a variety of stores. The Rover was nowhere in sight.
“Something like that. You look like you’ve been shopping.”
“Rose gave me a list for the big bash.”
Keep this light and friendly, he told himself, even though the sight of her in that tight tee shirt made him hard. He moved several of his bags, holding them front of him. As he came closer, he saw her eyes. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Allergies. Been working with hay all day. Does it every time.”
Why don’t I believe you, Beth Morgan, with those sad eyes and your lovely face covered in red splotches? “How are you?”
“Fine, okay.” She dared not look at him. One look into those beautiful eyes and she would go weak in the knees. Less than twenty-four hours ago, he had taken her to heights of ecstasy she’d never known existed. “I’m kind of in a hurry. See you Saturday.”
Lang’s resolve to nip things in the bud flew out the window, and he covered the distance between them. He grasped her slender arm as she opened the truck door. “Beth, what’s wrong? Something’s upset you.”
Staring straight ahead, she said, “My life is in shambles. Yes, I’m upset. My life as I’ve known it for ten years is over. I’m just trying to get through each day.” She wriggled out of his grasp and slipped into the cab, eyes still averted.
“Beth?”
“I’ve got to get going, Lang. I’m fine, really.” Her voice was softer, but she still refused to meet his eyes.
“See ya, then,” he said.
“Yup, see you.” She started the truck and pulled out. Only then did she dare look in the rearview mirror. Lang stood watching, his expression perplexed.
Turning, he headed up the street to the Rover. What the hell was that all about? She couldn’t even look at me. Had last night been that repulsive? Was she going back to Bill and didn’t want to tell him?
Lang’s resolve to step away completely gone, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and kiss away those angry red marks on her lovely cheeks. He would wait until the next day and call her. As he came around the Rover, he spied a flower shop across the street. “And in the meantime,” he said aloud, crossing to the shop.
Beth drove home through a haze of tears, not knowing whether they were from the heartache over Bill or the sadness of leaving Lang and his warmth and comforting presence. He’ll be gone next week. Stay away. It’s only the few more days. The last thing you need now is another heartbreak.
When she arrived home, her mother and Ruthie sat on the porch sipping iced tea, a pitcher with several glasses on a tray beside them. “Oh, my goodness,” Leonora said, spying the bags. “Did you buy out the whole shop?” Then she spotted her daughter’s face. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, everything. I seem to be getting really good at crying, and yes, I did almost buy out Gabriela’s.”
Ruthie watched her sister, concern etched on her freckled face. She was still in her work clothes, jeans covered with dirt, tee shirt stained. She worked with Beth every day but had a hard time reading her. Ben seemed to be the only one who ever got through Beth’s thick shell. “Fashion show!” she said, smiling at her sister, hoping a change of subject might help.
“I’ll give you a quick peek,” Beth said, perking up a little. “Then we can have a fashion show later, okay?”
Ruthie poured her sister an iced tea, and the three spent the next half hour oohing and aahing as Beth pulled one thing, then another from the bags. Finally, the arrival of Ben Senior ended the clothes inspection and they headed in, Beth and Ruthie to showers, their parents to cocktails on the terrace before they left for their dinner at the club.