Just Once (30 page)

“It’s a very awkward thing to bring up.” I purse my lips and try to sound boastful-casual. “Oh, speaking of bestselling things…”

She laughs and places the book on the counter. “I suppose.”

The cashier scans the book, then turns it over in her hands. “Is this good?” she asks.

Hailey looks at me. I’m not about to toot my own horn. “I don’t know,” she replies. “I haven’t read it yet. But I’ve heard good things.”

“I just sold a copy last week,” the cashier tells us, putting the book in a bag. “We hardly ever sell travel books. Must be popular.”

“It’s awesome,” Matt says, overhearing. “The author is a friend of mine.”

I shoot him a warning look, and he doesn’t embarrass me further.

“Thank you,” I say, and we all head back to the van.

The next morning is Changeover Sunday. One week since the last time Shane and I had sex. Since the day he made me feel things I didn’t think were possible. With the memory of Shane’s visit lingering, I ask Hailey if she’ll work with me. We normally clean cabins solo, but I feel like I need moral support.

And sure enough, Shane stops by the second cabin. We’re making the beds in the guest bedroom when there’s a sharp knock on the door, followed by his voice. “Kate?”

Hailey and I exchange a look. “She’s in here,” Hailey calls innocently.

“Who is that? Hailey?”

Shane stops in the bedroom doorway. I keep my back to him and focus on making my hospital corners particularly tight.

“Did you need something?” I say, not turning around.

Shane sighs. “Mary asked me to tell you we’re going to have two extra staying in here this week. Last-minute addition. She wants you to make up the pull-out couch.”

I stand and spread the quilt on the bed. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You going to turn around?”

“What for?”

There’s a pause, then he curses under his breath and leaves.

When the slamming door stops ringing in my ears I turn to Hailey. “How was that?”

She nods. “Very strong.”

“It was stupid.”

“No, it was great.”

“He’ll know I care if I can’t even make eye contact.”

She nods and avoids my gaze.

“What?” I press. “What?”

“Well…maybe it’s best you don’t look at him.”

“Why? Does he look different?”

“No. He looks the same. But the way he looks at you…That’s what’s different. Like he’s not trying to hide it.”

“It’s too late.”

“I know.”

“Can you go get the extra sheets?”

“Yep.”

“And if you see Shane moving this way can you come racing back to protect my honor?”

“Absolutely.”

But Shane doesn’t come back, and I don’t “see” him again until later that afternoon when the guest vans arrive. As we do each week, the staff stands on the front porch and smiles and waves. Brandon’s barely able to conceal his hatred for Matt as he and Hailey stand just a little too close, and Shane doesn’t hide the fact that he’s staring at me while he helps the guests out of the van.

Hank and Mary are up front, which is unusual, greeting the guests and chatting amiably about what they can expect from their visit. When the bags are loaded and most of the guests have dispersed, I send everyone into the dining room to prepare for dinner service.

“Kate,” Shane calls.

I freeze mid-step. The door to the lodge is so close, all I have to do is reach out my hand, pull it open, and dash inside. My arm is extended and freedom is mine when I hear Hank say, “Kate. Shane’s calling you.”

I plaster on a pleasantly surprised expression and turn. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t hear.”
Dammit.
I can’t very well run away while Hank and Mary are here. I owe them at least the pretense of professionalism.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Shane asks. His voice is raised to cover the distance from the vans to the lodge.

I shoot a look at Hank and Mary—they’re barely listening.

“Can it wait?” I ask tersely, remaining on the porch. Behind me I can hear the sounds of chairs being pulled out as the guests take their seats.

Shane crosses his arms. “It won’t take long.”

“Go for it, Kate,” Mary says absently. “They’re just sitting down now. You have a few minutes.”

I force a smile. “Okay. Great.”

“In here,” Shane says, entering the barn.

Oh hell no. I know for a fact that the ranch hands are still out delivering luggage, and I am not going anywhere alone with Shane. I stalk across the road and stop resolutely at the entrance to the barn. I risk a look over my shoulder just in time to see Hank and Mary disappear into the lodge, foiling my plan not to face Shane one-on-one.

“Come in here,” he orders. It takes a minute for my eyes adjust to the dim lighting, and I spot him a few steps away, shuffling his feet.

“No.”

“Kate.”

“Shane.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing,” I say deliberately. “I think you’ve done your worst.”

He takes a deep breath. He’s still studying his feet. Finally he looks up at me, so handsome and wounded that it somehow manages to hurt even more.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Don’t.”

“I’m so sorry about everything. Everything I said. Everything I did.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do,” he says forcefully, taking a step forward. For a second I think he’s going to touch me, then he stops himself, fisting his hands at his sides. “For what I said to you in the kitchen and for the stuff at the bar—”

I feel my eyes well up, and I start to back away. “Don’t do this now,” I say tightly. “I have to go back in there and face everybody, and I can’t—”

“Kate.”

“No.” I turn back to the lodge.

“I didn’t fuck her.”

The words stop me in my tracks, but I don’t turn around.

“I know you saw the video. I know it was bad. But that’s all that happened. I left right after. Nothing else…There was nothing else to see.”

I’m trying so desperately not to cry. I don’t know why Shane thinks this revelation will help—but it does. A very tiny bit. But not enough to turn around. I take another step toward the lodge, and this time he comes after me, gripping my arm and forcing me to look at him.

“Everyone can see,” I say.

“Let them.”

“No.”

“Talk to me later then.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just listen.”

“Shane—”

“Please, Kate?”

This sudden change in demeanor is so extreme and so confusing that I really don’t know how to feel. But the look in his eyes, the feel of his skin on mine…I curse myself, but it’s enough to make me agree.

Chapter Eighteen

I’
M
S
TALLING
. A
FTER
D
INNER
S
ERVICE
I insist it’s time to de-lime the drinking glasses, claiming they look splotchy from the well water. And they do look a little splotchy…But not life-or-death splotchy like I’m making it out to be.

By the time the glasses are gleaming, everyone is hot and cranky, and I shoo them away so I can mop up. I’m alone for approximately thirty seconds before Shane appears in the back doorway.

“You done stalling?” he asks.

I keep my head down and focus on mopping very thoroughly. “No.”

Wordlessly he takes the mop from my hands, scours the floor with rather impressive skill, and rolls the bucket back to the corner. “Let’s go,” he says.

I shoot him a suspicious look. “Go where?”

“To my trailer. Where do you think?”

“Let’s talk here.”

“In the kitchen?”

“Yes.”

He sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Is that really what you want? Anyone can come by. Listen in.”

I stare at his tormented face. I want him to be tormented. I want him to feel exactly how I feel (in addition to guilty)—like he lost something he didn’t know he was going to miss quite so much.

“Please come to my trailer,” he says quietly. “I won’t touch you.”

I nod and remove my apron, tossing it in the laundry pile with the others. I trail after him out the door, closing it behind us. The night is dark and warm, and the stars are out in full force. But all too soon we’re standing awkwardly in Shane’s living room, squaring off from opposite ends of the coffee table.

He just stares at me, those dark eyes seeing too much. When I can’t take the silence anymore, I look away and cross my arms. “You wanted to talk,” I say, pleased that my voice doesn’t shake. “Talk.”

“Do you want a drink?”

“No.”

Shane sighs. “I’m sorry.”

I study a piece of laminate flooring that has a bump in it. I’m surprised this squeaked past Shane’s “detail-oriented” regime.

“Would you look at me?”

I want to stick out my chin and refuse, but worry that would make me look weak and childish. Eventually I raise my eyes.

“Kate, I’m sorry about what I said in the kitchen. It’s none of my business who you’ve…dated. I know you didn’t know your friends were coming. I shouldn’t have said any of that stuff.”

I blink and look away. This is the apology I wanted on Tuesday, pre-Cassidy Reyes. Now, who knows what I want. Will any apology cover the damage?

“But that’s not the worst part. You saw the worst part on that damn video, and I’m sorry you did. I’m sorry you saw it, and I’m sorry I did it. I’m really, really sorry. I meant what I said earlier: I didn’t fu—nothing else happened after the stuff on the tape. I went over there looking to blow off steam, drank too much, and one thing led to another. Next thing I know I’m sitting there realizing I don’t want to be doing what I’m doing. I left before it went too far.”

“Too far?”

Shane clears his throat. “Further, then.”

I force myself to shake my head. “You said from the beginning that you wanted things to be casual. I can’t blame you for anything. Like you said, I have my type, and apparently you have yours.”

“Shit.” Shane runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean that either, Kate. Maybe a month ago, before you showed up, I would’ve thought that was my type, but now…That’s not what I want.”

I blink away tears, but not before one slips out. I don’t bother wiping it away. He’s not falling for this unaffected act anyway. “Then why, Shane? Why run off to her when you knew I was more than willing?”

He starts to answer, but I interrupt. “That day in the cabin you asked if I wanted to be done, and
I said no
. Did you just want to hear me say I wanted more so you could be the first one out?”

“No. Jesus, no.” Like before, Shane steps toward me but stops himself.

“Then why? Why her?”

He stares at his feet. He looks humbled and tortured, and it’s not nearly as satisfying as I’d imagined. “Because I was jealous,” he admits in a very low voice.

“What?”

He struggles to meet my eyes. “I was jealous.”

“Of my gay agent and an old friend?”

“You left the dance with him!”

“What?”

“First you leave with them in that green dress—looking like some sort of…
fantasy
—and then you come back in the middle of the night and go to their cabin. Then you dance with him, and he takes your hand and leads you outside to do who knows what…”

It’s taking me a minute to follow along, and finally I realize he’s talking about when Kevin and I left the dance to talk to Stanley.

“Nothing happened!”

“I know that now.” Shane sinks onto the couch and rests his elbows on his knees, studying the floor. “The next morning I heard how he and Lana had…Well, anyway, I knew you didn’t—”