Joy Ride by Desiree Holt (reading a book TXT) 📕

day. She couldn’t look at melons and tomatoes when all she could see was the hurt in Marc’s eyes.

Way to go, Emma. You can kiss sexy boy goodbye.

No, wait. She wouldn’t be able to kiss him at all now.

Disgusted with herself, she shoved her grocery cart back into place at the front of the store and hurried out to her car. She’d lost any desire to prepare food, anyway. She drove home in a fog, cursing herself and wondering if she’d be able to scrape up the courage to go back to Aftershock and see if he’d give her another chance or just blow her off. But the club, just like Marc, was forbidden fruit that good girls should stay away from.

Her life was changing in a dramatic way. She wanted to embrace this change, wanted to be the person hidden inside her all this time. There was a freedom waiting for her and an exploration of her own sensuality if she could just come to terms with it. There was no way she could make any kind of decision until she figured out how to deal with it. She had a lot of thinking to do.

But then she turned onto her street and her stomach clenched. As if things weren’t bad enough, Andrew’s car was parked in front of her house and he was sitting on her steps. He didn’t look happy either.

Oh, God. Just what I don’t need right now.

Chapter Four

Emma pulled into her driveway, shut off the engine, and drew in a deep breath. As she got out of the car, Andrew rose from the steps, his forehead creased in a scowl.

He folded his arms and glared at her. “Where have you been?”

“What?” She started to answer him then clamped her mouth shut, irritated by his attitude. “Andrew, I can’t talk to you right now.”

“Now that’s where we disagree. You definitely need to explain what last night was all about.” He glanced at her front door. “I think we should take this inside, don’t you? We don’t need the neighbors listening in on our conversation.”

Emma wondered if she could vaporize into the air, but she had to talk to him and give him some kind of explanation. After all, she was the one who had an emotional fit and raced out of his house. Poor stuffy Andrew didn’t even know yet that they’d broken up. She certainly couldn’t tell him that she’d practically gone from his bed to that of a total stranger. Good girls didn’t do things like that.

You’ve made a real mess, Emma. A big stinking mess.

But she needed some time and space to process the upheaval in her life before she could have a conversation with Andrew.

“I wasn’t aware I had invited you in.” And wasn’t she just being rude on top of everything else?

His entire body tensed into one rigid mass of muscle. The frown on his forehead could have cut grooves into his skin and his mouth tightened into a straight line. At his sides his fingers curled tightly into his palms.

“I didn’t think I needed a special invitation. I never did before.”

“Things have changed. Listen, Andrew.” She sighed. He had every right to be angry, but please not now. “I know we need to talk but I can’t right this minute. Okay? Please? Just call me.” She started up the stairs to the porch.

“I would,” he snapped, “except you don’t seem to answer your phone. Where the hell were you last night?”

Emma glanced over her shoulder at him, spotted her neighbor across the street standing on her porch blatantly staring, and she sighed.

“Come in,” she told him, resigned to the confrontation.

She unlocked the door and left it open for Andrew to follow her. In the kitchen, she popped a K-Cup of hazelnut coffee into her Keurig machine, stuck a mug under the spout, and pressed the button.

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked, ingrained courtesy getting the best of her.

“Yes. I would.”

The hostility simmering in his voice reached out and blanketed her. She couldn’t blame him. This was not going to be easy no matter what she did. He had every right to be furious with her and any explanation she’d gave him would just confuse him. How could she tell him that the conservative good girl he was used to had an overnight epiphany and a new woman stood in her place? She accepted the fact that she and Andrew were a dead issue. Now to convince him….

To make matters worse, the new Emma was already wondering if she had another chance with Marc.

Suck it up, Emma. Get your head screwed on straight. You owe this man something and whether he understands or not you have to give him an explanation.

Pulling another mug from the cupboard, she filled it from the same K-cup, handed it to Andrew and leaned against the counter, sipping her own drink. She studied him, standing in front of her so stiffly in his trademark khakis and golf shirt, hair combed back from his forehead, and brown eyes dark with a level of anger that vibrated in the air. She swallowed a sigh.

Just yesterday she’d been more than ready to settle for the routine of a life with this man. And routine definitely described their situation. But that was before her friend blew into town and gave her a wakeup call on how much she was really missing out. Jacie, whose eyes sparkled with life and excitement, who spoke of her husband as if describing a hot lover whose bed she’d just left.

“He makes my life complete and my body sing.” Jacie had smiled as if she alone had a special secret and described her marriage, her five-year-old daughter, and her career with equal parts of excitement and satisfaction.

Emma’s job with a textbook publishing house had suddenly seemed embarrassingly dull. What she really wanted was to write books, not edit them. And definitely not dull textbooks. And the only song she heard with Andrew