He folded his arms and leaned on his bike again. “Yeah, I guess so.” He nodded at the road and sighed. “Wanna ride?”
“No, but thanks anyway. I’ll grab a cab. See you.” She walked away, tightening her purse.
“Hey, Leah.”
She turned.
“Take care, right.”
“Yes, you too, Wyatt.”
****
Leah arrived back at the beach house feeling like her emotions had been laid out in strips and were frying on the hot sand.
So many harsh words and angry voices spun in her head.
She rushed upstairs and flicked on the shower. She needed to scrub off the scent of the Mamba who’d clutched her, and she needed to wash the smell of bike exhaust fumes from her hair.
What she couldn’t do was wash Carter from her heart. He was in there. It couldn’t be denied.
And losing him, that had confirmed the fact. It hurt so damn much, and now she knew it must have been love. It was the only way to explain the pain.
She held her face to the water and let the tears she’d been holding in spill out loud and free. Her face twisted. Her insides were empty. The gaping hole in her chest was black and swelling to the point it threatened to become who she was, in her very core.
Closing her eyes, she slammed her hands to the tiles. All she saw was Carter’s face.
Smiling. Angry. Studying her as if fascinated. Coming hard.
She opened her eyes and turned. Damn it. Was this how it would be forever? Carter Harris on her mind, in her heart, and under her skin?
She reached for her shower gel and began to scrub. She had to get him out from under there. She’d been stupid, crazy, to think they had a future. To ever believe she could move hundreds of miles south and start a new life with a one-percenter—a biker who earned his income from criminal activity.
Her father was right. She’d made a mistake in hooking up with Carter. Duncan in his chinos and with his fancy RV was what she should have stuck with.
Except just the thought sent bile into her gullet. She couldn’t imagine being with anyone except Carter.
Orgasms just wouldn’t be the same.
Seeing someone walk into a room wouldn’t be the same.
She rinsed off and stepped out of the shower. Wrapping a towel around herself, she walked into the bedroom. The white curtains fluttered in the breeze and beyond, the ocean caressed the beach.
Damn, she’d miss this place.
She pulled on panties then found a pair of white shorts and a red tank top. She needed a drink, but nothing alcoholic. Soon she’d pack up her clothes and hit the road. Mark this whole phase of her life as a bad experience.
Sitting on the deck with a cola, she pulled a comb through her hair. It always dried quickly in the sea breeze, and although it didn’t look as sleek as when she went into court, she thought the slightly salty, ruffled look suited her. She was almost a surfer babe.
The waves were good today. If Carter had been there, he might have suggested they take the board out. That would have been fun.
Except he wasn’t. Waving a Glock around in front of cops had gotten him banged up for the day.
“I care, too, you know.”
His words came back to her, as did the pained expression on his face when she’d left him in the cell. Brow a slash of frown lines. His swollen eye almost closed. His lips, usually so sensual and kissable, thin and tight.
Did he care? Did he really?