I wondered if Joe even knew.

Chapter Thirteen

I waited outside if for no other reason than I didn’t want to spend any more time in his car than necessary. There were too many painful reminders.

Muffy stuck with Joe, making me feel even worse. I’d adopted her during the time when Joe had entered my life. It had been obvious he loved her and she him, and they clearly missed each other. Why had I never considered that before today?

When Joe finished his business, he walked over to me, looking cautious. He knew he’d gone too far and I supposed he was wondering if I was going to make him pay for it. “We can go now.” He opened the passenger door. “Hop in, Muffy.”

She jumped into the backseat, obviously happy to be there, while I slid into the front seat, a familiar place that was no longer mine. Nostalgia washed over me, hot and bittersweet. Joe was my first love. Our breakup had nearly destroyed me. I suspected it had done the same to him. But nothing had changed for Joe. He was still a slave to his father. I was still a slave to his father’s false accusations. Joe was still on Hilary’s hook, whether he liked it or not.

I was a different person from the one who’d fallen in love with him.

I wasn’t the naïve young woman who’d never gone on a picnic or flown a kite. I’d drunk beer and danced in the rain. I’d kissed a man and done more with a man. It was on the night Joe and I met that I created a list of the twenty-eight things I wanted to do before the vision of my death came true—my wish list. And I’d done them all. Some on my own. Some with the man climbing into the car next to me now.

But it was time to make a new list—one that didn’t include him.

To Joe, I was still a damsel in distress who needed help becoming a woman capable of navigating the world. To Mason, I already was that woman.

Joe closed his car door and started the engine. “Is Mason at your farm?”

“Yes.”

“I need to talk to you, Rose, and your farm doesn’t seem like the best place if he’s there.”

I shook my head, refusing to look at him. “There’s nothing left to say.”

“Yes. There is. We can’t keep going on like this.”

“Then leave me alone.”

He pulled up to the stop sign and sighed, draping his arm over the steering wheel and staring out the windshield. “You know I can’t. Not if I’m a sheriff’s deputy and you keep finding trouble.”

He was right. We were going to keep butting heads. We needed to form some sort of truce.

“Fine.”

He turned left. Away from the farm.

My stomach tightened. “Where are we going, Joe?”

“Somewhere private to talk.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” He turned to me and lifted an eyebrow, shooting me a sarcastic leer. “Don’t you trust yourself?”

“No. I don’t trust you.”

Joe pulled the car to the side of the road and threw it into park. “Of all the things you’ve ever said to me, you’ve never hurt me as much as you did just now. What the hell do you think I’m going to do? When have I ever insinuated that I’d hurt a hair on your head?”

I started to cry.

“Rose. What do you think I’m going to do?” he asked, insistent. And angry.

“I don’t know.” I wiped my tears and looked out the window. “I just want to go home.”

He was quiet for several seconds before he finally said, “To him.”

I didn’t respond.

“Do you really think I’d hurt you?”

“Not intentionally. But you keep doing it anyway. Please. Just take me home.”

A car whizzed past us.

“No,” he said, his voice rising again. “We’ll do this on the side of the road if we have to, but we’re going to talk. How am I hurting you?”

My head swung toward him. “You won’t leave me alone!”

Exasperation spread over his face. “How can I leave you alone when I love you? We belong together, Rose. I’m trying to make you see that.”

“You can’t force me to be with you just because you think we belong together.” My anger was rising again. “You think you can dictate the way things should be and you expect me to just follow along. I’m a grown woman, Joe. I have a mind and I have opinions of my own.” I turned to him, leaning into the console. “Mason respects me. He values my opinion. He listens to what I have to say. He—”

Before I knew what he was doing, Joe grabbed the back of my head and pulled my mouth to his. His kiss wasn’t tender like the first time he’d kissed me on my front porch, months ago. That kiss had been full of wonder and playfulness. This was wild and desperate—his mouth claimed mine while his arm reached around my back and pinned my lower abdomen to the console, his upper chest pressed against mine.

I strained against him and tried to push him away, but my arms were caught at my sides. Fear bubbled up in my gut, not because I thought he would hurt me, but because I felt myself weakening.

My body was reacting to his.

He groaned when my lips parted in response to him, and I sank into his chest. He moved his hand up to my head and buried his hand in my hair, holding me in place as his mouth devoured mine. I kissed him back with abandon.

His other hand slid to my waist, slipping under the edge of my jacket to tug up my shirt.

His cold hand on my bare skin brought me back to my senses. He’d freed my arms, so I lifted my hands to his chest and pushed hard, breaking his hold. “No!”