Page 25 of Hell Bent

“Luckily,” I said, “I see no prospect of getting married again, and if I do, I promise you that I’ll be content with a wedding my lucky future husband and I can pay for ourselves. Just imagine how much money I’ll have saved in, oh, eight to ten years. Especially if it only has to cover a bouquet of flowers and the fee at the courthouse.”

“I’m going to assume you’re joking,” my mother said in her most dignified tone. “Pardon me if I don’t find it amusing at this moment.”

“No,” I said. “I imagine not. I really do love you, Mother. YouandDad. And I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

“Well,” she said with a sigh, “that’s what children do, apparently. Jacqueline Foster’s son is a heroin addict.”

“Perspective is always helpful,” I agreed.

My timer went off then, so I couldn’t mention that I’d met a famous and very wealthy pro football player today. Although it would have been amusing to hear the top of her head blowing off at the classlessness of my romantic taste, because I had a feeling that I wouldn’t have told her the guy was married. Or that I’d been wearing fluorescent yellow rain gear and a hard hat at the time.

I could be disturbingly juvenile on occasion. But then,you have to possess a keen sense of the ridiculous if you’ve been born an ersatz princess. There’s just no other way.

I didn’t tell her about Sebastian at all, because what could I say? “His face crinkles when he smiles, but he looks like a wolf around the eyes and jawline?” “He has great thighs?” “He invited me for a burger even though I looked like a lunatic”?

I hadn’t been attracted like this in years, he was a rich, good-looking, strong-willed guy, and I wasn’t even bouncing enough yet to be on the rebound. I was going to chalk it up to temporary insanity. And not text him. Definitely not.

Definitely.

11

THE ROMANCE COACH

Sebastian

Off the plane after a flight of many hours and onto the bus in Baltimore the next evening, with the familiar feeling of disorientation that flying long distances to a completely different climate always gave me. Finding a seat on the bus, and looking up as a long-legged figure loped down the aisle and sat down beside me.

“So,” Kristiansen said. “Did she text you?”

“Piss off,” I said.

He grinned. “That bad? Sorry, man. Have you checked, though?”

“Of course I’ve checked. I checked last night, and I checked at the airport back in Portland. That’s enough checking if you’re not a teenager.”

“Check again,” he said. “That girl liked you.”

“What was it about her clear ‘get-lost’ signals,” I said, “that convinced you?”

“My wife wasn’t all that excited about me, either,” he said, “once she knew who I was. Sure, she felt sorry for me, but shedidn’t exactly think I was the answer to her prayers. Thought I wasn’t a serious guy.”

“She feltsorryfor you?” I stared at him. “What part of your looks, talent, personality, and money made her saddest to contemplate?”

“See that?” he said. “See what you did there? Assumed, that’s what. Now,shegot me. All the way, every time. To be fair, therewerea few pitiful aspects to me then. Not anymore, of course. I’m all good now.”

“Uh-huh. Let me guess. You swept her off her feet.”

“I just exactly did not. She turned her back and left me flat. She didn’t like rich guys. Entitled guys. I had to work for it, man. That’s the answer, but I can’t work out how you do that. You could show up at the jobsite again, of course, but …”

“If I wanted to get arrested for stalking,” I said, “that would be an excellent idea. I can get women if I want to, you know. Maybe I just don’t want to right now.”

“Ha,” he said. “Check again.”

I sighed and pulled out my phone, then couldn’t help the jolt as I saw the bubble on the screen.

What happened to the dog?

And, seconds later, a new one.