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So she was a chicken and was going to run away. So what? She told herself Cade was a nice guy. That he’d understand why she needed to get away. Why she needed to get away so fast that she’d abandon him in a petting session and leave behind bra and panties. She frantically hammered at the button on the elevator, glancing back at the hotel door. Come on, come on.
It dinged an endless moment later just as she heard her name shouted. “Kylie?”
Fuck. The doors opened and an elderly couple stood there, blinking at her. She must look like a sight, breasts jiggling from a lack of a bra, shirt stained, hair a bedhead nest. Cheeks burning, she quickly punched the Door Close button over and over again.
As they began to slide shut, Cade’s door opened and he sprinted out into the hall, holding an unbuttoned pair of slacks at his waist. Her eyes met his as the doors closed, and she mouthed a quick Sorry.
But they didn’t close fast enough for her not to see the flare of anger in his eyes.
Then, it was shut and the elevator was heading down. She punched the lobby button and took a deep, shuddering breath, determined not to cry.
Cade would eventually figure out this was better for both of them. He really would. Right now he was just dazzled by easy sex. He’d come to his senses and then they could talk sensibly about an annulment and no one would be the wiser.
Once the elevator hit the lobby, Kylie sprinted for the doors. She was terrified at the thought of seeing a half-dressed Cade coming down the stairs and got into the first cab she saw out front. “Drive,” she bellowed. “Please, just drive.”
Click went the meter, and then she’d escaped. She was home free. With a sigh, Kylie looked in the rearview window, but there was no Cade waiting on the sidewalk, watching her leave. That was good, she told herself. She gave the driver the address to her hotel and tried to fix her appearance with a comb and a bit of makeup during the ride back.
Then she was at her hotel. She paid the driver, headed in, and went up to her floor. She kept her head ducked, avoiding eye contact in case she saw someone she knew.
She’d almost made it inside and was at the door to her room, fumbling for her key in her oversized purse when the door next to hers opened. Ginger stepped out, wheeling her small carry-on suitcase behind her.
They stared at each other for a moment, and then Ginger slowly shook her head. “Walk of shame, Kylie?”
“Of course not,” Kylie lied, hoping that her lip gloss covered her swollen mouth and her hair would hide the worst of the hickeys.
“Then where’s your bra?”
Kylie had no immediate response for that. She remained silent, and Ginger shook her head. “You are playing with fire, girl. Your ass is going to get canned if you’re not careful.”
“I’ll be careful,” Kylie said.
But Ginger just snorted, clearly not believing Kylie’s protest, and wheeled her suitcase down the hall.
—
Just when Kylie couldn’t get any lower, her phone rang that afternoon. She winced at the caller ID, but answered it anyhow. “Hi, Nana.”
“Kylie Daniels,” the old woman’s shaky voice sounded pissy, even over the line. “Where are you?”
Her head ached and she rubbed her temples. “Busy.”
“Don’t you sass me, young woman. Do you know where I am right now?”
Uh-oh. “The nursing home?” Please? She desperately hoped her grandmother hadn’t escaped again.
“That’s right! I hate this place. I told you that already. But you keep shoving me here because you’re mad at me. Isn’t that right?”
Old, familiar pangs of hurt rippled through Kylie. “I don’t have you there because I’m angry, Nana. You’re there because they can give you the best care possible. You need someone to look after you 24/7.”
“Lies. You come get me right now.”
“I can’t, Nana. I’m on tour right now.”
“Touring? Why?”
Her grandmother always forgot what Kylie did for a living. “I do makeup for singers on tour, Nana. Remember? It pays the bills.”
“Don’t you remind me about paying bills, young woman. I’ve worked two jobs for the past ten years to keep you fed. And are you grateful? No! You just keep eating. I swear you’re fatter than a little pig. It’s a wonder I can keep a roof over our heads. Your grandfather would roll over in his grave if he knew what a burden you were.” The elderly woman’s voice shook. “Don’t you try and lecture me about responsibility. I know all about it.”