by Holley Trent
"Funny."
"Yeah, you used to love that about me."
She harrumphed.
He steered the truck out the parking lot and toward Chowan County. "So, what kind of spell you think your mother is going to cast on me for turning her only child in to the police?"
He looked over in time to see one of her eyebrows dart up. "What?"
"You can't tell me she's not up to something with the way she's mumbling to herself all the time. Can't understand a damn thing she says when she gets goin'. I thought when I was with you before, and she didn't like me so good, she probably had a voodoo doll made in my image."
"Are you kidding me?"
"Nope."
"Carter, Momma may be cursing you…as in cursing you out. Actually, knowing Momma that's pretty likely, but just an FYI, Mom's Jewish. She's not from some mystical Central American jungle tribe. She's probably telling you off in Hebrew. Or German. Or Spanish. Or some mix of the three. I can never tell, either, when she gets going."
"Jewish?"
"Yep."
"Wait, are you Jewish?"
She straightened her ponytail using the mirror behind the sun shade. "Yes. Always have been. You have something against Jews?"
"No, I'll take you any way I can get you, Jewish or otherwise. I just never thought to ask before. I guess there's a lot I don't know about you, huh? We were too busy hiding and groping to deal with the tough questions. We need to have a serious getting-to-know-you session."
She felt her cheeks flush at his claiming of her. Was he serious? There she was, handcuffed to his truck door with him hauling her off to the police department, and he was admitting he wanted her? That he wanted to rekindle some fire that had died down ten years past?
"Carter, are you on crack?"
"Nope. My body is a temple and so forth."
She cleared her throat and felt sore things down below start to wake up. "Yes, I witnessed that."
"We'd make pretty babies."
"That's the same line you used back in high school. It was funny then. Not so funny now."
"Why?"
"Because you sound serious."
"So what if I am? We would."
"Oh yeah, your parents would just love that."
He scoffed. "Baby, I haven't talked to my folks in years."
That made her whip her head around. "Why not?"
He shrugged. "In the battle of nature versus nurture, nature won. My sister and I are now blanks on the Aiken family tree."
"Sorry."
"Don't be sorry, baby. Can't help who you're born to. You just deal. I'm sorry things didn't go right with us the first time around, but I think we could be even better now."
"Carter, I might be convicted of a Class G felony."
He laughed. "Better than Class D. I'll come visit you in jail. Maybe they'll allow me conjugal visits."
She covered her face with her left hand and groaned.
At the police department in Edenton, he reconfigured the handcuffs so her hands were bound together and wrapped his arm around her waist, walking her leisurely up the path.
"So, where do you live when you're not hiding in cornfields, Mar?"
"I had a little house in Norfolk. I'm renting it out for the time being since I'm unemployed and such."
"That sucks." He slowed their pace. "Maybe you can move in with me when this mess is all tidied up."
She looked at his face and found his expression to be utterly serious. "Thanks, but no. I think I'll probably stay with my parents until I can kick my renter out."
"Why not? Don't say it's because you don't know me. I may not know what your relationship with Jesus Christ is, but I know you love me, Marilyn."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I loved eighteen-year-old Carter. I don't know about this guy." It was lie, but she didn't care. It seemed kinder to cut him loose now as opposed to later.
"Fair enough. I never stopped loving you, Mar. Being in love with you. You know that?"
She stopped walking and turned to him. "You didn't?"
He shook his sleep-tousled head. "Never. No one holds a torch to you, never did. You may not be the same sweet little girl anymore, but that Marilyn who used to run and jump on me is still in there. I just know it."
She sighed and leaned her forehead against his chest. "Maybe."
He wrapped his arms around her and held the handcuffed woman in an awkward embrace. "No maybe. She's there. When we get through his, and we will, I want to spend the next year making up for the first one."
"And after that?"
"Well, if you can still walk, we'll see about making those babies. You have to promise you won't let them play in cornfields, though."
She groaned again. "If I get out of this mess unscathed, I will voluntarily handcuff myself to you for you to use as you please."
"Promise?"
"Absolutely."
They walked up the steps and into the station.
"How are you, Mr. Aiken?" the desk sergeant asked. He gave them a bare flick of his gaze before turning his attention back to the paperwork in front of him.
"Fine. I've got Marilyn Skinner here."
"What for?"
"What do you mean, what for? Her bond was revoked because she skipped her hearing."
The sergeant looked up, finally, and stared at them both over the top rim of his glasses. "Charges were dismissed yesterday. Guy confessed."
"Guy? What guy?" Marilyn shrieked.
"Your ex-boyfriend's brother, is who. It was an accident. He didn't realize he'd started the fire until much later, which makes a heap of sense, truth be told."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning he lit a joint, put it down, went outside to get the mail, and forgot about the joint. He just walked off chasing squirrels or something." The sergeant laughed.
Marilyn didn't think it was funny. Not even a little bit.
"Why didn't anyone tell me I didn't need to apprehend Ms. Skinner?" Carter asked. "I've had my phone on me non-stop. Someone could have called. They could have called her mother."
The sergeant shrugged. "Take it up with your boss."
Carter and Marilyn stared silently at each other for a moment, then she held her wrists up to him.
He removed the cuffs.
They walked out of the station toward his truck without speaking.
She climbed in.
He shut the door.
They were halfway back to Williamston to fetch her car when she said, "Carter, it's okay. You don't really have to--"
"Shush. I'm trying to figure out how to tell your parents we're back together without getting shot by your father."
"Daddy wouldn't shoot you."
"Oh no?"
"No. I'd worry more about Momma."
"You saying we should keep it a secret?" He looked over at her, his expression wary and full of Not this shit again.
She gave him a playful jab on his right arm. "No way. I'm saying stay away from the back door 'cause that's where she keeps the gun."
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Holley Trent is a Carolina girl gone West. Raised in rural coastal North Carolina, she has Southern sensibilities but her adventurous spirit drove her to Colorado for new experiences.
Holley writes sassy contemporary romances threaded with oodles of conversational humor, and fantasy/paranormal romances set in her home state.
Her protagonists regularly fall victim to her odd sense of humor and find themselves in improbable situations (with happily-every-after outcomes). Holley's cast of characters tends to swear, drink and do a fair amount of carousing, but they're generally well intentioned and obey all laws and ordinances. Usually.
She’s a member of Romance Writers of America as well as Colorado Romance Writers and CIM-RWA: the Cultural Interracial and Multicultural special interest RWA chapter.
For Holley’s complete backlist, including titles from Calliope Romance/Musa Publishing, Crimson Romance, and Rebel Ink Press, plea
se visit her website at http://www.holleytrent.com or her blog at http://www.holleytrent.com/blog.
Want to chat about Reinstated Bond or another Holley Trent title? Catch her online on Twitter where she tweets under the handle @holleytrent or fan her Facebook page.