A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(51)
Author: Erin McCarthy

Except the thought of that made him unaccountably sad.

“You know what I mean.” Shelby sat up and he moved to help her. She let him touch her, hold her hand, her body soft and pliant, his. She leaned toward him, allowed him ownership. But her words said the opposite. “Last night was it, Boston. I can’t have a casual affair. I thought I could, and I certainly don’t regret last night, but I can’t do it again. We can’t . . . I’m really sorry.”

So was he. But she was being honest, like he’d been honest the night before about going back to Chicago. He should have had the sense to know Shelby wouldn’t be comfortable with that kind of temporary arrangement.

He should have had the sense to stay the hell away from her in the first place.

He should have quit Samson before agreeing to come to this little dot of nothing.

Because now when he left, he was going to leave a golf-ball-size piece of his heart in Cuttersville.

He stroked her hand. “I’m sorry too.” More than she could ever understand.

Her gaze locked with his for a brief second, then skittered away.

No one was at the White House except Amanda and Brady when he returned from dropping Shelby off at her grandmother’s.

“Where’s the tour?” he asked as he walked up onto the porch.

Amanda was sitting sideways on the swing, sundress tucked around her legs stretched out in front of her. A whole hell of a lot of thigh was showing, and her efforts at modesty had only accentuated her hips and waist, the soft orange fabric clinging to her body. It didn’t take a genius to figure out exactly why Brady was hanging around.

Brady was sprawled across the floor, and his grin indicated to Boston the view from below was even better.

Amanda blew out a stream of smoke from an almost-gone cigarette. “They left, Thank God. Those people are nuts. They went through every inch of your house, and some even had tape recorders.”

“Don’t worry. They’ll be back tomorrow.” Brady ground out his own cigarette on the bottom of his shoe. “Is Shel okay?”

Boston figured the hell with his suit and dropped to the porch floor next to Brady, resting his arms on his knees. “Yeah, she’s okay. They stitched her up.”

He couldn’t prevent a hearty sigh from escaping. He wanted to be with Shelby, taking care of her, teasing her to laugh. Instead he got blue hair Brady and orange ass Amanda to share his evening with.

“Well, I guess I’ll shove off,” Brady said. “I just didn’t want to leave Amanda here alone.”

“Thanks, man.” Boston let Brady knock their fisted knuckles together before he stood up.

“Sure, Mac. Catch you later, Amanda.” Brady waved and vaulted down off the porch.

Amanda exerted herself to wave, then stared at Brady’s back as he headed down the street into the dusky night. “You know, it’s weird to me that a fifteen-year-old would even think to give a shit about a woman he doesn’t know being left by herself. Howie is like that too, and Danny Tucker. It’s like a freaky sort of code of honor with the men here.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” And Boston was wondering if he even came close to having it. He liked to think he did, but he’d been raised by selfish people and taught to fend for himself.

Maybe at the root of Shelby’s dumping him was that she didn’t think he had enough integrity for her.

That was a depressing thought.

“It’s a good thing,” Amanda said thoughtfully. “Though I’m not really sure why.”

She started to flick her cigarette over the porch railing, then caught herself. Giving him a shrug, she dropped it into her empty Diet Coke can on the porch floor.

They sat there in silence, something he never would have expected of Amanda. But she just kicked her foot out so the swing rocked back and forth, and stared over into the copse of trees on the right of the house.

Boston drummed his thumbs on his knees, listening to the crickets and wishing something, anything was different. He’d experienced disappointment and frustrations in his life, but he had never been quite this restless, anxious, unwilling to give up. It seemed like if he thought long and hard enough, he should be able to present a solution to their problems that would address all of Shelby’s concerns.

He snorted out loud. That sounded like he was going to sit down and give her a PowerPoint presentation about why she should continue to sleep with him.

“You know, Boston, I’m sorry you got sent here because of my father’s hysteria.”

“It’s okay.” If he hadn’t come, he’d have never met Shelby. He’d have never appreciated that there were people who didn’t give a damn about what he did for a living, or where he lived, or his net worth. He’d have never seen that there was something to be said for living in vinyl happiness on Turkey Trail.

“We’d have never been able to date each other anyway,” Amanda added.

Boston looked over at her, amused. He could think of a half-dozen or so reasons why he couldn’t have dated her, but he wanted to hear hers. “Why not?”

“Because the truth is, we’re both too needy.”

“What?” No, that was most definitely not on his list. “I’m not needy.”

She gave him a patronizing smile, but it wasn’t unkind. “Are too. You and me, we both grew up with workaholic parents, right?”

He couldn’t deny that. He nodded.

“And while we’ve taken different approaches to our own lives, deep down we both just really want someone to love us. To give us that total all-consuming unconditional love.”

Isn’t that what everyone wanted? Of course he wanted someone to love him.

“The problem is, we want it on our terms. You want Shelby to come back to Chicago with you, don’t you?”

“Yes. What’s wrong with that?” Boston forced his hands to relax. He had fisted them listening to Amanda.

Amanda stretched her left leg to the floor, and her dress hiked up to the danger zone. She didn’t bother to adjust it, just turned to him with a lazy sympathetic look. “But you wouldn’t do the same for her.”

Move to Cuttersville permanently? The very thought made a chill run up his spine. “It would be career suicide.”

“I’m not asking you why, I’m just saying you wouldn’t.”

“So you think I’m selfish?” He whacked a mosquito that was getting too friendly with his forearm. He put more force into it than was necessary, annoyed at Amanda’s probings of his psyche.