He’s going to take back his invitation. I know it.
“Can I walk you to your car?” he asked.
“I walked to work tonight,” she answered as he fell into step beside her.
“Can I walk you home, then?”
She stopped in her tracks, feeling her face fall as she turned to look at him.
There was only one reason men ever offered to walk Missy home, and it was not the sort of offer they made to a “nice” girl.
All of those stupid hopeful feelings. All of that excitement. For nothing. Asking her out on a date was just to butter her up so she’d sleep with him. Of course.
Stupid, stupid, Missy!
She blinked against the sting of tears and resumed her walk.
“Oh. I’m, um, a little tired tonight. I’m not really up for—”
“Wait. Stop a second,” he said, taking her gloved hand in his and forcing her to stop walking. She looked up at him, willing the tears away. She’d learned long ago that tears, like wishes, were worthless.
His smile was unexpected, all the more so because his eyes were deep and warm. Smarmy smirks and suggestive grins? She knew them well. But Lucas’s smile was kind. Almost…tender.
“Hey…” he asked, “is everything okay?”
Missy gulped. “I…I’m just not up for company tonight…s-so I know you probably want to call off the date—”
“I don’t want to call off anything.”
“—because I’m not going to sleep with you tonight.”
“What?” His eyes widened. “I never asked you to.”
“You barely looked at me for two days! You didn’t—”
His hand gripped hers tightly as he pulled her a little closer. “Missy, if I’d looked at you, I wouldn’t have gotten any work done.”
“You mean…you’re not canceling? The date?”
“Canceling? No! And hey, I didn’t mean to send the wrong message.”
He seemed honest, but Missy didn’t know if she should believe him or not. Nobody ever said things like this to her unless they were actively trying to get in her pants. Even then, their voices didn’t ring with the truth that Lucas’s did. She searched his eyes, trying to figure him out.
Suddenly, he nodded as if he’d just figured something out and let go of her hand.
“You know what? Let me be really clear so we’re on the same page. All I want to do is walk you home. Nope. That’s a lie. Actually, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to hold your hand, too. And when we get to your house, I’m going to kiss your hand and say goodnight. Tomorrow at seven, I’ll pick you up for our date.” He nodded at her again. “And that’s all. That’s my whole agenda.”
“That’s all? You don’t want…” She bit her bottom lip, in disbelief or relief, and felt a tear slip out of her eye to roll slowly down her cheek.
He swiped it away with a gloved finger, his expression warm and tender.
“That’s all,” he whispered. “I promise.”
“Why are you so good to me?”
“I think you deserve someone to be good to you.”
You’re wrong, she thought, and most of this town would tell you so.
But when he offered her his hand, she couldn’t stop herself. She took it, slipping her gloved hand into his.
He walked her to her door, making polite conversation about the upcoming holidays until they arrived at her house. When they got there, he stopped on the sidewalk, glancing at the simple, two-bedroom cottage she shared with her mother.
“Do you have a Christmas tree? I tell you, Christmas was one of the things I missed the most while I was inside. I really missed it.”
Missy shrugged, not wanting to let go of his hand, not wanting to say goodnight yet, wishing she didn’t have to disappoint him with her answer. “We don’t really do Christmas.”
“You don’t do it? You don’t like Christmas?”
She loved Christmas, but after stepfather #3 had decreed: “No Christmas crap,” six years ago, there hadn’t been another. He’d gotten rid of the decorations and acted like December 25th was just another wintry day. Even when he finally left, Missy and her mother hadn’t really reinstated any celebration aside from attending Christmas Eve church services and exchanging a modest gift each. It was as though the joy had been taken out of the holiday and they didn’t have the will or spirit to get it back.
Missy swallowed uncomfortably, hating the lump in her throat, and looking down at her boots so he wouldn’t see the longing in her eyes.
Thankfully, he didn’t press her for an answer. He squeezed her hand, gently flipping it over so the underside of her wrist was facing up. He rolled down her glove until the blue veins were visible, stark against her white skin, the pulse beat blinking like a beacon. Lowering his head, he kissed her heartbeat before rolling the glove back up. Then, he gently released her hand, smiled at her, and walked away.
As she readied herself for their date on Monday night, Missy hummed a Christmas carol softly, feeling excited.
He’ll be here to pick me up in ten minutes.
She generally dressed provocatively for dates. Grateful to be asked at all, she was anxious to show her companion that she was up for a “good time.” But, not tonight. Tonight was going to be different. Lucas treated her like a nice girl, and while she couldn’t change her history, the least she could do was dress like what he wanted. What she wished to be.
Week before last, at the Christmas Stroll, Missy had caught sight of a girl from high school whom she’d always admired, Jenny Lindstrom, with that handsome visitor who’d been in town for a couple of days.
Jenny was all dressed up in black velvet pants, a cream blouse and a soft-looking cream sweater. The way the guy stared at Jenny, Missy understood she didn’t need a low-cut dress or tight jeans that showed every curve. Jenny looked beautiful—classy, like the lady she was—and he treated her special, Missy could tell.
Thinking of Jenny had given Missy the idea to drive up to the Target in Bozeman where she could put together an outfit a little bit like that for her date with Lucas. Nothing too short or too clingy. Something ladylike. Something classy.
Missy looked in the mirror now, smoothing her hands over her cream, silk-like pants that hung loosely over her filled-out, size fourteen figure. On top she wore a new, silky, black blouse that wasn’t cut too low, and over that, she wore a black cardigan sweater with tiny cream-colored dots and little pearl buttons. She’d splurged on low black heels, and on her way to the checkout she scooped up a string of pearls with matching pearl studs she’d found on a rack near the registers.
She didn’t put mousse or gel in her hair to make it bigger or more styled. She brushed it back from her face and put it in a simple ponytail on the nape of her neck that curled into a sweet ball, and she tied it with a simple black ribbon. Instead of her usual heavy makeup with bright red lipstick, she asked herself how Jenny would do hers, opting for some black mascara, subtle grey eyeliner and light pink lip gloss.
Every moment as she got ready, she thought about Lucas Flynn. He had to know she had a bad reputation. And yet, he’d treated her with respect, like he wanted to get to know her despite the way she’d lived her life so far. The way he looked at her made Missy wonder about second chances, about changing her ways, about finding someone who might like her for more than her body, who might even lov—