Free Just One Night by Chloe Cole

her breasts—modest for whom, she didn’t know—and stood. Briefly, she considered calling his name, but with a sinking heart she knew he wouldn’t respond. Martha wouldn’t be scratching at her door if Tomas was anywhere in the house.
    What possible reason could he have to clear out before morning? There was only one she could think of—regret.
    She sucked in a breath and tried to talk herself down. Maybe he’d gone to get them breakfast and wanted to be back before she woke.
    As much as she wanted to believe that, the butterflies in her stomach refused to cease their flapping. She threw on her ruined shirt and wrapped it around herself like a robe before opening the door. “Hey, Martha, sweetpea. You wanna go outside?”
    Martha didn’t respond with even her usual halfhearted imitation of enthusiasm, which meant Tomas had taken her out before he’d left. The dog had probably just wanted to get back into bed with her.
    At least someone did.
    She turned on the hall light and peered into the living room to make sure. Empty. She went into the kitchen and saw a folded note sitting on the black granite countertop. Her stomach clenched as she grabbed it. She held it in her hands for a long moment, pressing it between her fingers as if she could absorb the contents by touch. She clicked on the pendant light that hung over the kitchen table and sat. Her hands trembled as she opened the sheet.
     
    Took Martha for a walk and it was perfect weather for a cruise. Decided to head down to the beach house for the day. May or may not be back tonight so don’t wait up.
    Tomas
     
    It might as well have been addressed “Dear John,” because it was as clear a kiss-off as any she’d ever seen. The note fluttered to the floor from her limp hand. Martha snuffled it curiously then shuffled off.
    She shouldn’t have been surprised. It may have been the most amazing experience of her life, but for all she knew, that was just another Saturday night for Tomas.
    Her throat constricted, and she tried to quell the brewing nausea. She would not cry. She’d sworn from the start that one night would be enough if that was all he had to give. That didn’t mean she could go on living side by side with the man she’d loved since the day he’d rolled up on his dirt bike and double-dog dared her to get on the back.
    She stood on legs still shaky from their night together and went to pack her things.

Chapter Eight
     
    Tomas sat at Crabby Bill’s, staring down at the worn paper menu while he nursed a beer. It was his second time there that day. He’d stopped in for lunch and scarfed down a mound of clam fritters. They were his favorite, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember tasting them. Even the beer tasted like piss. It should have been refreshing after he’d spent the better part of the day at the beach cottage, opening it for the season. The hard, sweaty work of climbing up and down ladders, changing storm windows for screens and cleaning gutters should have exhausted him. Apparently that exhaustion didn’t spread to his brain. His thoughts whipped like the ocean winds, constant and violent, heralding an upcoming storm.
    He took another gulp of his beer. Mike hated beer. She said it was one of those things people must be pretending to enjoy, like sushi or golf.
    Mike.
    Damn it, he should have said no . They could have gotten past it. Hell, they had gotten past it before. She’d been embarrassed for a few weeks, but they’d muddled through. Now, there was just no way. He’d been with her, and he would never be the same. The fragile self-discipline he’d managed to cling to all these years was now thoroughly shattered. All he wanted was a chance to show her that he could love her right. He’d never even really tried. Maybe—
    He shoved the thought away impatiently. She’d gotten what she wanted. Taken a walk on the wild side. Gone slumming. If he truly loved her—and damn him, he did—he needed to walk away with his