Free Mine 'Til Monday by Ruby Laska Page A

Mud’s lids lowered a bit; he was no longer looking at her but into the clouds of steam. Suddenly his face looked weary. The lines that bracketed the corners of his mouth, lines earned with a million hearty laughs, now etched some other emotion on his face. Disillusionment, perhaps. Or longing.
    “And my mother, well, I don’t know that she had any idea what the word family meant. She had me when Dad was off in Vietnam, and when he got back, she handed me back like an overdue book. There was a new guy in her life, see, and he didn’t have any interest in raising some other guy’s baby.”
    “Oh, Mud.” The words escaped, barely more than a whisper, full of the ache that Dorothy suddenly felt for him. She had never known what happened to Mud’s mother. It wasn’t ever discussed, and with a child’s intuition Dorothy had come to understand early on that the topic was taboo.
    “Can’t say as I blame him,” Mud said, his voice hardening. “He was young, I’m sure, like my mother. She just wanted a second chance. Well, she got it. And Dad got stuck with me. It’s all for the best, though. It never would have worked out. If my mother hadn’t walked out on Dad, I’m sure he would have walked out on her.”
    The cynicism in Mud’s voice cut to Dorothy’s heart. Somehow she knew it was covering up hurts, deep hurts suffered by a little boy and carried into adulthood as secrets he’d never allow anyone to touch.
    And yet he was telling her. Why?
    They’d made love, the answer came to her. They’d held each other, shared the greatest of intimacy. The irritation she’d harbored melted away as she considered Mud’s secrets.
    “Just because your parents did a poor job with their relationship, doesn’t mean you have to repeat their mistakes,” Dorothy offered quietly.
    “Hah.” Mud laughed mirthlessly. “Nice try, Dot. You have a lot of faith in me. But I’m afraid any chance I had for being a good guy went up in smoke somewhere along the line. After I met the tenth one of Dad’s new ‘friends’ at breakfast, wearing one of his robes and last night’s makeup under her eyes. Or the twentieth, or the fiftieth. That’s love, isn’t it? It’s what qualified for love at the Taylor place, anyway. See, I learned that lesson well. I’m not a nice guy. Haven’t you heard?”
    At last he looked her full on again, his eyes blazing defiantly.
    “You’ve had a lot of relationships,” Dorothy said quietly. “You’ve made mistakes.”
    “Hell yes, I’ve made mistakes, but not like you think. I don’t hurt anyone. I learned that from Dad: which women to pick. You look for the ones with a party in their eyes. Make it clear at the outset that you’re a free agent; make sure she feels the same way. Then you treat ‘em well, drive ‘em home in the morning. Nice and clean, and if you see her at a bar or something later, there’s no hard feelings.”
    No hard feelings. That was exactly the conclusion the two of them had reached, wasn’t it? At least, that’s what Dorothy had tried to tell him during the ill-fated phone call. So why did it hurt so much when he voiced the same sentiment back to her?
    Because...because she couldn’t bear to be just another in a string of his conquests. Because she was certain that he hadn’t read a party in her eyes, that night in the tiny bathroom, when he’d closed his lips on hers.
    If she had to guess, she supposed he’d read everything there as her lids slowly closed on the deep passion of the kiss. That she wanted him, yes.
    But also that she loved him. That he held her heart in his hands. And still he’d taken her, even with that knowledge.
    Which made him the coldest, most heartless man she’d ever known.
    Or...was there some other possibility? Had he felt something too, some glint of emotion that made him reach for her, hungry for more than just the taste of her skin?
    The possibility refused to go away, even as she tried to reject it. After all, he’d just told