Free The One That Got Away by Jamie Sobrato Page A

wrong.
    “I’m really sorry,” Marcus began. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward—”
    She held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t mention it. How about we just pretend it never happened?”
    He shrugged, then nodded. But his gaze searched hers for something else.
    Was he trying to decide if she meant what she said?
    “I was thinking,” he finally said. “You mentioned your house needs some work, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “I’m a little rusty, but as you might remember from my summer jobs, I know my way around a construction site pretty well.”
    “Oh,” she said, blinking in surprise at the idea.
    “How about I repay your generosity in letting us stay here with my carpentry services?”
    “I don’t know.” This was the last thing she’d expected him to throw at her. “You’ll need to be spending time with Izzy, getting her settled, getting to know her—”
    “Sure, but I’ll drive her crazy if I’m hovering around her constantly. She needs space, too.”
    Ginger gave the matter some thought. She couldn’t afford to hire a contractor anyway, so in truth, she was thrilled at the prospect of free labor.
    “Wow,” she finally said. “I have to admit, I love the idea.”
    He smiled. “Great. I’ll get started in the next day or so. We can talk about your priority list tomorrow and what needs to be done.”
    They said good-night, and Ginger went to her room, closed the door and flopped down on the bed, her body still buzzing with so much adrenaline from their kiss that she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to fall asleep.
    She buried her face in her pillow and let out one of those silent screams her therapist had taught her to use when she was frustrated and in a place where real screaming would be inappropriate. It didn’t help, though. She still wanted to scream out loud.
    Flipping onto on her back, she did an inventory of all her tingling body parts and decided there wasn’t any use denying it—she was in for a long, sleepless, lonely night.
    But Ginger was no stranger to insomnia. She’d suffered from it on and off since her parents’ deaths, and she got some of her best writing done in those long, sleepless nights. In a sick way, she almost looked forward to bouts of insomnia.
    She rose from the bed, grabbed the laptop computer she kept on her nightstand for just such occasions as this, and climbed back under the covers. As the screen started to glow, her mind began to settle into the quiet rhythm of composition. She’d learned years ago at writer’s workshops in Iowa that writing, for her, was a form of salvation. It wasn’t about the glory or egotism of publication. It wasn’t about the need to make her voice heard. It was about saving herself from her own demons.
    No, that made it sound more negative than it really was. More than anything, writing brought her joy. And a sense of peace that nothing else did. Lately, she’d been writing quiet little short stories about quiet characters making their way through quiet lives.
    She didn’t write so much for others as she did for herself. Which partly explained why Marcus was the famous author and she was happy teaching at the local community college.
    As Ginger opened up the document that held her latest work in progress, she found herself unable to concentrate. Instead, her thoughts kept returning to Marcus, to what he’d said about changing, wanting to settle down, and to that completely unexpected kiss. How was she to feel about any of it?
    Marcus had just survived a near-death experience, and clearly that colored his actions now. Was he serious about settling down, or was it just his fear of death propelling him into a frenzy of change that he’d later regret?
    She suspected the latter was true, and she would have to be vigilant against getting sucked into something they’d both later regret.
    But what about that kiss…
    What if he didn’t regret it? What if he wanted to see where it led? What if she did? What if the two people