Clay’s ride home in the cab was an exercise in trying to ignore all his aches and pains. As soon as he was in the loft with the door locked and bolted and the security system armed, he headed into the bedroom where he stripped off the clothes he’d been wearing. He debated trashing them, as they might remind him of everything that had happened. Deciding that was foolish, he dumped them in the hamper in the bathroom then took a shower. As the hot water soothed him, his mind went from what had happened to what Quint had said.
Does he really mean it? Does he really want me in his life? Do I want him in mine? Am I willing to take a chance again? So far I’ve been batting zero for two in my choice of men. If I blow this one, it’ll be strike three and out.
But if I let him walk away…If I go back
