Rye
RyeFlight 202 from Dulles Airport to Houston meant three mini-bottles of whisky and three hours to get my head together. The flight attendants in first class took turns checking on me.
"I"m fine," I kept telling them. "Got kicked in the gut, that"s all."
"Woman troubles?" the perky brunette cooed.
"What else?"
"Whoever she is, she"s a fool," the redhead assured me.
Calling my coolheaded, intelligent, wary, volcanically passionate Lauren a fool didn"t sit right. If she"d been a fool about anything, it was getting involved with me.
But what choice had I given her? I"d backed her into this corner. If not for me, she never would have been at the park that day. She would have been shopping or lunching or doing other fiancée-appropriate things.
I wondered if she"d seen Gonzo yet, and
