It takes a full fifteen miles before my hands stop shaking against the Buick’s steering wheel. I can’t believe how hard telling Ronan to take a hike was.

Not that I expected it to be easy.

The last leg of our journey was a non-stop flight from Chicago to San Antonio and I spent the entire time silently talking to myself. Making a list of the various reasons that we needed to end things and trying to compose a good speech.

Telling him I wasn’t interested had taken everything I’d had, but it was for the best. If there’s one thing I’ve learned the past few weeks, it’s that Ronan’s a great guy. It’s one of the few things I’m completely sure of. That, and the fact that he deserves someone much better than me.

As soon as he said he wanted to explore a relationship, I threw up every barrier I have. Whenever he tried to get even a little bit closer to me, I’d tense up, and do everything in my power to redirect his attention, hating myself the entire time I was doing so but unable to stop myself. After three and a half weeks of this, it was time I admitted the truth.

I needed to cut my losses and push Ronan away once and for all.

He’s a bright guy and a skilled pilot. He has the potential to do so much with his life. Even if I get lucky enough to get a better job at a less sleazy airline, I’m still going to be carrying around so much baggage that it’d drag both of us down.

Yep, cutting him loose is for the best.

I just wish I could forget the stunned and hurt look on his face when I drove away. It made me feel like the world’s most heartless bitch.

My Buick purrs as I angle the steering wheel, directing the big car off the highway and onto the pretty two-lane road that leads to my home. The big buildings and congestion of San Antonio fade away, replaced by the occasional ranch house and wide, seemingly endless fields of cotton that are just starting to come to a head. Every once in a while, I drive past a large pasture that’s full of chubby beef cattle. Cotton and cattle, two of Texas’s biggest crops.

Usually the pretty and familiar landmarks soothe me, providing a moment of peace for the short time that exists between the airport and my home, but not today. The sadness triggered by ripping away from Ronan refuses to abate. I can’t stop wondering what it would be like to go out on a real date with him, to talk about something other than flying, maybe do a little dancing, to have him drive me home and walk me to the front door before placing a toe-curling kiss on my lips.

Oops. Big mistake. I shouldn’t have let my imagination go as far as a kiss. It’s all my body needs to start revving up. For my entire adult life, I’ve always been fine with the occasional lay, but now that I’ve slept with Ronan and my body knows exactly how good an orgasm or two really is, it’s like I’m in a semi-constant state of arousal.

I’m blaming Ronan for it. I thought that his stupid, no sex until we get to know one another thing would help me flush the taste, scent, and feel of him from my senses, but it didn’t. Instead, it only made things worse. It was particularly bad the last couple of flights. I wanted him so badly I was tempted to strip off all my clothes and throw myself at him, not caring that such an action was both dangerous and illegal.

I drum my fingers against the steering wheel.

Maybe Ronan wasn’t the reason the sex had been so great. Maybe I’ve finally reached a point where my body’s sensitivities and hormone levels are perfectly attuned and that as a result sex with anyone would be fantastic. Maybe the only thing I need to do to take the edge off is head to the nearest bar and invite some guy to try out the back seat of my Buick.

The only problem with that plan is that the thought of having a guy’s hands on me that aren’t Ronan’s leaves me cold.

Why do I want him so badly?

I nearly fly past my house. The bright turquoise stripe on a white background catches my eye a split second before I speed past the driveway. Rubber screams against the asphalt, leaving two strips of black in my car’s wake. I jerk the wheel to the left, putting the car on two wheels as I slide into the driveway.

By the time I reach the small area that serves as a parking lot in front of the house trailer, I have the car under control. I shift it into park and let myself out of the car. A few chickens are pecking at the grass; one, a pretty Rhode Island Red, lifts her head and peers at me with her small bright eyes. For some reason, the sight of the chickens always calms me.

A screen door slams shut against its rickety frame. I glance at the large stoop that doubles as a front porch and lock eyes with my mother.

“It’s ‘bout time you showed up.” She tugs at the bottom of her worn Texas A & M sweatshirt and glares down at me from her perch. “I was starting to think you’d decided to cut ties with us.”

“I came home as soon as I could. Northwest had extra work for me.”

Deanna Kirby wrinkles her nose. “That’s what you always say, but I figure you’re just using that as an excuse so you’ll have more time for cattin’ ‘round.”

Heat floods my face. This isn’t the first time my mother has accused me of “cattin’ ‘round,” her words for chasing after guys and having sex with any that give me the time of day, but it is the first time when there’s been an iota of truth to the accusation.

My mother doesn’t miss a beat. Her eyes narrow and a broad, not nice, grin spreads across her face. “Oh ho! Looks like someone finally stepped down of her pedestal and spent some time among us mere mortals for a change.”

My shoulders sag. This is one of the reasons I don’t dare get involved with Ronan. Five minutes after meeting my mother, he’ll start wondering when I’m going to turn into her, and to be completely honest, he won’t be alone. The past few years, I’ve noticed I’ve become less tolerant and far more shrewish, which feels like the start of the slippery slope into becoming the same bitter, mean woman standing above me.

There’s no way in hell I’m going to tell her about Ronan. It’s bad enough his expression when I told him to get lost is branded in my mind. I won’t let her spoil the good memories I have of him.

“Mom, I’ve never said that I’m better than you.” Though there have been a few times when I’ve thought it.

She snorts. “No, but you constantly walk around this place, your nose stuck up in the air, talking about how you’re the only one who ever earns any money, how I could do better for your sister.”

Familiar bile burns in my gut as I mount the stairs and push my way past her into the house trailer I share with my mom and older sister. As much as I want to argue with her, to tell her she’s wrong, I don’t. We’ve been over this more times than I can count. Responding to the comments will only lead to a shouting match that won’t solve anything and leave me feeling useless and bitter.

She follows me into the kitchen. Crossing her arms over her wide chest, she props a shoulder against a wall and watches me search the cupboards for a glass. There isn’t one. In fact, there’s not a single clean dish in the cupboard. I glance at the sink. It’s so full of dirty dishes that they spill out onto the counter.

No one has probably washed them since I left four weeks ago.

I open the dishwasher. It’s already full of dirty dishes. I remove a few that look like they’ll prevent the others from getting clean and fill the small compartments with dish soap. Shutting the door, I hit the start switch.

With that chore done, I turn to face my mother.

“I’m sorry, Mom. The airline booked all sorts of extra flights and kept me flying a lot longer than planned.” Sometimes an explanation is enough to appease her.

She rolls her eyes. “That excuse is old and tired, just like me.”

“I know.” I roll my neck from side to side. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“You could have called.”

“I did. I’ve talked to Sally once a week while I was gone, just like I always do.” She opens her mouth to say something snide, but I rush to cut her off. “But I should call more. It’s inconsiderate that I don’t.”

“Hmph.” My mom storms across the small kitchen and opens the fridge door. She pulls out a beer. “Did you take care of the problem with your check?”

The bottom drops out of my stomach. “What problem?”

My mom pops the top and takes a generous swig. “It didn’t show up.”

I close my eyes. Mine is the only incoming source of income we have and, while it stretches enough to cover the bills, there’s never much left over. When something goes wrong with the direct deposit, we quickly go through my savings, which takes forever to replace. It doesn’t help that I have to wait a full pay period for Northwest to correct the problem, yet another reason I can’t wait for my contract to run out so I can start working for another airline.

“Which paycheck didn’t get deposited?” There should have been two. Please let it be the second one that didn’t make it to the bank. At least I hadn’t been counting on that one to pay any major bills.

“Neither of them.”

Shit! It’s my worst nightmare.

A glance at the clock shows that Northwest’s financial department is already closed.

“I’ll go to the airport tomorrow morning, find out what happened.” Please, let this be the one time they manage to take care of it quickly. I can’t afford to wait a full two weeks to correct the issue. “Why didn’t you let me know sooner?”

My mom shoots me a dirty look. “I did. Since you only call Sally and not me, I sent a text to your phone. You probably ignored it, just like you do everything else.”

I hadn’t ignored anything. The text hadn’t shown up, which isn’t surprising since my mom has never been able to figure out how to use her cell phone properly.

“It’s going to be okay.” I say the words more for myself than for her. They don’t really calm me down. “I’ll take care of the problem and then pay any bills that are outstanding, and everything will be okay.”

“Sure, it will.” My mom sounds even less convinced than I feel. I wonder how she’d react if she knew just how dire our financial situation really is. If those checks don’t make it into my account and soon, we’re going to be looking up at poor.

Needing some space and cheer, I move away from the dishwasher and head toward the far end of the trailer. “I’m going to go say hi to Sally.”