A Home of Her Own. Brenda Novak

like a slap in the face. For all his indifference, she’d never seen him lose his temper before. But she’d made him angry. She’d screwed this up so badly. “I’m sorry. I did it wrong,” she said. “I didn’t know. I—Is it too late? I don’t mind if…if you want try again.”

      “You’re kidding, right?”

      Her emotions were so scrambled she wasn’t sure if she was kidding or not, but she realized it was too late to smooth over her blunder. Blinking against the tears stinging her eyes, she scrambled to get out of his bed.

      He buried his head under a pillow while she struggled to get free of the sheets. “Please tell me this wasn’t your first time,” he said, his voice muffled.

      She couldn’t answer. She had to get out. She’d ruined it. It was her fault, not his. She’d understood the rules when she came in here. She’d known from the beginning that she meant nothing to him. She’d just thought—she didn’t know what she’d thought. She’d just wanted to live the dream once. That was all.

      Finally free of the bedding, she leapt to the carpet, but he caught her arm before she could go anywhere. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

      “I…I didn’t think it would matter,” she said, then yanked away from him and ran to her own room where she put on several layers of clothes and curled into a tight ball beneath the covers, trying to make herself as small as possible. She was shaking so badly she didn’t think she’d ever stop, and she wanted to cry. But the tears that had seemed so close a moment before suddenly wouldn’t fall.