Marcus dropped the two cans of peaches he held as he attempted to stock the shelves. He’d been staring at the door where Melissa had disappeared only moments before, and Chuck’s unexpected question startled him. Clearing his throat, he bent over to pick up the dropped goods. “We, uh… talked.” “Did you fight?” “Not exactly.” Chuck was silent for a moment as he crossed his arms over his chest. “She’s hurting--hurting bad. I could see it in her eyes.” Marcus could too. Her father wasn’t the only one who could read her emotions. Melissa’s eyes gave her away every time. Marcus knew damn well why she had pain on her face this afternoon, and it didn’t have anything to do with their rigorous activities the night before. She’d wanted him to open up to her, to give her a piece of his heart, and he’d denied her. Yet she’d still welcomed him with open arms early that morning to make love to him before he’d escorted her back to the shop. Why had she done that? Most women he knew would have screamed and cried, throwing a tantrum and hitting his chest if he didn’t tell them what they wanted.
