Holy hell. He did not just say that. “You’re saying I asked for it?” My tone was all disbelief.
“You wear a skirt that barely covers your ass and then wonder why some guy tries to grab it.” His voice was more of a rumbling growl as he scowled up at me.
What the...! He was no knight in shining armor! A demon, if anything.
“I never signed on to be a knight in shining armor.” He curled a lip with disdain.
“Good thing,” I sputtered angrily.
He continued. “I’m just telling it like it is. I wouldn’t have had to do anything if you’d been watching out for yourself. You have no idea...”
I heard the faint resentment in his statement and attributed it to him having to help me out last night, and I was embarrassed all over again. I could feel my cheeks blazing. “Then thanks for nothing. Next time just stay out of it! I can take care of myself.”
“Next time, don’t advertise.”
Them’s fighting words! It’s on! “You think a guy has the right to do as he pleases when he feels like it?”
“No. But if I walk in a dangerous neighborhood flashing wads of cash, I should expect to get robbed.”
“Are you kidding me? I should be able to walk around naked and not have to worry about any guy grabbing me!” My anger was bubbling.
“Yeah.” He looked me over with a mocking expression. “Good luck with that. Let me have an invite when that little event’s about to take place.”
“Classic! Absolutely classic! Because I’m wearing something that gives a guy a boner, I’m an evil bitch who deserves what she gets?”
“I’m saying you’re naive, and it’s going to get you hurt.”
“Oh, that’s better! Thanks for that clarification. I’m just too stupid to know how to take care of myself! I’ll remember that from now on!”
“Dammit, that’s not what I said and not what I meant.” He stood suddenly, the chair scraping back on the cement in a single powerful motion. He towered over me, clearly agitated, but I was no longer going to listen. I didn’t have it in me to do this, whatever this was.
Screw you, pal!
“Whatever. I’m out of here.” At this point, it was just all too much. At most any other time, I could have coped better, but here was Ryder thinking so poorly of me while I’d been all turned on by him, which left me with a painful case of humiliation. On top of my car being broken into (which was a horrible invasion of my private self) when I couldn’t afford to fix it, there was Cynthia being all weird with me and leaving indefinitely, and I could feel the crumbling begin. My world as I knew it was changing radically (something I don’t handle well), and I needed to get home so I could break down alone in the privacy of my shower.
“Now hold on...”
“For your information—” I spun back around, eyes blazing, though I hated that I could feel my throat clogging with emotion, “—my skirt more than covered my ass, and you’re as much of an asshole as that guy last night, if you think I somehow invited his attention.”
Jerk! I spun around to beat a retreat before I fully broke down. Normally, I avoided situations that could make me feel small and stupid, so why had I invited this? Coming through the gate, I knew I should have gone straight up. Why had I ignored my good sense? As it was, I could feel the hot tears spilling over onto my cheeks. I just didn’t need this today.
He grabbed my arm before I made it three steps.
“Leave me alone.” I tried to jerk free, keeping my head down so he wouldn’t see my face, because I was already horribly embarrassed that he thought I dressed cheaply, which to my mind equals trailer trash (one of my sensitive buttons). I’ve worked so hard to drag myself up from those painful roots to remake myself, knowing I came from what most would term white trash. Added to that, now I was being all stupid and girly with tears.
His grip was like a steel shackle. I couldn’t break free.
“Hold on,” he commanded roughly.
“I don’t want you touching me—”
“Just wait a damn minute. You’re bleeding.”
“Bleeding?” That got my attention, and I peered over my shoulder to see what he was referring to.
Ryder knelt down to where my spandex shorts ended, and sure enough, there were a number of small pieces of glass embedded in the back of my thigh. And now that I could see them and know they were there, they started to sting.
“Ow.” I hissed as he pulled one out. Bright droplets pooled and dripped down my leg at the spot where the small glass piece had been sticking in.
“You have a first-aid kit?”
“I think so. Cynthia, my roommate, does at least.”
“I’ll help you clean up.” His voice and touch were suddenly gentle, and that was somehow making things worse. I had been ready to start hating him, and now he was going to be all nice to me? No way. I was done. I needed desperately to be alone so I could cry and truly have a good pity party.
“Thanks, but I’ll handle it.” I pulled away quickly and made for the stairs, trying to wipe the tears from my face. Again, I didn’t get far.
“Don’t be a baby.” His gruff voice in my ear gave me shivers. I was suddenly airborne as he lifted me in his strong arms, gym bag and all, like I didn’t weigh much.
“I don’t need you to carry me!” I struggled in his grasp, trying to stretch my legs down.
“You’re going to hurt your leg.”
“Not if I walk.”
“I’m going to help you,” he said sternly.
“You don’t even like me! Why are you trying to help me? I don’t get you!” And the tears continued to trail down my cheeks, so I did my best to hide my face over his shoulder.
He didn’t respond, and I quickly grabbed on to his thick shoulder muscles as he jogged up the stairs to the second floor. I absolutely refused to acknowledge that I enjoyed feeling feminine and fragile in his arms. Refused! And I absolutely remembered that he’d just been mean to me! No, really, I did. But I still didn’t know how to resolve the situation I found myself in.
The door was locked, and he had to put me down so I could fish out my keys. Of course, they were way at the bottom of my bag, but it gave me a moment to breathe and figure out how I wanted to handle this, even with his large, hulking form waiting right in front of me.
Let him in or send him away. What was the best thing to do?
I located my keys and looked up into his jade eyes, ready to politely dismiss him, and saw they were frowning down at me with a hint of self-reproach, like he was doing something he didn’t agree with. If I could read into his expression a bit, he even seemed somewhat unsure, like he didn’t quite know what to do with me.
“Taylor,” he started, but he paused, disarming me with a gentle swipe of a tear from my face, and glared at the floor a moment. His face set in hard lines, he looked at me briefly, and in that moment I could see his expression seemed tortured. There was an internal struggle going on, like he was debating what he was going to say. “I don’t think you’re inviting sexual harassment, and I didn’t think you were asking for anything to happen to you...any more than my sister was.”
“Oh.” The soft exclamation deflated my upset.
I saw from his closed-off expression that that was all he planned to say, leaving me to wonder with horror about what had happened to his sister. Had men sexually abused her? Was she okay? It had to have been bad, if he was unwilling to talk about it. Was this his way of apologizing or trying to make peace? If something terrible had happened to his sister in a sexual way, I could understand his having strong feelings about protecting a female from unwelcome sexual attention.