“Doc Cory sent me over. Said you had some cleanup and painting that needed to be done. Said I should come right away.”
“Oh, no. I can’t let you do—”
“Said you’d say that too, and pardon the language, miss, but he told me to tell ya to shut up and let me do my job.” He smiled sweetly. She didn’t recognize the man, and that was likely why he didn’t seem to hate her. She tried to offer to help him, but when he started to sound annoyed after he told her no for the fourth time, she gave up and went inside. She took a cool shower, and when she was done and dressed in clean clothes, she called Michelle quickly to tell her not to bother coming over, and she fell asleep on the sofa.
She didn’t wake until midevening, and she only woke then because her phone was ringing. “Darren, thank you. You didn’t have to do that, but . . . I appreciate it.” She wandered outside with the cordless phone as she waited for him to respond.
“Is Ted gone?”
“Yeah.” She looked back up at the front of her house. Her windows were clean, the graffiti was gone, and the entire front of her house had been repainted—not that it was a big house by any means, but she was impressed. “Wow, it really looks good. Can I pay you back? Or can you take it out of my pay?”
“No. I don’t pay you nearly good enough to cover his cost. He’s going to come back and paint the rest of your house later this week, but I wanted to get the mess taken care of first.”
“You realize I don’t even own this house.”
“You realize your landlord probably doesn’t want his property vandalized. You can’t just paint the front side of a house. At least this way, you’ll get your security deposit back when you decide you hate me and want to run away.”
She didn’t have a clue what to say to that, and so she was silent for a moment. She wanted to talk to him. She wanted to offer to come to him, change things, change the awful way this day had ended up going; basically she wanted to be near him, but at the moment, she was feeling just a bit too protective of her heart to say any of that. Perhaps some of Michelle was rubbing off on her. Instead she thanked him again and told him goodnight.
Chapter Thirty-One
He didn’t see her for the next three days, and he hated it. He was anxious and uncomfortable all the time. He was also certain she was angry at him, and why the hell wouldn’t she be? He was a dick. He’d gotten remarkably good at being a dick, and it was exactly what he was being.
When he was feeling exceptionally self-destructive, he’d mentally put himself in her position, and he’d let himself imagine what he’d put her through over the past few weeks. He’d asked her to stay, then he’d let her think he’d fucked Veronica, then he’d asked her to come home with him, he’d eaten her pussy, and then refused to let her touch him. Why? Because he didn’t want her to touch him? No! He was dying to feel her touch, but he was terrified. It should just be fucking, but it was never just fucking with her. It was never just touching, kissing, sucking, fucking with her. It couldn’t be. And he didn’t know what that meant and wasn’t at all sure he was ready to find out, but rather than say that, he was a dick to her.
He practically ran away from her the morning after, and again, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to be with her. He was literally the king of confusing botched signals with her. One would have thought he’d been furious with her when he’d gone to her home after he couldn’t reach her. In truth, he was nearly in a panic. The second he’d listened to her message, he had visions of her being attacked because some lunatic was there waiting for her.
The three days apart weren’t helping matters, and he was ready to be done with it. She had no idea he was leaving work early the next day thanks to being owed a few hours from one of the other ER attendings, and he had no intention of telling her. She’d avoided him enough.
He was already thinking about seeing her that morning when he ran into the coffee shop to grab a coffee on the way to the hospital when he heard a very familiar voice.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite friend who hates my other friend but wants to bone her anyway and screw up her life because he’s a twisted, disturbed asshole.”
He rolled his eyes as he turned to see Michelle stepping into line behind him as he waited for his coffee. “Tell me how you really feel, Shell.”
She studied him with a smirk firmly planted on her face for a moment. “Okay. You need to end this thing with her before I have to scoop her lifeless, emotional soul off the highway after you’ve run it down with your Mack truck-sized anger issues.” The smirk was gone, and she was studying him quite seriously. He was caught off guard too, for a moment. End it? He wasn’t even sure there was anything to end, but he was sure as hell not going to end it—whatever it was.
“Sorry you feel that way.”
“I’m guessing that means you won’t be taking my good advice?”
“I’m smacking your good advice upside the head and telling it to butt the fuck out of my life.” He smiled as he said it, but her eyes narrowed.
“It’s her life too, and that means a hell of a lot to me. Try to remember you’re fucking about with a living, breathing human with a soul, will you? You’ll answer to me if you hurt her.” She said nothing else, and he grabbed his coffee, pecking her tauntingly on the cheek as he skirted around her. She was a feisty brat for sure, but he understood that protective nature well.
His half-day crawled by, and when he finally pulled up in front of his house, her bike was there, and he breathed a sigh of relief. When he approached the house, he could hear music and barking. He was intrigued. When he entered, the hip-hop got louder and so did the barking. When he finally made it into his living room, his heart nearly stopped. She was dancing with Macy. She was holding Macy’s front legs up as they both bounced and bopped to something that sounded very Beyoncé-ish. He stood there just watching. It was kind of heaven watching her this way. She looked happy, she looked young, and he knew the woman acting like a lunatic in his living room so well in that moment that he almost felt her happiness.
She looked up, shrieked, and dropped Macy’s paws. She ran to the stereo, turning it off quickly as Macy started racing around the room in an excited buzz. They both stood panting in front of him, and he forced the smile that was tugging at his lips to calm.
“Why are you here?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“Want to? You sure? You weren’t entirely sure what you wanted to do the other day with me. Seems you have a hard time making up your mind.” She was still panting.
It was hard to take her bitterness seriously when she was standing in short exercise shorts, the sleeves of her T-shirt shoved up over her shoulders, and her hair in a high ponytail. “Well, right now, I want you to take a run with me, then I want you to stay for dinner, then I want to play with you.”
“Play?”
“Stop asking questions and go get changed.”
She nodded, but just as she grabbed her running bag from under the entryway table in his foyer, she turned back. “So, are you going to be rude to me again after we . . . play?”
He walked to her calmly, leaning to her ear. “I said I’m playing, you’re coming, and if there’s any question what I mean by coming, I’m referring to that incredibly tight pussy of yours trembling while all those amazing little nerve endings in your clit explode in pleasure.” He pulled back, watching her cheeks blush her beautiful shade of pink. “I’m not intentionally being rude to you. I’m trying.” He turned. He didn’t want to give her defenses a chance to react. He dressed quickly, meeting her back at the front door. Macy bounced between them as they left.