Hidden Scars
Page 23
His mouth twisted in a half-smile. “Would you believe me if I told you that’s not why I’m here?”
A breeze drifted through the open door and brought goosebumps to life. August in Portland was not the same thing as August in Los Angeles. The heat of the day usually broke at night, and standing in the open doorway in a thin tank and sleep shorts didn’t exactly make for warmth. She stepped aside. “Come in.”
She led the way to the kitchen and hit the overhead light switch, pulling open the freezer for the vodka. She held up the bottle. “Drink?”
“Sure.” He dragged out a chair and slumped into it, and she snuck a glance. Still as stupidly handsome as ever. She liked the scruff. The dark hair shadowing his golden brown skin would be rough under her fingertips.
Swallowing hard, she busied herself with glasses. So easy, like the past six months hadn’t happened. She wasn’t going to get sucked into his vortex again. Once was enough.
Vodka burned her throat as she took a healthy swallow before setting his glass in front of him. She retreated to the counter, letting the edge of it bite into her back rather than join him at the table. “I’m sorry about Eric.” The guy couldn’t catch a break this year. First one of his closest friends dies in a freak stage dive accident, then his brother. What was next? God would smite him with a lightning strike?
Shane spun the glass around, the liquid slopping against the sides. “Thanks. I guess. I never know what to say to that sort of shit.” His green eyes were dull with grief. “He made his choice. We all have to live with the consequences.” He lifted the glass and drank down the contents in one long gulp.
She fought off a yawn. “What’s the rest of the band doing?”
He shrugged. “Split out. Rem’s home in Louisiana with his girl. Not sure where Thad took off to, but Max managed to get a hold of him, and apparently he’s fine. Shit!” He shifted in his seat and fished his phone out of his pocket. “Max has my car.”
She smirked. “You let someone else drive your car?” She’d seen plenty of pictures of the car, but never had the pleasure of riding in it.
Shane didn’t answer, holding the phone to his ear and frowning while he waited for Max to pick up. “Max. I’m here. No tail to the freeway, so whatever you did worked.” A pause, while he listened to his friend on the other end. “You fuckin’ kidding me?” He groaned and hung up without saying goodbye, tossing the phone on the table. It rattled across the surface, and she swiped it before he could protest. She thumbed open the text message and stared at the attached photo.
It was her turn to frown. “Is that a hooker?”
Shane nodded. “His grand plan for a distraction. Take my car, make the paps think I was picking up a hooker. Guy could give two shits if his name and face get splashed all over for a stunt like that.”
She pursed her lips. “Sounds like the distraction worked.”
“It did,” he admitted. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”
Her heart skipped. “The thought had crossed my mind.” And how he’d found her. She certainly hadn’t shared the news she was moving with him.
“I need a place to stay for a while.”
Her brows shot up. “Oh? Something wrong with your house?”
“Other than it’s surrounded?” He lifted his head and met her gaze. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
There were about a thousand and one other places he could have gone. “Okay?”
He muttered something under his breath. “I’m not trying to get in your pants this time. I need to get away from all the bullshit in L.A. Seems like everyone I know is in the industry, and I need a friend who’s not.”
Unease snuck in. “We had sex. A lot of it. That’s all it was.” Her voice shook. They were not friends. They’d never been friends. She was a fool who’d let him come and go as he wanted because she wasn’t stupid enough to try and tie him down and ask for more.
“Bullshit.” A single word, laced with a vehemence that stunned her. “You were never just a fuck to me, Krista. You said you were done, I respect that. I’m not here to change your mind. I’m here because I was going out of my mind down there. I’m here because I’m a dick and I’m taking advantage of your generosity. I thought of you as a friend. You had my back when I needed you, and I’m asking again.”
He got up from the table and stepped up to the counter, his body inches from hers. “Please,” he said quietly. “Let me stay with you for a while. A few days. Longer, if you’ll let me, but a few days will help. I’ll stay out of your way. Just…Christ, I don’t know what else to do.” He lifted a hand, moved to cup her jaw, and dropped it, clenching it into a fist. “Please,” he repeated.
She was so very, very screwed.
Acknowledgements
I wrote the first draft of this story, oh, three years ago? I think it was three years ago. And I had Liv Rancourt and Shannon O’Brien cheering me on the entire time. Thank you, ladies, for you thoughts and notes and help turning this book into something readable.
Big thanks to Krissy Daniels for taking the time to read one of the early drafts and offer feedback.
To my editors, Rhonda Helms and Amanda Faris, you rock. Sara and Taylor’s story wouldn’t have turned out nearly as well without you.
And as always, thank you to the most amazing partner in the world, Aaron, for giving me time to work on this book when I could have been pulling weeds or something instead. I love you!
About the Author
When she’s not plotting ways to sneak her latest shoe purchase past her partner, Amanda writes sexy, snarky romance and urban fantasy. She likes her heroines smart and unafraid to make mistakes and her heroes strong enough to take them on.
If she’s not writing, she’s reading, drinking hot chocolate, and trying not to destroy her house with her newest DIY project. She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest and no, it really doesn’t rain that much.
Books by Amanda K. Byrne:
One Night in Buenos Aires
Fracture
Hidden Scars (Hidden Scars #1)
Broken Down (Hidden Scars #2) Available April 2016
The Perfect Man Available January 2016
Game of Shadows Available Summer 2016
©Copyright Amanda K. Byrne, 2015
Published by Radiodemon Publishing
Cover design by Rainey Cloud9
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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