Cooper’s mouth tightens at the corners but he doesn’t speak.
“I was too embarrassed to say anything.” I clasp my hands together in my lap and a shudder runs down my frame. “Now everyone will know. They’ll know.” Mortification covers me to the point that I can barely breathe. And embarrassingly enough, embarrassed. It seems so silly now. I’m embarrassed that I’d been too weak to say the word. Afraid of what it meant if I did. Now I know exactly what it means if I don’t. A bewildering pang rises in my chest.
“You can’t hide from your feelings forever, Angel. Acknowledge what’s going on in your mind. Be honest with yourself at least, then you’ll be able to get what you need.”
“I didn’t know,” I choke out the words. My fingers clamp hard together almost painfully.
“Now you do,” he replies in a low voice as if he’s glad I’m done talking.
I snort.
“And knowing is half the battle.”
My face twists in a grimace and I smack my forehead with an open palm. “Are you freakin’ kidding me?” I stare at him narrow-eyed and fighting back a chuckle. “I just bared my soul to you.” I whack him on the chest and enjoy the loudness of my palm hitting against the seemingly impenetrable wall of muscle it connects with. “I told you things I’ve never told another living soul and you think now’s the time to start quoting TV shows again?”
He grins. “Made you smile didn’t it?” He releases a throaty chuckle.
“Insufferable.”
“Now who’s using the two dollar words?” He nods slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. “That’s what my momma says too.”
“For Heaven’s sake.”
“It’s a lot to take in. Sometimes you’ve got to laugh at the shitty parts to move forward.”
I chuckle softly at his matter-of-fact assertion. “Thanks, Cowboy.”
“You’re welcome, Angel.”
That sexy grin once again plays at his mouth. His dimples wink at me mischievously softening his rough exterior.
“We still on for burgers?” His hot gaze rakes over me setting off on unsettling warmth that spreads from my belly and drifts lower.
“All you need to do is ask.”
“I’m asking, Angel.”
Chapter Eleven
Banish a self-conscience spirit
It’s kind of crazy that I’m having to work so hard at not isolating myself in my little house. I really don’t want the attention I know I’ll get if I bring myself out of my self-induced isolation with bruises that are still visible. Especially when all I want to do is just move on and pretend that nothing bad ever happened.
So a week of sleepless nights and restless days filled with way too much thinking are nearly pushing me right over the edge of crazy. Even though I slept and slept and then slept just a tad more, I still feel way to damn tired for my own peace of mind.
I pause in my self-examination or recrimination, it could be either or, when I realize I’d said it again. Tad. I’ve actually noticed that I’ve been using the word tad a lot since the night of the accident. I’d found the word cute as pie coming from the sheriff’s ultra-masculine, overtly sexual mouth. So I guess it just kinda got stuck. Or maybe I’m just saying it to keep him fresh in my mind? I don’t know if I want to analyze the reason as of yet.
My physical wounds are healing nicely and my emotional wounds are coming along. And with all the pseudo-sleep, I realize what hurts the most is that I’d let myself down. I hadn’t been honest with myself just like Cooper said.
Right now I’m thinking about all the what ifs. What if I’d met Cooper first, would I have even been attracted to Nate? I thought of how tender and gentle and commanding and strong Cooper is and how he seems like everything that’s perfection in my mind.
I wonder if it’s some kind of Florence Nightingale effect thingy or if it’s real?
I’m at least starting to feel as if I have a clearer head even if I’m obsessed with a certain Sheriff.
I mean honest to goodness. Isn’t it ridiculous to have feelings this strongly about someone I’ve just met? Unfortunately, it only takes a single thought for my belly to flood with tingles and grow warm. I barely know him. So deep in my thoughts, I actually jump when the phone rings. My hand flies to my heart and a guilty feeling flashes through me. No one’s even in the room with me and I blush all hot and bothered at the same time. I’m such a ninny. All because my thoughts were going down the path of Damn, I wish I was touching the Sheriff right now thoughts. Don’t know why. It’s not like I was doing anything wrong. And I know damn well that thinking about a good looking man isn’t wrong.
“Hello?” My belly tingles in anticipation of his deep voice resonating in my ear.
“Hey, Angel.” His voice rumbles through the phone and I can feel its deep vibrations throughout my entire body from the top of my head to the very tips of my toes and everywhere in between. Most especially in between. Happens every dang time I talk to him.
I smile, sinking even deeper into the cushions of my sofa with my legs tucked up beneath me. Only three men have called me Angel and one’s dead. My toes curl when Cooper does it. It slips over my skin like silk. Especially when it’s in his deep, rough, sexy-as-all-get-out voice and with that hint of caring that manages to throw me off balance every single time.
“Hey.” My voice comes out extremely breathy and throaty. I slide down further on the mound of pillows piled high behind my back ready to just sit and listen. The book I was reading lying forgotten on my chest.
“How ya feeling?”
“Fine,” I whisper because that’s all I can manage. I stare blurrily into the fire crackling behind the wrought iron grate I’d found at an estate sale last summer.
“Serious fine or you just don’t feel like talking about this shit fine?”
I like that he doesn’t mess around with what’s on his mind and that he seems to know me already. I hear the rustling of clothing or sheets, which sends a plethora of images flashing through my mind and makes me wonder just what he’s up to.
“Can I take the fifth on that?” Even I hear the hope in my voice that he’ll just say yes and drop it.
No such luck.
He chuckles. “Nope.”
I like it when he does that too. Even though it’s a little scary because I know I’ll have to dig deep and figure out what’s really going on in my mind.
Succinct.
Commanding.
No questions.
No playing around.
I also like the sound of his laughter. It’s real. Not an act. No pretense. He laughs, he laughs. He doesn’t appear to playact for anyone.
I draw in a deep breath. “I just want to forget that whole chapter of my life.” I surprise myself by what came out. Surprised that he makes me comfortable enough to be completely real.
“That’s understandable.”
“I don’t feel like talking about this shit fine,” I force the words out in a hoarse whisper.
“Understood.”
“Thanks for not pushing.”
“Not my job.”
“Oh.” My head dips, chin to chest, eyes closed, and prickles of tears tickle behind my eyelids. Does he mean not my job because I don’t give a shit or not my job because it isn’t his job?
“I care, Angel, I’m just not gonna push ya right now.”
My head flies up. Had I voiced that out loud?
“Whatcha doing tonight?”
Perking up at the question, I swallow. Hard. I take a deep breath and will my voice to sound normal. Not shaky. Not upset. Not excited. Not too eager. “Nothing.” In my mind the only other thought is come over, come over, come over.
“You doing all right?”
I roll my eyes. Quickly becoming my new staple facial expression for showing just how annoyed I am. “I’m fine.”
“Of course you are, Angel.”
“Stop smiling.”
“How do you know I’m smiling?”
“I can hear
it through the phone.” Now I smile.
“You quit smiling.”
I smile some more.
“Care for some company?”
I jackknife to a sitting position and my pulse rate doubles, well actually triples at his question knocking the book I was reading to the floor with a loud thud and I could care less if the spine’s damaged or if the pages are torn. Shocking. Is he kidding? Do I want company?
Hell yeah!
Fuck yeah!
I’d take his company, any freakin’ day of the week, but to mask my excitement for his company, I allow more than a few beats to pass before I answer, “Maybe.” I hope I don’t sound too eager and shrug even though he can’t see me do it. And hope I don’t sound too uninterested at the same time. God, I’m making this too hard.
The chuckle that comes across the line is deep-throated and sexy making me a little squirmy and a lot warmer.
“You like Chinese?”
“Yep,” I whisper in answer.
“Be there in thirty, Angel.” And I really can hear his smile. I can actually hear it through the phone and it makes me smile too.
“Thought when we went out it was gonna be for burgers?”
“Next time, Angel.”
“’Kay.” I barely get the word out and he’s already disconnected. I stare at the phone in my hand for a second, deep in thought, then glance down at my baggy sweats, reach up and touch my tangled, stringy hair and nearly have a heart attack.
“Oh damn.” This I say out loud to my empty house. Damn. Damn. Damn.
I toss the phone on the coffee table and jump, a definite wince worthy moment. My hand grabs for my ribs as I trip anxiously to the bathroom in my haste to take care of any of the craziness going on with my person. I’ve barely taken the time to look at myself in the mirror let alone get ready in the past week.
Damn!
Double damn!
Now is when a shower would come in handy, but I hadn’t wanted to change the house that much. I loved the old cottage’s ambiance, but now I wished I’d a quicker way to bathe. That’s also going on my list. Shower.
I turn the antique brass and ceramic handles to fill the tub with hot water and pour in a dollop of my signature scent.
I remove my clothes, tossing them into the hamper, then reach for my toothbrush and scrub my teeth, my tongue, and I would have scrubbed my tonsils if I could’ve reached ‘em without choking myself. I give myself a really good look in the mirror and groan aloud. Damn.
I have no idea what’s on Cooper’s agenda tonight. Not a clue, but I sure do hope it’s more than just Chinese and I’m gonna be prepared for whatever strikes his fancy.
God I hope it’s more.
I want it to be more.
I definitely crave more.
Okay, Kimberly. Thirty minutes. Get a move on it, girlie.
I smile.
I step gingerly into the tub and lower myself into the water where I scrub my entire body with a fluffy pouf, run a razor over my legs and armpits and do a quick inspection and touch-up of my bikini area. I know I’m going freakin’ overboard, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I wash and rinse my hair in record time and towel off. Next I run a comb through my hair wincing with each pass over the strands and throw it up in a high ponytail. Finally I step into some low-rider jeans and a long-sleeved olive green t-shirt that I think compliments my auburn hair and brings out my green eyes.
Whew!
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I notice I completed all those tasks in a record thirteen and a half minutes. Yay! I raise my arms in the air, then quickly lower them due to the pain but still dance on my toes making sounds like cheers from a crowded football stadium when a knock sounds from the living room and I practically squeal.
Thirty minutes my ass. I take another deep breath as I take one more glance in the mirror.
I race down the hall to the living room, straighten the stack of magazines on the coffee table, snatch up all of the dirty dishes, and toss them into the sink before scrambling back to the front door.
I pause and take a deep breath.
Maybe two.
Possibly three.
I take a moment to count to ten with my fingers wrapped around the solid brass doorknob. Slowly. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, all the while taking deep cleansing breaths. I don’t want to be timid for the rest of my life because of one horrible experience. I twist the knob and open the door with a flourish only to look into Colt’s smiling emerald green eyes instead of Cooper’s delicious chocolaty brown ones and tilt my head in puzzlement.
“Did we have plans?” God, I’m all antsy and fidgety and weirded out by the fact that I’m gonna have a witness when Cooper arrives. Double damn. I flush guiltily my fingers curling tightly around the edge of the door. I really should feel bad that I want to slam the door shut in his face but good manners pounded into me by my grandmother won’t allow me to do that. So I mentally roll my eyes and paste what I’m sure is the most unnatural looking smile on my face.
“Hey, Angel baby.” He holds out a large pizza box. “Movie time.” He calls out in a sing-songy voice with a big smile flashing a row of straight, white teeth. “Thought we could watch one together.”
And then he does exactly what I don’t want him to do. He pushes his way through the door and my mouth flaps open and closed like a damn fish out of water because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to say to him without looking like I don’t want him to stop in and without him thinking I’m waiting on a date. Which I most definitely am not waiting on a date. Just two people getting together for some food and delightful company. I snort. Not a date. Definitely not a date. Fuck.
He didn’t ask me for a date, did he? This is just an I want to make sure you’re okay kinda get together. Only in my mind is it something more. Obviously I’ve totally put the thoughts out of my head of him kissing me or this wouldn’t even be running through my head. Lord, there’s definitely something wrong with me. Nothing a little bit of naked skin and other stuff wouldn’t cure.
My eyes follow Colt and a scowl crosses my face as he tosses the pizza box down on my antique curled walnut coffee table without a care to its age or worth and heads straight to the kitchen zeroing in on the fridge.
“Hey, Colt,” I belatedly greet him. Too bothered to say much more, but I don’t want my brother to be here when Cooper shows up.
“Forgot the beer though,” he says by way of explanation. “Who forgets beer?” I watch his head move back and forth from behind.
“Bummer.” I quickly shut the door and skip after him only to find him bent over at the waist, his head stuck inside the fridge right where I knew he’d be, and the rattle of glass resounds as he moves things around.
“Whatcha looking for Colt?”
Straightening, he places his forearm on the top of the door and leverages himself up to look over at me. “No beer?” His forehead wrinkles and his lips curve. “You’re shittin’ me right?”
“Nope.” I press my lips together in a straight line trying to hide the smile that wants to take over my mouth. “Got some good wine though.”
He pulls a face and crosses his eyes. “Damn, not that desperate for a buzz.” He grins that delightful grin that all Sinclair men possess and snaps his fingers. “Should’ve stopped and picked some up.”
My lips purse ruefully. “Sorry.” I furrow my brows for emphasis. “Maybe watch a movie with Merrick.” I stuff my hands deep in my pockets, rocking back and forth from the balls of my feet to my heels and back. “Know his fridge is stocked plumb full of beer.”
“Not a big deal.” His lips turn up into an even bigger mischievous smile. “Got any sweet tea?” He turns back to the fridge and moves things around some more. Loudly.
“Nope.”
“Make some?” He flashes his big puppy dog eyes and flutters his lashes playfully.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Nope.”
“C’mon, An
gel baby,” Colt whines which is the route he always takes but he definitely isn’t budging. Not one inch. “You busy or something?” He grins crookedly.
“Um…”
He straightens, closes the door with his eyes not leaving mine as he steps away from the front of my restored and fit with modern refrigeration system 1926 Gibson icebox. Gorgeous pristine white with shiny brass fixtures. It’s a beauty and totally fits in perfectly with my little cottage’s decor. I saw it. I loved it. Loved it some more. Bought it. Fixed it up. Totally my thing. Well I didn’t fix it, but I paid a small fortune to have an expert fix it but it’s mine now. A masterpiece. My masterpiece. And Colts leaning against the dang thing like I bought at a damn flea market.
“You busy or something?” he asks again, interrupting my rambling thoughts.
“Can you move your big body off of my icebox, Colt.”
Colt laughs. “Pardon me, little miss prissy pants.” Then he precedes to lean back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, ankles crossed, and plants himself looking like he’s in for the long haul. Willing to camp if it comes to that.
No change in tone.
No change in stance.
No change in question.
The only thing that changes is his eyes. They perk up and glow a brilliant green full of interest which means nothin’ but trouble for me.
I begin fidgeting which is a sure sign that I’m up to no good. Totally my tell. I know he sees it. I’m getting sick and tired of all these too knowing men. Starting to drive me bonkers. Besides, I don’t like the way he’s studying me, like a germ under a microscope. Like the wheels are spinning in his head and he has a freakin’ fantastic idea. I open my mouth to toss out another reason I seem anxious for him to leave, but he’s too quick on the draw.
“Definitely something.” That’s all he says and my mouth falls open. He bends at the waist and taps me on the nose with his index finger. “Close your mouth or you’ll swallow a fly.”
When You Only Need To Ask (The House of Siin) Page 12
