Chapter 7 #3
Danny’s quick, easy compliment goes straight to my head. ‘My ex thought it was self-indulgent.’ I don’t know why I share this titbit of information. The topic, I suppose. But it’s out before I can call it back.
‘Your ex?’
‘Warren.’ Even the name sets my teeth on edge.
How did I let myself and what I wanted, become so subsumed by his career and what he wanted?
I’d mistakenly thought there was room for both our careers in his future.
‘We were together for a few years during med school. He’s training to be a plastic surgeon. ’
‘A guy who’s going to spend his days doing boob jobs thinks what you’re doing is self-indulgent?’
I laugh out loud. ‘Yes.’
‘What a douchebag.’
I laugh again. ‘Yup.’ Warren really was a douchebag.
‘What happened with him?’
Now that was a long and sorry saga, but luckily easily summed up. ‘He always joked that I’d follow him to LA where he was going to make a fortune nipping and tucking. And then I realised he was serious.’
‘Total douchebag.’
‘He is, yes. Thankfully I woke up to myself and—’
‘Dumped his ass?’
I smile. ‘Something like that.’ He hadn’t taken it well – Warren could be cruel – but my blinkers had been well and truly ripped off. ‘What about you?’ I ask as Danny’s eyes blaze with sympathy. I don’t need or want his sympathy. I’m good. I’m back on track. ‘Any douche exes?’
‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘I’ve had a few semi-serious girlfriends but none that have lasted long enough to class as an ex.’
I almost laugh out loud – of course. Why would this guy, who is God’s gift to vaginas, tie himself down to one woman? ‘So you just have… groupies?’
I have no clue why I blurt that out. The idea of Danny having groupies shoots a hot streak of jealousy through my gut. But everyone knows it’s the drummers who get the groupies. I’ve literally spent the last decade of my life with my head in some textbook or other and even I know that.
His gaze is steady as it meets mine, a touch of humour lurking. ‘Sure.’
‘Have you slept with any of them?’
Why am I asking this? Whyyyy? I don’t want to know this stuff. It’s none of my business who Danny Colton sleeps with, plus, I really don’t want to know. But I can’t stop myself from asking either.
‘Occasionally.’ He quirks an eyebrow. ‘Does that bother you?’
‘No.’ Except it really does.
Clearly not convincing him one iota, he laughs. ‘Okay, sure.’
I fold my arms, hating how he sees right through me, hating that he sees how much the thought of him sleeping with anonymous women itches under my skin. ‘I guess that’s a hard lifestyle to give up.’
Slowly, Danny shakes his head as if he’s realising this isn’t just me being flippant. Something I’m only just realising, too. ‘I’m not sixteen any more, Doc. My oats are sewn. Being a one-woman man sounds pretty damn good to me.’
My heart skips a beat, my stomach clenches, my ovaries bloom. Freaking bloom. What the actual fuck is happening right now? ‘Monogamy, Danny?’ From the guy who has no exes because he never stays with one woman long enough?
I shoot him my best pfft, really? look, but he just holds my gaze and calmly replies, ‘Yes, Holly. Monogamy.’
My breath catches at his earnestness. ‘That doesn’t seem very rock and roll.’
‘Fuck rock and roll. After three stepdaddies, I know how easy it is for some people to walk away from commitments and promises. And I know what it’s like to be at the shitty end of that. I’ve never made any woman I’ve slept with any promises because I knew when I did, I was going to keep them.’
He is deadly serious, and I believe him, the conviction in his eyes holds me in the palm of his hand.
Dear God, I want this man so freaking hard right now I can barely see straight.
And not just his body. But his whole, big, beautiful, righteous soul.
I’m actually a little breathy from the force of his sincerity.
Breaking eye contact like he hasn’t just permanently realigned my chakras, he returns his attention to his bowl of pasta and I sit and watch as he forks food into his mouth and swallows. I watch until it’s all gone, my body humming, my brain cells buzzing.
Uttering a satisfied sigh, he lifts his eyes and meets mine. ‘I’ll clean up and get out of your hair.’
He stands, whisks up my bowl and strides to the sink.
I don’t argue with him or offer to help, I just let him get on with it as I open my laptop, sort through the pages, find my place in the textbooks.
But I’m as aware of him as I am of my own heartbeat.
Danny at my sink. Danny with sudsy hands.
Danny dividing up leftovers into containers.
Danny in my life like he’s always been there.
When he’s done, he crosses back to me and I am excruciatingly aware of every footfall as his bulk lumbers closer and closer, his crotch at my eye level as he pulls to a halt. My pulse fires erratically as he looms over me and I look up as his mouth touches down where my hairline meets my forehead.
‘Don’t forget to take regular breaks to stretch,’ he murmurs as he pulls away.
Before I can say anything, he turns and strides to the door and opens it before I even register his intent. ‘Thanks for lunch,’ I call after him as the door clicks shut.
I am once again alone but, with my heart glowing warm and soft, I am not lonely. I am a strong, independent woman, but I cannot deny, Danny taking care of me just now?
That’s not nothing.