Chapter 11 #2
Leaning her head back against the sofa, she stared at him wearily. “Why are you here?”
“Well, it wasn’t to set off a panic attack.” He ran his hand over his face. “Did you not recognize me?”
“No,” she said dryly. “Just saw a strange man sitting in front of my apartment door.”
“And that was enough to give you a panic attack?” he asked.
“Not something you see every day.” Although before she’d met him that likely wouldn’t have made her spiral like that.
In fact, maybe if she hadn’t had a crappy twenty-four hours she’d have been better equipped to handle what just happened. But it felt like her shields were battered and bruised. Just like her.
And there wasn’t anything left in her tank to help her fight him. To give her the energy to push him away.
“I’m really sorry,” he said sincerely. “I’d never want you to be afraid of me, Goldie. I was just so worried about you.”
Oh God.
He was killing her. She tried to hold onto the remnants of anger, but they floated away. Instead, tears dripped down her cheeks again.
“Bollocks,” she muttered.
He smiled. “You really did pick up on some British slang while you lived there, huh?”
“They’ve got some good sayings.”
“Hmm. Like cockwomble.”
She winced. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I guess I was one. Sitting outside your door and scaring you into a panic attack.”
“It wasn’t . . . it wasn’t just that. It wouldn’t normally affect me like that. But I’ve had a rough twenty-four hours.”
He frowned. “What happened? Something happened in . . . well, did something happen?”
Something happened in . . . in where? What had he been about to say?
Actually, it didn’t matter.
“Why were you sitting outside my apartment? How did you get into the building?”
“It isn’t that hard. I just followed someone in who was delivering flowers.”
She groaned. “Travis, you can’t do that.”
“Why not? It just shows how bad the security is in this building. Which is why you should move in with me. I have excellent security. Best in the business.”
“You do, huh? You’ve tested it?”
“Better than that, I put the security in. Because I own the building.”
“You own a building in the city?” she asked, gaping at him.
He shrugged. “Several, actually.”
“Bloody hell. I remember when you proudly learned to burp the alphabet.”
He groaned. “Jesus, Goldie, that was years ago. You must have been all of eight. How do you remember that shit?”
Caren didn’t want to tell him that she remembered everything. That his family had been the only bright spot in her life, despite the fact that he was often irritated with her.
“And that was Clay who burped the alphabet. I looked on disapprovingly.”
“Uh-huh,” she said with a wry grin.
“If I had been able to do that, I wouldn’t have done it in front of a lady.”
“Ahh, but I wasn’t a lady. I was just the annoying kid that your cousin let follow her around.”
He cupped her chin gently, tilting her head back so he could stare down at her. “I’m so sorry I was a dick.”
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t have to keep apologizing. Really. I got over it a long time ago.”
Well, sort of. She still seemed to feel something for him and lord, she wished she didn’t.
“What happened in the last twenty-four hours? Where have you been?”
“Travis.” Her eyes slid from him. “What . . . what are you doing here? Why do you care? And please don’t say it’s because of Lacey. Because I don’t really believe you.”
If he was watching out for her because of his cousin, then a text once or twice a month would suffice, right? Maybe asking her to coffee, even. Although she wasn’t sure that was his scene.
But demanding that she not take public transport at night. Constant texts wanting to know if she was all right and where she was . . . it didn’t add up.
If this was just due to guilt over the way he’d treated her years ago, she needed to know.
Because the more time she spent with him, the more she found herself wanting him. Even though he had the ability to prick at her temper more than anyone else.
Travis sighed. “That excuse isn’t working?”
“Nope. So if this is about guilt . . . I need to tell you that you should let it go. Because there’s no reason to keep feeling like you owe me something.”
“Got to admit, I think that’s part of it. I feel like shit for what I did.”
“Please don’t. Let it go. And you don’t need to obsess over my safety, okay? I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I’ve got this.”
He frowned. “I don’t like that.”
“Travis—”
“Just because you can take care of yourself doesn’t mean that you should. I’m guessing that is tiring as hell.”
It was.
“Don’t you take care of yourself?” she asked.
“Of course. But that’s different.”
“Why? Because you’re a man?”
“No, because taking care of others gives me a sense of . . . I don’t know. Not good at happy mumbo-jumbo shit. It just makes me feel right. And I can’t look after others if I don’t look after myself. Plus, I’m not alone. I’ve got my brothers. Got friends. If I need help, it’s there.”
“I was always jealous of your large family. And of Lacey for having you all. You treat her like a little sister.”
“That’s what she is to us.”
She sighed. “That’s so nice. I would have loved that.”