Monday, December 26 #4
Angelica hadn’t planned to spend tonight in his arms. Just his luck, last night amounted to a fluke. He didn’t want to be down the hall from her, scantily dressed in her bedroom, either. Feeling the way he did about her, his self-control was getting shaky. Distance was best. For her sake, not his.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’d prefer to stay close to the doors. Speaking of doors, if you’ll be home tomorrow, I’d like to install a new door in your kitchen.” Aching back or not.
Angelica shook her head, tossing her wild hair. He wanted to be the one to mess it up. “I don’t need a new door, Garrett. I’m getting it fixed.”
“You need a stronger one and better locks. Think of it as community service.”
With her half-empty goblet in hand, she got up from the sofa. “I’ll get you the blanket and pillow, then I’m going to bed. I had a rough day.”
Garrett stood with two destinations in mind: dumping the empty bottle in the kitchen and then running out to his truck.
“I have a question, honey.”
“Would you like another beer?”
Liquor in any form wasn’t the solution. Making love to her would fix what ailed him, but there was no chance of that.
“One was plenty, thanks. I hate to impose, but may I use your guest shower?”
“You’re not imposing. I’m the one putting you out. There are towels in the bathroom. Help yourself.”
Garrett planned ahead, knowing he intended to stay overnight at Angelica’s. He went outside and grabbed the gym bag he had stashed in the back seat of his truck. A cold shower was a must—a long one.
In workout shorts and a T-shirt, Garrett stepped out of the bathroom, where icicles might hang from the vanity mirror, into the hallway lit by a nightlight. The light was considerate of Angelica, but unnecessary. He didn’t need a beacon of any size to find his way to her door.
He stretched out his lanky, but achy, body on the sofa and grunted at the fireplace. The crackling logs cast a soft glow, creating an intimate atmosphere—an ideal setting for two, not one.
All it took to make him miss Angelica at this hour was holding her in his arms one night. Garrett clasped his hands behind his head, crossed his ankles, and settled for second best—thinking of her.
What did he love about Angelica? He’d be lying if he said her body didn’t catch his eye first. Hell, she was sensual. But if he were to reveal his feelings, he’d leave that detail out. Ogling doesn’t win a woman’s heart.
And she was cute. Add her striking, big, beautiful eyes to the mix, along with her wild hair, which looks like she just rolled out of a steamy session in bed. That might also fall under the first category. Should he avoid that, too? Or mention her enticing perfume?
Angelica, no doubt, wouldn’t be offended if he told her that she was the sweetest, most unpretentious, and most thoughtful woman he had ever met.
Without a doubt, Angelica radiates vulnerability. Her fragility drew him to her house. If she were Bonnie, he would have called a cab or a rideshare, paid for it, and fled. She’d have left empty-handed, without his business card.
If she had a flaw, it was obvious: she was too trusting. She didn’t know this detective from Adam and invited him to stay at her home. Hell, he might have been a rapist. Did Angelica na?vely trust every man with a badge, a shingle, or a business card? Garrett shuddered.
But she trusted him as her protector and defender, and he was the perfect man for the job. He smiled to himself. He couldn’t fault her for that.
Angelica might have come from Blankville and been around the block, but her innocence suggested she had traveled down a finer street, enhancing her charm.
Despite that innocence, she had the spunk to leave everything behind and start over alone in this neck of the woods.
Plus, she went to college after her near-fatal injury and began a new career.
Hell, Angelica didn’t just have spunk; she had courage.
That courage was a little frayed right now.
Considering everything she had going for her, what would she see in him? First, not in his favor, he’s a detective, and she’s very much a lady.
Second, and quite a strike against him, she’s thirty, while he’s an aging forty-two. That’s a significant age gap. When she turns fifty, he’ll be a senior citizen drawing from his IRA.
Third, also not in his favor, Angelica has money. With her luxury SUV and designer clothes, she’s well-off. He couldn’t deny that he had little to offer a woman in her financial situation.
None of this musing helped Garrett. His chances with her were almost nonexistent. No, give him two points because Angelica thought he was “good.” That kept him at ground level.
On the positive side, she never pushed him away while he held her. Angelica evidently felt he had a calming presence. That moved Garrett from the ground to the first rung of the ladder; if that earned him ten points. Then again, she might find the same comfort in her cat.
This could all lead him down a dead-end street. But if he didn’t take a shot at this and go for a ride down the block, he wouldn’t know whether there was space to park or a stop sign at the end.
Garrett rolled onto his side, not the one with the black-and-blue bruised hip, and decided he was in for the ride, bumpy or not. How could he not?