30. His Dangerous Ain’t Got Nothing on Mine
His Dangerous Ain’t Got Nothing on Mine
Arlo
F uck. Fuck .
I lost my shit. I didn’t mean to. I hate that I did, but waking up to see her door open with no sign of her inside the cabin scared the shit out of me, and that look on her face, the resolve, the defeat, it pissed me off. She looked like she was almost hoping he would step out of the trees so this could all be over.
She had her gun, she had Beans, and I know he would have let me know real fast if there was a threat, but it’s not the point. I have a job to do here, and she’s making that hard, real fucking hard.
And now the thought of her spread across my knees is playing on a loop in my mind. Jesus.
Turning back to the cabin, I see that she’s gone inside, the door is closed, and without a bath or any sleeping pills available in there, I can’t help wondering if she chose option number three to help her get some sleep, and fuck, now it all just got harder.
I ’m sitting on the deck reading one of the books I found inside the cabin when the door opens, and Bree steps out.
She’s been inside for a couple of hours. I listened at her door, and after finding it silent, I opened it to find her sleeping, wearing her sweatpants and a tank, spread out mostly on her front. Guilt hit me square in the chest as I looked at her. She looked younger in her sleep. She looked like the girl I fell in love with, and I took a minute to realize how fucking hard this all must be for her.
She dated this guy, as much as thinking about it fucking fills me with rage, and she had sex with him. She trusted him enough to let him get close to her in that way, and now he’s torturing her. He feels untouchable to her, and I’m the only person she can talk to about it.
‘Sorry I was bratty,’ she says as she drops into the seat next to mine but stares out at the lake in front of us. I stare ahead as I respond.
‘Sorry I was a dick.’
She laughs, and the sound is perfect. ‘That’s kind of your thing.’
‘Yeah, I guess it is.’ I meet her gaze as she looks over toward me. ‘Truce?’
She nods and holds out her hand for mine. I take it and ignore the sparks that fire out around my body at the feel of her small hand in mine.
‘Yeah, truce.’ She agrees, and pushing up from my chair, I stand.
‘You need to eat.’
Bree smiles softly as I make my way into the cabin and start to prepare us some lunch.
‘Can I ask you about him?’ I say as we sit opposite each other at the table on the deck, eating the chicken salad I made us.
‘I already told you everything I know.’ She shrugs, and I shake my head.
‘Nah, I mean like—’ I pick up a paper towel and wipe my mouth and hands before leaning back in my chair. ‘Okay, so in my mind, he’s this weasley, skinny, nerdy little shit, but he got a woman like you to date him, so I need to make sense of that.’ She huffs out a laugh and shakes her head. ‘How did he do it, Bree?’
‘We met in a club,’ she takes a sip of water before continuing, ‘he was hot, and he was interested. He asked for my number, and he actually called, so we dated.’
‘How did we get from there to here? Did he hurt you then or threaten you in any way back then?’
‘No, honestly, when we were dating, he was a gentleman. He was kind and sweet. He was attentive, but the spark just wasn’t there.’
‘The spark…’ It’s not a question, just me trying to understand.
‘I want real, Arlo.’ Her gaze meets mine, and I drop my eyes to my plate, picking up my fork to eat more food even though I’m done. ‘I want to fall in love and have forever with somebody, and he wasn’t ever going to be that, so I ended it.’
‘How did he take that?’
‘He tried to convince me we just needed more time, but I don’t have time. I’m not getting any younger.’
‘None of us are, pix.’
‘Plus, he wanted kids,’
‘You still don’t?’ She never did. I loved that she was always so sure of that, and the way she shakes her head without hesitation tells me she still is.
‘I think he thought I’d change my mind. Most guys do.’
‘Assumed your clock would start ticking?’ I press, and she nods, smiling slightly.
‘And it has, but not for kids. For love, a partner. For a life with somebody next to me.’ She drops her attention for a moment as though those last words tumbled out of her without her meaning to let them. ‘When the messages started coming in, he never even crossed my mind. Honestly, once we stopped seeing each other, I never thought about him at all until I saw him in that restaurant. Every night, when I lay awake, going over everything in my mind, I just can’t believe that it’s him, that he’s capable of doing any of this.’
‘You’re certain, though, that it is him?’ I hate questioning her, but she doesn’t take offense. She just nods yes before answering.
‘Without a doubt. It all added up, but then the day at the station when I went to report him, he showed his hand.’
‘We’re going to stop him, Bree,’ I assure her, reaching out without thinking to take her hand on the table, and she inhales as she puts down her fork and raises her eyes to meet mine.
‘I don’t want you to get hurt.’ Her words are sincere, and she turns her hand over underneath mine, our fingers connecting in the way they used to, intertwined, my thumb starting to stroke over the soft skin of her hand.
‘I’m not going to get hurt, Bree.’
‘Arlo, he’s dangerous.’
‘Sugar, his dangerous ain’t got nothing on mine.’
We stay locked in a moment that lasts too long before Bree pulls her hand away, stands, and starts to clear the table. I feel like a moth, and she’s a fucking candle. I’m drawn closer and closer to her light every day, the way I always was, and I don’t know how I’m ever going to walk away from her. Losing her once was torture, but I shaped my heartbreak into hatred. It was easy without her right in front of me to turn her into the villain in my story, but now, she’s here, in touching distance, and she’s real and sweet, beautiful and sexy. I hate myself for my attraction to her when she’s going through so much, but it’s impossible to deny.
It’s not lost on me that there haven’t been many brunettes underneath me in the last twelve years. I avoided them for a reason. I have a type, and it’s Bree fucking Campbell.
‘W e shouldn’t be drinking,’ I say, smiling slightly. The warmth from the bottle of whiskey we found in the cabin is loosening my muscles and my lips.
Since our conversation over lunch this afternoon, the mood has been lighter. I swam, she read. I played with Beans, and then Bree and I played cards. Then we found the bottle, and her eyes danced with mischief, so I couldn’t say no.
‘Fuck it,’ Bree says before giggling, and I laugh with her. We’re on the deck of the cabin. Beans is asleep inside, and it’s raining hard. Bree likes to sit outside when it’s raining so she can listen to the sounds of it hitting the roof, the ground, and the surface of the lake. Turning my head, I see her pull up the blanket covering her and take another sip.
‘You cold?’
She shakes her head, no, and I notice the peaceful look on her face. She’s relaxed, more relaxed than I’ve seen her since she’s been back in my orbit.
Our conversation today has been light and fun. We talked about her family, my guys at work, and she talked openly about how she met the prick hiding in the shadows, and it got me thinking. I hate that he was in her life, and I hate even more that he was in her bed.
‘Was he a shit lay?’ I ask, still watching her, and she turns her head, eyeing me curiously. I grin. ‘The piece of shit. He was a bad fuck, right?’
She releases a shocked laugh but holds my gaze.
‘Why are you asking me that?’
Shrugging, I take another sip from the tumbler in my hand.
‘I don’t want him to have any redeeming qualities, so knowing he was a bad kisser, bad in the sack, that helps.’
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling. ‘He wasn’t a bad kisser.’ She turns her attention back to where the rain is hitting the surface of the lake. ‘He wasn’t make me moan in the middle of a packed dance floor good, but he was okay.’ I smirk and take another sip.
‘Bad fuck though, right?’
She laughs and turns to meet my eye. ‘Arlo, stop.’ I can’t help but smile at the soft expression on her face. ‘He wasn’t bad, just not mind-blowing either.’
‘I knew it,’ I grumble, hearing the amusement lace my words. It shouldn’t matter at all, but it’s been a while since I’ve felt the buzz of hard liquor in my blood, and it’s showing.
‘Tell me, Arlo Harper.’ I glance over as Bree turns her body in my direction. ‘How is it a man like you is single? Wait, are you single?’ Her eyes widen, and I smile, nodding.
‘You think I have a wife in the city who’s happy for me to disappear for a couple of months to take care of my ex and make her moan in the middle of a packed dance floor ?’ I see her swallow hard and love that the thought affects her that way. ‘I’m single, Bree.’
‘You just keep things casual then?’
Nodding, I answer. ‘Yeah, just casual.’
She takes a breath and turns to look out at the lake once more.
‘You’ve been with a lot of women?’
I put down my glass on the table between us and inhale slowly, then nod, yes. She’s not looking at me, but I know she already knows my answer.
‘You want to know something stupid?’ she asks, turning to me, and I hold her gaze, answering without words. ‘I hate the thought of you with other women.’ She looks away and shakes her head. ‘I know that’s ridiculous. I have no right to that jealousy. I have no right to ask you for every name so that I can look up their addresses and go claw their eyes out, but I want to. I hate it.’
Wow. Her honesty stuns me, and I watch as she covers her face, regretting letting the truth come out.
‘I haven’t been a monk these past twelve years, pix. I can’t pretend I sat alone in my apartment with my dick in my hand.’
Lowering her gaze, she nods. ‘Yeah, I haven’t been a nun either.’ Well, fuck. I hate that. Now I understand that jealousy she mentioned. Pushing up out of my chair, I stand, and her eyes track my movement. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Looking for a pen and paper.’
‘Why?’ She laughs lightly.
‘So, I can take names. I have some eyes to claw out.’
Laughing louder now, Bree reaches out to grab my wrist and stop me from walking away, and the contact feels electric.
‘We should go to bed,’ I say, my voice low as her hand slides from my wrist into my hand and her eyes raise up to meet mine and fuck, I’ve seen that look in her eyes before, and a huge part of me, mostly my dick, wants me to pick her up over my shoulder and carry her to my bed like some caveman, but that can’t happen. ‘Separately,’ I clarify, more for myself than her. ‘Go to our own beds, apart.’
‘Arlo…’ the breathy tone to her voice is a dead giveaway. She wants the caveman act as much as I do.
‘Bree, we’ve been drinking. It’s not a good idea.’ Using the hand still in mine, I pull her up to standing and reach up to push her hair behind her ear, the silky brown strands tickling across the skin of my thumb and finger until I reach the end and step back, breaking all contact. ‘Go to bed, pix.’
She holds my attention for another moment, then nods and heads inside. The click of her bedroom door is a bucket of ice-cold water on the fire that started between us. That shit can’t happen. I need to get it together.