Return of the Bad Girl (16 page)

Callie sat quietly next to her, smiling and nodding at whatever Mike Stevens was saying. Callie and she had talked for hours earlier, and when she’d asked Caroline to come out with them, Caroline had been hesitant. But after Gabe had kissed her, she’d been emotional and crazed and needed to get the hell out of there. When Callie had texted her, saying they were going to dinner too, she had said yes. She’d been worried about sneaking out without bumping into Gabe, but thankfully, he was gone when she’d come out of her room.

She wanted to put Gabe and his unwelcome kiss from her mind.

Which was hard to do when his stupid face kept popping into her head, bringing a tingling sensation to her lips, which reminded her of how he had crossed a line and how, for a split second, she’d wanted to let him. To let him take control and make her feel something,
anything
besides anger, pain, and being generally unwanted.

But then she remembered they could barely stand each other and that she was no longer sixteen, trying to fill a void inside her. She’d had every intention of picking and choosing her partners carefully, weighing the benefits, taking in the risks . . .

And Gabe was just too big a gamble.

Forget the fact that she knew very little about him, except that he was a wash of contradictions. Their first meeting, he’d been arrogant and a major dick, but when he’d offered to share the apartment, he’d been almost charming. He hated accepting praise when he was kind and lashed out at her when she started to see the good in him. She just couldn’t get a handle on who he was, and it scared her.

But when he’d kissed her, it had felt like she was floating for half a second and then,
boom
, her skin was burning like molten lava, hot and fast. Every stroke of his tongue had left her weak, tingly, and craving more of him. She had been ready to surrender completely until the voice in her head had started ranting.

You aren’t in control. He is.

The slap had been a reaction after the fact, but Gabe hadn’t been wrong. She
had
kissed him back,
had
moaned and enjoyed him. She’d given him every indication that she liked what he was doing.

What was wrong with her? She might be attracted to Gabe, but he wasn’t
the
guy. He wasn’t what she needed. He was like every other loser she had hooked up with over the years: selfish, only in it for a good time. That was her past. She was almost thirty-one years old, and she needed to break the cycle. No more Mr. Right Now. She needed a mature, stable guy. Someone who would show the town of Rock Canyon that she had finally grown up.

“So, Caroline, Callie said you flip bars for a living?”

The question came from Travis Bowers, Gemma’s country rock-star husband, who was sitting across from her at the round table, nursing a beer. Travis was definitely the type of man her mother would have called a “tall glass of water,” with his curly brown hair and five o’clock shadow making him look like a rugged roughneck, looking for trouble.

“I did, but I’ve switched my focus to consulting. I want to set down roots somewhere instead of picking up and moving every couple of months to a new town, new city.”

“I understand completely,” Travis said, picking up Gemma’s hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

Caroline almost rolled her eyes but caught herself. It wasn’t their fault that she wasn’t the type of woman to attract the hand-holding, eyes-for-her-only type of man. She never had been.

She attracted weaklings who liked a woman to tell them what to do and usually had no imagination in the bedroom; the charmers who wanted to see if they could land her and then tell all their buddies about their exploits; and the assholes who liked strong women only as long as they could break them.

Every one of them was definitely on her new
DO NOT DO
list.

“I heard Eric and Hank are fighting over your services,” Mike said, reaching over to steal some of Gracie’s nachos while she was onstage singing the Judds’ “Mama He’s Crazy.”

It was karaoke night at Hank’s, and Caroline had wanted to stake out the little bar in action. She could see why this night was taking away business from Buck’s. The karaoke alone was a great draw, but Hank’s had a “1-2-3” promotion, too: one-dollar longnecks, two-dollar nachos, and three-dollar margaritas.

“I said I’d give them an assessment and upon retainer, I’d draw up a recommended business plan. First come, first served,” Caroline said, sitting back in her chair. “I’ve got to say, though, Hank’s doesn’t seem to be hurting on karaoke night.”

“The only problem Hank’s has is when Hank starts drinking,” Gemma said, making a face.

Caroline sat forward. “He drinks in his own bar?”

“More like gets shit-faced in it,” Mike said. “I feel bad for the guy because he’s on his own, but he can get downright unpleasant.”

“Then he’s a waste of my time,” Caroline said with a sigh.

“How do you mean?” Travis asked.

“Well, for starters, if he gets drunk in his own bar, he runs the risk of his employees and customers not only taking advantage of him but getting out of control. This drink,” Caroline said, holding up her Jack and Coke, “is too strong, which tells me the bartender’s not measuring shots correctly—wasting alcohol and eating into profits.”

They stared at her until, as a group, they each took a sip of their drinks, except Travis, who had the only longneck. A few of them nodded their heads in agreement.

Caroline checked the time on her phone again, and Mike asked, “You got somewhere to be?”

Before she could answer, Gracie finished her song, and their table broke into thunderous applause and obnoxious whoops of encouragement. Gracie sashayed back to the table, demonstrating a courtly bow as she said, “Thank you. Thank you.”

She sat down next to Caroline and wrapped her thin arms around her shoulders before giving Caroline a smacking kiss on the cheek. “And how are you enjoying Hank’s?” Her smile was slightly silly, and Caroline guessed she had started the party early, especially when she moved on before Caroline could answer. “Did you know that this woman is an honest-to-God hero? She freaking crawled into a Dumpster to save a gaggle of kittens—”

“I don’t think kittens come in gaggles,” Mike said, earning a scowl from Gracie.

“Whatever. The point is that she is
amazeballs
, and if anyone messes with her”—Gracie thumped her chest and almost fell off her chair—“they are messing with me.”

“Lucky you,” Gemma said from across the table.

Caroline wasn’t sure how she felt about Gracie’s admiration but decided it was better than Gracie’s hating her guts.

“So are you one of those crazy animal lovers, then?” Travis asked, yelping when Gemma pinched him. “What? I didn’t say anything about you.”

“Actually, I like animals but have never had any desire to own one. I moved around too much. But now, the reason I keep checking the clock on my phone is because the kittens have to eat every two hours.”

“Wait, you aren’t an animal lover, but you’re keeping kittens that you found in the trash?” Mike asked. “How many are there?”

“Two, and I’m not keeping them. I’m just fostering them until they can be put up for adoption,” Caroline said, trying to picture handing over her babies to someone else. In just the few days she’d had them, they had already started to gain weight, and the minute she picked them up, they started that clicking purr she’d come to love. Last night, as she’d watched
“The Big Bang Theory
, she’d let them cuddle against her chest. It was hard not to love the little squirts.

“Uh-huh, and how does your roommate feel about that?” Travis asked, a smirk on his face. “When I showed him the apartment, he didn’t exactly seem like the warm and fuzzy type.”

Travis’s opinion irked her. It was true that Gabe wasn’t Mr. Sunshine and Roses, but he had saved the gray kitten. He had his moments of actually being a human being.

Too bad they were few and far between.

“Actually, he helped me save them.”

“It’s true. I was there,” Gracie said.

“How?” Callie asked.

“He stimulated the little grey one’s heartbeat by rubbing him and even breathed into his nose and mouth.”

“Huh. I guess people do have layers,” Mike said, mimicking Shrek.

How had the conversation turned toward the very man she was trying to forget?

Standing up, she gave everyone an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I have to go, I had a lot of fun, but I’d better go feed them.”

“Do you need me to walk you home?” Mike asked with a flirtatious smile.

This is the type of guy you should be thinking about, not infuriating Neanderthals who don’t know how to treat a woman.

“That’s okay. I’m right up the street,” Caroline said. She patted Callie’s shoulder. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Callie said.

Grabbing her coat and purse, Caroline headed for the door. The cold wind hit her face as she walked outside, and she struggled to get her coat on as she made her way back toward her apartment. The streetlamps were lit up nicely, though, and despite the two drinks she’d had, she was nowhere near being drunk.

As she rounded the alley corner, she thought maybe she’d open that bottle of merlot in the cupboard and have a glass before bed. She just hoped luck was on her side and Gabe was asleep or out. She wasn’t quite ready to face him yet.

Suddenly, strong hands grabbed her from behind and slammed her into the brick building next to her. Her cheek hit the wall and pain exploded in her skull.

“What did you tell him, you stupid bitch?” A dark voice hissed in her ear, and hot breath dampened her skin. Through the painful haze, she realized it was Kyle. Fear ripped through her as he pressed his body into hers, flattening her between him and the hard, cold surface.

“What—”

“And don’t even think about fucking lying to me,” he growled low.

“Ky . . . Kyle . . . I—”

“Whatever you said to him, you’d better fix it. I’m not going to have the life I’ve built ruined by some slut who wants to clear her conscience,” Kyle said, gripping her hair in his fist until she cried out in pain.

“What the fuck is going on out there?” Gabe’s voice called from above. Caroline heard the heavy fall of his feet on the metal stairs and tried to cry out a warning, but her throat had closed and all that came out was a whimper.

“Remember what I said,” Kyle warned before he let her go. She heard the clip of running, the sound becoming fainter in the distance.

Tears seeped from the corner of her eyes, and she tried to breathe, to calm her quaking body, but she was scared. And angry, so angry. Her conscience? She hadn’t done anything wrong. Did he actually think she felt guilty about what he’d done to her?

Don’t you? You are constantly telling yourself that you should have known, should have seen through his charm? Isn’t that a guilty conscience?

Suddenly, hard hands grabbed her arms, and she turned, swinging, prepared for Kyle coming back, but Gabe caught her fists instead. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Unable to hold herself up any longer, she collapsed against him, hating the weakness. She could take care of herself—had been doing so since she was a kid—but she couldn’t seem to fight this one fear: the fear of being Kyle’s victim again.

Without asking, Gabe gathered her up in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest as he strode toward the apartment. She tried to remember that he was a jerk, a man whom she shouldn’t trust at all, but his hard body and comforting arms helped her shaking subside. He made her feel safe, and if he hadn’t been upstairs, hadn’t been listening . . .

“Thank you,” she whispered against his shoulder as he climbed the stairs.

He didn’t respond, just adjusted her in his arms to open the front door. The living room light hit her eyes and stung for half a second. “Yowza, that’s bright.”

Still he said nothing. Gently, he deposited her on the couch, and before she could miss his warmth, he had dimmed the lights.

Stretching her mouth open, she winced when a lightning bolt of pain shot through her, and she touched the spot where her face had collided with the building. “Well, that’s gonna bruise.”

“Who was he?” Gabe asked, his voice almost too low to hear.

“He works for my father,” she said.

“Your
father
hired someone to rough you up?” he fairly shouted.

“No, no. This was something . . . else,” she said, unwilling to get more personal than that. Despite his timely intervention and rescue, he was still just her roommate. If she hadn’t even told her own sisters about what Kyle had done, there was no way she was going to share her feelings with a man she hardly knew.

Silence stretched in the small room, and she looked away from his intense, searching eyes to check on the kittens, sleeping peacefully in the box. “I’m surprised they’ve slept this long. I figured they’d be up and crying by now.”

“They were, which is why I was out here in the first place. The little bastards were pitching a fit, and I fed them so they’d shut up. Then I heard something outside and decided to see what in the hell was going on down there.” He reached out to brush her hair back, and his fingertips grazed her forehead, leaving a trail of tingles in their wake. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“Why do you care?”

“I told you. Your crazy became my crazy the second I let you move in.”

“You mean when you stole my apartment.” A small smiled stretched his full lips and before she could stop herself, she said, “You should do that more often.”

“What?”

Boldly, she placed two fingers on his bottom lip. “Smile.”

“I smile,” he said.

“Not that sarcastic grin you use or the one you think is charming,” she said, dropping her hand from his mouth. “I mean a real smile.”

He paused. “I guess I don’t have a lot to smile over.”

The conversation was fast becoming personal and intimate, two things that made Caroline squirm.

“I appreciate the help, really, and I’m sorry that I sort of fell apart on you, but this really isn’t your problem. There’s no roommate code, nothing in our little arrangement that says you have to step in and take on my issues.”