Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

" W hat did I say?" Giovanni muttered as the bathroom door slammed. "See, this might be part of the disconnect," he yelled. "I compliment your crumb cake and you get pissed. That's a little bit psycho."

The door opened and he flinched as she hurled something at his face. His hands reflexively shot up and caught…his T-shirt.

"Hope it doesn't stink like me too much." She was back in her red dress, shivering and shouldering into her coat.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

Were they finally getting service? "Did you order an Uber?"

"I'll walk."

He glanced at her feet, her shoes were peeling apart at the toes. "Erin, knock it off. It's probably not going to stop snowing until tonight."

"What do you care?"

She reached for the front door and he bolted out of bed, slamming it shut. What did he care?

"You'll freeze." He glanced down her front where her jacket fell open.

The stained, damp dress clung to her skin and her nipples stabbed through the material. He swallowed, once again hating the fact that he found her figure so enticing.

"You don't have to make me cake. You can stay."

She growled and rolled her eyes. "My God, you are such an idiot." She yanked the door and he forced it shut.

"What then? What will it take to make you stay?"

"Why do you care if I stay or go?"

"I don't. But I don't want to feel responsible when they find a corpse in a red dress on the side of the road after the snow clears."

She glared at him, her eyes shot with pink and that damn bruise on her cheek appearing darker by the minute.

"Why won't you put ice on that?" he snapped. "Is it just another way to make people feel sorry for you?"

She shoved him hard and yanked open the door.

He grabbed her elbow and jerked her back inside, shoving her against the wall and caging her in with his body. "You can't go!"

"Why?"

His gut hollowed, leaving only the unspoken truth. "Because what if I'm the reason you drove off the road in the first place?"

The room fell silent.

Her gaze darted to the dated carpet and all he could hear over the echo of his words was her unsteady breathing. He held her arm in a tight grip, not bruising, but unbreakable.

"I didn't mean what I said at the bar," he rasped, needing her to tell him he hadn't hurt her. "It was just…a joke."

Tears welled in her eyes.

"Erin…" God, he hated knowing what he needed to say. "I'm…sorry."

He'd humiliated her, but he hadn't said anything they all weren't already thinking. "It wasn't your fault." She just wanted this excruciating day to end. "The roads were icy. I'd been drinking. I was going too fast."

"But your eyes…"

She frowned and looked up at him. "What?"

"When I found you, your makeup was all smeared like you'd been crying."

Her lips firmed. She hated showing any sign of vulnerability around people she didn't trust, and she trusted no one.

She wanted to deny it and say something snarky to put distance between them, but as he called her out, her emotions ganged up on her and her throat burned. This caring side of Giovanni didn't match the annoying, do-anything-for-a-punchline asshole she'd always known.

"It wasn't your fault," she repeated, two tears slipping past her lashes and disappearing in the tacky pattern in the carpet.

His hand tightened on her arm. "Why are you crying?"

She shrugged. Her body ached, she was wet and cold and exhausted. She had no place to go, no one that wanted her.

Suddenly overwhelmed by her bleak circumstances, she sucked in a breath that jerked about her lungs like an inside-out sob. She looked at him with such desperation, truly believing this wasn't his fault, but desperate to find someone who could make sense of her life for her.

"Do you ever hate who you are so much, that you wonder if the world would be better off without you?"

His brows drew together and his grip softened, his thumb rubbing ever so subtly over her arm where he held her. "Yes," he rasped and her gaze jerked to his eyes, finding nothing but sincerity in the dark depths.

"But you're always laughing."

He lifted a shoulder. "It's a defense mechanism. It mutes the doubt and disappointment I battle on the inside."

Stunned that he'd share such a personal thing, she wondered if he was lying. But as she held his stare she found nothing but sincerity looking back at her.

"I imagine," he said, softly. "It's the same as being a bitch. If you reject people first, they can't reject you."

Was she really that transparent? She shivered, her cold dress clinging to her.

Giovanni walked over to the bed and retrieved the crumpled T-shirt. "Here. You can wear it."

She took the bunched-up cotton and stared at it, confused and exhausted. "Why are you being nice to me?"

"Because it occurred to me, that maybe it's been a long time since anyone has."

She looked up at him through a wall of tears, fighting back the lump of unwanted emotion in her throat. Her chin lifted. "I don't need your pity."

He sighed, the delicate moment over. "And there's the Erin we all know."

He walked back to the bed, this time climbing under the covers and sorting through the chips and candy. It was as if she disappeared and he no longer saw her.

Invisible, she returned to the bathroom to change clothes. Leave it to her to find an ally and destroy the connection in under a minute.

What the hell was that? Giovanni despised when women cried, but seeing Erin Montgomery cry was the worst freak of nature he'd ever imagined. She was too tough for delicate emotions. How was he supposed to hate her if she got all soft and weepy?

A faint sniffle came from the bathroom and he glanced at the door, doing a double take when he glimpsed a flash of pale flesh through the crack. He leaned to the right, catching more than a hint of her naked curves.

Jesus, she was built like a brick shit house. Tapered thighs, darting hips, narrow waist, and those tits. Her nipples had been hard as rocks since she took off her coat. The white T-shirt slipped over her head, sliding over her body and covering her curves, but not before he caught sight of the bare flesh between her thighs. He should not be looking at her.

The door opened and he grabbed the first thing next to him—a bag of M&Ms—and focused hard on the ingredients.

The bed dipped under her slight weight and the candy and chips rolled into his thigh as she lifted the covers. They sat in silence. He feared moving the slightest muscle with Erin being like a grenade with a loose pin. Who the hell knew what might set her off.

He'd only complimented her crumb cake and the chick went bonkers.

"Are you going to eat them?"

Without looking at her, he handed the chocolate-covered peanuts over to her. The tear of the bag and the crunch of her bite the only sound. Several more rattled out of the package and clicked into her palm.

"I'm tired," he announced. "I think I'm gonna get some sleep." He scooted under the covers, setting an avalanche of junk food into motion. He stared at the horrible drapes covering the front window by the door, listening to Erin crunch away.

He couldn't get comfortable due to his body's response to seeing her naked. He was pathetic. She was just flesh and bone, nothing he hadn't seen before. Besides, she was mean.

As he stared at the wall, he thought about pit bulls. Lots of people didn't like them because of their bite. They were up there with the strongest dogs. But when he was younger, they had a pit bull named Clementine. She was the sweetest, most docile pup he'd ever known.

One day, on the way home from school, Dickie Masterson was pestering Giovanni's sister, Mariella. Mariella hated Dickie, but it was clear Dickie only picked on her because he had a crush. He followed her all the way home, pulling her hair and teasing her the way young boys often did when not getting the attention they wanted.

When Dickie tried to kiss Mariella, she shoved him away, but Dickie didn't let go. Clementine jumped the fence and chased Dickie clear off their property, snapping and snarling like the dog from Salem's Lot. They never saw Clementine attack like that again, but since that day, they always knew she had it in her.

The covers shifted. He sensed Erin scooting lower, the heat from her bare legs warming the air under the sheets. He tried to ignore her presence and continued to focus on his distracting thoughts.

He once saw a show about dog fights. It was awful. Dogs like Clementine were kept in captivity and taught to kill. He didn't like to think about such cruelty, so why was he thinking about that now?

Dogs weren't born nasty, they were made that way. Cruelty begot cruelty. Maybe someone was mean to Erin. She had to pick it up somewhere.

Any time someone claimed all pit bulls were mean, he defended the breed, telling anyone who would listen that Clementine was the sweetest girl he'd ever owned. She only growled when protecting herself or her pack and once when she was scared at the vet.

Was Erin scared of something?

Sometime later, his mind awoke, not aware of when he'd fallen asleep. Something soft tickled his nose and he opened his eyes only to find his body wrapped tightly around warm, soft?—

His eyes flung open and he stilled. Erin slept in his arms, soft and delicate. Her hands balled under her cheek and her face blank of expression. She was so close he could count the individual eyelashes fanning over her cheekbones.

His body hardened and he swallowed. He didn't want to move, but her legs were coiled around his. He wondered if she ever put panties on under that shirt.

Needing a distraction, he eyed the dark bruise on her cheek. What would have left such a mark? The airbags hadn't gone off. Did she slam her face on the steering wheel?

A soft moan left her throat and she gently rolled to her other side, pressing her butt against his groin and nestling into his heat. His eyes widened, as did his cock. This wasn't good.

He should not be getting hard for Erin Montgomery. She was rotten to the core, meaner than a rattle snake, and as cold and cutting as a scorpion.

Or was she?

Over the last twenty-four hours, his opinion wasn't as solid as it had been for the last two decades of knowing her. No, he was confused and horny, that was all. This was how the dumbass frog died in that fable about the scorpion. No matter what sort of softness he thought he saw, it was her nature to be mean to everyone. He was no exception. And she'd sting him at the first opportunity.

Her head lulled against his arm and a feminine moan met his ears. Then her eyes opened and she stared over her shoulder at him. Confusion flashed in her eyes.

She rolled away from him, sinking deeper into the pillows and keeping her eyes on him. "Sorry…I fell asleep."

"It's cool." He didn't move, fearful if he shifted position, she might notice his hard-on.

She slipped off the bed and he caught a glimpse of her thigh and the soft moon of her ass cheek as the shirt fell into place. The bathroom door hung open and he squinted at the flash of skin peeking through the crack. A minute later the faucet ran and she returned to the bed, sitting along the headboard.

He remained on his side, like a boner-shamed teen. This wasn't normal for him and he didn't understand why his body was reacting in such a juvenile way. He didn't even like Erin. Not to mention, she had this whole history with his cousin Finn.

He thought back to when she and Finn dated, trying to recall the details of their breakup. Rather than give himself a headache stretching too far down memory lane, he blurted, "Why did you and Finn break up?"

Erin paused, then slowly popped a pretzel stick into her mouth. "He got married."

"Yeah, but that's not why you broke up. Finn started dating Mallory after you guys were through."

"Were we?" she challenged, a snide drollness to her voice.

His mouth hooked in a half-grin and he rolled to his chest looking up at her. "You don't like Finn's wife." This was the small town gossip he lived for.

"I don't have a problem with her."

"Liar," he grinned. "I can see it in your eyes. You hate her."

"Hate's a strong word." She bit another pretzel. "But what kind of girl goes by the nickname Philly? What is she, a horse?"

He chuckled and made a sharp meow sound. "He doesn't call her Philly as in a horse. It's because she's from Philadelphia."

"Oh. Well, it's stupid."

Another chuckle and he snatched the pretzel out of her hand. "You sound jealous."

"Hardly. I broke things off with him."

"If I recall, you got a little handsy with the locals."

Her lips formed a flat line and something shuttered in her expression. "I did a lot of things I regret."

He didn't want her to get sad again. He wanted to joke around and pass the time. "Like Bran Dawson?"

She threw a pretzel stick at his head. He picked it up and ate it. "Shut up."

Grinning when he caught a hint of laughter dancing in her eyes. "Nothing wrong with dating. It's the only way to figure out what you like. Everyone has to date at least one loser."

She smirked. "True. I'm sure you helped a lot of girls out in that area."

"Ouch."

She stared at him, her eyes saying something her mouth refused to speak. Finally, she asked, "What about you? Who did you like when we were growing up?"

"Well, there was Perrin Harris."

"Who didn't like her?"

"True. She's still hot."

"Careful, she's married now."

He arched a brow. "Yeah, she almost married Bran Dawson."

"Why are you so hung up on Bran?"

Probably because the mere mention of the prick made his blood boil. "He screwed over my sister. I'd love the chance to beat him into the ground."

He thought back to a few years ago when Mariella had been caught up with that weasel. Bran had strung her along for years, all while in a relationship with someone else. He even proposed to the other girl and expected Mariella to stick around as his side squeeze.

Giovanni was still pissed off that his cousin Ryan got a shot at him. If anyone should have punched that asshole it should have been him. Mariella was his sister, after all.

"Who else? Everyone had a thing for Perrin."

"Remember Josephine Cook? She was always cool."

"Jo? She's gay."

His brows shot up. "What? No, she's not. We used to make out all the time."

Erin laughed, the sound more teasing than her usual taunting snicker. Her lips pursed with mock sympathy and she shrugged. "Must have been your kissing."

"Yeah right." His mind processed the shock, but the more he thought about Jo, the more he could see her liking girls. How had he missed that when they were younger? "Remember Jenn Moore?"

At that, Erin's head tilted and her eyes widened. "Braydon McCullough's ex?"

Giovanni nodded. He had it so bad for Jenn in high school. "I was obsessed."

Erin laughed, but it came out as more of a disbelieving scoff. "She was mean."

"Uh, in this scenario, is she the kettle or the pot? I always get you two confused."

Her mouth sealed shut. "Whatever. Jenn purposefully liked hurting people. I remember when Samantha McCullough first came around. Jenn told me she was going to break her and Braydon up."

Giovanni laughed. "She didn't have to. Colin handled that."

"Right?" She chuckled again. "That was nuts. I always assumed he wasn't into girls."

"Well, he had no problem going after his brother's."

She shook her head. "Your family has so much drama."

"We like it that way. Gives us plenty to talk about and more to repent for on Sunday."

Rolling her eyes, she dug out another pretzel. "Well, aren't you just the good little Catholic boy."

"Hey, I was an altar boy!"

"I'm sure. So, back to Jenn. Did you ever hook up with her?"

"Nah. She was hooked on Braydon."

"Everyone was. If it wasn't Braydon, it was Kelly. And if it wasn't Kelly it was Luke."

He eyed her curiously. "Which brings us back to you and Finn."

Setting the empty bag of pretzels aside, she drew in a deep breath and leaned into the headboard. "Finn was…nice."

Yeah, that was accurate. His cousin was one of the most thoughtful people he knew. Dependable. Always looking out for others.

"So why'd you leave him?"

Her tongue darted over her lower lip, licking a grain of salt away. She wasn't looking at him, but rather, staring off in the distance as if looking back through time.

"He would have left me eventually. Being with him was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sometimes, the looming anticipation of him reaching the last straw was too painful to bear."

He sat up, stretching his legs across the bed. "What do you mean? Finn's the most level-headed guy I know. He's not a quitter."

She looked at him then, and something real flashed in her eyes. Something vulnerable, and he wanted her confession more than his next breath because everyone knew who Erin Montgomery was, but no one, aside from maybe Finn, actually knew her.