If I thought now that Cody was safely tucked away at Jessie’s I would be able to sleep, I was dead wrong. I spent twenty minutes just staring at the ceiling after they left. Sheep counting wasn’t working and I seemed to jump at every little sound I heard.
Giving up, I finally threw back the covers and headed out towards the kitchen. As I walked down the hall in my large gray shirt, I wondered how in the hell my life had gotten so convoluted.
I mean, I knew how. Ethan had complicated everything and put me in a really bad spot, made worse by my own growing sense that maybe there was something tangible and real between us. But if I traced back the whole thing—Ethan coming into my shop and making his offer, me turning him down—maybe it wasn’t Ethan who had caused all of these problems. Maybe my good girl nature was partly to blame. If I hadn’t been so spotless and squeaky clean, Ethan never would have even glanced my way.
I’d spent my life trying to do things by the book and, with the exception of Cody, my happy little accident, I led a pretty normal, law-abiding life. And how had that helped me? It hadn’t. Instead, it had drawn the attention of dangerous and handsome Ethan, which in turn led me down the road to trading sex for protection and getting involved in a drug racket.
And the worst part of the whole thing was that storing drugs and sleeping with Ethan had done more for me than being a good little girl ever had.
I sighed and shook my head as I walked into the kitchen. Grabbing the kettle from the stove, I filled it up and then put it on the stove again, lighting the burner. While the water boiled, I grabbed a chamomile tea bag and dropped it into a mug. Then I waited.
Leaning against the counter, I watched the kettle with my chin rested in the palm of my hand. My mind wandered as I zoned out. How long could Cody really stay with Jessie? A weekend was one thing, but come Monday he’d come home. And what if I hadn’t figured out a solution yet? That man could come back and he could find me. Worse, he could find Cody. Then what? Would Ethan save Cody?
I laughed bitterly at that thought.
Ethan was a cocky bastard who took what he wanted and left the rest. I couldn’t imagine that he would give a damn about my son. He sure as hell didn’t seem to give a damn about me.
The kettle began to whistle and I moved from the counter to go to it, taking it off the heat. I turned off the burner, then began to pour the boiling water into my mug. I was reaching for the honey when I heard the loud banging on my door.
I jumped, the sudden noise in my otherwise quiet little place causing my heart to skip and my nerves to fray further. I let go of my mug and it crashed to the floor. Hot water and shards of glass spread out over the tiles.
I cursed. “Damnit!”
Carefully stepping over the shards, trying to keep glass out of my bare feet, I grabbed a towel and threw it over the mess. The knocking came again.
I thought about calling out that I’d be there in just a minute, but stopped before the words could leave my mouth. I didn’t know who it was. It could be some maniac with a gun for all I knew. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but there really were dangerous people out there and some of them were pretty okay with hurting me to get what they wanted.
So I cautiously stepped over the towel-covered mess and headed to the door. Moving as quietly as I could, I came to the door and looked through the peephole. I was floored when I saw who was standing on the other side.
Ethan.
I stared at him through the little hole for a while until he knocked again, making me jump in surprise once more. I debated telling him to just leave. It was the smart thing to do, yet I found myself reaching for the doorknob instead. I opened the door to reveal him in all his glory.
Tall, dark, handsome. Hair thick and dark, almost black in the dark outside. His jaw strong, his muscles cut from granite and displayed beneath the plain t-shirt he was wearing today. His pants were dark denim and hung just so off his trim hips. His eyes were dark as they looked at me, drawing me in even when I knew it was stupid.
Clearing my throat to bring myself back to the here and now—and to remind myself that he was a creep who wanted to use me as bait—I folded my arms across my chest. Instantly, I remembered that I was only wearing my large gray nightshirt, no bra, with panties underneath. “What do you want?” I managed to get out, keeping my tone cool and calm.
He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut with a click of his teeth. He stood there silently, for once at a loss for words. I might have enjoyed the moment if I weren’t so angry with him still. And so hurt.
“Well?” I prompted.
“Can I come in?” he finally asked.
I raised my eyebrows at the question. He never asked for permission and it weirded me out a little that he was doing so now. Who the hell is this guy and what has he done with Ethan? I blamed my shock for leaving the door open for him to come in.
“What do you want, Ethan?” I asked him again, closing the door automatically once he was inside. I should have left it open, I thought, glancing at it. But I thought it would look too fearful if I opened it back up now, so I left it as it was.
He turned to face me, stuffing his hands into his front pockets. “I’ve asked a lot of you.”
Propping up one hip and folding my arms over my chest again, I raised an eyebrow at him. “Asked?”
He gave me a rueful smile. “Okay, demanded.”
“Forced,” I spit out.
If I expected him to flinch at the word, he didn’t. He just shrugged. “You would have come around either way. I was just expediting the process.”
I barked out a laugh. “Come around? To what, being your mistress? Your personal whore?”
His full mouth pulled down into a frown, his brow furrowing over his dark eyes. “Is that what you think?” he asked calmly. “That you’re my whore?”
“Aren’t I?”
He stepped closer to me and I had the urge to step back, to keep some distance between us, because I still remembered that he was dangerous. And he was dangerous for a lot of reasons, most of them having to do with the hurt I was experiencing in my chest.
“No,” he told me flatly. “You’re not. Diana…A whore will sleep with anyone for money. You did it because I left you no choice, but I like to think that wasn’t the only reason.”
I swallowed heavily and looked away, because his expression was making me feel vulnerable. It looked earnest, genuine. And I wanted to believe that it was. “What other reason could there be?”
When he took another step towards me, it put him right next to my body. His hand reached out to slide down my shoulder and for a blissful second, I let it. Because he still felt good, even as I tried to deny it. Then I jerked out of his grip.
“Damnit, Diana, we’re good together,” he said, his tone annoyed. Like he’d expected me to just melt from his words just because he said I wasn’t a whore.
Still an asshole, I thought. “Good together? How do you figure that?”
“Tell me you’ve come like you have with me for any other man.”
Pursing my lips, I was silent for a long moment because of course I hadn’t. But I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I said, “Good sex doesn’t mean anything.”
“Of course it does.”
“Not to me.”
He narrowed his eyes at me and this time when he grabbed hold of my upper arm, he held tightly. I couldn’t shake him off. “Don’t give me that crap. The sex is good because what’s between us is good.”
“Between us? And what is between us?” I demanded. “A payment plan? Drugs? What?”
He paused, whatever he wanted to say lingering on the tip of his tongue. Then finally, it slipped out. “Love.”