Trouble

“Should I sit in the back with him again?” she asks, biting her bottom lip.



Jesus, I want to bite that lip. Lick it. Suck it. Fuck it.



I see Dozer’s head lift, and his ears prick up. “Nah, he’ll be fine. You’ll have more room up front here next to me.”



“Okay … if you’re sure.”



I see Dozer’s head drop on a grunt.



I hold a smile back as I watch Mia walk around the car and climb in the passenger seat. But as I’m getting in the car, I can’t resist giving Dozer a smug grin.



Honestly, the look he’s giving me right now … I think if he could flip me off, he would.



Yep, you lost that round, Dozer.



I turn the ignition, feeling pretty satisfied with myself that I’ve got Mia sitting up front with me…



Then it hits me.



I was just in a pissing contest with my dog.



There are no words.



No. Fucking. Words.



I put the car in drive, heading for home.



I’m actually starting to think Mia has got some magical power, and that’s what’s making me act out of character. Like voodoo or some shit.



It has to be. There is no other logical explanation for the massive pussy I’m turning into.



All I need to do is get myself away from Mia for a few hours, stick my dick inside some chick, and I’ll be back to myself in no time.



Except I can’t tonight with Dozer being hurt.



Tomorrow.



Definitely tomorrow.



I’m going to go and pick up the hottest chick I can find, and bang her – multiple times.



I’m going to fuck Mia Monroe right out of my head.



I’m happily smiling to myself at this idea, when that annoying Taylor Swift song “I Knew You Were Trouble” starts to play on the radio.



I’m just about to turn it off, when Mia starts to sing along softly, so I leave it playing.



Jesus, her voice is one of the sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard.



I listen to her the whole song through. My skin is practically vibrating when she’s finished. Who knew that song could sound so good?



I reach over and turn the radio down.



“You like Taylor Swift?”



“What?” She blushes. “Oh, yeah, she’s okay. I just really like that song. Probably not your kind of music though, huh?”



“Not really.” I smile.



I want to touch her so very fucking badly in this moment.



“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.



I quick a glance at her. “What are you apologizing for?”



“For singing. I do it sometimes without realizing. I know I have the worst voice ever, and it must have really hurt your eardrums listening to me.” She laughs, but it sounds unnatural, forced. Not like that awesome sound I heard earlier.



Another quick glance. I notice her body language is off. Her hands are wrapped around herself, almost in protection.



Tension prickles me like knives.



“Who told you that?” The asshole ex told her. I really want to punch that prick in the face. Repeatedly.



She glances down at her jeans and start picking lint off them. I can feel her drawing into herself and away from me. I don’t like the feeling one goddamn bit.



“Oh, no one told me. I just have ears, you know?” A shrug, another fake laugh.



“Well your ears are off. I think you have a great voice, Mia. Really awesome. I enjoyed listening to you sing.”



I can feel her eyes on me, so I meet them. I’m yanked in and speaking before I realize.



“What are your plans for tonight?”



What the hell am I doing?



Surprise flickers through those gorgeous blues. Then she lifts her slender shoulders and tilts her head. “Oh, uh, I was just gonna grab some dinner, then read myself to sleep.”



“You wanna have dinner with me?”



Why can’t I stop talking?



Mia’s eyebrow lifts, and the way that sounded finally reverberates inside my head.



Jesus that sounded like I was asking her out on a date.



I don’t date. Ever.



What am I doing? Asking her to eat with me when a minute ago I was planning a ‘fuck Mia out of my head’ strategy.



Rectify! Rectify!



I swallow down, hard. My eyes now fixed firmly on the road ahead, I moronically stammer out, “I, uh, just meant that I was gonna be cooking myself some dinner, so I can make extra for you if you want? Or not. Whatever.”



Smooth, Matthews. Real fucking smooth.



There’s one of her long pauses before she speaks. “That would be great, Jordan. Thank you.” Her voice is so stilted and quiet that I don’t even risk a glance to see the expression on her face.



Someone kill me now. Please.



I hear Dozer snort a sound in the back.



I’m half tempted to turn around and tell him to piss off, but I’m guessing Mia already thinks I’m a moron, so I skip it.



Instead, I reach over and turn the radio back up to fill the awkwardness. And let’s just say, the drive back to the hotel is as quiet as the ride out.



Chapter Ten



Mia



Why do I feel so disappointed?



I didn’t want Jordan to ask me to dinner, but when he corrected his offer, all I felt was disappointment. It’s stupid. I’m stupid.



Of course he’s going to offer me dinner. He’s a nice guy. I know he said the hotel doesn’t provide evening meals, and he’s probably being polite because I’m the only guest, but I can’t let him feed me for free. I’ll have to make sure he adds the cost of the meal to my bill. I’m sure he will anyway, but I’ll have to make sure.



Look at me, crushing on the first guy who’s nice to me. It’s ridiculous, even for me.



I just need to concentrate on what I’m here for—finding my mother, getting some answers, and moving on with my life. Starting fresh.



We’re back at the hotel now. I’m standing by the archway watching Jordan as he settles Dozer onto the sofa. He even turns on the TV for him.



I have to suppress the smile I feel. And the zap of attraction that hits me.



He really does think the world of Dozer. He’s a lucky dog. Minus the car hitting him, that is.



I follow Jordan through to the hotel kitchen after he’s finished settling Dozer.



I take a seat on a stool by the kitchen counter.



“I’m not the best chef…” he says over his shoulder, heading for the refrigerator.



“Sounds promising,” I quip.



I’m surprised at my own boldness. This isn’t natural for me, and not how I speak around men at all. I’m always guarded, thinking over my words before I speak.



I had to be. One slip up could cost me badly.



But with Jordan it’s easy to slip because everything with him feels natural.



He turns slightly, looking affronted. “Hey! I’m not bad. I make a mean Green Chili. I’ll get the ingredients in and make it for you another night, but for tonight, just name anything you want—that I have the ingredients for—” he grins, “and I’ll make it.”



Feeling lightened by his banter, I shrug. “I’m easy. Whatever you want is fine with me.”



His brows lift. He turns his body fully around to face me.



Easy. Not the best word to use, Mia.



See this is what happens when I don’t consider my words. Verbal diarrhea.



“N-not that I’m e-easy. Just easy about the food, you know,” I start to stammer. “J-just not fussed, easy to please.”



His brow lifts higher, and he’s grinning.



I want the ground to swallow me up. Now. Please.



“Easy to please. Got it.” He turns his attention back to the fridge.



I’m such an idiot. I really shouldn’t be let out around people.



Jordan starts pulling food out and placing it on the counter. Eggs, tomatoes…



“So, ‘easy to please’, will a Spanish omelet be okay?”



I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. “A Spanish omelet will be perfect.”



He gives me a smile before turning back.



“You want any help?”



“Nah, I got it. You want something to drink? There’s beer in the fridge, or wine if you want?”



“Beer’s great.” I hop off the stool and go over to the fridge. “You want one?”



“Sure.”



I grab two bottles.



“Opener is in the drawer.” Jordan points to the drawer with the knife he’s using to chop the tomatoes.



I falter in my step, my chest tightening, legs stiffening. My eyes hazing.



Shit.



Oliver trailed the knife across my collar bone and over my shoulder.



“Where did you get this from, Mia?” He held up the top I’d bought myself the day prior. A beautiful, low cut, strappy top, which I had hidden in the back of my closet. I was hoping to wear it when Oliver was at the hospital. I bought it because of the colors. It made me think of summer. I felt warm and happy when I tried it on. I wanted to keep hold of that feeling, so I bought it, even knowing the risk.



“I b-bought it, sir.”



“Did I give you permission to buy this?



I hung my head. “No.”



He moved closer to me. “This is a whore’s top! Designed to get the attention of boys! Is that what you want, Mia? You want the attention of boys?”



“No, Daddy.”



He held the top in front of me as he shredded it with the knife.



I wanted to cry. Over a top. But that top had made me feel happy. For that fleeting moment, I had felt happy, and he’d taken it away again. Like always.



“Take off your sweater, Mia.”



My eyes snapped up to his. “W-why?”



“Don’t question me!” he roared. “Just do as I say!”



My body shaking, I lifted the sweater over my head. Leaving me in my bra, I held my sweater, fingers clutching it, against my stomach.



Fear was roiling inside me.



Oliver walked behind me.



I squeezed my eyes shut.



I heard the knife being placed down on his desk, then the snap of Oliver’s belt as he removed it from his pants.



My stomach dropped hollow. No matter how many times it happened, the fear was always the same.



“You’ve disobeyed my rules, Mia. You’ve been a bad girl. What happens to bad girls?”



I swallowed past the fear that was drying my mouth and shaking my insides. “They get punished, sir.”



I braced myself, gritting my teeth.



I felt the lash of the first hit on my back. Stifling my screams, I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood.



“Jesus, Mia! Are you okay?”



A worried Jordan is standing before me. I feel something running down my chin. I press the heel of my hand against my mouth. Blood.



I bit through my lip.



“God, oh, I, uh – it was an accident.”



An accident? Yeah, because normal people bite their lips and draw blood all the time Mia. Perfectly normal. He won’t think anything is off there.



Saying nothing, Jordan takes the beer bottles from my hands and places them on the counter.



That’s when I realize my hands are shaking.



“Sit up here.” He pulls a stool over. I climb onto it, my legs suddenly feeling like jelly. He opens a drawer, then comes back with a first aid kit.



God, I’m such a screw-up. Now I’m zoning out and biting my own lip open. Awesome Mia. Way to go.