Page 64 of Her Filthy Grump
“What’s his name?” Every muscle in my body tightens and they feel like they’re going to spring into motion. The guy’s damn lucky he’s not in my vicinity.
Her head jerks back, and she gazes into my eyes. “Why?”
“I’m going to beat his ass.”
She grabs my biceps. “Kameron, don’t worry about him. He doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“That’s not the point.” The vein in my temple thumps with my pulse. “The point is that a man doesn’t leave a lady stranded where anything can happen to her. You could have been run over, kidnapped, or raped. The guy’s a pig.”
What is it with cocksuckers who get angry when a woman doesn’t have sex with them? It’s ridiculous. Between this dude and George at Whiskey Moon’s, she’s had some shitty luck with men.
“You don’t know the half of it.” Her eyes darken, and her bottom lip quivers. “He was married, and I was one of the many waitresses he hit on over the years. I felt disgusting when I found out. I was moments away from letting him do it and just get it over with.” Her expression falls as the anger seems to disappear and fills with regret. “I’d held out hope for years that the perfect guy would come along, but at the time, I figured I was kidding myself.”
I pull her against my chest and rest my head on the top of hers. “I’m sorry he was a jerk.”
She snuggles closer. “I’m not. I’m glad I found out he was an asshole and waited for you.”
I smile against her hair. “So, if I see this yet to be named bastard, I should thank him?”
“You don’t have to go that far.”
“Good,” I growl. “I still want to meet him and explain in detail that’s not how to treat a lady.” Thank God nothing happened to her. I can’t imagine never knowing her. “Am I the perfect guy, or did you give up on that pipe dream?”
“Given up, of course.” She laughs and slides her hands up my chest. When she lays her palm over my heart, she stops. The thumping in my chest reverberates against her fingertips. “I’m glad I waited for you. I know we haven’t seen each other long, and we don’t know what the future holds, but I like you. A lot.”
“I like you, too.” I rest my forehead against her and inhale her scent as the sun sets in the west. I swallow. “I don’t know what the future holds, or….” I trail off as words swirl in my head.
I want to tell her I’ve fallen for her, but it’s not fair. How do I say, ‘I love you,’ but I don’t know where I’m going to live? Or how to be a husband.
How can I be who she wants me to be? She’s waited to share herself until she found someone she trusted and genuinely cared about. Me. Am I destined to break her heart?
How do you learn to be something another person can depend on? Not for the first time, I curse my parents for not being the role model couple I needed. I clear my throat. “We should go inside.”
Her eyelids lower, and she steps back, leaving a cold chill to seep into my pores. “You’re right. Our reservations were for seven. We’re probably late.”
After the owners share their enthusiastic spiel, I try and reclaim our earlier connection, but she’s grown distant. Not that I blame her, she opened her wound, and I tossed salt in it and ran scared without a backward glance.
Just another reason why I don’t do relationships–I suck at them.
Chapter Forty-One
Layla
As I grasp the wine glass, I gaze out the window. I’ve come here before with Harbor at dark and during the daytime. The evening is my favorite. The only thing you can see is pitch black sky and dazzling stars.
Kameron moves behind me, and I brace my shoulders. The fact he can’t commit is not so different than the married guy trying to get in my pants. There wasn’t a future with either of them.
Stop being petty. You knew the score when you started dating him. He never once pretended to be something he isn’t. Just because you want it all and he’s not falling at your feet is no need to take it out on him.
The muscles in my shoulders sag. This is my fault. I’m the one weaving dreams of a future. Not him.
Enjoy the time. Enjoy the man.
I inhale and get my emotions in check. He doesn’t have to promise forever for us to enjoy tonight.
I twist on my heel. “It’s beautiful. Thanks for thinking of this.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been off tonight.”