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“That doesn’t explain your anger.”
Here was the delicate part. Telling the truth without coming close to all of it. He sat back against the headboard with a sigh. “I got caught up in it. Arrogant. Madeline promised me a lot of things, and I believed her. I was stupid enough to give up my spot at the ranch I’d worked at for four years. I walked away from my friends during the busiest part of the season. Left the girl I’d been in love with for two years. I acted like I was better than all my old friends. In general, I behaved like a self-satisfied, conceited asshole.”
“And what does that have to do with girls like me?”
He watched her hands as she slowly rolled the bottle back and forth between them. “You’re not like those women. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”
“How can you be sure?”
“You’re not polished like that.”
“No? I’m all rough around the edges, huh?”
She was rough around more than the edges, but he knew better than to say that. “No, I mean they’ve been polished into something fake. They’re smooth and beautiful like plastic. Perfect. High heels in the dirt.”
She turned to look at him, her expression as blank as a white wall.
“You don’t create yourself into something meant to attract.”
“Uh, did you just say that?”
“I don’t mean sexually. Obviously, I’m attracted to you.”
“Or it’s the age-old allure of free sex right next door.”
“Come on. You know that’s not true.”
She laughed at him, shaking her head. “Sure I do.”
“I meant that you present yourself as a warning. That’s honesty, isn’t it? You want people to think you’re not soft.”
“I’m not,” she said quickly.
He put his hand on her white thigh, marveling at the sight of his scarred, tanned skin against her perfect leg. “You feel pretty soft to me.”
“Don’t be fooled. I’m not and I never have been.”
“Why?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. As if he didn’t really give a shit at all.
It worked. “My life’s been pretty screwed up. That’s all. I had to take care of myself.”
“Did you always live in L.A.?”
“Not always, but nearby. Long Beach. Riverside. San Bernardino. And little places out in the desert. We moved a lot when I was young.”
“You and your family?”
“Me and my mom.” She finished her beer and got up to walk to the kitchen. “You want more?” She brought back two more and lay back down beside him. When she repositioned herself, her shirt hitched up a little, and Cole took the opportunity to slide his hand up her hip.
He watched his fingers spread over the tattoo, fascinated by the contrast. Her fine white skin, untouched except for the startling blackness of the ink and, covering them both, his brown fingers. After years of clashes with leather and steel and wood and barbed wire, his hands looked like they’d been chewed up by a machine. But her skin was flawless. As if she’d never been touched, much less damaged.
A dangerous illusion that only added to her mystery. He shouldn’t try to solve it, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
* * *
“YOU MUST HAVE BEEN a tiny kid,” he murmured.
She tried to ignore the way his hand felt on her sensitive belly. She tried to pretend she didn’t feel tiny again. “Yeah,” she answered. “I didn’t look tough, so I had to be tough.”
