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My eyes close in the wake of his departure, and I fight back a tear. How could I have been such a fool?
Strong hands brace my upper arms, and I blink up to see Spencer studying my face. “Who was that man?”
Shaking my head, I turn, carrying the box into the house. “Just somebody I used to know.”
I pass Tom waiting with both fists clenched at his side. I’m sure he had a front-row seat to my humiliation.
Spencer gives him a nod, following me inside. “Is he a client?”
“He was a client.” I put the box on the formal dining room table, wondering what in the world I left that Nadine was so worried I might go back to get.
Glad to know she’s feeling secure.
Sarcasm.
“Hey.” Spencer catches my arm, pulling me so I have to face him.
His dark brow is lowered. His hazel eyes are stormy and full of protective worry.
He looks like a man who cares, a man who would sit up at night, even if he was tired, to comfort a scared little boy and help him feel better. He looks like a man who would figure out a way to get ice cream on a moment’s notice.
He looks like a man who knows how to be good…
Why isn’t he?
“I don’t want you seeing him anymore.”
My teeth clench, and an old bitterness tightens my throat. “Are you saying I can’t treat male clients?”
“I’m saying I don’t like that guy. If he’s a client, I don’t want you treating him.”
“Maybe you don’t have the right to say that to me.”
His eyes flash with anger, and he steps forward, jaw tight. “Maybe not, but I’m saying it.”
“You know who else said I couldn’t treat male clients? Fucking Elliot.”
“I’m not saying you can’t treat male clients. I’m saying you can’t treat that male client. He’s an asshole. He made you cry, and if I see him again, I’ll punch his lights out.”
We’re both breathing fast, our bodies so close the heat radiates between us. I’m ready to collapse into his arms when a soft throat-clearing breaks the spell.
“If you’re all done here.” Tom the Tank stands at the doorway, seeming embarrassed and satisfied at the same time.
It’s an odd combination.
“I’m done.” Turning on my heel, I storm all the way to my room and shut the door.
* * *
When I open my eyes again, it’s dark.
Grabbing the clock, I can’t believe it’s after nine. I came back here, curled up in my bed, and cried until I fell asleep—all over that idiot and his harpy girlfriend, which is so dumb.
So, so dumb.
The box he brought is sitting on the floor beside my bed, and I consider taking it outside and burning it. I don’t want anything they’ve touched.
Ollie is snoring in his bed across the room, and I creep as quietly as possible out the door. I’m not starving, but I’m awake, and I didn’t have dinner. Maybe I can find some of that ice cream Julien bought. It’s one of the only two things that could make me feel better right now.
