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In answer, Juliet stood firm and drew her mouth into a hard, thin line.
And that’s when P.J. began to stab a pointed finger in the air and fire questions at Juliet in loud, rapid, succession. Juliet watched on in disheartened incredulity as P.J. huffed and puffed and tried to blow her house down.
Then in one final attempt, he bellowed out. “If you don’t talk to me, Juliet. Then it ends here. It ends now.”
Juliet looked at P.J. and saw his strength, his pride, his determination. She saw the way his body tensed with controlled violence. She thought of the night she had spent in his arms, of the way she had felt warm, protected, and loved. Juliet wanted to trust him, she did. But when she began to reach for him, when she stretched her hand towards him, the light glinted off the thick keloid scar on her wrist. A sad souvenir of how bad things could get, and how far she had come. She just didn’t trust what it would mean to open herself up to him.
“I mean it. You don’t tell me what you’re running from then it ends here.” He repeated with a glare.
“Then it ends here.” Juliet glared right back at him.
“You are one fucking stubborn woman!” P.J. roared at Juliet. When she remained unmoved by his thundering anger, P.J. made a mighty fist, and punched a hole straight through the wall. Then he stuffed his feet back into his still wet and muddy boots, grabbed his jacket and stomped back out into the dying storm.
Juliet looked at the door as it slammed shut behind P.J. in a thud that was strong enough to shake the house. Then she sighed deeply, and began to clear off the table because really, Juliet did not have the luxury of stomping off the way P.J. had. Her shoes had not made it out of the mud, and the last time Juliet had seen her jacket, it had been a tattered, muddy, thing lying on top of the trash. Her phone! Juliet’s phone had been in her pocket. The thought had barely formed when she heard a ringtone sound out from the muddied mess.
“Hi Layla.” Juliet caught it on the last ring. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the waterproof pouch that she kept her phone in.
“Oh, thank god!” Layla squealed. “I feel so horrible that I didn’t call to check up on you. It was a hell of a night. We lost power at my mother-in-law’s house and my phone died. I am so glad you are okay! Reggie’s been out all morning working. He just texted me, he’s on his way to pick up P.J. They are going to try and help the town clear up some of the roads. P.J. told him that you were there. Reggie just forwarded a pic that P.J. had sent him earlier. I barely recognized your car. When I realized what it was, I almost had a goddamn heart attack!”
Juliet held the phone away from her ear, while Layla went on and on in that high pitched squeal. Juliet knew from experience that the rant would last a while before Layla came up for air. But really, Juliet didn’t mind. It was good to know that she had a friend who had worried about her. Of course, when Layla was done with her rambling on and on about her own adventures in the storm, she wanted to know all the specifics about what had happened to Juliet. Juliet told her about the horrendous drive home, and about taking the wrong turn. She told her friend about the car being stuck, but glossed over what had happened after that, because really, how could she explain the abject horror and terror of her body being stuck in several feet of freezing cold mud for what seemed like hours.”
“So, you spent the night?” Layla asked and Juliet could just see the wheels turning in her friend’s nosy little mind.
“Yes. I spent the night.”
“And?” Layla quizzed.
“And I will be forever grateful that P.J. was here to help me.”
“Oh, that’s how we are going to play this?” Layla sighed in apparent disappointment. “Well, I’ll let you get away with that for now!” And then true to Layla’s nature, the conversation took another rapid swing. “Lines are down all over the area, your place won’t have electricity, and like I said, the roads are a mess. Half of them washed out, the other half are blocked. Joys of living in a small, seaside town in upstate. I know that P.J. has a generator so that’s good considering that you are going to have to stay there for a couple of days. Lucky girl!”
“Yeah, well, while you are giggling and waxing romantic about P.J. and I getting stuck in the storm together, think about the fact that I now have no car, and a freezer full of pints ofRainforest CrunchandChunky Monkeythat might be melting away as we speak.” Juliet lamented to her friend.
“Well. That’s bad. But I suppose there are worse things.” Layla responded with uncharacteristic practicality.
And Juliet could not have agreed more.
It was hours later that P.J. made his way back to the house. If he never saw another damn drop of rain, he’d die a happy man. He was so tired of being cold, wet, and pissed off. Reggie and he had worked non-stop to help the town out with storm debris. Not to mention that Juliet’s car had been a bitch to move out. In the end, they had had to call in a wrecking crew company. The owner was Rudy Daltry. He was Reggie’s second cousin by marriage, and part of the Thirsty Thursday card playing crew. When he got the call, he did P.J. a solid by putting Juliet’s car at the top of his list. Even with a sizeable discount, P.J. had paid Rudy a hefty sum to get Juliet’s car out of the mud and into the junkyard. Juliet and the insurance adjuster could take it from there.
Juliet.
If shame were an emotion that P.J. was capable of feeling, he would be feeling it now. No matter how much the damn woman riled him up, he should never had lost his temper like that. The knuckles on his right hand were all bruised, swollen, and stiff, but that was nothing compared to the damage he had just done to their relationship. P.J. was pretty much convinced that Juliet had been abused by her man. Now P.J. had done everything he could to make sure that she would think of him in the same way…as a man capable of totally scaring the crap right out of her. He had never felt like a bigger asshole in his life.
P.J. knew that Reggie had called Layla to let her know that Juliet was okay and at P.J.’s house. He figured that once the roads had been pretty well cleared, Layla would have arranged to pick Juliet up and bring her home. As such, P.J. really had no desire to go back to an empty house. Although Juliet had only been there one night, P.J. felt as if she had made her mark on the place. The sheets would still carry her scent when he went to bed alone that night, and the logs in the fire would remind him of her lying safe and cozy in his arms. It was a small thing, but he had especially liked having coffee with her in the morning. The thought that she wouldn’t be there when he woke up tomorrow, or maybe ever again, set P.J.’s teeth on edge.
“Hey,” She smiled nervously at him. “I hope you don’t mind. I rummaged through your refrigerator and found some vegetables and stuff. I made stew.”
P.J. stood in the middle of his living room looking at the table set for dinner. He looked from the lit candles to Juliet and then back again. A million questions ran through his mind, the biggest one being…what the hell was Juliet still doing here in his house when P.J. had given her every reason to run for her life?
Juliet had tidied up the living room, and P.J. could see through the open door in the bathroom that the bathroom had been scrubbed clean of the grit and mud from the night before. Dinner smelled amazing. But mostly, that hole in the wall glared at him in reproach. P.J. scrubbed a hard hand over his jaw and thoughtWhat the hell? Every encounter he had ever had with this woman bordered on the bizarre, and the last twenty-four hours had been no exception. First, he had found Juliet stuck deep in the mud looking like something right out of a monster movie. Then, in his bed? Juliet unleashed was seriously the best sex that P.J. had ever had in his life and considering how much sex he had had up to this point, that was saying a lot. And now after an argument that had ended with him throwing a punch through a wall, Juliet was not only still there, but she was also serving up homemade in his kitchen.
“It smells good,” he muttered. Then P.J. shook his head in question. “But…”
“But what, P.J.?” She interrupted gently.
“What in the hell are we doing here, Juliet?”
“First off, you owe me an apology.” She frowned at him. “You yelling at me like that was totally undeserved.”
