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“I don’t think that's true,” I argue softly. “Just because you didn’t get into med school doesn’t mean you’re not brilliant.”
She purses her lips for a long moment. “No need to be patronizing, Mason. It’s okay. I’m over it.”
Her expression tells me she’s absolutelynotover it.
I open my mouth to say something comforting, but her hand shoots up. “Please. I really don’t want to talk about it.” And she shuts down on me again.
Great. That’s what I get for stepping over the line and poking my nose into her business. Especially after I promised myself I’d keep my distance. I just embarrassed Karli and made things even more tense between us.
But shit—she applied to med school? She was rejected?
That certainly explains all the medical books. And the load of crap that was crammed into the back of her car when she drove into town. All of a sudden, her attitude problem is starting to make more sense, too. Seeing all the hurt dancing on her face now, I’m really regretting that I didn’t just keep my mouth shut.
With lethargic movements, Karli pulls open a cupboard door and grabs a bowl. I find my eyes following her movements as she plates up her hearty, homemade dinner.
Frustrated by all the weirdness I just caused, I pull in a deep inhale. The spicy aroma of her meal makes my stomach rumble. I’ve been eating pre-packaged junk and fast food on the go since I got to town, and whatever she’s cooking smells delicious.
Her blue eyes flick to mine. She bites down on her bottom lip, suddenly looking shy. “Would you like some?”
I order my stomach not to grumble again as I’m shaking my head. “Oh, nah. I’m not really in the mood for dinner.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a headache. Thanks, though.”
Her soft stare brims with guilt. “Did…did I cause your headache? From punching you, I mean?”
“Oh, no. I just get headaches when I’m stressed.” I open my mouth to keep talking, to explain these stupid headaches I always get, to tell her that I’ve done a million brain scans and a million blood tests and every specialist has come to the same conclusion—my headaches are simply the result of poor stress management.
But then I remember my rule. If I’m going to honor the promise I made to myself, I have no choice but to stay away from Karli.
“It’s not a big deal,” I say instead.
I’m turning to head up to my room when I hear her speak again. “We should, uh…clear the air. Talk about what happened between us,” she declares, her voice wavering slightly as she pushes her plate aside.
Shit.
“Okay…” I say tentatively.
She seems to pick up on my hesitation. She tries to backpedal. “But if your headache is…”
“No. It’s fine.” I settle onto a wooden bar stool.
Slowly, she takes a seat opposite me. Almost immediately, she starts stuttering. “Okay. Well, I…I think it’s safe to say that…that based on what we know about each other now, we shouldn’t, do that thing…that thing we did together…”
“Sex?” I spit out.
“Yes. That.” She clears her throat. “I would say that it was a one-time thing…right?” Her head shakes left to right. “I mean, yes. It was a one-time thing. Obviously. One-time thing.”
Jesus. Those blue eyes are killing me. The way she’s looking at me. Soft. Vulnerable. Unsure of herself. Right now, she’s a far cry from the tough girl who was giving me hell at the motel less than forty-eight hours ago.
I force my eyes not to slide down to that little tank top and those tiny shorts she’s wearing. I clear my throat. “Obviously. O-of course. One-time thing,” I say in agreement even as my cock protests. He isdefinitelynot on-board. “It won’t happen again.”
“Of course,” Karli agrees with a nod, her tongue flicks across her bottom lip.
“Of course.” I remember vividly how it felt to clamp that bottom lip between my teeth. “Because Felix…”
“Okay. Yeah.” She’s staring at my mouth now, too. “Felix would flip out.”
